The first fifteen minutes since landing passed quietly, Mitch and Anya attending to Erin who despite her newly acquired wound was relatively calm. The local anesthetic had done its job and she wasn’t in a great deal of pain.
General McCreary thought it better that they position themselves closer to the tree line bordering the clearing so that the group would be slightly out of sight should anyone with otherwise bad intentions cross their path. Although they were armed, there were only four of them including Hastings who had been carrying his Beretta. The pilot had found a relatively unpopulated area, but with the chaos happening in Denver and most likely the rest of the country as well, until their relief arrived McCreary wanted to make certain that their profile was kept to a minimum. According to his conversation over the hand held with the relief chopper (three in all had actually been dispatched), assuming all went well within forty-five minutes they would again be on their way to the primary bunker site and arrive in slightly under two hours. Their best course of action for the moment was to simply remain quiet and out of site.
Despite being strafed by ground fire and taking on damage, the pilot had kept control of the chopper fairly well. With the tail rotor damaged it was a bumpy ride and somewhat risky, but it wasn’t the first time he’d been in this position. It was a balance between remaining airborne versus totally losing control and risking the possibility of a crash landing versus putting distance between themselves and the chaos occurring in the city. Twenty more minutes in the air had done the trick despite their airspeed being greatly reduced. With a bird’s eye view of one-thousand feet allowing the pilot to find a relatively unpopulated area, there was no telling who they might come across, and if they did there was no knowing what possible intentions might be in their minds. A helicopter landing from one-thousand feet and flying in an erratic manner wasn’t generally considered low profile, and there were a lot of desperate people out there. McCreary’s mission was clear; Mitch and Anya Conyers’ being his true cargo had to be delivered to the primary bunker site safe and sound; both of them were deemed absolutely indispensable.
Fifteen more minutes passed and again General McCreary touched base with the relief choppers now only half an hour out from their position, and was assured that they had their coordinates pinpointed exactly.
“Good,” McCreary thought. “Half an hour more and we’ll be on our way.” He hadn’t thought to ask the pilot what was occurring in the United States, and even if he did there was little if anything he could do for now. It would be left up to the President and Meehan at NORAD to decide what actions to take. All seemed well until unexpectedly several vehicles could be heard off in the distance. This was their worst fear, not knowing who was approaching, how many, and what they were ultimately after. McCreary quickly radioed the relief pilot and updated him on the sudden turn of events.
“McCreary to relief chopper one, over.”
“Pilot here, go ahead, General.”
“Several vehicles approaching landing site, intentions unknown, over.”
“Copy that, General. We’re at top speed, twenty-five minutes out from your location. Suggest maintaining a low profile; we’ll do a three pronged recon upon arrival. Keep us apprised, over.”
“Copy that, McCreary out.”
The General had to think quickly. He was fairly troubled at this unexpected development and waved over the pilot who was twenty-five yards away.
“Can you see them yet?” he asked.
“Yes, Sir. Several pick-up trucks with an estimated twenty plus individuals, all visibly armed.”
“Well,” McCreary replied, “They’re either on their way to help us or take everything we have. I’m guessing it’s the later, so we’ll have to prepare for the worst. What kind of weapons do you have?”
“A semi-automatic assault rifle with two-hundred rounds and a pistol with another forty-five rounds, Sir.”
“And the co-pilot?”
“A scoped rifle and pistol as well, Sir.”
“How far out are they?”
“I’d estimate that they’ll be here within the next five minutes. They’ll probably head straight for the chopper. Slowly at first if they have bad intentions, but even if they’re here to help us, which I highly doubt, they’ll still be at the ready not knowing what our intentions are either.”
“Agreed,” McCreary replied.
“Sir, we made it pretty far from Denver after we were strafed, but it’s been half an hour. It may very well be the same group.”
The General had considered this fact and concluded that in all likelihood it was. His first inclination was to remove The Conyers’ further into the woods with Major Hastings where they would be better hidden, but if there were twenty or more armed civilians on the way with intentions of taking whatever food and weapons they had, it wouldn’t be long before they were discovered. That wasn’t an option that the General would allow. Knowing this he ordered Hastings to remove the Conyers’ slightly further back behind the tree line and find cover as best they could, also directing the Major not to engage unless absolutely necessary. As an afterthought the General directed the pilot to give him his Beretta and whatever ammunition he had, which excluding Major Hastings would put the numbers at three against twenty. But the General and his fellow colleagues were professionally trained, and that would even up the odds somewhat. As the pilot handed over his sidearm and ammunition, he had a thought of his own.
“General, may I ask how far out the relief choppers are?”
“Twenty-five minutes or less, pilot; twenty-five damn minutes. There’s actually three choppers coming and they’ve already been advised of our situation; they’ll be coming in hot. If we remain out of sight I calculate another ten minutes for our new friends to arrive and look over the chopper before they begin looking for us; for real. If they start firing, we’ll have to keep them occupied for at least another ten minutes before our relief arrives. That should hopefully keep them away from the Conyers’ long enough.”
