expression that said he would much prefer to stay with the rest of the team for the fight roaring their way.
He gunned his vehicle to life in unison with Hawkeye doing the same as Cody and Murphy climbed on the other Chor-7.
Murphy set up a fresh ammo belt on the M-60.
Cody palmed a brand new clip into his CAR-15.
Jungle wildlife around the clearing started screeching and yeeping more frantically than before, sensing, heralding, the coming
human confrontation.
Cal Jeffers assisted his wife, then his daughter, into the backseat of the first Chor-7, then joined Caine in front, every
eye of the Jeffers family registering concern in the direction of the men in the other vehicle.
“Let… let us fight with you,” Jeffers implored.
His wife and daughter nodded agreement.
Cody shook his head.
“Thanks for the offer, but no thanks. Our job is to get you out of here, safe and sound, not get you killed. Find cover and
sit tight. Our chopper will be here any minute.”
The incoming choppers were almost upon them now, though still not in sight, but their oncoming racket had blotted out the
jungle screechings and everything else.
“Hit it, Hawkeye,” Cody shouted.
“I hear that,” Hawkins nodded.
He popped a clutch busting away from there.
Caine steered his vehicle in the opposite direction, down the trail for one hundred meters, then he yanked the Chor-7 sharply
into the first break in the wall of jungle he came to along the trail.
The Chor-7 and its passengers disappeared into the verdant wall.
The rotoring chopper noise sounded almost on top of them now.
“There they are!” Cody snarled.
Hawkins’ and Murphy’s eyes followed his to four Huey gunships sailing into view, coming in upon the LZ clearing so low that
a knoll of trees extending into the clearing several thousand meters across the stretch had shielded them from sight until
this very instant.
“Locsin called them in,” Hawkeye grunted. “That’s the only way they could have gotten here that fast.”
“Who the hell are they?” Rufe bellowed above the noise.
The Chor-7 engine raced, bumping them back along the trail from which they had come moments earlier.
The gunships slowed down across the clearing, obviously knowing what they were looking for. They fanned out in an even line
and started together across the clearing, coming across in a line from the opposite side.
“No government markings,” Cody noted from their position of concealment.
“Man, those turkeys don’t need markings,” Hawkeye groused, watching Murphy rotate the M-60 so it pointed in the direction
of the choppers. “These guys are gonna be trouble no matter who they are!”
He sped the Chor-7 down a rocky incline of the trail, where it angled away from the clearing on its way back toward the NPA
camp.
“We go much farther this way and we’re gonna end up back in Colonel Locsin’s lap,” Murphy noted with no show of enthusiasm.
The Hueys slowed their speed, scouring the clearing like low-flying insects looking for something to munch. The Chor-7 zipped
behind a thin wall of smaller trees and drooping vines and jungle growth separating the trail from the clearing.
Cody could see the choppers across the clearing, through the trees. He saw them drawing closer, closer; then the line of gunships
picked up speed, roaring in on them.
“They’ve spotted us.”
“And this,” Murphy growled, “is where it gets
real
hairy!”
The pilot’s voice crackled in Javier’s helmet headset at the exact moment he himself spotted the racing Chor-7 across the
clearing, behind that natural drapery of vines and fronds just inside the treeline.
“Over there!” The pilot pointed.
Javier nodded. He spoke into his direct tac net hookup.
“Birds one and two, land. Engage and capture… if possible. Bird three, remain up here with us. We will cover. They’ll have
air pickup coming in for them. We take
them
on.”
His headset rattled back with
He gunned his vehicle to life in unison with Hawkeye doing the same as Cody and Murphy climbed on the other Chor-7.
Murphy set up a fresh ammo belt on the M-60.
Cody palmed a brand new clip into his CAR-15.
Jungle wildlife around the clearing started screeching and yeeping more frantically than before, sensing, heralding, the coming
human confrontation.
Cal Jeffers assisted his wife, then his daughter, into the backseat of the first Chor-7, then joined Caine in front, every
eye of the Jeffers family registering concern in the direction of the men in the other vehicle.
“Let… let us fight with you,” Jeffers implored.
His wife and daughter nodded agreement.
Cody shook his head.
“Thanks for the offer, but no thanks. Our job is to get you out of here, safe and sound, not get you killed. Find cover and
sit tight. Our chopper will be here any minute.”
The incoming choppers were almost upon them now, though still not in sight, but their oncoming racket had blotted out the
jungle screechings and everything else.
“Hit it, Hawkeye,” Cody shouted.
“I hear that,” Hawkins nodded.
He popped a clutch busting away from there.
Caine steered his vehicle in the opposite direction, down the trail for one hundred meters, then he yanked the Chor-7 sharply
into the first break in the wall of jungle he came to along the trail.
The Chor-7 and its passengers disappeared into the verdant wall.
The rotoring chopper noise sounded almost on top of them now.
“There they are!” Cody snarled.
Hawkins’ and Murphy’s eyes followed his to four Huey gunships sailing into view, coming in upon the LZ clearing so low that
a knoll of trees extending into the clearing several thousand meters across the stretch had shielded them from sight until
this very instant.
“Locsin called them in,” Hawkeye grunted. “That’s the only way they could have gotten here that fast.”
“Who the hell are they?” Rufe bellowed above the noise.
The Chor-7 engine raced, bumping them back along the trail from which they had come moments earlier.
The gunships slowed down across the clearing, obviously knowing what they were looking for. They fanned out in an even line
and started together across the clearing, coming across in a line from the opposite side.
“No government markings,” Cody noted from their position of concealment.
“Man, those turkeys don’t need markings,” Hawkeye groused, watching Murphy rotate the M-60 so it pointed in the direction
of the choppers. “These guys are gonna be trouble no matter who they are!”
He sped the Chor-7 down a rocky incline of the trail, where it angled away from the clearing on its way back toward the NPA
camp.
“We go much farther this way and we’re gonna end up back in Colonel Locsin’s lap,” Murphy noted with no show of enthusiasm.
The Hueys slowed their speed, scouring the clearing like low-flying insects looking for something to munch. The Chor-7 zipped
behind a thin wall of smaller trees and drooping vines and jungle growth separating the trail from the clearing.
Cody could see the choppers across the clearing, through the trees. He saw them drawing closer, closer; then the line of gunships
picked up speed, roaring in on them.
“They’ve spotted us.”
“And this,” Murphy growled, “is where it gets
real
hairy!”
The pilot’s voice crackled in Javier’s helmet headset at the exact moment he himself spotted the racing Chor-7 across the
clearing, behind that natural drapery of vines and fronds just inside the treeline.
“Over there!” The pilot pointed.
Javier nodded. He spoke into his direct tac net hookup.
“Birds one and two, land. Engage and capture… if possible. Bird three, remain up here with us. We will cover. They’ll have
air pickup coming in for them. We take
them
on.”
His headset rattled back with
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