Red Hammer: Voodoo Plague Book 4 (10 page)

“Ten minutes.”  The pilot called out, his voice clear over
our secure earpieces. 

Ten minutes to jump.  We were over northern New Mexico, flying
at 35,000 feet AGL or Above Ground Level.  I had slipped the insulated hoodie over
my head and attached it to the collar of the underwear.  Goggles and helmet
were in place, heavy gloves held in my left hand.  I triple checked the
altimeter and GPS unit attached to my left sleeve, ensuring that when the
altimeter read ZERO it was actually 7,300 feet above sea level which is the
elevation of the mesa Los Alamos sits on.  Get this wrong and you either open
your chute too early or too late.  Too early is bad, too late is generally
fatal.

Satisfied with the altimeter, I made sure the right
coordinates were in the GPS.  Captain Blanchard had provided me with high
resolution coordinates for the building where the SADMs were stored, and I
planned to come down on its roof.  10 years ago I would have felt confident
that I could pull that off.  Now, I’d be satisfied to come down within the city
limits.  Without any broken bones.

Moving through the space, I went to each of the AF personnel
and had them show me their altimeters and GPS.  They were all set correctly, as
they had been the first two times I’d checked.  Scott and Yee looked at ease,
having made jumps with Army SF units in Afghanistan.  Martinez tried to show a
calm exterior, but I could hear her rapid and shallow breathing over the
radio.  I stopped and stuck my face in front of hers, peering at her through my
goggles.

“Just another jump, Captain.  Remember your training, keep
your body under control while we’re falling, and pull at 1,500.  Good to go?”

She licked her lips nervously and nodded.  Reaching out, I
placed a hand on her shoulder and left it there.  She looked me in the eye and
I said nothing, just looking at her until I heard her breathing even out.  When
it did, she nodded again and I gave her a smile and moved on. 

“Five minutes.”  The lighting inside the bomber changed from
white to red.  Light in the red spectrum does not affect human night vision and
was used to allow us to still see, but at the same time adjust to the darkness
waiting outside the aircraft.

Disconnecting my air supply from the line attached to the
bulkhead, I connected to the small aluminum bottle strapped to my body which
would supply oxygen during the fall.  Shuffling to the back of the aircraft I
stood facing the rear.  My pack was heavy and cumbersome, strapped as it was to
my lower abdomen and upper thighs.  The parachute was light on my back and I
took a moment to check all the straps, pulling them as tight as I could get
them, especially the ones that went between my legs.  Many years ago I had
failed to make sure those two straps were tight before jumping.  The looseness
allowed one of my nuts to shift underneath the strap, which was fine, until my
canopy opened and those straps suddenly snapped taut to slow my descent.  Definitely
a lesson I will never forget.

I pulled my gloves on and looked at my GPS.  A small red dot
pulsed at the bottom edge of the screen, meaning the target was behind me, in
the direction we were traveling.  The bomber had slowed to just above stall
speed when we’d descended to 35,000 feet and we would go out the back door a
few seconds before the plane flew directly over our target.  Our forward
momentum would bleed off very quickly when we hit the air, then we would form
up and “fly” ourselves down to 1,500 feet where we would open our chutes and
steer to the drop location. 

The automated weather unit at Los Alamos airport was still
transmitting and the pilot had let me know there was only a two knot wind out
of the east at ground level.  That was nice to know, but I was also worried
about what we would encounter on the way down.  It was summer time, and the
barren terrain below had been baking in the sun all day.  Now that it was night
the rock and sand would be radiating heat, creating updrafts which in turn would
create downdrafts.  A strong updraft could cause us to miss our target by
miles.  A strong downdraft could cause us to fall thousands of feet in a couple
of seconds, making it difficult or impossible to get our canopies deployed and make
a safe landing.

Putting all of this out of my head, I glanced over my
shoulders to make sure my small unit was ready.  Sergeant Scott stood a step
behind and to my right, Yee in the same position on my left, Martinez
sandwiched between them.  I would lead the way off the ramp, the three of them
tight behind me, and if Martinez hesitated, Scott and Yee were ready to each
grab an arm and bring her with us.  Her best chance of making this successfully
was staying right behind us and doing what we did, when we did it.

