“You heard what the man said,” the chief growled. “Not a word. Chimp down on the radios — full tactical emission control.”
Roman shifted slightly, trying for a decent position, and looked over at the nearest jumper who was one of the new meats. The guy had his eyes closed and Roman suspected he was praying. That was all well and good, but since he couldn’t bitch, there was only one thing to do. He hung his head down, closed his eyes and quickly went to sleep.
“Team,” the pilot said a couple of minutes later. “There’s an intermittent sound. We need to maintain EMCON; we’re entering detection range!”
“Roman!” the chief snapped. “Wake up! And stay awake! You’re snoring!”
Fuck, Roman thought. I hate being a SEAL.
Chapter Twelve
The last rush had included a satchel charge and Babe had had to demonstrate her throwing arm again. But Bambi and Thumper had gotten good at collecting magazines and there was plenty of ammo. Enough that Mike was pretty sure he wasn’t going to be able to use it all. Not before he died.
“Amy,” he gasped, slumping down. “Is there any riggers… duct tape in that room?”
“I think so,” Amy said. “I think I saw a roll.”
“Get Bambi over here with it,” Mike replied, slowly lying down.
When Bambi crept across to him, Mike gestured with his chin at the dark room to his right.
“There’s road flares by the door. Fire one. I saw some pieces of plasticlike folders in there.” He inhaled with difficulty then paused to cough redly. “Get one. Hurry.”
“Okay,” Britney said, creeping in the room and fumbling a flare to light. She found the sheet and came back out.
“Knife in my pocket,” Mike gasped. “Cut away my jacket and shirt.”
Britney got it out and cut away the clothing, revealing two wounds in Mike’s chest. One of them was bubbling air. She half gagged at the sight of the red wound and bone showing, but kept from completely puking.
“Sucking chest wound,” Mike managed to gasp. “Nature’s way of telling you to slow down. Caught it on the last attack. Put the plastic on it, tape it down, leave one edge untapped, so it can drain. You’ll have to roll me over to do the back.”
Britney pulled the cloth further away and laid the plastic on the wound. She was amazed to see it suck in automatically. Then she used the duct tape to strap it down. With all the blood, it was hard to find a place where it would hold but she finally got the plastic secure. She tried to roll Mike over, but he groaned so bad she stopped.
“Thumper,” she called softly. “I need help.”
“I thought I was Bringer of Fire,” the girl said with a grin, then paused when she saw how bad off “Ghost” was. “Oh, no.”
“Get the other one on,” Mike gasped. “Quick.”
Between the two of them they got him rolled over. Just as they did there was a shout from somewhere behind them and then an explosion. Most of the girls let out a shriek and Britney crouched down over Mike, covering his wounded chest as a wave of dust filled the air.
“I put a charge in the ventilation shaft,” Mike gasped. “Get the plastic on.”
The wound on his back was much larger than on his front and he was bleeding profusely, the blood making a large puddle on the floor that Britney’s knee kept slipping in. She wiped some of the blood away with a cut off piece of shirt and slapped on the plastic, strapping it down as best she could.
“We need to get you in the room,” she said, helping Thumper to gently roll him over.
“Fuck that,” Mike said, coughing again. “This is my place to stand. Hand me my rifle and then get back in the room.”
“Look, macho man,” Britney snapped. “You’re bleeding all over the place. There’s only so much blood in the human body. You’re going to die if we don’t get some of it to stay in you.”
“Got any tampons?” Amy asked. “We don’t have bandages, we don’t have medicine and we don’t have anyone else who can shoot. Throw the flare to the far end and then leave him.”
“No, I’m going into this room,” Britney said. “That way I can hand him ammunition and stuff.”
“Okay,” Mike gasped. “Do it.” He laid his head on the AK for a second and then coughed. “Britney?”
“Yeah?” she asked softly.
“You’re good people,” Mike said, coughing. “The reason I did this is I just fucking care too much, okay? I’m a bad guy, I know that, but I care, too. Too much. I’m sorry about what I said.”
“It’s okay,” Britney replied, tears in her eyes. “I think we sort of knew that. You’re going to make it, Ghost. Help’s on the way. Fox said that Brandeis said they had forces on the way. I don’t know how long, but you stay with us, okay? Please?”
“Yeah,” Mike said, taking a breath. “Hold your head up high, for there is no greater love… God, I wish I had a Crüxshadows CD right now.”
“Save your breath, Ghost,” Britney said, rubbing him on the shoulder, lightly. There were more wounds there. There was blood pouring out of him… everywhere. “Save your strength, hero.”
“Gotta fight the dark,” Mike replied. “My way. And in the fury of this darkest hour, we will be your light… we shall carry hope within our bloody hands…” he continued to sing/whisper, coughing continuously.
“Movement,” Amy snapped, triggering a round at the landing.
Mike could barely see the landing anymore, his vision was tunneling out. But he shot at the figures, like ghosts, that moved in the red light, as the pain from each recoil racked his broken body, kept firing and firing until he couldn’t see anymore.
The bomb bay doors opened faster than the eye could follow. Without warning there was a blast of wind that filled the bomb bay.
“Tallyho!” the pilot said over the platoon net. “Good luck!”
The first jumper was Vahn, as the lightest of the group. As the clamps let go he felt the ram against his back thrust him out, and the foam rubber banging against him and then dropping away in the wind, and the wash from the B-2 tumbled him into the maelstrom.
He tucked into a fetal position until he was free, then opened out into a full spread, looking around with the Night Observation Device. With the NOD he could see that there was ground down there but nothing else. There was a high bank of thin clouds they’d have to drop through to get a view of the target. Then he saw a flash of light, rising from the ground, that erupted from the clouds and tracked across the sky. He suddenly realized he was actually seeing a SAM missile targeting the B-2.
“SAM in the air!” he yelled on the tacnet, wondering just what good that would do.
He glanced over his shoulder and could see most of the team in the air behind him. He couldn’t pick out who was who, but a quick check revealed seven members at least. Some of them were picking up to him pretty quick.
The ascending SAM was moving so quickly it was more like a laser than a missile, but suddenly it banked off to the right and went straight vertical before exploding like a firework.
“Lost track when the bomb bay closed,” the OIC said over the net. “Glad it didn’t track on one of us. Form up in a stack. We’re angling southwest.”
The jumpers started to form their stack, maintaining separation, when Roman suddenly broke the silence.
“What in the hell is…”
Vahn looked around and realized he could see something approaching at their altitude and at a high rate of speed. It looked like -