Zombie Killers: AMBUSH: Irregular Scout Team One Book Six (Zombie Killer Blues 6) (9 page)

Chapter 232

The man she had spoken to let out a long, exaggerated breath of air, shrugged, raised his rifle to his shoulder and put a three round burst into the one furthest from him. The first round  hammered the mercenaries’ chest plate, and the next two rounds went through his throat and his face, sending blood and brains to splatter against the wall. The second gunman started to raise his rifle, but he didn’t stand a chance. He had barely started to move when two rounds punched into his stomach, and he fell to the floor screaming. Another shot to his head cut the screams off abruptly. The gunshots were incredibly loud in the confined room, causing the Brigadier to leap to his feet and try to pull out a holstered pistol.  Before he could open the flap on the holster, the wooden butt stock of the shooter’s AK crashed into his forehead, and he went down like a cow at a slaughter house.

Exchanging his partially emptied magazine for another, the gunman finally reached up and pulled off the black ski mask covering his face to reveal … Sasha Zivcovic.

“ZIV!” I shouted. “Holy shit, what the fuck are you doing here?”

He pulled out his long combat knife and started cutting at the zip ties that bound Brit, then Red. “I am again your ass saving,” he said, quickly releasing me. He stopped where General Scarletti sat patiently fold, placing the knife up under Scarletti’s neck. 

“You. You are the devil, I think. I should cut your throat right here.” Ziv held it steady, but put just enough pressure to draw a drop of blood. To his credit, Scarletti didn’t move at all when he spoke.

“Go ahead, you cold hearted son of a bitch. I know what you’ve been up to in Kansas. Should have sent a Delta team after you months ago.”

Ziv laughed and sheathed his knife, saying “And I would have sent you back their heads.” I noticed, though, that he didn’t cut Scarletti loose. Red did, and helped the General to his feet.

Brit came over and gave Ziv a huge hug. “Oh my God, I’m so happy to see you! How is Diana? She must be getting so big? When is she due? August, right?”

What the hell? Last I knew, we had left Ziv in Kansas after our long fight with the undead horde outside Smallville. As far as I knew, no one had ever heard from him, and here was Brit, obviously in regular touch with him or his woman, a former US Air Force C-130 pilot.

“She is big as house, and bitch bitch bitch all the time. I take this job more to get away from her than for the money, but money was pretty good, too. Pure gold, up front.”

“Hey!” I said. “Can we cut the happy reunion, and figure out what the hell we’re going to do? There’s a coup going on that we have to stop.” I picked up one of the AK’s and started taking the rig off one of the dead mercenaries, first removing my uniform jacket and draping it over a chair. Red was doing the same.

“Colonel Agostine, I think the priority is to get me back to Fort Drum, where I can take control of the response forces.” As Chairman of the Joint Chiefs, Scarletti had command of all Naval and Ground Forces. As to whether the Air Force was going to play ball, well, I think we might have to beat some information out of the unconscious Brigadier, if Ziv hadn’t cracked his skull.

“”You heard the man. Ziv, are you with us?”

He appeared to think about it for a minute, then said, “Double what they were paying me, and I will help.”

Well, at least he was honest. “Done. How can we get out of here? What forces are outside? Where, exactly, are we?”

“A small utility building on west side of base. Outside is one Stryker and four men, one Air Force and the rest mercenaries like me. Very tough men.”

“Is the Stryker manned? What about the gunshots?”

Ziv pondered a bit, then said “He had orders to execute you if you would not cooperate. Outside they will think that we have shot two of you to make the others work with us. So, we should still have surprise. Yes. There might be someone in Stryker”

“At what point were you going to stop them?” asked Red.

“I wasn’t,” said Ziv. “The money was very, very good.”

Brit spoke up. “I know why you did. Because your woman would make your life hell.”

Laughing, Ziv said “That is why I saved you, yes. No money is worth getting shit from Diana.  She is more demon than you.”

I wasn’t sure that Ziv was serious. For all I knew, he was.  

Chapter 233

I don’t like gunfights. The thing is, you stand a good chance of getting shot, and if you don’t get killed, people you care about are right there next to you, running the same risk. It’s exciting, thrilling, but also scary as shit. So anything that gives an advantage should be used.

