The day after: An apocalyptic morning (123 page)

              "All we all ready?" Skip asked, talking to no one in particular but knowing that only Jack and Christine had headsets on.

              "Let's get this shit over with," Christine snarled, trying to take a deep breath and failing. "At least on the ground we'll be able to move."

              "Right," Skip said, diplomatically withholding any sarcastic comments. "Lifting off. We're talking about a twenty minute flight and a five to ten minute check of the area."

              "Yeah yeah," Christine said impatiently, "let's go."

              He went, applying power and lifting off into the rainy, barely lit morning sky.

              He approached the landing area carefully, keeping his altitude high enough to see what needed to be seen, but not so high that there was a possibility of the Auburnites spotting the aircraft. Below them the mudfall was a huge, brown expanse of snapped trees and thick, still running mud. He circled around to the far west of it several times while Jack checked everything with the FLIR and his own eyeballs. No sources of body heat were seen except for a small heard of deer that had miraculously managed to survive to this point.

              "Figures," Jack said bitterly. "We finally spot some game and we can't do anything about it."

              "Mom wouldn't want you shooting them anyway," Christine said. "She'd be real proud if you took their picture though."

              "Mom never had to eat fucking chicken noodle soup every day either," Jack shot right back at her.

              Skip listened to exchange and couldn't help but smile a little bit. That was the first time Christine and Jack had ever been able to mention their dead mother or her hobby in anything other than a tearful manner. Though no one who survived the crash of Comet  Stendell had been allowed the luxury of a proper mourning period for their loved ones, it seemed that that mourning had come and gone anyway.

              "We're clear down there, Skip," Jack reported. "Ready to hit the LZ."

              "Right," Skip said, seeing the hills and the area beyond them that he had pre-planned for the insertion and extraction point. "Let's take us down. Christine, get everyone ready for unload. We're going down."

              Christine gave a hand signal to everyone, conveying this information to them. Unfortunately they could not lock and load while still in the aircraft - their simply was not enough room - but they all understood that that would be the first thing they did when their feet hit the ground.

              Skip made a combat landing, similar to the ones he had made in his army days when he'd flown the Blackhawk. He did not circle around and carefully come down upon the landing zone, he simply dropped down upon it, letting the aircraft nearly fall out of the sky. More than one stomach nearly gave up its breakfast from this maneuver. He pulled up at the last second and someone did lose their breakfast. Christine, who was struggling with morning sickness anyway, vomited all over herself and Mike.

              "Sorry," she mouthed to Mike as the skids touched the ground and the doors were thrown open. Before he could reply or even be properly disgusted by what had happened, they were out the door, their feet on the ground and running towards the safety of the nearest tree line.

              Once they were clear, Skip lifted back off, keeping low and heading out to the south. He would be heading back to Garden Hill to pick up Paula's team and drop them off. Within seconds the sound of the helicopter's engine had faded, leaving only the sound of the rain.

              "All right," Christine said, hiccupping once and giving her sour stomach a few rubs. "Sorry about that, Mike. Maybe pregnant women weren't meant to be on special forces.

              "Hey," Mike said good-naturedly, "it's just extra camouflage, isn't it?"

              She chuckled, already feeling better. "I guess so. Let's lock and load and get ourselves into position."

              They locked and loaded and then spent a few minutes putting mud on their bodies and faces to help them blend into the background. Every hand that applied mud was shaky with adrenaline as they all tried not to think of what they were about to do. Soon they all looked like stragglers that had been out in the woods for weeks. They cleaned their hands with baby-wipes and then buried the trash just to make sure no sign of their presence was noted later.

              "Okay," Christine said, holding her M-16 out before her. "I'll take point. The rest of you remember to keep those rifles out of the mud. Remember, they're not meant to be dirty like this thing is."

              The hill they were planning to occupy was less than a half a mile in front of them. They walked carefully through the pine needles and mud, stepping over logs and between trees, their boots squelching a little with each step. When they got to the hill they climbed up the south face. The going was a little steep but they were assisted by the presence of numerous trees, both standing and fallen. They reached the summit a little more than fifteen minutes after they had first started marching. The return run would have to be even quicker.

              "Right here," Christine said, spotting a series of fallen trees. "Let's check out the view."

              They took up position and looked through a gap in the trees. Below them they could see the flat ground that lay along the edge of the mud; the most likely avenue of advance of their enemy.

              "This is perfect, Christine," Maggie told her, looking through the gap.

              "Yes," Christine said thoughtfully, looking at everything. "I think you're right. We can hit them from here and the trees will act as cover for return fire. If we egress that way," she pointed to the southwest; "the bulk of the hill will protect us. As long as Skip's there to pick us up, we'll be able to make it to the LZ before they get any troops on our flank."

              "So this is it then?" Mike asked.

              "This is it," she confirmed. "Everyone get a firing hole and let's start waiting."

              Skip and Jack picked up Paula and her squad and flew them out to their drop zone. Paula's squad consisted of Leanette, Hector, and Doris Campbell. Their drop zone was a mile south of Christine's, along the same path that had been predicted as the Auburnite's avenue of advance. Once they were down and safe Skip, keeping low, zigged and zagged his way between hills until he was close to where Christine's squad was positioned.

              "Hatchling one," Jack said into the radio, "this it mother bird. Are you there?"

              The response was immediate. "Hatchling one in position," answered Christine's voice. "No sign of the wolves yet."

