Page 5 of Call Sign: Thunder
"Copy that, Thunder. Looks like we might have been expected."
"Copy that, Superman. On standby."
Major McIntyre had said the words he'd been thinking. No one should have been in the forest tonight. It was why they'd chosen that location for their drop off. It was mountainous terrain, miles away from the nearest farms or crime compounds. If they had a welcome committee at their drop off, there was a good chance they might have company at the Blanco Compound or worse yet, the pick-up rendezvous.
Zach started running contingency plans through his head and decided to deviate from his planned flight plan. It might be risky, but he needed to get eyes on the compound to see what the squad would be stepping into. He banked hard left, heading south ten miles before circling around to come at the compound from the opposite direction. This was a risky flight because it would have him flying directly over Carlos Blanco’s mountaintop residence located three miles south of the compound. At this hour, any movement there meant the whole area was awake and waiting for them.
Thunder flew as low as possible, the running boards of the helicopter skimming the treetops more than once. This—this was what he lived for. His ability to go where most of his peers wouldn't dare was why he was the most requested pilot.
The drug lord's personal fortress was over the next ridge. He'd fly west of the tall wall meant to keep out unwanted visitors. Their recon of the residence had shown armed guards would be in strategically placed towers at the corners of the property. He'd need to steer clear of them or he might be taking her back with a few more bullet holes.
The second he cleared the ridge, he knew he was in trouble. Several high-power spotlights shone into the sky from the four corner towers of the property. The engine of the Huey was one of the quietest in their fleet, but he knew out in the country it would be more than loud enough to be picked up by the goons on the ground. He banked left, confident he could avoid the searchlight long enough to get out of range of the rifles.
What he hadn't counted on was the enemy arming the tower guards with the very ground to air missiles they were on a mission to destroy. The bomb tore through the tail of the copter with a thunderous explosion. Zach's training kicked in, allowing him to keep his cool long enough to send his mayday.
"Mayday, mayday, Superman. Hit by bogie over target's crib. Thunder going down. Need to call for backup bus."
"Roger that, Thunder. Hoof it to the rendezvous for extraction."
There was little control left. Zach struggled to navigate to the only small clearing in sight, setting down hard enough to lurch his body forward. Only the heavy seatbelt buckling him in kept him from projecting out the front windshield.
The immediate silence of the dead engine was replaced with the crackling of fire. He needed to get out before the whole craft blew up.
Or before those assholes get here with their guns.
The copter was pitched forward enough that he had to put his feet up on the dash as he undid his seatbelt to keep from crashing through the glass. His body ached from the jarring landing, but he pushed through the pain. He could be a pussy about it later.
Zach kept his wits about him long enough to reach for his survival pack tucked away behind his seat. It had been over a year since he'd done a hand-to-hand combat rotation, but he was grateful he never went up without his bulletproof vest, army knife and loaded M9 Beretta.
He fought through the growing smoke to reach the sliding door his buddies had exited from less than an hour before. Now it was his turn to jump the several feet to the forest floor. The fire from the back of the craft was working its way forward and would be consuming the bird soon. He gave a final look at his baby before pulling the pack on his back and running toward the nearby tree line for cover.
His family called him a human compass because he had the uncanny ability to sense what direction he was headed, regardless of terrain or even time of day. But knowing what direction he was going didn't immediately help tonight. He knew he was due south of the planned rendezvous, but his little jaunt had now put him a full seven miles from where he needed to be in less than forty minutes. Even on flat terrain he'd have trouble making that. In the mountainous tree covered route he had in front of him, it was impossible.
That meant he had a few choices. He could look for a hiding spot and hunker down until the calvary could arrive to save him. Just thinking of that option pissed him off. He didn't fucking need rescuing like some damsel in distress.
Or... he could make his way in the opposite direction, heading to their backup rendezvous location and whoever they had driving their second 'bus' could make a second stop to pick him up. That option appealed to him much more until he realized it would mean heading back toward the Blanco residence. The same location where armed guards had shot the missile that had downed his craft.
He knew if he had any chance of making any pickup, he had to start moving. He let his instincts take over, turning toward the drug lord's mountaintop home. He didn't set a straight path, knowing the Blanco goons would be headed in the direction of the crash in order to verify the pilot had bit the dust in the crash.
Too late he realized he should have blown up the helicopter in order to buy himself some time before they realized his charred body wasn't inside. He had just turned to head back to do just that when the explosion of the over-half-full gas tank of the downed copter blew up. Despite being several dozen feet away, the wall of heat that hit him singed his face.
Well Goddamn. I'm sure glad I boogied out of there or I'd be toast. That should buy me some time though.
His forward progress was slow through the thick underbrush of the forest floor. He would make better time if he took his flashlight out of his pack, but there was no way he wanted to send out a homing beacon to the assholes he knew were in the forest on their way to the crash site. No, he had to keep pressing forward.
There was a dull illumination ahead he suspected was the Blanco residence. As he got closer, he would catch quick glimpses of the spotlights flicking through the small openings between the tree cover. The trajectory of the beams of light was now trained on the ground rather than the sky.
Thunder turned to the west, planning on steering clear of the walled location altogether. The headlights of a car broke the blackness and had him diving to crouch behind a thick line of bushes. He could make out several SUV's passing by on a paved road not twenty yards ahead. It was the only road to the mountaintop mansion of the crime lord and he'd known he'd need to cross over it at some point to get to the rendezvous.
He inched forward, surprised when he could make out brake lights as the caravan screeched to a stop in the middle of the dark road.
He held his breath, afraid to make a sound. His brain knew there was no way they could possibly see him or know he was there, but he couldn't come up with any valid reason for their stopping. That was until he heard the high-pitched scream of a woman coming from the direction of the SUVs.
Well that sucks. Sounds like she's in more trouble than I am.
He was close enough to hear the scuffle of someone being tackled to the ground. All he could make out was a man cussing, presumably at the woman who had screamed.
The situation got worse when the sound of fists beating against flesh filled the hot air. The thought of a woman being beaten only feet away had a wave of nausea turning Zach's stomach. That she was being hurt was bad enough. That he was not in any position to help her made it worse.