“De-pressurizing now.”  The pilot spoke over the radio. 
Moments later my ears popped as he equalized the pressure within the aircraft
with the thin air outside.  Both pilots were now wearing oxygen masks as well
as having sealed the door to the cockpit which remained pressurized.  Their
wearing of the masks was just a precaution in the event the seal on the door
failed while the main part of the plane was open to the outside environment.

“Thirty seconds.  Opening now.”  I felt a slight vibration
in the soles of my boots as the sloped back wall directly to my front started
lowering.  A thin gap opened between the ceiling and the wall, quickly widening
as the wall lowered and became a ramp that extended back into space from the
main body of the bomber.  I stepped forward, stopping with six feet of ramp
between me and a nearly seven mile drop.  Scott, Yee and Martinez moved forward
to keep us tight, Scott and Yee placing a hand on my shoulder briefly to let me
know they were ready.  I was depending on them to monitor the Captain.

“Ten seconds.  Good luck and God speed, gentlemen and
lady.”  The pilot said before going into a countdown.  When he said “five”, I
leaned myself slightly forward and shifted my weight to the balls of my feet. 
When he said “one” I took a deep breath, let it out and stepped off with a fast
stride as he started saying “Go! Go! Go!”

In two steps I covered the six feet to the edge of the ramp,
launching myself out into space as I ran out of the aircraft.  I immediately
spread my legs apart and reached my arms out to each side to stabilize my
body.  The surfaces of the bat suit caught the thin air and allowed me to make
a sweeping turn so I was facing in the same direction as the departing bomber. 
I took a second to look up, catching a quick glimpse of red light as the ramp
closed tightly, then it disappeared from my sight.

“Report.”  I said over the radio.

“Boomer 2 in pattern.”  Sergeant Scott answered.  Moments
later both Yee and Martinez checked in.  Martinez sounded a little breathless,
but nothing too concerning.  If she wasn’t scared she wouldn’t be human.

“Doing OK, Martinez?”

“Time of my fucking life, sir.”  Martinez panted back.  I
smiled, knowing she was scared, but glad to hear her sarcasm.  She was doing
great for her first combat jump.

Below us was nothing but darkness.  Far to the south I could
see lights and guessed that was Kirtland AFB and the Russians.  Glancing at my
GPS I was glad to see us on target, and a check of the altimeter showed we had
already fallen 5,000 feet.  Another check of the GPS to satisfy myself and I
relaxed a notch and tried to see anything on the ground below me.  Nothing.  No
lights, candles, campfires…nothing.

As we passed through 25,000 feet I issued the command to
spread our spacing over the radio.  Each of them acknowledged, Martinez
sounding a little shaky.  We were falling in a stack, me at the bottom and
Martinez at the top, and were too close together to safely deploy our chutes
when we reached 1,500 feet.  To deal with that, we’d start spacing ourselves
out now. 

I would adopt a slight head down position for a few seconds,
causing me to fall faster and pull away from my jump mates who would flatten
their bodies in the horizontal plane and use wind resistance to let me gain
separation from them.  When I was far enough below, Sergeant Scott in the
number two slot would do the same thing, then finally Yee.  All Martinez had to
do was not fall faster than the rest of us and we’d pop out of the fall and
touch down within seconds of each other.

Checking the GPS I noted we had drifted a little off course
and made a correction.  By 10,000 feet we were back on target, and that’s when
the first updraft hit us.  I had been falling smoothly through calm air, the
altimeter winding down at an almost constant pace, when suddenly I was pushed
hard and knocked off course.  Curses over the radio a heartbeat later told me I
wasn’t the only one.  As fast as the updraft hit, we were out of it and after I
stabilized my body I checked the altimeter and GPS.  8,500 feet and off
target. 

“Check GPS,” I called out to my team and twisted my body to
get back on course.  I hadn’t fully adjusted when I flew into a downdraft.  For
a fraction of a second it seemed like I had stopped falling, then it felt more
like one of those amusement park rides that drops you and leaves your stomach
behind.  More curses over the radio.

It only took a few seconds for me to pass out of the
downdraft, but when I did I checked the altimeter and wasn’t happy to see how
much my rate of descent had been affected.  I was passing through 4,000 feet
and the GPS told me I was off target by almost four miles.  I had been to Los
Alamos before, while in the Army and later as a civilian just playing tourist. 
I knew the mesa the small city sat on wasn’t very large, and four miles off our
target could easily cause us to miss the mountain top completely and wind up in
a several thousand foot deep canyon.  As so often happens, the plan had to
change to deal with new circumstances.

