Echo Six: Black Ops 4 - Chechen Massacre (26 page)

"How much time do we have?"

He made a quick calculation in his head. He doubted they'd picked them up on their forward seeking radar because their Mil-26 was flying so low. The Hinds were flying at about a thousand meters, which made them easy to spot on radar.

"At this rate, they'll be on top of us about thirty kilometers before we can cross the border." He stamped on the rudder bar, adjusted the collective, and swung the nose to the east. "There's no point now in going the long way around. I'll head straight for Russia. That'll gain us a little time and distance, but we’ll still come up short. I reckon they'll hit us just before we cross."

"You can't go faster?"

He smiled. "No, I'm sorry. We’re pedal to the metal, but there's a lot can happen between now and the border. Like the weather could close in, who knows? We just have to keep flying. And hope."

For what? A miracle? That's about the only thing that will save us. Face it, Talley; we’re finished. But at least let her have a little longer before she has to face the reality of a murderous attack from those gunships.

He told her to go aft and tell the men what they were up against. He'd briefly considered trying to trade the life of Colonel Ho for his own, but rejected it immediately. Not because of his sons. Somehow, he'd find a way to get them back alive, no matter what or how long it took. It was because he was well aware of the cruelty of the Communists. The idea they'd trade a mere Colonel for a squad of NATO Special Forces troops was absurd. After everything Echo Six had done to them, there was only one thing they wanted, apart from the nukes that were lost in the sea. Blood.

He flew on, checking the radar screen every minute to see the Hinds were gaining. Each time he looked, the four dots were nearer to them. He was convinced they hadn't yet pinpointed their exact location. Someone had just worked out their destination, computed the speed of the big helo, and arrived at coordinates that were depressingly accurate. He checked the GPS for distance to the border.

Fifteen kilometers to go. So near, and so far.

Alessandra came into the cockpit with Guy. The Brit glanced at the radar screen.

"About five minutes, I'd guess, then they'll be on us. Like a pack of fucking hyenas."

"That looks about right. You know if they catch us in the air, we're finished."

"Which means when they catch up with us, we'd better not be in the air."

"Right. Tell the men I'm about to land. As soon as we touch down, we’ll only have seconds to get our wounded out and under cover."

"Copy that."

He began looking for a likely landing place. As he searched the ground below, he spoke to Alessandra.

"You'd better prepare the wounded to deplane the second we land. You heard what I said to Guy. We'll only have seconds when we touch down. Then they’ll be on us."

She nodded and disappeared into the cabin. He kept searching and almost immediately found what he needed. Maybe five hundred meters away, he could see a slash in the ground that could only be a quarry, deep sides, foliage, and a few abandoned buildings. Perfect. He nudged the controls to change direction slightly, and as the Mil-26 reached the huge scar in the earth, he brought it into the hover and dropped into the deep bowl of the quarry, heading for a patch of gravel and rocks at the side of the decrepit buildings. Then he saw the flight of Hinds, still kilometers away, but heading in fast. He slammed the wheels down onto the ground. The helo gave a sickening lurch as it touched down. He killed the engines and ran back into the cabin.

"Out, now! They're less than twenty seconds out. They must've seen us. Get everyone under cover."

He helped drag the wounded out, and they pulled Josef across to the nearest building, a dilapidated shed two hundred meters away. The roaring noise of the incoming Hinds was growing louder by the second.

"Get clear of the Mil. When they come in for the first pass, they'll tear the helo apart."

They hurtled through the door, and he slammed it closed when the last of them was inside. The noise of the approaching Hinds was deafening, and there was no need to tell them what came next. He peered out of a hole in the wooden wall as the first Hind came in, its nose gun blazing, hosing the Mil-26 with the 12.7mm Gatling gun. Their helicopter literally blew apart. It was a sitting duck, stationary on the ground. The gunner was able to accurately target his fire to ensure that almost every round hit the target. With a rate of fire of almost five thousand rounds a minute, it had expended the entire fifteen hundred-round capacity in little more than fifteen seconds. The other three Mi-24s came in and fired more devastating salvos to finish off what the first helo had started. But there was little need. The first burst had turned the Mil-26 into scrap.

Talley waited, in case they decided to shoot up the nearby buildings, but they seemed content with the damage they'd done, and the first Hind flared for a landing only four hundred meters from where they sheltered. The other three gunships landed close by, and the quarry fell silent as they switched off their engines. They watched the craft and waited; waiting for the hatches to open and troops to emerge, but nothing happened.

"I doubt they're carrying troops," Guy observed, "and the Hinds are notoriously heavy on fuel. My guess is they're low on gas, and they've put down to wait for reinforcements. As long as they're inside the fuselage, there's nothing we can do. We can’t touch them. They're heavily armored, and we've all seen what those Gatling guns can do. It’s a standoff. All we can do is find a way to get out of here."

"Before their friends turn up," Talley murmured.

He measured the angles between their hiding place and the gunships. He could see they had a faint chance. There were more buildings in a rough line that led the way from the grounded gunships. If they were careful, very careful, they could maintain the shed between them and the enemy, enough to stay out of sight of the Hinds. When they were at the edge of the quarry, they’d be able to slip away and trek overland to the border, which he estimated was a mere six kilometers distance. He outlined the plan to the men, and Buchmann knocked out several planks of wood from the side of the building furthest away from the North Koreans to make an exit.

Talley went through the hole and snaked across the ground toward the next building, fifty meters further away. He kept checking the line of sight, but he was satisfied the enemy couldn't see him. He reached it and gently pushed open the door of what had once been an office. A desk was sprawled on broken legs, and in the corner a rusting typewriter lay on the floor. He looked back to where his men waited and waved them on.

