“Yeah… if it was me, I’d have shot up everything in the kill box down there then dropped back into the cover of those hills. Yeah, I reckon they’re waiting in there.”
Rogers looked at Masterson with a smirk. “Who the hell is this guy?”
Clem put up a flat hand, waving off the comment. “I’m a nobody, kid, don’t you worry about me,” he said, passing the binoculars to Masterson.
The scarred soldier took the glasses and opened his mouth to speak when Clem raised his hand, silencing him. “Listen,” he said.
Rogers rolled his eyes. “What now, old timer?”
Clem pointed to the sky and looked at the tree tops. Slowly, the sound of helicopter blades beating came into range just before a pair of Apaches tore over their heads, so close to the treetops, they knocked snow off the high branches. Following the terrain, they dropped in elevation then banked hard into a gun run over the nestled crop of hills Clem had pointed out earlier. Without slowing, the attack helicopters let loose a salvo of hydra rockets. Bright streams of white disappeared into the hills. The sounds of thundering explosions echoed back as it mixed with the belching of the helicopters’ 30mm guns.
Blue streaks reached up into the sky after the Apaches, harmlessly falling far off course. The helicopters banked hard and made a second high-speed pass, launching Hellfire missiles before climbing and disappearing. The enemy fire ceased, the cluster of hills now engulfed in fire and smoke. Secondary explosions snapped and popped from the cluster of hills as the sounds of the Apaches faded. Jacob looked down and could see the men on the hilltop perch up with excitement on their faces.
“Well, I’ll be… our birds can kill them,” Clem said.
“Who are they?” Jacob asked.
“Pelee. They must be out of Pelee Island. They’re the only ones with attack birds left,” Masterson said.
Jacob grabbed his pack and started to stand. “Then that’s where we’ll go. The airspace must be clear; the Blackhawk could get through… right?”
Rogers shook his head. “No. Whatever these things are, they’ll be going after them now.”
Jacob turned to face him. “How? You saw the helicopters… those shots didn’t even come close. They don’t have air defense.”
“You may be right, but I don’t like assumptions. We’ll use the diversion of the Apache strike to get our own people back to the bunker.”
Clem grabbed a handful of dirty snow and squeezed it in his fist. “He’s right. They’ll focus on those attack birds. Start moving whatever they have after them to pinpoint the source. We can move away from it. Take advantage of the vacuum.”
Masterson climbed to his feet, lifting his rifle with him. “Okay, I like it.” He pointed a finger at a nearby soldier and called him close. “Send two of your people back to the compound. Tell that pilot to ferry the first batch out.”
The young soldier turned to run away when Masterson grabbed his shoulder. “Make sure that old bastard knows to turn around and come straight back, and tell him I don’t care if he returns on fumes.”
“Yes, Master Sergeant,” the man said over his shoulder as he rushed off.
Jacob watched impatiently as a pair of men accepted their instructions and moved back down the hill. He looked up at Masterson and grabbed his sleeve. “What the hell are we still doing up here?”
Masterson smiled. “Our day ain’t done. I want to take a peek in them hills.”
Chapter Sixty-Two
The point man and his dog stealthily rose up and approached the steep slope angling down to the intersection. “I’ll lead us out,” James whispered.
“Stay close to him,” Rogers said, leaning in to Jacob so the others couldn’t hear. “I don’t like the looks of this.”
Jacob filed down the hill, keeping James to his front. As he moved he watched the rest of the patrol step up and file in behind them, slowly joining the column. James led them down the face of the hill and pushed up against the hard-packed shoulder of the road. He knelt into cover, causing the rest of the men to follow his lead. Jacob crouched in the heavy grass and weeds, feeling the cold snow press against his clothing.
They lay silent, becoming one with the terrain while James and Duke strained their ears to listen for any sign of danger at the side of the road. It was beyond quiet, nothing moved; the leaves even seemed to freeze on their limbs. Down the road to the left, he could see the doomed civilian caravan; to the right, an open road leading back to the base and the neighboring villages. The air reeked with the stench of burnt rubber and plastics mixed with death. Rogers crept up behind Jacob and again whispered, “I don’t like it.”
“Do you see something?” Jacob asked.
“No, but it shouldn’t be this quiet. If we were alone, you’d hear the animals… birds or something; even the damn bugs are hiding.”
After a long fifteen minutes, James rushed across the road, cutting a path through the fresh snow. Rogers pointed it out as they followed it. “Everything about this is wrong,” he whispered. The rest of the men quietly rose to their feet and fell in behind them. Jacob picked up his pace, letting Rogers tuck in behind him as he crossed the open roadway. Soon he was wading back into the thick foliage on the other side. At the base of the hill, the vegetation was thick as it wrapped around him, making it nearly impossible to see. He moved ahead, following James by sound alone.
This is bad, I can’t see shit, Jacob thought. He used his left hand to push dense brush aside as he navigated the thick underbrush. It was impossible to stay quiet; the branches and thorns grabbed at his clothing, scratching any exposed skin. It was darker and colder at the bottom of the hill, and the smoke seemed to build up and blanket the ground. Jacob could