“General, they’ve probably got scoped rifles as well as semi-automatic weapons. It’s a hell of a task we’ll be faced with. With twenty or more of them they’ll be able to flank us in short order.”
McCreary knew that if they were forced to return fire, their positions would quickly be exposed. Although the co-pilot had a scoped rifle and could snipe a few of them, the numbers were still skewed. The Conyers’ had to be protected at all costs. The relief choppers had airborne troops onboard and once they arrived the situation would change dramatically, no matter how many they were up against.
“Ten damn minutes to keep them away from the Conyers’,” McCreary said loudly. “Well then, I suppose that’s what we’re going to have to do, numbers be damned.”
The General was ready to give up his own life solely to protect the Conyers’; to buy them those ten precious minutes that were absolutely critical. What they had to offer the world was much more important than anything he ever could, despite what he’d already accomplished these past ten years in a deteriorating global environment. Through military non-intervention, implementing international relief efforts and sharing technology, he’d saved more lives and contained an otherwise uncontainable situation longer than it should have been. Yet still he felt himself replaceable. There was Meehan, the President, Professor Enghult, the Conyers’, and many others who could perform the same tasks as himself, not to mention the other members of the Joint Chiefs. He was somewhat humble, and although he wouldn’t admit it, irreplaceable in his own right. Even more than he knew in the coming months and years ahead; assuming of course he survived the next twenty-five minutes. But for now the Conyers’ were his only concern.
“Sir, may I offer an alternative?” the pilot asked.
“I’m listening,” McCreary replied.
Time was short and the pilot spoke quickly.
“Sir, we pushed to chopper to the limit, but I think I could squeeze a few more minutes out of the old girl. She’s armed to the teeth; rocket launchers included. Gi
ve me three minutes and I’ll have her up in the air and stop those trucks dead in their tracks before they get anywhere near the clearing. That’ll buy us the time we need. If I hear one gun go off I’ll eliminate the threat altogether.”
The General thought about it for a moment. What the pilot was offering was to risk his own life for that of the others. It wasn’t anything McCreary wasn’t prepared to do himself and quickly agreed.
“Copy. Green light to go, pilot.”
The pilot handed over his rifle and ammunition just in case things should go south, and even if they did it would still allow enough time for the relief choppers to arrive. It was almost a guaranteed solution, except now there was only one life at risk. The pilot quickly turned and headed towards his bird when the General spoke to him.
“Pilot, what’s your name?”
“Captain Hodges, Sir.”
“No, Captain, your first name.”
“Bill, Sir. My friends call me Bill.”
“See you in twenty minutes, Bill.”
Hodges smiled. “Twenty minutes, Sir,” and then continued his sprint to the chopper. Bill had no intention of this being a suicide mission, he was going to stop those trucks from approaching the group now completely in his charge and make it back in one piece. As McCreary looked on, the pilot was now in the chopper and pushed a number of switches in quick succession. The main rotors started to turn as he put on his helmet and buckled himself in. Hodges then turned on the radio and quickly apprised the relief choppers of the current situation, confirming that they did in fact have a full contingent of airborne troops on-board.
“Relief chopper one, twenty plus armed civilians approaching landing site from the east, repeat, from the east. Three vehicles currently visible; intentions unknown. Transport chopper going airborne; I’m going to keep them occupied for a little while, over.”
“Copy pilot. Twenty minutes to rendezvous. Coming in hot, over.”
“Copy that, pilot out.”
In two minutes the main rotors were at the proper rpm, and with a quick glance and a thumbs up to the General, Hodges was airborne. As he gained altitude and approached 250 feet he spoke out loud.
“Ok, Gentlemen. For the next twenty minutes you belong to me.”
The chopper was a little wobbly and Hodges had difficulty controlling it, but he got her up none too soon. The three pick-ups were only half a mile out along the main road leading to the rendezvous site and would have been on top of them in about two minutes. He did a quick fly by to assess what he was up against, and although he was fairly certain that they were the same group who had strafed the chopper earlier, as of yet he wasn’t certain. One press of a button and he could have taken them all out, but he wasn’t a murderer and didn’t plan on taking the first shot, in fact it was his intention to hold them at bay. They were most likely after food and water, and despite everything occurring and their probable desperation, they were his fellow countrymen after all was said and done. But his mission was to protect the General and his very important passengers waiting at the clearing regardless of the cost. On seeing the very intimidating helicopter approaching, all three vehicles stopped abruptly.
After his initial fly-by Hodges did a quick banking maneuver away from the vehicles and kept the smallest profile possible, but he could clearly see that they were heavily armed. Upon seeing the helicopter approaching a number of the occupants jumped out of the vehicles and ducked for cover. No shots were fired as of yet; the group had been caught completely off guard.
