Devon Ford - The Fall

“Extract me to where?” she asked.

“A safe site, ma’am,” he said, “but that’s not all…”

“Go on,” Madeline said, narrowing her eyes as he seemed almost embarrassed.

“Ma’am,” he said, raising his eyes to hers where she suspected there may be a glint of wetness. “Washington is gone, completely, and you need to be sworn in as soon as possible.”

“Sworn in? Wh—” She stopped, the realization dawning on her.

“Madame President,” Drew said formally, “these circumstances hardly dictate congratulations, but I’m honored to be at your service.”

Madeline tanner, soon to be the first female President of the United States of America, and in the midst of a surprise war being waged on civilians with the worst casualty rate of any conflict in history, sat her ass down on a seat and let that shock wash over her like a flood.

“Well, shiiit,” she exclaimed breathlessly.

“Let’s go,” Troy said, “wheels up in five.”

The team had pored over the plans for their mission and waited for the word to go. Not thirty seconds after he had hung up the satellite phone was the first helicopter sparking into violent life and powering up. He had chosen to split the team, both the operators and the air assets. He now piled out the front door of the bunker with four of his team, taking both of their Black Hawks under the escort of a single Apache. This split of the team meant that he would be operating without a fire team partner, but it also meant leaving behind Chalky and the other four operators who could still be an effective fighting unit if his entire deployment didn’t make it back. It also meant taking all of their aircraft which could carry troops, but he hoped to rectify that and bring back more than they left with.

Troy, climbing aboard the helicopter with Valdez and Farrell sat opposite Bones and Ghost, turned to give a thumbs-up to Gina Pilloni in the right-hand seat of the other Black Hawk. He switched his glance up to see that the Apache had already surged skywards under the control of Buck and Healey.

Pulling on his headset handed to him by the loadmaster of his bird as they climbed in altitude, he called out on the squad net for his three helicopters.

“Flight time is two-five minutes,” he said, “repeat, two-five until we are on site.” With that he sat back and closed his eyes, trying to visualize the ground he was heading for. Air force bases all over America, hell all over the world, were built the same way and if you’ve seen one, then you’ve pretty much seen them all. He hoped they would only be on the ground for a few minutes; after years of operating in obscure sandboxes and mostly in the dark, he felt like an alien walking around in full war gear in the daylight, and never before on US soil.

He hadn’t told everyone the full extent of his orders—need to know and all that shit—but mostly he hadn’t told them the rest because he didn’t want anyone thinking that they had to do their job any different than they normally did.

The Apache flew ahead a half mile and circled the base once, radioing back that they saw nothing to raise any concerns. Flying straight in and flaring to land on the tarmac by the main building, the rotors of the two Black Hawks stayed turning ready to power up and lift at a moment’s notice. Troy and his team dropped their boots onto the dry blacktop and spread out professionally. Anything heading their way would, hopefully, be detected by the space-age array of sensors on the Apache which loitered menacingly way above their heads. Heading straight for the doorway of the nearest building, weapon up and approaching heel toe, heel toe, Troy stopped as the door opened before he could get there.

The terrified eyes of the young man who opened it burned brightly, before the door slammed again. Troy, half expecting a response like this, threw himself to the wall beside the door and glanced back to see his team of four had similarly dispersed.

“Captain Gardner, US Army,” he yelled through the closed door, mindful that their appearance was not that of a regular unit. Not by a long shot. “We’re here on orders,” he yelled, “coming in, DO NOT FIRE ON US.” The last instruction boomed out in a voice which cut through the rotor noise and burned into the very souls of younger, less experienced men. Chalky often teased him for this trait of his, calling it his Alpha voice which other members of their pack were powerless to resist.

He reached a hand to the door, opened it a crack, and stepped back. No shots came, so he slowly entered. The contrast between the bright light of the afternoon sun and the dark, dingy interior of a ready room with little natural light took him a second to adjust to. He made out four, five faces in the shadows all looking at him in fear.

“Stand down,” he told them, lowering his rifle barrel to point toward the dirty carpet and standing straight, “we’re here to help.”

Slowly, nervously, four men and a woman appeared from behind cover. Cover was a relative term, seeing as how ducking down behind a sofa was all well and good for a game of hide and seek, but about as effective as covering your eyes if you were expecting incoming bullets.

The base, as far as US military bases went, was small. He didn’t have the luxury of time to explain the A to Z of their current predicament, so he cut right to the point.

“Any other personnel on base?” he asked, as Bones and Ghost joined him after leaving Valdez and Farrell to set up a hurried defense outside. Heads shook.

“Any of you rated as pilots?” again, heads shook. “Aircrew? Maintenance?” Heads nodded in response to the last word. Not ideal, but not insurmountable.

“What aircraft are on station?” he asked, mindful not to snap and scare the wide-eyed support staff who looked at him as though a god of war had just appeared before them, even though that wasn’t an entirely inaccurate description.

“Twin Hueys,” said what appeared to be the oldest man there, who still seemed younger than Troy’s thirty-six years, “primarily configured for transport and SAR.”

“Good,” Troy said, “ready to fly?”

Nods, albeit confused ones, replied to his question.

“Okay, load up personal gear and maintenance tools for immediate dust off,” he said, walking back out of the room and hitting the transmit button on his radio as he looked at the nearest Black Hawk thirty paces away. The face in the right-side seat watched him.

“Pilots,” he said, “any of you familiar with a Huey?” No answer came back, as all six of the pilots listening in either exchanged glances or rolled their eyes. There wasn’t a helicopter jock in the entire US forces who couldn’t pilot a Huey.

“Captain,” came a female voice, “most Huey’s are older than us. Yes, we all know how to fly them.”

Feeling a little like an idiot, he watched the face of the pilot who had spoken shake slowly at the idiocy of his question. In that moment, he knew it was Gina Pilloni; their team’s war-virgin, and he had handed her a tiny slither of authority over him by demonstrating a minor lack of knowledge. It wasn’t so much that he minded looking like an idiot, but it was the fact that he had thought the question was a relevant one. Then again, he imagined the look he would give Gina if she asked him if he was rated to use an AK47 instead of his customary SCAR.

Yeah, okay, he thought, dumb question.

“Good,” he said, recovering, “co-pilots on me to fly two more birds.” He walked back inside to find that Bones and Ghost had encouraged the remaining crew to move their asses. As the three operators helped the five ground crews collect their gear and tools as well as prepare the two light gray Huey helicopters for immediate departure, they learned that most of the base personnel was comprised of auxiliary soldiers. When the bombs started falling, many had simply evaporated to their homes, but the brass had taken off without letting anyone else know where they were going. History was irrelevant to Troy, and he half expected to be warned of incoming aircraft at any moment to bomb this base as so many others had been hit. Gina and the other co-pilot, Nick Jenkins, hurried though pre-flight checks and sparked their engines to life. Troy hit the transmit button again.