Escape The 1st Omnibus: WTF Books 1-3 (48 page)

“Brooks, my leg isn’t broken. Pull this shit out and wrap it tight. I’ll make it with you guys or die trying,” Brad said. “You can leave my gear, I don’t care, but I’m not going back.”

Brooks looked to Gunner and Sean for an answer. “Get started on the ropes to rappel down. Secure us a vehicle on the ground. I didn’t feel like walking anyhow. We can still do this. Brooks, get him patched up; we’ll come for you when it’s time to move out,” Gunner said.

The men jumped to their feet, moving back to the wall and preparing ropes. Sean came to Brad’s side. “Brooks is going to work with you; don’t worry, we will get you out of here, Brad. Chelsea, stay and help Brooks, I’m going with your guys to grab us some wheels.”

Brooks put the morphine injector back in his pack and pulled out a Fentanyl lollipop. “Here, put this in your mouth. I’ll pull that out of your leg but I’m not doing it to you cold.”

Brad nodded and opened his mouth as Brooks put the medicated stick on his tongue and swabbed the inside of Brad’s mouth. Soon Brad began to feel his pain numb. Brooks ordered Chelsea to try and hold Brad down as best she could while he worked on his leg. Brooks rolled Brad onto his stomach and Chelsea knelt across Brad’s right hip. Brad could feel the weight and he felt Brooks pull on his right knee to straighten his leg.

There was a searing pain as Brooks tugged and pulled the large splinter out. “Good news! Looks like it just went through your quad. Surprisingly looks pretty clean,” Brooks said as he doused the wound with water and a peroxide solution. Then he quickly covered both sides of the wound with quick-clot bandages and tightly wrapped it with clean dressings. When he was finished, he pulled as much of the uniform pants back over the wound as possible and then wrapped it again with a small roll of electrical tape.

“This is temporary, Brad. I’m going to have to open it up and clean it as soon as possible. I need you to start taking these right away,” Brooks said, handing Brad a small bottle of antibiotics. “Keep that lollipop handy; you’re going to be in a lot of pain. I still have the morphine stick if you want it later,” Brooks finished.

“I’m good; just let me catch my breath. I’ll be ready to go when they give the word,” Brad said, sweating and grimacing in pain.

They carried Brad closer to the building’s wall while they lowered their gear below. Brooks helped Chelsea onto the ropes and she slowly rappelled herself to the ground. Next, Brooks positioned Brad into an under-the-shoulder harness, strapped him in, and lowered him down. Brad landed with his good leg and dropped onto a sunbaked sidewalk next to the building. Brooks dropped beside him and undid the harness.

The city was empty and void of movement. The sidewalk and road were empty except for the strewn garbage piled at the corners of the streets. Brad leaned against the hot wall, shielding his eyes from the sun. He fished through his pockets and found his tinted goggles – he must have lost his glasses in the fall. Brad put them on to shield his eyes from the bright sun. He could see members of the Alpha element positioned down both sides of the street. Farther down, he could see more men gathered around an abandoned vehicle. It looked like a Volkswagen van from the front. There was a small four-door cab in the front, with a small pickup truck-type bed in the back.

They had pushed the van out and away from the curb. The Marines had the hood open and were leaning over the engine compartment. Brad watched as Sean jumped in the cab and barked instructions. The Marines got behind the vehicle and pushed it. Sean popped the clutch, the vehicle stuttered and coughed, then backfired loudly before dying. The Marines ran back to the vehicle and tried again.

The Alpha element was nervously scanning the surroundings, knowing the noise would attract the screamers. Again the van stuttered, but this time it coughed to life. Sean eased in the clutch and revved the engine until he achieved an idle. Sean slowly nursed the van down the narrow street on badly bald tires, while the Marines followed behind him at a jog to keep up. The van pulled up near Brad and rested against the curb.

Sean shouted instructions from the window. Everyone gathered their gear and threw it into the back of the van. They lifted Brad and placed him in the bed atop all of the gear. Brad crawled so that his back was against the cab of the van and positioned his rifle so that he could cover his side of the vehicle. They dropped the tailgate on the truck and piled in, grabbing onto the sides while the remaining four jumped in the cab. There were thirteen of them packed into a vehicle made for half of that.