“Every second counts. Let em’ stew on this development for a few minutes,” Hodges thought.
So to buy time he circled the three trucks and again performed a banking maneuver as he brought her up to 500 feet.
“I must have watched too much football,” he thought.
Another five minutes passed and McCreary had found a perch overlooking the scene unfolding before him. He was in contact with the relief choppers who were now just ten minutes away. Suddenly McCreary could hear random gunfire going off in the distance. It seemed that several of the group having found decent cover had also found some courage.
“Plink, plink, plink,” Hodges heard as several of the shots found their mark. There was no time to assess the damage, he was still airborne and simply went to work. He pressed a few buttons on the joystick and headed straight for the three vehicles. They hadn’t yet been fully abandoned so he decided to give his new found friends a gentle lesson. He let his onboard machine guns rip slightly ahead of the vehicles and then let loose a rocket, finding its mark fifty yards past the vehicles. It was quite a sight. The few who still remained in the vehicles panicked and quickly scattered, some of them dropping their weapons as they did.
“Well, Gentlemen, that should raise your blood pressure a few points,” Hodges said.
McCreary was in constant contact with the relief choppers, now only five minutes away. He kept them up-to-speed moment by moment.
Hodges’ helicopter was smoking badly at this point, so he banked once more and headed back towards the clearing. Lowering it to an altitude of 150 feet he then leveled off in a stationary position directly facing the three vehicles, unmoving. It was a challenge of sorts. Two more minutes passed without any more shots being fired, and from behind them the group in the vehicles could hear even more helicopters approaching. They had enough and scattered, running as fast as their legs could carry them.
Hodges got on the headset with the approaching lead chopper.
“Setting her down, relief chopper 1. Unfriendlies scattering, repeat, unfriendlies scattering, over.”
“Copy pilot. We have you in sight, over.”
Once the engine was hit, Hodges had kept a close eye on his oil pressure gauge. Although losing pressure he knew he had some time left in the air, and those few minutes were all he needed. When the time came he set her down as gently as possible, hitting all of the switches on the electronic systems to minimize the risk of a short circuit that could very likely ignite the fuel system and turn the helicopter into a fireball. Wasting no time he disconnected himself from his harness and exited the chopper, dashing away as quickly as possible. Hodges didn’t even take the time to remove his helmet or communications gear dangling from his side; he was a courageous man but by no means a martyr. He reached the General in short order.
“You put on quite a show, Bill,” McCreary said.
“Thank you, Sir. I do my best.”
The General felt very lucky to have Hodges with him. It was only a matter of moments until the other three choppers arrived, one landing immediately in the clearing while a second landed one-hundred yards away from the three vehicles. A number of airborne troops exited swiftly in a 360 degree “secure or assault” posture and immediately took control of the situation. The third helicopter circled above; reconnoitering. There would be no more shots fired, the tables had turned. This particular short lived battle was over, yet others of a more serious nature would soon begin.
Hastings quickly got the Conyers’ and McCreary on-board the first helicopter while Hodges and his co-pilot approached the second. Their mission accomplished; they’d hitch a ride with the airborne troops once they were ready to depart. Two medical personnel had also been dispatched to see to Erin’s wound, which all in all to them was relatively minor. Although a major life event for Erin, the med-team determined that there would be no lasting injury as they again cleansed and dressed the wound, comforting her as they did so.
The primary and secondary helicopters departed, this time General McCreary giving explicit instructions that they maintain sufficient altitude to avoid any possible ground fire. They initially departed in a circuitous route to avoid any of the remaining civilians on the ground who still might be inclined to take a pot shot, and once at a safe distance the third helicopter containing the airborne troops as well as Hodges and his co-pilot followed suit and caught up to the two helicopters ahead of them. They were at an altitude of approximately 4,000 feet and headed straight f
or the primary bunker site.
The remaining two hour flight was uneventful and passed quickly. Mitch and Anya had been attending to and consoling Erin, while General McCreary had for the most part spent the entire time on the phone with both President Andrews and General Meehan at NORAD, catching up-to-speed on matters on both the national and international fronts. There had been a number of developments during McCreary’s interlude, and as they approached “Bunker Site 1” the President and other members of the Joint Chiefs were waiting. President Andrews greeted General McCreary as he exited the helicopter, while at the same time another group of medical personnel with a gurney were waiting on Erin, whisking her away with Mitch and Anya following close behind.
McCreary was somewhat surprised; the President seemingly overly relieved at seeing the General in person.
“General, so good to see you. You had us slightly worried.”
“Good to see you too, Mr. President. All’s well that ends well.”
“Let’s get inside, Phil. We have a lot to talk about. With all of these developments it’s time to make some serious decisions.”
“Yes, Mr. President.”
Episode 8: “Arrival”