“OK, here’s the plan. Ziv, grab the Brigadier and drag him out the door, tell them he was wounded. As soon as they lower their weapons to help you, run for the Stryker. The ramp is down, right?”

Ziv nodded and I continued. “Take out whoever is in there, We’ll be right behind you. From left to right, Red, Brit, Me, each of us will engage a man in the same order. We go out shooting and don’t stop until your man is down on the ground. General, you come out when we give the all clear. Everyone got it?”

They all nodded. It felt good to be working as a team again. The four of us had assaulted so many buildings, been in so many fights, killed so many undead, it felt more natural than anything I had experienced in quite a while.

Ziv slung the Brigadier over his back, keeping one hand free with his palm resting on his knife. I stepped up behind him, but not close. He needed to get out and get past the men outside, and I needed to give him a few seconds to do so. I felt Brit’s hand on my shoulder, indicating that she was ready.

Like all plans, it didn’t survive contact with the enemy. Just as Ziv reached for the door handle, it was pulled open from the outside, to reveal the masked face of one of the mercenaries. He raised his rifle and pulled the trigger just as Ziv hurled the Brigadier at him. The burst ripped through the unconscious officer, hurling him to the floor, but not before he collided with the gunman, and they both fell in a tangle, blocking the doorway. Ziv drew his knife and hammered downward on the man’s neck, nearly severing it on the backstroke. Blood splattered all over me as he leapt over the two bodies and out into the dazzling sunlight.

I charged after him and promptly tripped over the bodies, landing full force onto the concrete. I felt Brit’s foot on my back as she charged over me. I rolled off to one side as Red came through, and I managed to take a snap shot from the ground that caught one of the mercs in the side of his head. I’d like to think it was skilled shooting, but it was actually pure luck; I had been aiming center mass. The man next to him was hit by a full burst that climbed across his torso as Brit fought to control that was heavier than she was used to. The Air Force Security Sergeant fired his M-4 once and I felt a white hot poker burn across my shoulder. I grunted and tried to shift my aim, but Ziv had buried his knife deep in the man’s throat, even as I saw Red shift aim away from the man to avoid hitting Ziv. The Serbian barely paused, but ran around the back ramp of the Stryker. A few seconds later his voice rang out with “CLEAR!” followed by shouts from Red and Brit, who had each peeled off around the corner of the building to check the sides. Both their voices rang out the same time with “CLEAR!” and then Brit was crouching next to me, frantically asking me where I was hit.

“I’m Ok, I think. Just scored my back. It looks worse than it feels.” Fuck that, it hurt like hell.

“Well, it’s about goddamned time YOU got shot instead of ME!” she said, but I could hear the concern in her voice. She started bandaging the wound, which was more like a cut than a puncture.

“Hey, I’ve been shot before! Once in the helmet, and once in the chest plate.”

“That’s not getting shot. Getting shot is, oh, getting wounded in the leg, and then getting shot in the STOMACH half an hour later by a cannibal, and oh yeah, getting part of your ear shot off.”

“Don’t forget the shrapnel in your arm from Seattle,” I said. She kissed me to shut me up.

“If you are done, now is time to get out of here,” said Ziv. Red came out with General Scarletti, and we piled into the back of the Stryker and raised the back deck. Red climbed into the driver’s seat, and Ziv took over the remotely operated .50 caliber. Brit continued to try to tend to my wound, but Scarletti immediately started messing with the radios.

“I doubt you have the same fill needed to talk to your guys,” I said, meaning the security codes for the radio.  He growled in frustration, the burned half of his face holding still while his mouth grimaced in anger, and flipped a switch, broadcasting in the plain.

“Sheriff, this is Linebacker, over.”

The radio cackled into immediate life, even as a loud CRASH sounded from outside, and the .50 started hammering. We bumped over something and accelerated; there was a BANG and the back end hitched to one side.

“Linebacker, this is Sherriff, send your traffic, over.”
In the background of his transmission I could hear the roar of C-130 engines, and I assumed Scarletti had a Rivet electronic warfare bird orbiting over Central New York.

“SALT, I say again, SALT, Linebacker out.” He hung up the handmike and yelled to Red. “Take us North on Route 11, parallel to 81, then head towards Oswego.”

