Sniper Elite: One-Way Trip

CHAPTER 59

Brux and the copilot hauled back on the yoke with all their strength to level the aircraft at two hundred feet. Brux cut the fuel to the outboard engine and feathered the prop, hitting the fire suppression system.

“We gotta go around again!” the copilot said, fighting the yoke to help bring the plane back on course.

“No!” Brux said. “We can’t risk that!”

“We don’t have enough altitude, John! We came in too low!”

“Just get us back on fucking course! There’s still time to bank into the fucking line!”

“Christ!” Dave shouted, seeing the balloon looming above them as they raced toward the line. “There won’t be enough line below us. She’s gonna smack into the bottom of the fucking plane, John!”

Brux chopped the throttles, and together they hauled back on the yoke to gain another fifty feet of altitude.

“We’re gonna miss it!” Dave shouted.

“No, we’re not!” Brux kicked the rudder to swing the tail of the aircraft around just enough so that the far left edge of the V-shaped pickup yoke, extending from the front of the Spectre, caught the line less than a foot inside of the left turnbuckle. The line rode the yoke down into the eye and locked into the Skyhook at the bottom of the V, snapping against the windscreen and slapping back over the top of the fuselage, tearing away from the balloon as it was designed to do.

The unconscious Sandra was snatched up into the sky with little more force than that of an opening parachute and disappeared into the night. As the AC-130J leveled off, the line extending from her harness ascended to a parallel position with the bottom of the aircraft. She trailed seventy-five feet behind the plane, twisting slowly in the wind as the load master reached down from the end of the ramp with a retrieving hook attached to a long pole to grab the line. After the line was hooked, he and one of the gunners ran the line through a pulley anchored over the ramp and fed it back into a winch that reeled Sandra up into the plane.

Within three minutes of being snatched from the ground, she was lying on the deck with an Air Force medic starting an IV of O-negative blood.

John Brux appeared a minute later and knelt beside her to take her hand, both seeing and smelling that his wife was covered in filth. When he looked into her face, he thought she was dead. “Is she going to make it?” he asked, shattered by what he saw.

The medic nodded. “Her vitals are weak, but not that weak. She should make it if we haul ass for home. No way can we afford to stick around and help.”

Brux nodded, shaken to his core by the feel of Sandra’s missing ring finger. “Roger. I gotta get back up front.” He felt Sandra’s grip tighten and looked down to see her looking up at him in the red glow of the cargo hold.

“Baby, I’m so sorry for everything!”

His face contorted, and he leaned down to kiss her filth-covered face, fighting the deluge of emotions threatening to break him down. “I love you! I gotta go fly the plane now.”

“Okay,” she said. “Love you.”

He went forward and strapped himself back into his seat, taking the yoke and wiping his eyes on his upper arms.

“She okay?” Dave asked.

“For now,” Brux choked, checking the starboard outboard engine to make sure the fire was still out. “Jesus Christ, Dave, she’s a goddamn mess. I don’t even fucking recognize her.”

Dave reached across and grabbed his shoulder. “Hey, you did it, man. You got her the fuck out of there. Everything else from here on is fucking gravy.”

“Yeah?” Brux said. “What about them back there?” He thumbed over his shoulder. “We have to leave them, and help is still ten minutes out.”

Dave shook his head. “We can’t worry about them. They volunteered for this same as you and me… same as everybody on this plane. They’re down there for Sandra. Now get on the fucking radio.”

Brux keyed the radio. “Big Ten to Typhoon. Big Ten to Typhoon. Do you copy? Over.”

“Roger, Big Ten. Is she up there with you now? Over.”

“Roger that, Typhoon. Be advised… be advised we have to bug out on you. She’s lost too much blood. Over.”

“Roger that, Big Ten. We knew that already. Godspeed!”

Brux choked up and Dave took over the radio.

“Typhoon, be advised that Big Ten is very grateful for all your help. Over.”

“We’re grateful for yours, Big Ten! Gotta get back to the fight now. Typhoon out.”