Уильям Дитц - Seek and Destroy

In the meantime, Riley was feeding info to the truck commanders. “The brass put a drone up,” she explained. “They’re going to provide routing information. Take a left onto the highway, and the first right you come to. Over.”

Mac saw the LUCYturn, and was thrown sideways as the GERONIMOfollowed suit. Regimental command was throwing everything they had at the rescue attempt, and that was good. But the rebs weren’t likely to sit on their hands. A Yankee A-10 pilot would be one helluva prize, not to mention a propaganda coup, when his picture appeared on the front of the Dallas Morning News . “Watch out!” LUCY’s TC hollered. “Roadblock ahead!”

Mac swore. A quick-thinking Confederate had parked a six-by-six across the highway in an attempt to block it. But there was room on the right, and LUCY’s TC was quick to make use of it. Small-arms fire began to rattle against GERONIMO’s armor, and Mac could see that three soldiers were sprawled under the six-by-six, shooting at her. She sprayed them with 5.56 caliber rounds, and the firing stopped.

After clearing the front end of the six-by-six, LUCYraced ahead, with the second vic in hot pursuit. And when the lead Stryker turned right, GERONIMOfollowed. The unpaved road ran straight as an arrow—and Mac could see smoke boiling up from a clutch of Bradleys up ahead. Short Bird’s work? Hell yes, and the air force pilot was still at it.

The Warthog was so low that Mac could count the fittings on the plane’s belly as it flashed overhead. Rockets leapt off the plane’s wings, and orange-red explosions marked a target hidden in among the trees a thousand yards beyond the Bradleys. “You’re looking good, Bravo-Six,” the pilot assured her. “Sleeping Beauty is five miles ahead and taking a nap. Over.”

Mac couldn’t help but grin. “Roger that, Short Bird. We’ll wake him with a kiss. Over.”

“He’ll like that,” the pilot replied. “Especially since he doesn’t get very many kisses. We’re going around. Over. Hold one… Uh-oh… Two F-15s at twelve o’clock! Gotta go…” The transmission ended as the A-10 started to climb, and the reb fighter fell like a hawk as it dived on its prey.

Mac wanted to watch but couldn’t. Her air cover had been pulled away, she was ass deep in enemy territory, and a pilot called Sleeping Beauty was waiting up ahead. “Riley,” Mac said. “Get Sleeping Beauty on the horn… Tell him to keep his head down and watch for us. Over.”

Mac heard two clicks and knew the RTO was on it. They were up on the Bradleys by then. The tracks were on fire, and Mac could feel the heat as GERONIMOrolled past. Two bodies lay sprawled nearby. Death from above… Had Short Bird put eyes on any of the people he’d killed? It didn’t seem likely. Not when traveling at more than 400 mph.

The trees Short Bird had fired at were coming up fast. Why? What had the pilot seen there? The answer arrived in the form of a 105mm cannon shell. It screamed past and exploded behind her. A tank! A fucking Abrams, which, having pushed out into the open, was preparing to fire again. “Take evasive action!” Mac shouted. “Fire smoke… And don’t run into each other.”

LUCYcut left and GERONIMOangled to the right as another 105 round ripped through the space where they’d been. LUCY’s gunner was firing smoke grenades. So it was only a matter of seconds before a gray fog enveloped the scene. Mac couldn’t see but took some comfort from the fact that the tank commander couldn’t see either, as the GERONIMObucked over an obstacle and nearly threw her out of the hatch.

As the Strykers emerged from the cloud of smoke, they entered a cow pasture. Most of the animals were dead, but one stood munching away. The .50 began to chug, as GERONIMO’s gunner yelled, “Target’s left!”

When Mac turned to look, she saw the soldiers. They were spread out in a skirmish line. Some raised their weapons. They’re searching for our pilot, Mac thought to herself, as she brought the LMG to bear. Where is the son of a bitch anyway?

Bullets buzzed past her, pinged the hull, and left bright smears where they hit. Mac pulled the trigger and saw half a dozen soldiers go down. Some had been hit, and the rest were diving for cover. A distant part of her brain took note of the fact that they were wearing strange uniforms. Mexican mercenaries? Yes, that made sense.

Then the thought was gone as LUCYwaddled up out of a gully, and GERONIMOfollowed. “Sleeping Beauty is directly in front of us,” Riley announced. “Don’t shoot him.”

It was a levelheaded order, and Mac was impressed. The Owl had a good head on her and would make an excellent corporal, assuming she lived long enough to sew the stripe on. Mac turned forward in time to see a man wearing a flight suit rise up out of a filthy pond! He waded toward them with a pistol in hand.

Mac was about to issue an order when she saw that LUCY’s ramp was falling. In the meantime, GERONIMO’s commander turned to place his vic between LUCYand the Mexican troops. That’s when the .50 began to send heavy slugs downrange. Geysers of brown soil leapt into the air as the heavy machine gun traversed from left to right. “We have him!” LUCY’s TC exclaimed. “Over.”

“Well done,” Mac said. “Let’s haul ass. Geronimo will take point. We’re going out the way we came in, so watch for the tank. Over.”

Surviving members of the infantry fired on the Strykers as they left but to no effect. Mac’s eyes were focused on the trees where the tank had been. Was the monster still there? A shell exploded next to the GERONIMO, went off, and flipped the vic over onto its left side.

Mac was thrown clear and hit hard. She was lying on the ground, trying to breathe, when Riley came into view. The RTO’s black-rimmed glasses were firmly in place, but the right lens was cracked. “Are you okay? The Lucy ’s waiting for us.”

Mac accepted Riley’s hand, let the other woman help her up, and heard the tank fire. The armor-piercing shell had scored a direct hit on GERONIMOand blown the Stryker to smithereens. She couldn’t see them. So it seemed safe to assume that Ramirez, Stephano, and private what’s-his-name were dead.

“Come on,” Riley said, and took Mac’s arm. As they ran, Mac knew the tank was aiming at the Stryker. And when the Abrams fired, LUCYwould cease to exist. Then something streaked down out of the sky, hit the tank, and exploded! A secondary blast blew the turret straight up… It seemed to pause in midair before crashing down.

Mac was still trying to understand the sequence of events as she followed Riley up the ramp and into LUCY’s cargo compartment. As she fell into a seat, Mac saw that the pilot was seated across from her with his back to the hull. He was sopping wet, but he was pretty. So pretty that he could be called beautiful. As for the “sleeping” part of his call sign, there had to be a story to explain that. Falling asleep in a class? Something like that. The pilot spoke as LUCYpulled forward. “I’m sorry.”

Mac was about to say, “Sorry for what?” Then she remembered Ramirez, Stephano, and the nameless private. She could see his face… A kid trying to look tough. The pilot didn’t know any of them, needless to say. But he knew that people had died to rescue him. And he was sorry. Mac forced a smile as LUCYlurched over some unseen obstacle. “Shit happens, Lieutenant. It wasn’t your fault. Remember that.”