“Not going to Drum?” I asked, the muscles on my back tensing up, starting to react to all the blunt force trauma.

“No, they would expect that. I have the 1
st
of the 5
th
Marines sitting on ship just off Oswego. Supposedly in clearing actions around Toronto, but they will be there waiting when we get there.”

“Good, then we can pack up and go home, right?”

“Oh no. I have a special job that only the scouts can do.” In the red lights, his burned face took on a demonic look as he half smiled. “I know how you hate flying, Colonel.”

“Bastard,” I said, meaning it.

“Oh yes,” he said, just as sincere.

Chapter 234

“No.” Brit stood there, arms across her chest, foot tapping on the concrete floor. “We’re not doing this.”

“Brit,” I said as I pushed rounds into a thirty round M-4 magazine. In the old ammunition bunker that served as the team room for IST – 1 whenever we prepped for a mission, other figures were pointedly ignoring us as we argued.

“Brit shit. WE. ARE. NOT. DOING. THIS.”

“Look, I don’t have a choice. Last I checked, Scarletti can and will have me shot if I disobey orders, and he damn well WILL if he thinks it will further his cause one inch.” I put the magazine down and picked up another one, then tore open a cardboard box of rounds. Click, Click, Click.

“I give a flying fuck what he wants. I let you go on your little scout two months ago, to get this out of your system, and you came back all beat to shit. What happens this time?”

She had a point. We were going to jump into a hornet’s nest, and had no idea what we would find. President Epson was being held somewhere on Hancock airfield, and there seemed to be at least a brigade of mercenaries and rebel Air Force personnel in and around the airfield. Fortunately, few if any of the regular military had responded to their call to join them. Unfortunately, they had fighter cover and two batteries of Patriot missiles, and, well the President as hostage. The Vice President had immediately been named acting President, but Scarletti wanted Epson back. The country was still fragile, and no one wanted a situation like we had faced last year, with loyalties divided up between two Presidents. I opened up the browser on my phone and re-read the email Scarletti had sent me. It had been two weeks since the coup attempt, and Scarletti had been directing our forces in an encirclement.
FROM: [email protected]

TO: [email protected]

RE: Status of Rebel Forces

“They tried to break out of the encirclement last night; I guess the rats are leaving the sinking ship. Apparently the guy who we killed at the Albany Airport, Brigadier General Ayres, was one of the main driving forces behind this whole thing, and with him gone, it’s a bunch of Colonels and Majors trying to run the show. They counted on getting Epson to change his mind, and he’s not. So the Army, Navy and Marines are in, and the Air Force is being gutted. I’ve had thirteen Flag or Field grade officers shot.”
 

A half dozen Rangers from the Regimental Reconnaissance Company, plus me and Ziv, were going to HAHO into the airfield. Once in, we were to scout the airfield to locate where the President was being held, then call a Delta Force squadron to assault whatever building her was in. Red wanted to go, but he had his foot shattered by a grenade a few years back, and couldn’t handle a PLF. Brit refused to go with me, since that would put both of our kids’ parents at risk, but I desperately wanted her there to watch my back.

I sighed and said “I don’t know. I can’t know. I’m going, and there’s nothing you can do about it; I just wish you were going with me. These guys are good, but you’re the only one I can trust.”

“Ugh, I just want to choke the shit out of you sometimes.” She came over and sat down next to me, grabbed a magazine, and started furiously shoving rounds in. She punctuated each one as it clicked in by saying “Such. A. Dumb. Ass. You. And. Your. Stupid. Fucking. Flag.”

“I love you too, honey.” 

We finished loading mags in silence. One thing about her, she didn’t hold onto anger long. When she was mad, watch out. When she got over it, we moved on. I stuffed my magazines into my chest rig, then remembered that my chute harness would be in the way. I shrugged out of it, and stuffed everything into a bag to be strapped onto my body.

“Listen up!” called a grizzled Air Force NCO. Most of the Air Force enlisted had stood solidly with the government, crippling the rebels. “Going over the plan one more time.” Everyone stopped their preparations and turned their attention to him as he stood on an ammo crate by the door.

