Typhoon Fury

68

Two more RPGs simultaneously lanced up at the Oregon’s helicopter, but Gomez maneuvered out of their path, and the rockets went right past toward a stalactite. They smashed into the hanging rock formation and blew it in half. Juan watched as it fell hundreds of feet and crushed one of the compound’s buildings.

To avoid more of the RPGs, Gomez flew beyond their range into the far reaches of the inky cavern, using his night vision equipment, but the other chopper stayed on their tail. Three flares were sent up from below, lighting up the massive cave.

“What’s the ETA on the eye wall?” Juan asked.

Gomez was too busy flying to answer, so Linc replied, “Estimated to arrive in two minutes.”

“Then I suggest we get out of here.”

“Working on it,” Gomez said as he yanked the stick again to dodge minigun fire from Locsin. Its tracers added to the illumination from the flares.

Although he was now belted in, Juan struggled to keep Raven in his grasp as Gomez weaved back and forth. If Locsin were a skilled tactician, he would simply have his pilot hover sideways and provide a stable platform for the minigun, which had sufficient range to reach a thousand yards. But because Juan had outwitted him, Locsin was too enraged to think clearly and so he had his pilot stupidly chasing them from behind.

Gomez swung around in a wide turn so Locsin wouldn’t get a clean angle on the helicopter and headed back toward the hole in the roof. More light from the rising sun was streaming through, but darkness would be coming soon.

“I hate to tell you this,” Gomez said through gritted teeth, “but I’m going to have to go straight up to get out of here. No yanking and banking during that time, so it’s going to leave us exposed for about ten seconds.”

He meant they’d be vulnerable to both the minigun and additional RPG fire. It would be a lethal combination for a hovering helicopter.

They needed a distraction. Then Juan remembered they already had one coming.

He checked his watch. They had sixty seconds. The timing would be close.

“Gomez,” Juan said, “can you time your flight so that you are over the roof of that large building in about fifty-five seconds?”

“Sure. I’ll have Linc count it down. But why?”

“It’s going to blow up.”

“I generally like to stay away from that kind of thing, but I see what you’re going for.”

As they came around, Juan momentarily got a glimpse of Locsin’s face twisted in anger as he loaded another belt into the minigun. They locked eyes for a moment, and Juan cheerfully waved, taunting Locsin into maintaining his pursuit. Then he was out of sight as the MD 520N made its turn for the factory.

Gomez dived the helicopter down, almost like it was a suicide run. He skimmed the tops of the compound buildings and flashed by so fast above the heads of the RPG wielders they didn’t have a chance to fire.

They crossed above the factory, and Gomez pulled back on the stick as he continued heading forward, away from the building and toward the roof.

They made it halfway up before a blinding flash lit up the entire cave.

Locsin’s helicopter was tossed around like a toy by the blast, and the pilot fought the controls to keep them from crashing. Locsin, connected by a single strap, fell out the open door and was bashed against the skid. Shards of the disintegrated building battered the chopper, but they didn’t seem to hit anything critical. Two seconds later and they would have been blown apart along with the remainder of the Kuyog drones.

When the pilot got it under control again, Locsin was able to climb back inside, seething at the colossal failure handed to him by Juan Cabrillo. Tagaan had the Typhoon supply, the Picasso was gone, most of his men were now dead, and his plan to wipe out the Philippine Navy was over. Once he found Tagaan and killed him, he would have to start over from scratch.

Locsin looked up and saw Cabrillo’s chopper rising through the hole in the roof. He ordered his pilot to follow. Out in the open sky, he would have a much better chance of blowing them away with the minigun.

The pilot protested, but Locsin shut him down.

“Either we go up or you die!” he screamed.

The pilot nodded, and the helicopter began to ascend. Locsin finished reloading the minigun and prepared for the final battle. It was only when they were nearly out of the hole in the roof that it registered in Locsin’s mind that the bright sky had become as black as sackcloth.

Juan leaned out of the helicopter to look behind them as Gomez raced to keep ahead of the approaching eye wall. The clouds churned like a devil’s brew as it passed over the cavern sinkhole they’d just risen out of.

Locsin’s helicopter appeared above the jungle that was getting slammed by the intense Category 3 winds. It seemed to be pushed one way, then the other, by some unseen giant’s careless hand. The pilot made a valiant effort to battle the gale-force beating, but the chopper’s fragile tail snapped in half from the incredible pressure.

The helicopter spun three times, then nose-dived toward the jungle, before it was swallowed by the raging typhoon.

Juan pulled his head back inside and said, “We’re clear. Locsin’s helicopter just crashed.”

“So will we if we don’t have somewhere to land soon,” Gomez said. “Oregon, Gomez here. What is your current position?”

Juan heard Max say, “Northwest of you and enjoying a lovely sail through typhoon-roiled waters.”

“What about Tagaan?” Juan asked.

“We’re just about to reach the coastal road where we think his truck will make an appearance. The only question is whether he got there first.”