Brad’s pain had greatly subsided, so he took the lollipop from his mouth and placed it into his breast pocket for safe keeping. He could still feel the pressure and tightness in his leg even though the pain had been numbed. He tried straightening and bending his leg in the confined space, and was able to do it with minimal discomfort. He could feel the tightening of the tissue and was careful not to put too much pressure on the wound.

Brad watched Specialist Theo load his M203 grenade launcher with a 40-millimeter grenade. He aimed high into the sky and popped the round out and into the distance. There was a thump from the 203 as it landed some three hundred meters away before the sharp explosion. Theo loaded another round and again aimed out and over a neighboring building. Another thump was followed by a distant blast. “What the hell is he shooting at?” Brad asked.

Corporal Parker looked at Brad as the van began to drive up the street toward the airport. “He’s not shooting at anything, Sergeant. We found out a while ago that the forty mike-mikes are more useful at drawing the primals away then they are at fighting them. So whenever we need to make a move in Indian country, we lob a couple off in the distance to get them headed in the wrong direction.”

“We use flares,” Brad joked.

“What the fuck? Y’all is crazy, we don’t mess with them at night,” Parker answered.

The van’s engine smoothed out as it warmed up and picked up speed. Sean guided it down the middle of the street, only slowing to avoid vehicles or obstacles on the road. They made their way through the heaviest parts of the city, only spotting an occasional primal in the distance. The CH-53 false insertions combined with the M203 distraction must have been successful in leading them away.

Charlie Group quickly reached the outer perimeter of the airport. Instead of driving around and looking for an entrance, Sean pulled up alongside a high chain link fence. A number of men jumped from the vehicle and began quickly cutting a gap in the fence. They pulled a section back, allowing the van to ease through. The men hastily repaired the gap before re-boarding the van. Sean gunned the van and headed toward the runway.

The runway was scattered with small aircraft. Brad saw several burnt-out hulls of large aircraft, probably abandoned airlines. Some military-type jet aircraft were also on the ground, the frames sticking out like rotting skeletons. They slowly drove down the runways and tarmacs, looking for the best choice. Finally, Sean pulled up to a fat, four-prop plane with Arabic words written on the sides. It was painted in a blue and white pattern. Sean pulled up close to the side, staying away from the wings, and left the van’s engine running.

The plane reminded Brad of a C-130, but the nose didn’t look right, and it was painted in civilian markings. The wheels and gear looked the same as a military heavy-lift plane, at least the kind Brad was accustomed to, but everything else was different. The plane sat alone on the edge of the tarmac with its cargo ramp down and support vehicles surrounding it. The crew door was swinging open above the wheeled portable walkway.

“What the hell kind of plane is this?” Nelson asked wearily.

Brooks jumped from the bed of the van before turning to help Brad out. “It’s an Antonov AN-12, old Russian bird. They are pretty solid though, decent range. Nice choice if it’ll fire up.”

Kelli, their designated pilot, who had been riding in the cab and pointing out aircraft to Sean, quickly moved to the side of the aircraft and began an inspection. The rest of the men fanned out and began to set up a perimeter. “I think we are in luck, check this out,” Kelli yelled from the back of the Antonov.

A large fuel truck was parked near the aircrafts’ open rear ramp, and fuel hoses were still attached to the aircraft. A large yellow power unit was parked under the nose with cables running to the aircraft. Brad took his hand off of the side of the van and slowly limped toward the aircraft. He could see bodies scattered around the rear of the plane. “They must have been preparing to get out of Dodge when they were attacked,” Kelli said.

Gunner looked at the bodies and scanned the horizon. “Certainly looks that way. Everyone stay sharp; I’m sure they are tucked into the shade, but they are here,” Gunner warned. “Villegas, take a couple of men and clear the aircraft, try not to shoot it up too bad either, okay?”

The Villegas brothers nodded in response and ran up the portable walkway. Sean exited the van and went to the rear of the Antonov where Brad and Kelli had gathered. “Kelli, can you fly this?”

“I don’t think it will be much of a problem. Obviously I don’t have cert for it, but what the hell, right? I’m sure I can get it in the air, landing will suck though.”

“How far can we go in this?”

“With the tanks topped off we can make Europe. I’m most familiar with the bases in Italy, so I’d like to plan for that.”

“I’m giving you my team of wrenches, use them to get this thing off the ground, and train them to be your flight crew,” Sean said.

