Armageddon?? (68 page)

MD
902 G-SYPS

Sergeant
Webster groaned as he fought his way back to consciousness. His head throbbed
with pain, which the pounding roar and ragged whine were only exacerbating. He
forced his eyes open. The forward cockpit canopy was a crazy patchwork of
cracks and holes. The helicopter seemed to have landed on a building… no, it
was partially embedded in a saw-tooth roof. The rotors were still turning; the
pilot was fiddling with the flight controls, but far from shutting down, he
seemed to be trying to start one of the engines.

"Taranaski?
What are you doing? We have to bail out."

Private
Hughes' voice answered over the intercom. "Sir, Corporal Sinker has
concussion and I think a dislocated shoulder. I broke my leg in the crash.
There's no way we can make it before… well… look to your right."

Sergeant
Webster twisted around to look behind the aircraft. The whole area was shrouded
in smoke and flames, but one thing stood out very clearly; the river of lava
pouring down the hill towards them. They weren't in its direct path, but that
small mercy could buy them only minutes at best.

The
whine from above intensified and took on a discordant, surging character.
"Got it" yelled Taranaski. "Port turbine spooling up, hang on,
I'm trying it again."

Peter
waited for the rotor RPMs to build to the maximum then eased back on the
collective. The Explorer trembled and began to lift. The crew could barely hear
the cracks and squeals of strained metal over the din as the bird struggled to
free herself from the twisted metal roof supports. The cabin tilted backwards
and then halted, shuddering.

Private
Hughes pulled himself over to the gaping opening in the side of the aircraft;
the door had been ripped off in the crash. Leaning out into the ferocious
downwash, he could see the problem clearly. "It's no good sir. The skids
are wedged in good. The forward struts have snapped but the rear ones are
holding us fast." He looked up just in time to see another of the glowing
rocks slam into a nearby apartment block, shattering the few remaining windows
and starting fires across several floors.

He
had to cut through those struts. What tools did he have? Just one. Jamie
reached for a spare .50 cal magazine.

Royal
Hallamshire Hospital, Western Sheffield

Rebecca
Burdett stared out through the empty window frame at the vast lake of smoking
lava that mere minutes before had been the university campus. From her vantage
point on the seventeenth floor she could see countless human forms running,
staggering and crawling away from the inferno. Everwhere she looked people were
dying, caught by the flames, collapsing under the heat or obliterated by a
flaming boulder.

She
turned away. There was no doubt about it, the hospital had to be abandoned. The
lava seemed to be flowing away from them for now, but several of the hospital
buildings had been hit by the boulders and looked ready to collapse. The ground
fires were advancing steadily despite the inrushing air and the earthquake
showed no signs of abating.

The
fire alarm was already blaring, but the nurses she could see were still
transfixed by the scene outside. "Snap out of it! We have to move!"
Rebecca sprinted through the ward to the reception area, where she snatched up
the microphone for the P.A. system.

"Everyone,
your attention please. This is Matron Burdett. The hospital must be evacuated
as quickly and calmly as possible." She delivered the words with a
slightly eerie calm. "Patients, if you can walk, go to the lobby area via
the stairwells, do not use the lifts. Otherwise please wait for a member of
staff to assist you. Do not leave the building. Transport will be
arranged."

Rebecca
clicked the microphone off, then pulled out her phone and punched the button for
reception. The extension for reception was busy, of course. Cursing, she dived
into the stairwell, pushing past the throngs of people that built up steadily
as she descended. By the time she emerged into the lobby it was already packed
with shouting and screaming patients.

"PLEASE
REMAIN CALM" she shouted, in a tone that did not sound like a request.
"THERE IS NO IMMEDIATE DANGER." Not really true but it seemed to
placate the crowd for now. "Non-critical patients, move in an orderly
fashion to the car park. We don't have nearly enough ambulances for you all so
we'll be using private cars."

She
finally made it to the reception desk. David was usually pretty competent but
he seemed ready to have a nervous breakdown. "Rebecca, thank…" He
caught himself.

"What
the hell is going on?"

"Don't
know. Some sort of attack, massive fires. We have to get the patients out,
that's all that matters."

"I
tried to call Northern General but I couldn't get…"

"Forget
it. They're probably in the same boat as us, or will be soon. Now take Tracy,
Mark and anyone else you find on the way and get to the car park. I don't want
anyone leaving without a full load of patients. Tell them to go straight to
Manchester."

"Manchester?
But…"

Rebecca
grabbed the man's shoulders. "There's massive casualties out there.
Everyone local will be overwhelmed. Now get moving."

She
grabbed the phone from David's hand as he stumbled away and searched through
the memory for the number she needed. "Whitworth? This is Matron Burdett
at Royal Hallamshire. We've got a huge… explosion in Sheffield, we have to
evacuate. I'm sending our intensive care patients to you… yes I know you don't
have the capacity… you'll have to turn them out… no, listen, this is a
gold-level disaster. No, I don't know who… look, I'm sure they'll contact you
shortly. Meanwhile people are dying here. You are going to send every ambulance
you have to Sheffield and you are going to do it now, understand? Good."

MD
902 G-SYPS

"Control
this is Sierra Yankee Nine Nine do you copy? Over."

Sergeant
Webster was still trying to get the radio working. Meanwhile Private Hughes
struggled to find a position in which he could get a shot at the rear support
strut. He could see the target clearly enough, it was buried in a tangle of
metal half a meter beneath the door sill, but with his broken leg there was
just no way to aim the heavy rifle at it from inside the cabin. He considered
shooting through the airframe, the AS50 undoubtedly had the power to punch
through, but he'd be firing blind and in any case he was pretty sure the main
fuel tank was under the cabin. Bad idea.