“I am Chief Master Sergeant Berezuk, and I’ll be your Jump Master for this little trip. I’ll review flight operations, and then Colonel Agostine will review the Ranger Recon portion. After that, Captain Horton will handle the Delta part of the op.”

“Once we reach cruising altitude of twenty seven thousand feet, our aircraft, BRONCO 23, will act as a routine flight between Seneca and Fort Drum. Be warned, we have been painted by radar four times this week by the Patriot Battery at Hancock. They have not fired at us, but two days ago they shot down an A-10 that was on the same transit flight, and two F-15 Eagles are on Combat Air Patrol at all times.”

I felt an icy knot in my stomach. I fucking hated flying, and throwing in SAM’s and fighters? Uh, no.

“Once we are about halfway through the flight, approximately thirty minutes, you will all begin breathing pure oxygen to prevent nitrogen bubbles from forming in your blood.” Everyone here, including Brit, had been on HAHO, or High Altitude / High Opening jumps before, but it didn’t hurt to reiterate safety concerns. 

“At go minus thirty seconds, the back ramp will drop. We have to make it quick, because we don’t want the change in our radar profile to be caught. At zero, you will all exit the ramp. Freefall will last exactly twelve seconds, allowing you to clear the aircraft, whereupon you will pull your chute. Thereafter, you will steer your chute to a course of one hundred seventy degrees magnetic. On stack, the bottom man will chart the course. You won’t see the lights of the airfield until you break cloud cover at approximately one thousand feet, but it’s going to be limited visibility all the way down. Follow your GPS in.” He stepped down and I stood up on the ammo box myself.

“Gentlemen, you’ve all done this before. If I remember right, you guys are the same crew that jumped into Panama last year to secure the canal, right?” Several “hooahs” and grunts of affirmation.  “Good job, I’m happy to be working with professionals. Just keep your damn grubby paws off the beautiful redhead back there, or you might come back missing some fingers.” They laughed, appreciating the joke to relieve the tension.

“OK, our LZ is going to be behind here,” and I pointed to a building on a photo of the base that I held up “on the east side of the base. Most of the activity from Satellite Recon has been centered in the base operations center and Syracuse Airport, proper. Hopefully we can get down without being seen; for once the crappy central New York weather is going to be a help.” I paused to take drink of water, then continued.

“We THINK the President is being held here, at the base operations center. Once we ascertain that, a Delta Squadron that has been holding on station due south in helos will assault directly onto the building, after the Marines and Army launch a demonstration attack on Syracuse Airport. Staff Sergeant Millburn?”

The Ranger team leader had raised his hand, and asked “What about the Patriot Battery? Won’t the helo’s catch it in the ass on the way in? Will the Air Force take it out with a HARM?”

“Good question. A HARM (High Speed Anti Radiation Missile) may cause secondary explosions that could injure or kill the President. Or us, which honestly, is more important to me.” After they stopped laughing, I continued. “That’s our secondary. We have to take out the radar. Quietly, hopefully, but loudly, if we need to. Any other questions? Nothing you guys haven’t done a hundred times before.” I ignored the sarcastic ‘yeah fucking right’ that someone muttered. Always someone pissing in the cheerios.

Captain Horton replaced me on the ammo crate, and he was brief. “Once you all pin point the building, and take out the radar, get the fuck out of our way. My boys are going to come in hell bent for leather, and we’re not going to take time to ID anyone between us and the President. Pick yourselves a point that you want our helos to come in on, we have three already laid out, and get on board once we exit. The helos will take you back out. We don’t need anyone getting in our way, especially civilians. Any questions?”

Brit spoke up from the back of the room, and I grimaced. “I have a question. That stick, the one that’s shoved up your ass, do you want me to break it off? So you know, when you are hell bent for leather, you can move more freely?”

I groaned, and Ziv laughed. The Captain looked pissed. “No offense, Miss, but this is what we train for, day in and day out. You would just get in our way.”

“Brit” I said, exasperated. “We have our job to do, they have theirs. He’s right; despite all our experience, we WOULD get in their way.”

She looked mollified, but I knew she would take another shot at him if we kept going. I tuned to the Delta commando and said “Don’t worry, Captain, we want to get out of there just as badly as you want us out of your way. I’ll be the first one on the chopper, trust me.”