The Lazarus Moment (17 page)

Spock
stood there. “Do you gentlemen have an appointment?”

“In Hell
if we don’t hurry up,” replied Dawson, tossing the door aside and stepping into
the small security room. One entire wall was some sort of reinforced cabinet, a
keypad in the center. He quickly entered his code.

Carter.
San Francisco. Dice. Enter.

The
panel beeped then the doors slid apart at the center, revealing an impressive
array of weapons and one metal case.

The
plane shifted again.

Dawson
pointed at a duffel bag hanging at the far end of the cabinet. “Spock, grab
guns, ammo, whatever you think we might need if we run into rebels, then tie it
to the rope. Niner, three sets of body armor for the first family. I’ve got the
case.”

Spock
quickly began to fill the bag, Niner grabbing the body armor hanging on the far
wall. Dawson headed out of the room with the case, returning to where the rope
was tied off. Almost all the slack was out of it, one more shift and it was
liable to break. He put the case down and quickly untied the rope.

Suddenly
the plane shifted again, hard, knocking him off his feet. He reached out as the
case tumbled down the aisle toward the front, the floor beginning to tilt.

“We’re
going over! Let’s go!” he shouted, Niner regaining his feet as he stumbled
forward. He grabbed the rope from Dawson and shoved it through the neck holes
of the body armor. Spock blocked the tumbling satellite gear and grabbed it,
pushing toward his comrades as the plane tilted further. He handed the duffel
bag to Dawson who passed it to Niner. Niner quickly fed the rope through the
straps and stepped into the doorframe.

“We’ve
gotta go!” he shouted.

“Go!”
shouted Dawson and Niner nodded, tossing the duffel bag and body armor out
first before wrapping his wrist around the rope and jumping out after the
equipment.

The
plane tilted even further. They were at an almost 45-degree angle now. Spock
reached out and Dawson grabbed his hand, pulling him toward the opening he
gripped with his other hand, the rope wrapped around his wrist biting into his
flesh.

“Grab
the rope!”

Spock
pulled forward, Dawson yanking hard. Spock let go and quickly grabbed the rope,
looping it around his wrist, giving Dawson a look of relief. “Christ, I thought
I was—”

The
plane suddenly groaned painfully then tore open at the roof, the front
two-thirds of the fuselage ripping apart. Their end of the plane slammed into
the riverbed, levelling off but sending them both to the floor. Dawson
scrambled to his feet and positioned himself at the door when he felt the
entire structure begin to be pulled over the edge of the waterfall by the still
attached front.

He
looked for Spock.

Spock
was crawling quickly toward the case, knocked loose by the collapse. He grabbed
it then turned back toward Dawson, pushing to his feet, charging forward as the
plane continued to slide. Dawson reached out, stretching into the cabin as far
as he could, the rope growing taught in his other hand.

“Give me
your hand!”

Spock
surged forward, swinging the case toward Dawson’s outstretched hand. “No, take
this!”

Dawson
grabbed it, Spock letting go as he grasped for the rope. He got a hand on it
just as the entire plane tipped back up, knocking Dawson up and out of the
plane, the case still gripped in one hand, the rope in the other. He hit the
water, the wind knocked out of him for a moment, but held on, kicking his feet
to get to the surface.

The
plane was gone.

And so
was Spock.

Air Force One Crash Site, Mozambique

Dawson stepped into what now was almost a clearing, a central area freed
of brush and debris, a fire roaring nicely in the center, stones from the river
ringing it, starting to radiate heat. The wounded were resting on beds of large
leaves near the fire and a very small pile of food, mostly candy bars, sat
nearby along with half a dozen bottles of water. A group of industrious
volunteers was weaving baskets out of long thin leaves, presumably to gather
water.

But all
activity stopped when the three of them arrived.

President
Starling glanced up then rose from tending to his wife.

“Weren’t
there four of you?”

Dawson
nodded, there no conversation since they had made it out of the water. “We lost
a man. He went over the falls with the plane.”

A few
sobs, a lot of gasps, and the concerned hand of his President on his shoulder
brought little comfort. “I’m truly sorry to hear that. When we have time, you
can tell me about him.”

