They grew mad with symptoms, gouging at their eyes as they charged forward, now lashing out in pure rage at anything that moved, even each other. An entire platoon online supported by heavy weapons with a clear field of fire made easy work of the chaotic mob. Sensing the lack of incoming fire, Jacob rose to a knee and took aimed shots, downing the staggering creatures one by one. With this current wave nearly destroyed, another approached the gate at a full sprint, again breaking up as they were slowed by the pool of bodies and waded through the contaminated breach, falling with sickness of their own.
This time, half of the mass broke off, repelled by the chemical, and retreated back into the raging fire now burning in the trees. Others tried to move around the perimeter, walking the fence line, only to be cut off and overwhelmed by the chemical fog. The platoon’s men climbed up from their fighting positions, slowly advancing on line with each other and putting down the blind and suffering Deltas. The men continued gaining energy and excitement over finally seeing the Deltas defeated on the battlefield. They walked along the grounds, placing kill shots on any of the creatures still moving.
Merritt watched as his men claimed victory over the field; he called the men back, ordering them to police their equipment and hold the line.
James looked over and exchanged a relieved look with Jacob. The bearded man coaxed Duke from his hole, allowing the dog to run ahead toward the dead, sniffing at the Delta bodies all around them. James stood upright, grabbed his rucksack, and tossed it to the undisturbed ground behind him. The NBC men reported in with Merritt; Jacob watched as the men gave their brief. He overhead them say that the chemicals were completely transferred into the holding tanks and waiting to remove the lines. Merritt nodded and waved them off. He turned, faced the soldiers, and ordered the platoon to their feet, leaving only a few men back for security while the rest returned to the Chinook.
James knelt down by Duke, watching the soldiers pass by. He poured water from a bottle, allowing the dog to drink. Jacob moved off to their side to rest. He sat down on his rucksack and used a bandana to wipe the grime from his face. Merritt passed by and stopped, looking at the carnage in front of them. He turned to James. “I don’t think we could have done it without the poison,” he said.
“You know that shit is against the Geneva Convention,” James said with a serious face, making it impossible to tell if he was joking. “I’m going to have to file a report when we get back.”
Merritt shook his head. “Good thing the Deltas never signed it.”
“Good point, sir. So how’s your platoon?”
“Five dead and many more wounded.” Merritt paused, looking to the fence. “Considering all things, we fought well today. This was a win for us.” The hardened officer turned and walked away.
Hearing orders for the security team to return to the helicopter, Jacob leaned over and lifted James’ heavy pack to his shoulder. They headed for the Chinook, where a man in a flight suit removed a hose from a large tank attached to a stubby wing. Seeing the bullet holes in the side of the large helicopter, Jacob was going to question the man about the bird’s flight worthiness. When he heard the engines whine and the blades starting to turn, he changed his mind and, not wanting to be left behind, rushed ahead to the ramp.
This time, he led the way, moving deep into the belly of the helicopter from the rear ramp, solemnly stepping by the black body bags of the platoon’s dead. Jacob dropped into the orange jump seat and sat back as the engines gained power. He turned to look out of the back ramp, watching the helicopter defy gravity and leave the ground before swiftly gaining altitude, banking, and turning to the west. As the helicopter circled, he caught a glimpse of a Delta mass moving along open streets. There were still thousands of them down there in the city; they would have been killed without the dioxin.
Jacob tried to clear his thoughts and take the time to rest. He tried to watch the blue sky from the small port windows. He saw that the other men around him were sleeping, heads heavy and leaning back. Jacob tried to relax and look away, but his eyes were always drawn to the black bags at his feet. He couldn’t sleep. His mind racing, his thoughts filled with ideas about the men they lost. Wondering how it was that he survived when people like Stephens, Marks, and Murphy didn’t. This war wasn’t about skill; it was all about luck—being in the right place at the right time. He lay back against the netting and turned his head to the side, watching the blue sky pass by.
Chapter Fifty-Three
Jacob walked off the helicopter with the others close by. They were on a bustling air strip. All around them, helicopters were landing to be refueled before taking to the air again. From where he was, he could see and hear signs of the fighting—a black plume of smoke billowing up and drifting away, echoes of explosions, and the cacophony of distant gunfire. At the end of the tarmac sat a yellow bi-plane with other military helicopters parked close to it. Jacob stopped and stared at it, finding it curious that it was surrounded by so many modern military aircraft. A small orange fork truck raced by, turning sharply and expertly parking under the Chinook’s stubbed wing.
Members of the Chinook flight crew gathered around, helping cross transfer the MX4-filled extended fuel tank over to the smaller service vehicle.
“Careful with that, it’s