“Pull now!”  I shouted into the radio.  “Pull!  Pull! 
Pull!”

Following my own order I reached behind me and pulled the
pilot chute of its pocket, releasing it into the air.  I heard it flutter out
into my slipstream, and a moment later it inflated, pulled the pin and released
the main canopy.  The black fabric made a snapping sound when it filled with
air and I let out an involuntary grunt when my fall was suddenly arrested.  I
heard two more snaps above me, waiting for the third, looking up when I
didn’t.  Above and behind me I could see two canopies, darker patches against
the dark, starry sky, then a body fell past me.

The four men hadn’t wanted to lay their rifles down, but
Jackson convinced them by having the door gunner fire a one second burst from
the minigun into the ground in front of them.  Water and mud erupted into the
air, then they couldn’t disarm themselves fast enough.  Rifles in the water,
the pilot descended to a hover with the Black Hawk’s tires just brushing the
green tops of the rice paddy, its rotor whipping up a maelstrom of water, mud
and debris.  Jackson and the two Rangers jumped out the open door, rifles
immediately coming up to cover the men.

“Disarm them and get them up on the road.”  Jackson ordered
and turned to check on Rachel.  She was wading through the paddy, using big
strides to move easier through the water, looking intently at the door of the
Black Hawk as it climbed and went into a low orbit around the area.  Dog
trotted up to Jackson and nuzzled his hand.

“You OK?”  Jackson asked as Rachel walked up to him.

“We’re good, but we wouldn’t have been if you hadn’t showed
up.  Thank you.”  She was talking to Jackson but looking up at the orbiting
helicopter.

“You’re welcome, and he’s not here.  He’s on a mission to
retrieve some equipment we need to deal with the Russians.  Before he left he
made me promise to keep looking for you.”  Rachel smiled a sad smile then a
confused look passed across her face.

“Russians?  What are you talking about?”

“They’ve invaded.  Attacked us right after you four went
into the river.  That’s why it’s taken us so long to find you.”

“Four?  John came in after us?” 

“Didn’t even hesitate.  Couldn’t have been more than a few seconds
behind you, but it’s a big river and he couldn’t find you.  We plucked him out
and that’s when the goddamn Russians showed up.”

Rachel stood there, tears threatening to start, thinking
about John risking everything to come in the water after her.  Well, her and
Dog.  The damn obstinate man had more feelings for her than he was willing to
admit.

“And who do we have here?”  Jackson asked, smiling at
Madison who was on Rachel’s hip with her arms locked around her neck.

“This is Madison and that’s Lindsey.  And they have a story
you need to hear.”  Jackson gave her a quizzical look, then moved all of them
out of the paddy and onto dry land.

Rachel had Lindsey tell the story of what happened to their
parents.  He listened closely without interrupting until she was done.  Resting
on one knee so he was eye level with the girls he asked a couple of questions
to make sure he was getting the whole story.  Rachel filled in the details from
after she and Dog had found the girls.

“Lindsey, would you recognize the bad men that took your
parents if you saw them again?”  He asked.

“That’s one of them right there!”  Madison said, pointing at
the group of men sitting on the asphalt with the two Rangers guarding them.

“Which one?”  Jackson asked.

“The one on the left, with the tattoo on his arm.  I
remember him.  He’s the one that slapped my mommy and called her a nigger.” 
Madison’s voice left no doubt that she was certain of her identification of the
man.  It also left no doubt what she’d do to the man if she was a little older.

Jackson looked up at Rachel and she nearly took a step back
when she saw the expression on his face.  He stood up and started to turn to
where the men were sitting, but Rachel reached a hand out and placed it on his
arm.  He stopped and turned to face her and she could feel the tension and
anger rolling off him.  Putting Madison on her feet, she told the girls to stay
with Dog and walked Jackson a few yards down the road.

“I don’t pretend to understand how this makes you feel, but
it makes me sick to my stomach.  You don’t know this, but I was taken by a
group of men in Georgia and raped while we were trying to escape.  John killed
every one of them and rescued me.  These men aren’t any better, and deserve
whatever happens to them, but we have to do this right.  If you go over there,
pissed off and ready to start breaking heads, we may not get the answers we
need.  Perhaps you’d better call the Colonel?”  Rachel kept her hand on
Jackson’s arm as she spoke, her eyes looking into his.  She saw his intent to
commit murder and mayhem, then saw it tempered when she suggested calling
Crawford.  After a moment he took her hand in his and nodded.