Dawson
looked at the man, it an interesting thing to say. Most politicians or
non-combat veterans merely expressed condolences, but few expressed an interest
in getting to know the departed. “Thank you, Mr. President.” He held up the
case that Spock had paid so dearly for. “We retrieved the satellite gear plus
some weapons, just in case.” Niner stepped forward with the body armor. “I want
you and your family to put these on. We don’t want to take a chance that
somebody takes a pot shot at you.”

Dawson
could see in Starling’s face that he didn’t want to, but the man probably
sensed that to refuse would be an insult to the memory of Spock. “Thank you,
son.” He took the vests then nodded toward the case. “How long before you can
get that to work.”

Dawson
handed the case to Niner who immediately got busy. “If it’s functional,
minutes.”

“Excellent.”
Starling shook each of their hands. “Excellent work, all of you.”

“Thank
you, Mr. President.” Starling returned to his family, helping his daughter put
the vest on, the doctor waving off the one for the First Lady, she apparently
in too fragile a state to risk moving her. Dawson turned to the crowd. “Can I
get all Secret Service and Air Force personnel to come over here for a moment,
please?”

The too
few, scattered among the group of survivors, joined him at the edge of the
clearing. “We’ve got weapons and ammo, just in case,” said Dawson, his voice
slightly lowered. “This area has a known rebel problem, so it’s best to be
prepared.” Atlas began handing out the handguns and magazines, the experienced
personal quickly checking their weapons. “I want a perimeter set up, fifty
yards out. I don’t want anything sneaking up on us.” He motioned toward Atlas.
“Mr. Silver will coordinate it. We should have comms—”

“BD,
I’ve got them!”

Everyone
turned toward Niner, sitting cross-legged against a tree with the case in his
lap, earphones with a mike on his head. Dawson rushed over, dropping down
beside Niner as he handed him the headpiece. “Who’d you get?”

“I
figured I’d go for the Colonel.”

Dawson
smiled. “Good thinking.” The Colonel would have all the necessary contacts and
wouldn’t let politics or ass covering get in the way of the truth, and the
truth was what they needed right now.”

“This is
Bravo Zero-One, come in, over.”

“Zero-One,
Control Actual, good to hear your voice!”

“Yours
too, sir.”

“What’s
your status?”

“Fifty
one survived the crash including the President and his family. We lost Spock
trying to retrieve this comm gear. We’re secure at the moment. We’ve got
several severely wounded including the First Lady. There may be survivors farther
down the river, below the falls, but we have no way of knowing, it’s quite the
drop.”

“How did
you survive? Your fighter escort reported a fireball.”

“Colonel
Lacroix landed us on a river. The fireball was probably from when the wings
ripped off, so that would have been behind us.” Dawson paused. “We got damned
lucky, sir.”

“You
did. Rescue teams are inbound but there’s no place for them to land near your
last known position. We’re triangulating your signal now—wait—okay, we’ve got
your position, it’s exactly where we thought. The nearest LZ is five miles south
of you. They’ll be landing there then hoofing it in to evac you. How’s the
cover?”

Dawson
looked up. “You can barely see daylight. It’s thick.”

“That’s
what I’m being told on this end as well. It’s just not safe for the SAR team to
drop in. It’s going to be quite a few hours before they can reach you, but
that’s not your biggest problem.”

Dawson
felt his stomach flutter. “What
is
our biggest problem?”

“Within
minutes of your crash a large rebel force started moving south toward your
position, about seventy men, lightly armed. Satellite shows they’re about four
miles from your position. They’ll reach you before sundown. They also sent a
boat upriver toward your position. They know you’re there and if they have any
type of access to the news, they know who you are.”

“I guess
we’re world news.”

“And
then some. Until this moment, you were all presumed dead. Hell, they even swore
in a new president.”

Dawson
looked over at Starling. “Sir, if I’m hearing you correctly, our rescue team won’t
reach us before the rebels.”

“It’s a
footrace, Zero-One.”