"Control
this is Sierra Yankee Nine Nine do you copy? Over."

"Oliver!
I copy. What the blazes is going on? First we thought we'd lost you, then we
got a report you’d landed at Sheffield City Heliport. Everything has dropped in
the pot here, nobody knows what is happening. Just what is your status,
over?" The communications channels were clearing and the response from the
command centre at Atlas Court included the alarms and a commotion of voices in
the background.

"We
were knocked down by the blast, my bird is seriously damaged. Can you see
what's happening out here? Over."

"Confirmed,
we're seeing it over CCTV, hell we can see it out the windows. We're preparing
to evacuate, at this rate the lava will be here in less than half an hour. Are
you airworthy over?"

"Negative
control, we're stuck in a roof, the lava is about to surround the building.
Need a pick-up urgently, Over."

There
was a slight pause before the duty officer responded. "Sierra Yankee, army
choppers are inbound but the closest is still ten minutes out. Over."

"Acknowledged
control." Sergeant Webster hadn't expected anything else. Every commander
would be in triage mode now and plucking a helicopter crew off the top of a
doomed building wasn't a high priority. "Situation understood. Sierra
Yankee Nine Nine out."

Private
Hughes had been listening to the exchange and cut in over the intercom.
"Sir, I think I can free the helo but I'll have to climb out onto the
roof."

Webster
gave it only a moment's consideration; there was no viable alternative.
"Roger Private, we'll hover until you're back on board."

Jamie
unplugged his headset and clambered out onto the twisted girders, gritting his
teeth at the pain that flared in his leg. The metal was hot to the touch and
the blistering heat and swirling smoke was making it increasingly hard to see
or breathe. Once he'd steadied himself he grabbed the heavy rifle from the
helicopter and began to work himself into a braced position. The pilot was
watching him through the cockpit side window; Jamie give him the thumbs up and
the engine noise intensified, as the helicopter once more struggled to lift
off.

There
it was, the near-side support strut clearly visible now that the helicopter's
belly was clear of the corrugated iron roofing. He pulled the scope off the
rail and lined up the AS50 with the iron sights, bracing it against a girder.
Two sharp cracks and the job was done, the .50 caliber rounds shredding the
aluminum alloy tube. The helicopter lurched upward again and shuddered,
straining against the last remaining strut. Jamie struggled to maintain his
balance as the roof started to collapse, chunks of metal tumbling down into the
building below. A fresh wave of heat hit him and with horror he realized that
the lava was already pouring into the building. Jamie swung the heavy rifle
around and unloaded his last three rounds into the tangle of metal around the
back of the remaining skid.

The
recoil was the final straw for the critically weakened factory roof. With a
shrieking groan the entire section collapsed into the burning interior. With
both skids now sheered off the Explorer leapt upwards into the sky, climbing
away from the collapsing ruin. The last thing Private Hughes saw was the
underside of the helicopter vanishing into the sky.

South
Yorkshire Fire and Rescue HQ, Central Sheffield

The
screens in the control centre normally showed simple dots representing the
incident sites. Only for the worst industrial fires did the staff have to draw
rings around the affected area. Now the entire centre of the city was marked in
red, and that stain was growing rapidly.

"…and
a second line of firebreaks here, here and here. That should save most of
Hillsborough and Stannington. The lower Rivelin valley is a write off, the best
we can hope for is that it floods fast enough to save a few buildings. We'll
worry about Fullwood if we get time, industrial areas take priority. Now get to
it."

The
sheer spectacle of the aerial volcano had convinced Chief Fire Officer Spurrier
to dispense with the usual levels of escalation and go straight to damage
limitation mode.

He
turned to Assistant CFO Lloyd, who was co-ordinating with the other responders,
category one and otherwise.

"Get
anything out of Highways yet?"

"No
sir, they just say they'll call me back. We'll probably have to send our own
people out to the depots to get the moving."

"Do
it. I'll have the authority sorted out by the time they arrive. Keep reminding
the police that we need those construction sites stripped too. We'll need every
earthmover we can get if we're going to box in that lava flow."

A
young firefighter burst into the room, still in full heat-resistant gear.
"Sirs, we can't hold it, there's just too much, we solidify one stream and
it comes at us from another direction. We've got to pull back."

CFO
Spurrier sighed. All that effort rebuilding the city centre into a something
actually pleasant to look at, and now it was all going to be buried in basalt.
Ah well. At least the EU had footed most of the bill. For brief second he
pitied the baldrick who would have to explain to the bureaucrats in Brussels
what had happened to their investment. Then his momentary glee faded; having to
abandon his new state of the art command centre was too a hard a blow.

"Okay.
Tell Scott to redeploy along the Moor and Arundel Gate. You've got to keep the
southern ring road and the station open as long as you can."

"Stephen,
divert everything to Mansfield Road for now, then shut down. We'll be going
straight to the forward command post at the airport."

MD
902 G-SYPS

Pete
began to swing the helicopter around for a pass on the factory. Private Hughes
had risked everything to save them and Pete wasn't going to just leave him.

Sergeant
Webster's voice came over the intercom, barely audible over the screaming
engines and still omnipresent roar. "Peter, what are you doing?."

"Going
back for him of course."

"Peter,
he's gone. The entire building collapsed. I was watching as we took off, there
was nothing we could do."

There
was no response from the pilot, so Webster took the opportunity to contact
control.

"Control,
Sierra Yankee Nine Nine, do you copy?"

"Sierra
Yankee! I copy, what's your status?"

"Airborne
again, but we've taken a beating. Are you still receiving telemetry?" The
camera pod on the helicopter's nose had jammed in place, but it could still
transmit a picture. “We’ve got some more stuff for you.”