“Thank you.  That’s probably best.”  He gave her a tight
smile, released her hand and turned away to use his radio in private.

Rachel went over to where Lindsey and Madison sat on the
edge of the road, Dog between them soaking up the attention from his two new
best friends.  Rachel sat down in front of them and Madison crawled into her
lap, shifting around so she could still pet Dog.  A few minutes later, Jackson
walked over and sat down next to Rachel, smiling at the girls. 

“Who’s hungry?”  He asked, pulling an MRE out of his pack. 
Both girls’ eyes got big and Dog’s ears went straight up.  Jackson laughed and
started preparing the meal, sharing it out between the girls.  They finished
every bite quickly and he pulled out another one, giving half of it to Dog
before letting the girls wipe out the remainder.

As they were finishing the meal, Jackson reached to press
his earpiece deeper into his ear then stood and looked up and to the north. 
Four specks were approaching in a hurry, quickly resolving into a pair of Black
Hawks escorted by a pair of Apaches.  The two Apaches and one of the Black
Hawks went into an orbit, the second Black Hawk swooping in and landing on the
road fifty yards from where they sat.  It hadn’t even settled on its landing
gear before Colonel Crawford jumped out the door, escorted by two more Rangers
and a woman in civilian clothing, and trotted up to them. 

“Good to see you ma’am.”  He said to Rachel.  “Was starting
to think we weren’t going to find you.”

“Thank you, Colonel.  Thanks for not giving up on me.”

“I’d like to take the credit, but it was that hard headed
maniac you run around with.  I think he would have shot me if I’d tried to call
off the search.”  Crawford said the last with a grin, then shifted his
attention to the girls.

“Girls, this is Mrs. Maybach.  She’s going to keep you
company in that helicopter over there while I go talk to these men about where
your parents might be.  Is that OK?”

“Are you going to get our parents back?”  Lindsey asked.

“I’m going to do everything I can, sweetheart.  I promise. 
Now, go with Mrs. Maybach and I’ll see you real soon.” 

Rachel got the girls on their feet, hugged them and assured
them she would see them before they knew it.  They held hands with the woman,
one on either side of her, and the three of them walked to the waiting Black
Hawk which took off and headed north as soon as they climbed inside.

“Who’s she?”  Rachel asked as they headed over to where the
four men waited nervously.

“She was on the train.  Is, or was I guess, the principal of
an elementary school in Nashville.  She just happened to be talking to me about
caring for the children on the train without parents when the Master Sergeant
called.  Thought it might be good to bring her along and have her get the girls
away from here.”  By now they were standing in front of the prisoners and
Rachel pointed out the one that Madison had identified.  The tattoo on his arm
was a large swastika overlaid with the twin lightning bolts of the Nazi Germany
SS.

“I’m Colonel Jack Crawford, US Army.  I’m going to ask you
some questions and I expect nothing less than full and truthful answers.  Do
you understand?”  He addressed them, looking each in the eye as he spoke.

“Fuck you,” a wiry, balding man sitting next to tattoo man
spoke up.  “We’re the goddamn Sheriff’s department and the Army ain’t got no
fucking authority here.  That’s illegal.  So why don’t you take this cunt and
your pet nigger there and get the hell out of here.”

Crawford looked at the man for a long moment, saying
nothing.  Without a change in expression he drew his pistol, shot the man in
the head, then calmly holstered the weapon.  The other three shrank away from
the body, shocked expressions on their faces.  Jackson and the four Rangers
exchanged glances but said nothing and didn’t move a muscle. 

Rachel was caught completely unprepared.  Not because of the
violence or seeing a man die, she had grown used to that, but because she
hadn’t thought of Crawford as the type of man that could calmly execute a
prisoner.  She wouldn’t have been surprised in the least if John had done it,
in fact had killed a defenseless man herself back in Nashville, but she hadn’t
thought of Crawford in those terms.  You don’t wind up in charge of men like
Jackson and John if you’re not one of them, she reminded herself.

“Let’s try this again.”  Crawford said, his tone as
congenial and calm as if he were ordering lunch.