“Then
we’re going to have to try and improve the odds. We’ll start hiking south at
best speed immediately. It’ll be slow though, we’ve got wounded that aren’t
mobile and the underbrush is thick.”

“Understood.
Do the best you can. I’ve been asked to inquire about the status of the
football.”

“We
believe it’s at the bottom of the falls, sir. It is
not
secure, I repeat,
it is
not
secure.”

“Understood.
The codes have already been deactivated, so let the President know if he wants
to nuke anyone he’s shit out of luck.”

Dawson
chuckled. “I’ll be sure to tell him.”

“Okay Zero-One,
get your people moving and keep these comms open. I’ll try to get the Pentagon
to agree to having everything coordinated through us. Shouldn’t be a problem,
no one wants to be left holding the bag if this goes bad.”

“Good to
hear, sir. I’d rather be dealing with people I can trust.” He paused a moment,
lowering his voice slightly. “Did you notify the families yet?”

“Unfortunately
the news showed some video with some of your team so the spouses thought you
were all dead. I let Maggie know who was actually on board”—Dawson’s stomach
flipped at the thought of what she must be going through, thinking he was
dead—“but I’ll make sure they know the full truth ASAP. I shouldn’t have told
her anything, I guess I’m getting soft in my old age. I should have known plane
crashes don’t kill men like you.”

“Spock—”

“Is dead
when I say he’s dead.”

Dawson
nodded. “Understood.”

“Okay,
get your people moving and call back in thirty mikes with a status update. I’m
going to try to arrange a surprise for the rebel scum. Control Actual, out.”

Dawson
smiled, wondering if Clancy knew he had just used a term from Return of the
Jedi. He handed the headset to Niner then rose, walking over to the President.
He was about to brief him when Starling held up his hand. “Unless it’s
classified, let everyone hear.”

“Yes,
Mr. President.” Everyone gathered closer and Dawson raised his voice. “We’ve
established communications with home.” There was relief and clapping from the
tired survivors, hugs exchanged, though he feared the jubilation would be short
lived. “A rescue team is already on its way, but the nearest LZ—landing zone—is
almost five miles south of here, and the tree cover is too thick to get anyone
through safely.” He paused. “That’s the good news.” Groans. “The bad news is
there is a rebel encampment four miles north of here, and a group of nearly seventy
is heading to the crash site. That means we can’t be here when they arrive. We
need to break camp and start moving south at best speed.”

“But
what about the wounded?” asked the doctor. “Some of them can’t be moved safely.”

Dawson
pressed his lips together, breathing deeply as he looked at the First Lady then
at McNeely. “Unfortunately we have no choice. We’ll have to carry them.” He
pointed at the people that had been weaving baskets. “Can you fashion some
stretchers?” He pointed to a stand of bamboo, noticing some of them were
stripped, the bark apparently the long leaves he had seen used earlier.

One of
them nodded. “Absolutely.”

“Great,
then get to work. Atlas, Niner, help them cut down some of those. The rest of
you, grab all of our supplies and be ready to head out as soon as the
stretchers are finished.” He could see by the worried expressions on the faces
of the civilians, even the Air Force One staff—combat not their primary
role—that they needed reassurance. “Now, there’s nothing to worry about, this
is just a precaution. We’ll move south as best we can, and now that the rescue
team knows we’re alive, they’re going to redouble their efforts to get here
quickly. As well, the Pentagon is arranging a surprise for the rebels which I’m
sure will have them turning tail before you know it. Once we get word they’ve
turned back, we’ll sit tight and wait for the rescue team. But for now just
focus on your assignments, help those who need help, and we’ll all come out of
this on the other end. Personally, I’m looking forward to steaks and ice cold
beer without a damned tree in sight. So let’s get to work so I can get my
steak!”

There
were some laughs and he heard several other meal suggestions being swapped as
the group broke up.

“You
should go into politics.”

Dawson smiled
at President Starling. “I’m afraid I’d shoot too many of my colleagues for
idiocy, sir.”

Starling
laughed, tossing his head back. “Sergeant Major, if you ever enter politics, I
pray to God you’re on my side.”

Over Mozambique