One by one, they followed his path, except the badly wounded that had to be helped, and Colonel Ho, who was closely guarded. He appeared to be in shock from the devastating attack on the helo; a craft his fellow North Koreans would know he traveled in. So for him, it was some kind of a reality check. When they were all over, Buchmann began knocking out bricks in the far wall for them to progress to the next building. It was barely twenty meters away, and it only took minutes to make a hole large enough to climb through and move further away from the threat of the Hinds. They kept moving from building to building until they were on the edge of the quarry, close to a small wood.

"I can hear engines," Rovere murmured. "It sounds like several, probably a convoy of trucks. I'd guess they're about a kilometer away."

Talley nodded. "They're bringing up reinforcements, and it won't take them long to search the wreckage. When they find we’re not there, they’ll throw a ring around this place and start hunting. We need to hurry."

They pushed on into the trees and forced a way through the thick foliage. He looked up at the sky when they came to a clearing. The light was already beginning to fade, and he had hopes the darkness might give them a chance to make it. Then they heard the barking.

"I hear four dogs," Guy said softly. "We need to speed up."

Talley gestured to the wounded. "Look at them. They're nearly done in. If they make any more effort, I can see at least two of them are going to die, and then there’s Josef." They both looked. The Russian pilot was fading almost by the minute.

"I can hold them off," Jerry Ostrowski suggested. "I'll find a good stand and take them out as soon as they come into sight."

"They'll have handlers," Talley pointed out.

"I'll shoot them too. It won't take long to dispose of them, and I'll be right after you."

He was tempted to stay with the sniper, but there were so few of them and so many wounded, he knew they'd never make it without his help. He nodded his agreement. Jerry reloaded his Accuracy International rifle and snapped on the bulbous sound suppressor. The hostiles were making a lot of noise, shouts and dogs barking, so there was little chance they’d notice the soft, almost inaudible sound of the shots.

They pushed on deeper into the wood. When Ostrowski found a suitable stand, a low hillock surrounded by fallen rocks, he peeled away and went to ground. Talley urged the rest of them on, slipping over rocks and shale, and then ducking into a shallow gully. The shouts grew louder, and he heard the first squeal as Jerry brought down the first of the attack dogs. More shouts echoed behind them, but he ignored them and concentrated on getting his squad to the border.

They kept on, meter-by-meter, and were only a kilometer away when they heard the first of the unsuppressed shots. Not the distinctive low sound of an AK round, but the sharp crack of a high-powered sniper rifle. With a chill, he knew what it meant. They all knew. Guy glanced across.

"He took off the suppressor."

"Yes, they'll get him for sure, now he's announced his position."

"The poor, brave bastard," the Brit muttered.

He'd sacrificed himself to give them precious time, by removing his suppressor and inviting the NKs to join in a firefight. Despite his superb skills, there could only be one outcome for a man on his own, surrounded by trained soldiers. The automatic fire of the assault rifles sounded through the trees, and the men looked at him, their faces haunted by what was happening to their comrade. They weren't trained to run from a fight, especially not a fight where one of their own was cornered.

He stared them down, every single one of them. "Keep moving to the border. When we get across, we'll thank Jerry Ostrowski. He's buying us the chance to get away. So make it happen!"

 
They redoubled their efforts. No one spoke. The horror of the situation was beyond words. 'Survivor guilt' was the term the psychologists used, but Talley could allow himself no such thoughts. They hadn't survived yet. If he wanted guilt, there'd be plenty of time when they crossed the border.

The squad finally scrambled out of the gully and stopped, as they reached the edge of the treeline. In front of them, a squad of NK border guards stood listening to the sound of the distant gun battle and talking excitedly amongst themselves. They were only fifty meters away, and they stared in astonishment as the newcomers suddenly appeared out of the forest, like evil spirits. They were slow to react. Talley's men were still angered by Jerry's heroic sacrifice. The men attacked, falling on the ten enemy soldiers like a pack of dogs. The fight was brief and savage. Talley’s troopers hacked into them. Within seconds, they'd shot, stabbed, and bludgeoned the enemy until eight men of them were dead.

Sergeant Park stood watching, horrified and unable to commit to the attack. One of the guards managed to aim his assault rifle and hit Park with a long burst that ripped him apart. Guy wrestled the rifle away from him and gave the NK a vicious kick that almost took his head off, but it was too late for the friendly air traffic controller. Sergeant Park would never make it to slice pizzas in the US.

Alessandra looked on grimly, and Talley could see the horror in her eyes, but it was necessary. These guards were an obstacle to prevent their escaping the terrors of a North Korean jail, the cruel torture, and inevitable execution. They had to be taken out.

"Let's move on," he said, after the last Korean had sunk to the blood-soaked ground.

Without a word, they shouldered their burdens and helped support the wounded. Josef was finished. Even with Rovere and Alessandra to support him, he couldn't take another pain-wracked step. Rovere pushed her away and slung the Russian on his shoulder. He nodded at Talley. "Let's get over that border."

The fence was only a few hundred meters away; a long line of razor sharp barbed wire, arranged in coils to prevent Kim Jong-un's slaves from escaping their socialist paradise. There was a single, muddy track that led to the guard post, now unmanned. They walked across to the Russian side where four bored looking soldiers awaited them.

Something nagged at Talley in the back of his mind, and then it came to him. The gunfire in the distance had stopped. Jerry had completed his task. Another brave warrior he'd make certain was never forgotten. He went forward to the soldiers and was surprised when one of them spoke in English. He wore lieutenant’s bars.