Sniper Elite: One-Way Trip

CHAPTER 57

John Brux unbuckled his harness and climbed out of the pilot’s seat. “Jesus, Dave, she’s been hit in the fucking belly!”

“Where the fuck are you going?” the copilot called over his shoulder. “I’ve never done this before, John!”

“I’ll be right back! Just get us lined up!”

Brux found Master Chief Steelyard and Captain Daniel Crosswhite in the cargo hold, where they stood on the open ramp helping the load master ready the drop kit for the STAR system. The wind was howling, and he had to shout to be heard over the roar of the aircraft’s four T56 turboprop jet engines. “She’s been hit!”

“Sandra?” Steelyard shouted back. “How bad?”

“In the belly. Shannon’s pinned under the fucking horse. I think he plans on sending her up alone, but if Sandy’s bleeding—”

“If she’s bleeding, we can’t loiter up here long enough to cover Gil until the cavalry gets here!”

“That’s right!” Brux shouted. “CenCom’s sending everything they’ve got, but they’re twenty minutes out. Those Northern Alliance guys can’t see Gil from where they are, and all he’s got down there is a rifle!”

Steelyard turned to grab an emergency aircrew parachute from the bulkhead, throwing it at Crosswhite. “Put that on, asshole, we’re going in!”

Crosswhite grinned and began stepping into the harness. Steelyard grabbed a chute for himself.

“What the fuck do you mean, you’re going in?” Brux shouted in disbelief. “Jesus Christ, Chief! We’re dropping the kit from three hundred feet!”

“It’s a called an E-LALO!” Steelyard said with a laugh. “Extremely low!”

Brux adamantly shook his head. “You can’t do it! That’s just an old C-9! Those chutes aren’t made for LALO-ing. They take too long to open. You’ll hit too fucking hard!”

Crosswhite’s mind raced to form a solution to their dilemma. He considered briefly deploying the chutes inside the bay. This would allow the wind to drag them off the ramp behind the kit, but the idea was just too damn dangerous, and they might not land anywhere near the kit that way. “I got it!” He turned to the load master. “Get us some five-fifty cord — we’ll rig a pair of static lines!”

Steelyard took Brux by the arm, shouting into his ear. “Better get back up front, John. If Gil’s pinned under the horse, he won’t be able to set up the STAR system anyhow. We have to go in!”

By the time they were lined up for the drop, Crosswhite and Steelyard were armed and ready to jump with the kit. They had each attached a thirty-foot-long, double line of parachute cord to the chute carriers on their C-9 parachutes and secured the opposite ends of the lines to the deck of the ramp on either side. These static lines would rip the chute carries open the second they stepped off the end of the ramp and deploy each of their parachutes more or less instantly.

Crosswhite stood on the ramp beside Steelyard waiting for the load master’s signal to step forward. “You ever jump this low with one of these pieces of shit?”

Steelyard grinned at him. “What do you think? I used to be six feet tall!”

They broke up laughing, and the load master held up his thumb. “Thirty seconds to drop!”

They stepped off to either side of the kit, and Steelyard stuck an unlit cigar between his teeth. “I hope they got a couple a wheelchairs down there. ’Cause we’re gonna fuckin’ need ’em!”