Whiskey Delta – Chapter 28

“The enemy is most vulnerable when clustered. In this instance, multiple kills with a minimal expenditure of ammunition is your goal. Aim for the heads and hope for optimal penetration.”

-WD Survival Guide, 1st Ed.

They drove for maybe one hundred meters before anyone said anything. And it was Dezba of all people, curiously. From his seat, the nav console began to beep, accompanied by beeping coming from his suit.

“The Reaper is in the ballpark and online, sir.”

“About time,” said Mill. “We could have used some of that firepower last night.”

“We did just fine,” said Saunders with a devilish grin. Braun had never seen a woman who approved so highly of pyrotechnics. He got up from his seat and came to Dezba’s side, eyed his console.

“Interfacing with it now, sir.  Confirming ID…”

An unnecessary precaution, Dezba knew. Whiskeys didn’t command drones. But protocol was protocol, and since they’d come to notice that other assets were in the field, it didn’t hurt. If HMS was sending their own aerial vehicles in, who knew what they might do to them?

The details began to scrawl across Dezba’s screen. It’s model and registry number, indicating that it was attached to the 29th Attack Wing, and property of the USAF and Air Combat Command. Then came the basics:

Its mission (Recon), flight heading (NNW), destination (LA), and loadout. Dezba eyed this last detail and emitted a low whistle.

“Oh yeah… who likes having twenty pound augmented charges at their disposal?”

“I do now,” Braun said, leaning in closer. “Can you bring up the camera feed?”

Dezba hit a few buttons on his terminal and brought up the image being fed to them by the Reaper’s camera. It was black and white, grainy and full of glowing patches, the building faces that were currently facing towards the sun. Braun pointed to the screen and was about to ask him to switch the display modes, but Dezba was way ahead of him. The image changed to live video, all color, no thermal imagining.

The buildings looked almost real on the screen, like they were staring at them through a window instead of through a remote camera. However, the drone was still several klicks out, looking at the skyline from a distance, much as they had been yesterday.

“Rotate it around, let’s get a panoramic.”

Dezba obliged and began fiddling with the joystick attached to the right side of his terminal. The camera panned right, left, down and back up. The skyline was marginally closer, and the shadows ever so slightly longer.

“Angel on our shoulders,” Whitman said. “Now can I get some damn coordinates?”

Braun looked back at Saunders. “How are we Corporal?”

“Target is three klicks, bearing north-north east.”

Dezba had already switched his screen back to the navigation function. He wondered if their talk had was having a bolstering effect on him, as he seemed to be thinking even more clearly today. He also seemed a little more eager to please. The mixed effects of confession…

He spotted a route up ahead, pointed to it.

“Take a left on that turn up ahead, Private. Bring us around a full two-seventy and start heading east.”

Whitman started the turn as soon as they reached the turnoff. A few cars marked the intersection, another accident which must have happened while people were still trying to flee. They pushed passed these obstructions and proceeded down the ramp. The navigation screen began to shift in order to keep pace with their movements and change in position.

Braun looked back at their passengers. They still appeared to be coming out of their stupor, a few more hours and they would be uncomfortably lucid. He noticed Kobayashi was watching them as well. Eventually, their eyes met and they found their thoughts being mirrored by the other. Braun gave him a cautious nod, conveying wordlessly to be ready, but to do nothing for the time being.

He could feel a slightly nervousness coming over him and decided a routine weapon’s check might be in order.

“We’re on a fixed course for awhile now, Sergeant. How about we check that turret?”

Dezba sighed as he switched the display yet again. The gun camera came on and gave them a street-level view of highway ahead. A few minutes and they would be going through another overpass. A few cars lined the top and made for some pretty conspicuous targets. Dezba positioned the crosshairs over one of them, selected the M151′s main gun, and pressed the fire control.

A quick stream of white hot bullets streamed from them, the faint sound of thumping coming through the roof. On the screen, sparks and tiny bits of debris flew from the target vehicle. When they stopped, only a shattered husk remained, broken windows, blew out tires and several large holes punched in the side doors.

