Maggie waved them over to a side door that she slid open and helped lift Skeeter into the back of the helicopter. Candy entered next and sat next to Skeeter, helping her to buckle in. Hatcher watched as trucks began to pull out of the makeshift military compound, heading out toward the park entrance.
Maggie tapped him on the shoulder to get his attention and Hatcher started to get in. Maggie stopped him with a hand on his chest. Hatcher halted and looked at her. She held out her service pistol to him, her back blocking the view of anybody in the chopper. She said nothing, not that he could hear it if she had, but her eyes told him everything he needed to know: Don’t trust Vickers.
Hatcher accepted the weapon, tucking it neatly in the back of his pants before he stepped into the chopper and buckled his own safety harness. Maggie got in across from him and pulled the door shut, latching it behind her.
The ride to the staging area was short and bumpy. Hatcher had never ridden in a helicopter before, and although they appeared smooth and fast on TV and in movies, this one seemed slow and choppy. They travelled as the crow flies and arrived fast enough, but he felt as though he had been sealed in a trash can and rolled down a hill. It didn’t help that the seat had little to no cushioning and the pilot was keeping the craft low to the ground. It was almost as if he was trying to adjust for every tree top that he met.
When they finally came to the clearing outside the park where the staging area had been set up, Hatcher nearly gasped at the number of military personnel on-site. A large white tent with a red cross ablaze across the top was set up in the middle of the area, surrounded by numerous other green and tan tents. Military vehicles of all types were scattered about, and the place literally crawled with people.
Hatcher glanced up at Maggie, his eyes wide. How would Vickers dare get rid of the three of them with this many witnesses.
As the chopper circled the camp and came to a grassy area near other aircraft, it began its descent. Hatcher’s heart began to race as he considered their options. Could they possibly make it to a vehicle and escape? Could they hide among the many tents and perhaps slip away and back into the woods unseen?
The chopper set down and rattled his teeth, the gun at the small of his back suddenly feeling easily detectible. Hatcher reached around and unbuckled, pulling his shirt loose to fall over the weapon, concealing it. He looked to Maggie who was opening the side door and stepping out.
Hatcher followed her out and bent low again, stepping away from the rotors overhead and toward another chopper sitting idly by. He turned and waited for Candy and Skeeter.
Vickers marched up to him and shouted above the sounds of the helicopter winding down. “There’s a medical tent over there,” he said pointing. “Have your people checked out and get something to eat. Major Chappell will have you a tent assigned so you can get some rest.”
“What happens after?” Hatcher asked.
“After?” Vickers repeated.
“You know…after the bombs hit.”
“Ah.” He glanced around to the numerous troops and indicated them with a wave of his hand. “My men and I come in to render aid, declare it a disaster, find you and yours alive and the only survivors. You will be properly debriefed and once we are certain you will never breathe a word of what truly happened here, you’ll be free to go.”
Hatcher stared at the man. “And how will you know that?”
Vickers gave him a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Nothing sinister, I assure you. Professionals from another branch of the federal government will come and speak with you. Once you have signed a fully-binding non-disclosure statement.”
“A statement that says the official story is the real story.”
“Exactly.” Vickers smiled again.
“I should have known.”
Vickers glanced at his watch. “There’s still time to have you returned to your station,” he offered. “Barely.”
Hatcher glared at the man a moment longer. “Don’t you have a third world government to overthrow somewhere?”
Vickers smiled again and turned on his heel. “I thought you’d see things my way.”
Chapter 12
The C-130 that suddenly dropped in altitude and aligned for the sight had a crew of eight for this mission. Using satellite imagery, the locator beacon was zeroed in on, and the first images were brought up as the plane began lining up to drop its payload.
The tech sergeant adjusted the gain in the image and sat back. “Uh, Lieutenant?” he called. “There are a TON of civilians at the target sight, sir.”
“Those are tangos, Tech Sergeant,” the lieutenant called back. “Carry on.”
The tech sergeant felt his guts tighten as he transferred the coordinates to the bomb’s internal navigation system. A slight whirring sound verified that the gimbal system was active as the motors activated and the coordinates were accepted. Somehow, he couldn’t accept that American civilians were now tangos. Especially American civilians at Yellowstone National Park. Hell, it could be some of his family down there.
As the plane shifted slightly, the tech sergeant felt the pull of gravity against the restraints of the seat as the plane came around and settled in for its run. The ventilation system increased the internal atmospheric system in preparation for the opening of the huge rear loading door.
The tech sergeant typed in the commands and waited while the satellite magnified the image twice more. He nearly gasped as the image clarified and the tangos came into view. Bloody faces, torn and ragged
