Defender(42)

"Believe me, ammo is the one thing I will make sure we got plenty of!"

Just then, Zeke Martinez, the youngest member of the team, came sprinting down the corridor towards them, out of breath, clutching a radio handset outstretched to Fredericks.

"Mike!" he called, still running.

"What's up, Zeke?" replied Fredericks, walking straight to him.

"It's Morgan. He's on the radio, man. Inbound from Pallarup. Doesn't sound too good."





CHAPTER 27





"How much time we got left?" Morgan asked. His eyes fixed upon the rapidly approaching, low-lying sprawl of Cullemown dead ahead.

"If you'd asked me ten minutes ago, I would have said about ten minutes!" Mason was stressed. "Remember that tiny leak we started off with? Well, it's now a flood. Our fuel's been pouring out back there for 20 minutes and we're losing oil. She's handling like a bitch."

"Sorry I asked."

"We're flying on fumes, Alex," said Mason. "My gauges said we were dry 30 miles back."

"So, how come we're still up here?"

"Don't ask me. Act of God. Miracle. I don't know: somethin'. Call it what you like. We should have fallen out of the sky ages ago."

"Great. If you've got any more good news, keep it to yourself. I'm going to try Mike again. Let him know we're inbound. Maybe he can put his hands on a net."

With a deadpan expression, Morgan flicked the switch on his headset to call forward to Fredericks at the hotel.

"Alpha Two, this is Alpha One. Over."

"Alpha One, this is Alpha Two. Got you loud and clear. Where the hell are you? Over."

"Had a bit of trouble leaving Pallarup, but we're about ten miles out from your location now. Heading in from the south. You ready to receive us? Over."

"Roger, we're ready here but be prepared for more trouble when you arrive. We're in the middle of a shit-fight. " Fredericks proceeded to brief Morgan on the situation in Cullentown including an update on the extraction out to the warship. The street battles were raging, and the injured helicopter was heading into the middle of it all.

"Understood," replied Morgan when Fredericks finished. Christ! Out of the frying pan and into the bloody fire. This job had been a disaster from the beginning, and from his perspective, there was very little to show for it other than his suspicions.

"We've got another set of problems up here, Mike. Fuel lines have been shot to shit. We're flying in on the smell of an oily rag. Steve isn't even sure if we'll make it. We may have to ditch. Roger, so far? Over."

"Roger. Go ahead. Over."

Back at the hotel, Fredericks and Garrett were huddled over the radio, looking at each other grim-faced, shaking their heads. Fredericks couldn't believe the way the day was panning out.

"We have a casualty. Sewa has a Priority Two gunshot wound to the lower leg. Arena's patched him up, but he's lost a lot of blood. We'll need medics and a stretcher on landing, too. Got that? Over."

"Yeah, I got it. Any more? Over."

"Just one other. Turner somehow broke his jaw when he was trying to get on board," Morgan smiled, as he'd been told the story and knew Fredericks and Garrett would appreciate it. They did. "He's been out for a while, but he'll come good eventually. He'll need some assistance on landing. Over."

"Thank God for small mercies, I guess. Just get your ass back here, ASAP. I'll mark the rooftop with an orange marker panel facing due south. Once you've spotted it, I' II marshal you in. Over. "

"This is Alpha One. Roger that. I'll see you soon. Out."

The flashing red lights of the instrument panel still gripped the helicopter and would persist until the emergency was over, one way or another. For most of the past hour, it had punctuated their fear. Incessantly clawing at already fractured nerves, the unrelenting insistence of the blood red pulse was frightening. The terrified passengers crammed in the cargo hold of the Super Puma were losing control, and a sort of mindless group hysteria overcame them. They were awash with fear and the mob shock of their seemingly endless ordeal finally became too much. Arena was trying to calm them, but they wouldn't have it. Even over the howl of the engines, Morgan couldn't stand it any longer.

"Shut up, the lot of you," he roared from the cockpit. "This bullshit won't get us anywhere."

The group fell silent.

"I need you to start thinking about getting off this chopper the moment Steve finds a spot to put her down." Morgan looked across at Stanley, huddled in at the back of the pack, helping his wife Lynnie check the splints Arena had applied to Sewa's shattered leg.

"John?"

"Yeah, Alex?" Stanley replied. He, Arena and Lynnie had been ignoring the outbursts, concentrating instead on treating the young guard.