“Roger that, Chief.”

Brad went back to the van. He could see Kelli taking charge of Chelsea and the other Marines. She had them moving about smartly. Nelson headed to the power cart and began trying to get it operational. Villegas popped his head out of the crew entrance and announced that the plane was clear. Brooks ran to join Corporal Parker, who had slung his SAW over his back. Together they started transferring bags from the van to the cargo bay of the AN-12, being careful to make sure everything was properly secured.

Gunner and Sean were gathered near Brad looking over maps when Kelli reported to them. “Looks like the tanks are heavy with fuel. They were definitely prepping the aircraft for departure when it went down. Everything is set for takeoff. That is if your guy can get the power cart go–.” The roar of a small engine cut her off midsentence as Nelson started the generator on the power cart.

“That settles that; I just need to make my way to the cockpit. We’ll be ready to go in another twenty minutes,” Kelli said.

“Okay, let’s hustle. The CH-53 is due for pick up in less than an hour … I’d like to be gone by then,” Gunner said.

“What happens when we aren’t there? Will they look for us? I don’t want people to get hurt trying to find us,” Brad asked.

“No, that won’t happen. The CH-53 will loiter in the area as long as they have fuel. After that, they’ll return to base. They have a no search and rescue order. They figure if a mob was big enough to take out a group, then it’s too dangerous for a rescue,” Gunner answered.

Brad squinted. “Damn, that’s really messed up.”

“Yes it is, but it works to our advantage today. How’s that leg? Can you manage to get your ass on board? Or does somebody need to carry you?” Gunner said.

“I’ll manage,” Brad replied.

As Brad turned to hobble toward the aircraft’s cargo ramp, they heard the sounds of suppressed gunfire. “Several contacts; north terminal!” Hahn yelled from the far side of the aircraft.

Sean stopped what he was doing and ran toward Hahn with his rifle in hand. Gunner grabbed the bags and started helping with the cargo transfer. “Lieutenant, we don’t have twenty minutes, we need to go now!”

Brad stopped and grabbed the last bag from the back of the van. He sucked up the pain and half-jogged to the rear ramp. He tossed the bag into the aircraft and dropped into a prone position across the back of the ramp with his rifle. He could sense the commotion behind him as the others prepared the aircraft for takeoff. Brad pulled the remainder of the painkilling lollipop from his pocket and put it in his mouth. He adjusted his weight to his left side and relaxed into the optics of his rifle as the first wave of primals rounded a corner and came into view.

There were only ten of them, but they were running fast on a collision course for Sergeant Hahn and Specialist Theo, who had set up an observation post about one hundred meters out. The two men were between Brad and the mob and directly in Brad’s line of fire. The soldiers were firing into the charging creatures. One at a time, a soldier would rapid fire while the other would leapfrog back. They were making good movements but the mob wasn’t slowing down.

From his peripheral vision, Brad saw Sean take a position under a wing of the aircraft. Sean dropped to the ground and aimed his rifle downrange. He took quick shots, cutting down the lead runners. Sean’s rifle fire allowed the soldiers to quicken their pace. They fell in alongside Sean just as the first of the four engines roared to life.

Now with the soldiers clear, Brad was able to take aimed shots at the advancing primals. He was surprised to be so focused even under the influence of the lollipop. He was even having a good time, he thought to himself, smiling. He fired rhythmically, knocking the charging crazies down. Not every round was a kill shot, but he did enough to put the primals on the ground and slow the attack.

A gunshot behind him broke Brad’s focus. He turned to see Brooks firing directly to the rear of the aircraft at another mob that was closing in on them from the terminal. More gunfire started outside near where the van was parked, and Brad feared they were becoming surrounded. Brad adjusted his position to take line with Brooks as he saw Nelson and Craig run up the ramp, shouting that the start cart and ladder were clear.

Brad aimed and fired into the body of the mass of primals. He hit several of them square, but more filled the gaps. Corporal Parker and Gunner had joined them on the ramp and fired rapidly into the closing mob. Parker’s loud unsuppressed M249 machine gun was sweeping and cutting down the advancing mob. Brad heard Sean shouting, “Three friendlies coming around!” as Sean, Hahn, and Theo climbed the high side of the ramp and rolled into the aircraft.