This Green Hell

FORTY-TWO

The V22 sped over the treetops, its twin Rolls-Royce Liberty turbo shafts emitting little more than a high-pitched whine. Despite its size, the machine moved gracefully at a speed twice that of anything comparable. Stripped down as it was, it could also get more than five times the range. Hammerson had begged, bullied and bartered to get access to the giant helicopter in the first place. But getting the US Navy to turn a ship around and close in on another country’s territorial waters just to give the giant machine another ten minutes’ airtime had used up every last ounce of goodwill he was owed, along with all his poker credits.

The pilot knew little of the mission or the pick-up. He had coordinates — GPS dots — but only the Hammer could talk to the people on the ground. The chopper’s cargo bay was designed to carry twenty-four fully equipped combat troops, but today there was only one man sitting there. Their orders had just been amended: they’d been given ten extra minutes of hover time at the rendezvous point.

The pilot shook his head. Though the country was fairly benign to the United States, if there was a flyover, they’d instantly be spotted sitting in the air like a giant dragonfly over a pond — and, at this point, he didn’t have any good answers as to why they were there.

He looked at his screen: five minutes to destination.

Saqueo stuck his tongue out in a mock panting action at the speed they were having to run at to keep pace with Alex. Aimee couldn’t manage more than a smile in response; every ounce of her energy was being directed to her legs, which felt like rubber … damned heavy rubber. The chemical stimulant was wearing off and she had red-hot cramps in a tightening band around her diaphragm.

Alex yelled over his shoulder to Sam, ‘Time to arrival?’

Sam looked at the small unit, yelled back, ‘Eleven minutes’, then gave the coordinates of both Franks and the V22.

Shit, another eleven minutes, Aimee thought. Might as well be eleven hours. She swallowed thick saliva, and her vision swam for a few seconds.

Alex called her name. Her mouth tried to form words but there was no air left in her lungs. He slowed, then turned, and she wobbled towards him. He grabbed her and pushed her hair back so he could look at her face. She grasped hold of his shoulder for balance, and took a small sip of water.

Saqueo was bent over sucking in huge breaths, but he seemed okay.

She moved her hand to Alex’s collar and pulled him a little closer. ‘Give me another blast.’

Sam reached over from his position on Alex’s back and felt her neck. ‘About 160 beats per minute — another hit could kill her.’

‘Just do it!’ Aimee exhaled the words as forcefully as she could, then gritted her teeth and stood a little straighter.

Alex thought for a second and nodded. Sam grunted and broke the last capsule, giving her the full dose. She inhaled deeply, feeling giddy as her heart fluttered in her chest and the deathly fatigue evaporated from her muscles. She grabbed Saqueo and waved the capsule under his nose for a second. He yelped and pulled away.

They started running again. Aimee noticed that Alex had increased his speed.

Casey Franks wrapped the belt around her waist and groin, and pressed the button to lift her from the jungle floor. As soon as she broke clear of the canopy, she sucked in a lungful of cooler air.

‘Jesus!’ The crewman’s mouth dropped open when he saw her walk up the lowered rear ramp of the giant helicopter. She knew she had a hundred grazes and scratches on her face and arms, and sap, twigs and dead bugs stuck in her close-cropped hair. She shrugged out of the harness and headed straight for him, causing him to take a half-step back.

‘Boo,’ she said, and winked as he handed her a set of head mics and a water canteen. She nodded her thanks and drained the canteen in seconds.

She pulled on the headset and turned her back to check her GPS unit. They’re close.

Grabbing a roof handle, she walked a few paces down the open ramp, pulled a small monoscope from a pouch and scanned the thick jungle for any sign of her team. An impossible task really, given the amount of cover.

‘We can only wait five more minutes, then we’ve been ordered to evac,’ the crewman said.

Casey turned narrowed eyes on the young man then returned her attention to the forest floor. I’ll let you know if you can obey that order in four minutes, fifty-nine seconds, she thought.

Alex sensed the chopper before he heard it. The huge dual props displaced a lot of downward air pressure and the density changes moved through the still forest, felt by some of the local wildlife and him.

‘We’re here,’ he yelled.

In another minute, they all heard the chopper, and then in a few more they could see it.

Alex picked up Hammerson’s message as it was delivered into Sam’s communication pellet: Four minutes until detonation.

Two cables dangled from the rear of the hovering behemoth. Alex didn’t stop until he had one belt secured around Aimee and Saqueo, and the other around his own waist. Sam held onto the cable above Alex’s head. There wouldn’t be two lifts — they would all go up at once, or not at all.

Even as they rose above the canopy, the giant helicopter started to move off.

Adira stood hidden behind the tree line some distance from the USSTRATCOM base. Though she faced the rows of administration buildings, her eyes were screwed shut as she listened to the small pellet in her ear. She’d heard Hammerson’s communication of the countdown’s final minutes, and her lips had moved silently in an ancient Hebrew prayer as she willed Alex Hunter to make the critical rendezvous.

Now, she exhaled and leaned back against a tree. She brought one hand to her lips and kissed the small blue star inked on the meat between her thumb and forefinger. Thank you, she whispered before melting back into the woodland.