“Good shooting,” Braun said. Dezba lowered the crosshairs to the road and sighed.

“Gonna be hard to coordinate fire from here and the Reaper, sir.“

Braun slapped his shoulder playfully. “Lucky for you then we’re not busting her out until we’re deployed.”

“Ah, which means I don’t get to fly her after all?”

“I figure Cobb can do it, he tested well.”

Dezba scoffed. “Hate that damn display function,” he said. “But I love me some twenty-pound explosives.”

“Don’t worry, you can watch the show. Hell, if you got time, you can patch in to the camera feed while Cobb guides her missiles in.”

Dezba nodded. That prospect seemed to please him. He always did prefer shooting a machine gun to guiding a drone craft, and any chance he could get at this point to kill Whiskeys pleased the hell out of him. Another strange by-product of their talk last night, he now understood with terrible clarity why he hated them so. Everyone had their reasons, but watching his loved ones turn right in front of him, it must have filled him with a hate so bad…

“Just remember not to shoot until you see the milky whites of their eyes.”

Dezba’s left hand tightened into a fist. Braun could see a slight tremor in it and began to regret saying that. However, that went away the moment Dezba spoke again.

“Nobody’s getting in our way, sir. Papa Zulu won’t know what hit him.”

Braun slapped his shoulder again. It was good to have his Sergeant back, and it was good to know his emotions could be properly channeled now, rather than threatening to snap him in two. Still, he felt the need to remind him of one crucial fact.

“Just remember, we need the head intact.”

Dezba chuckled and began moving their turret about. “He shows up, I’ll aim for the neck.” He moved the crosshairs in a perfectly horizontal line. “Bring his head clean off.”

Braun felt a slight shiver go up his back. Yes, it was good to have the Sergeant back in working order, and safely on their side. He felt a pang of sympathy for any of the poor undead bastards who crossed their path. One had to wonder, in the midst of all they were learning about their enemy, if they were actually capable of fear. Perhaps, though it really didn’t matter. All the evidence they had on them said they were capable of feeling pain, and he knew that was good enough for Dezba.

He looked back to Saunders again. He didn’t even have to ask.

“Two klicks, sir. Dead east now.”

Dezba called up their map and panned in that direction. At two klicks from their present location, there was a large green space, with what appeared to be some residential developments and a stadium nearby.

“That’s the Elysian Reservoir,” he said, pointing to the labelled green area.

“So our boy’s hiding in the forest.”

“Must have been drawn to the area by the wildlife. I’m betting lots of Black Tails and other critters descended as soon as the towns folk moved out.”

“Yeah,” Braun said warily. “And I’m betting several more had the same idea.”

He promptly turned around and addressed everyone in the rear. “Lock and load squad. Five mikes to deployment.”

Every member of the team loo0ked to their weapons and popped the magazines, checked the ammo, and reloaded, making sure to have a round chambered. Anyone packing a grenade launcher opened the breach and made sure they had a M203 ready too. Next came the visor checks, ensuring that their HUD’s were in working order and had plenty of battery life. PDA’s and any incidentals came last, with Saunders making sure that her laptop had enough battery life.

He looked to Kobayashi next. Once the big man made sure his drum launcher was fully stocked, he waved him to the front of the cabin and shared a private word with him.

“Alright, Private, I want your medical opinion, straight up. What are the odds of these men being able to sit through an exchange without becoming a total liability?”

Kobayashi shook his head. “Not great, sir, if the Stryker has to pull into position and offer covering fire. You saw how they reacted last night, and that was a hell of a lot farther than they’re gonna get from the inside of this tin can.”

Braun nodded. “Yeah, I thought you’d say that. Guess we have no choice.”

Kobayashi reached into his pocket. The syringe was still in its protective casing, but he had clearly ripped it from the kit just so he could have it on hand. Braun nodded again.

“I’ll give you the nod before we reach out stop. You spike em quick and let’s hope they sleep through the worst of it.”

“That’d be a blessing to us all, sir.”

Yes, Braun thought. Hopefully it would be the first of many.