              "Copy that," Jack told her. "Mother bird is going to nest 3. Repeat, mother bird is going to nest 3. We'll check in with you there."

              Nest 3 was the code word for a small clearing just on the other side of a row of hills. It was well off the path that the Auburnites would take even under the most wild conditions imaginable but still within line of sight of Christine's team and therefore in radio contact.

              Skip flew there, keeping terrifyingly low to the ground, and landed in a small clearing that was relatively free of mud. Once the skids were on the ground he shut down the engine, letting the rotor wind down to a halt.

              "Mother bird to hatchling one," Jack said. "Can you hear us?"

              "This is hatchling one," Christine's slightly scratchy, though readable voice replied. "We're here."

              "We're in nest 3," Jack told her. "Awaiting further. We can be out of the nest in two minutes."

              "Copy that," Christine said. "Still no wolves on the horizon. We'll advise when there are."

              Jack then checked in with hatchling 2, also known as Paula and her team, and confirmed a good radio contact with them as well. That done, Jack and Skip began the arduous task of waiting as well.

              Sergeant Stinson was one of the squad leaders of Colby's platoon and his squad of ten had been chosen to have the honor of taking point on this glorious morning. They were about thirty yards in front of the rest of the formation, walking slowly though not terribly carefully along through the soggy ground. About two hundred yards to their left, the wall of mud and trees rose up nearly a hundred feet into the air. To their right were a series of small and large hills that made up a natural ridge. They marched in a loose wedge formation, their weapons slung low on their bellies, their packs heavy upon their backs. Private Winston, who had been recruited from Grass Valley on the last major raid, was the front man. Stinson himself, like any sergeant, was lingering near the rear of the squad.

              "God damn, this shit sucks," complained corporal Feathers, a twenty-five year old from Meadow Vista. "How long until we get back to the interstate?"

              "Late tomorrow if we're lucky," Stinson told him, adjusting his pack a little on his back. "Now stop talking in the ranks."

              "I got the fuckin' ranks right here," Feathers said, taking his hand off his weapon long enough to grab his crotch. "I could be in some puss right now, instead, I'm walking through the fuckin woods."

              "Nobody's happy to be here," Stinson said, "but..."

              "You got that shit right," interjected Private James from in front of him.

              "But you gotta do what you gotta do," Stinson finished tiredly. "Orders are orders and all that shit. So keep walking and stop bitchin."

              They walked on, putting one foot in front of the other. Nobody, the point man and the point sergeant included, paid much attention to their surroundings. After all, what could possibly be out there?

              "I got 'em," Christine, looking through binoculars, reported, a touch of excitement in her voice. "Lead elements are coming over the ridge."

              "I got em too," reported Maggie, who was looking through the scope on her rifle.

              "In view," confirmed Maria, also looking through a telescopic scope.

              "Me too," said Mike.

              "Keep an eye out on the flanks," Christine directed as the first ten men came strolling over the hill. "Remember, if they've split up into two elements, we hold here with our heads down."

              The approaching targets were still more than half a mile away. Group by group of them followed the lead squad over the rise and down the trail until well over a hundred of them were visible. And still they kept coming. Heads would bob up and materialize into men carrying guns.

              "Jesus, look at them all," Maria said fearfully. It was one thing to hear about four hundred armed men coming at you and it was quite another to actually see them.

              "Keep chillin," Christine said, borrowing an expression from her brother. "Remember, we're not here to fight them, just to sting them a little at a time."

              As the lead elements came closer to gun range, Mike and Maria kept a close eye on the area to the northwest of their hill. It was very rugged over there but far from impassible. But again, as Skip had predicted, none of them chose to walk there. Every last man stayed in the two hundred yard corridor where the going was easiest.

              "I'm gonna report in," Christine said. "Keep an eye out to see if it looks like anyone is monitoring." She picked up her radio and keyed it. "Mother bird, this is hatchling one."

              "Go ahead, hatchling one," came Jack's voice.

              "Wolves are in view," she said. "They're heading for dinner. It looks like we're a go."

              There was a slight pause. "ETA?" Jack asked at last.

              "We'll feed them in about five minutes it looks like. We'll re-contact just prior to dinner."

              "Copy that, hatchling one, we're unfolding our wings right now. We'll be ready."

              She put her radio back down and gripped her rifle again. "Anything?" she asked her team.

              There were now well over three hundred Auburnites over the ridge. "As far as I can tell," Mike said, "nobody seemed to react when you were talking on the radio."

              Maggie and Maria both echoed this sentiment.

              "Okay," Christine said, her pulse beating rapidly with adrenaline. "Apparently they're not listening to a scanner. It looks like we're in business then. We're gonna hit the point elements first this time. A nice easy one for the warm-up attack. Let's assign targets. Mike, you get the point man. Remember, go for a body shot, don't worry about trying to blow his brains out. A wounded man is as good as a dead one."

              "I'm on the point," Mike agreed.

              "Maggie," Christine said next, "you hit the man behind and to the right of the point. He's your man even if he changes position before firing time."

              "I got him," she said, already scoping in on him.

              "Maria, the man to the left and behind the point is yours. Same drill. You keep on the man, not the position."

              "Got him," Maria said, her voice more than a little shaky.

              "Let's let them get under two hundred yards," Christine said. "Nobody fires until I give the word."