Zombie Theorem (Book 4): Aces Mortis Page 22

  The bombing cursor appeared in front of him indicating how far until he could hit the release button on his stick. His threat warning system lit up, indicating someone down below was trying desperately to lock him up for a missile strike. But the radar could not track him properly due to the advanced stealth systems of the F-35. He reached a point where his bombing run ended and a message popped up alerting him to drop his load. He hit the fire button and the Hades performed just as he hoped. It came off the hardpoint with no problems and glided toward its ultimate destination, just over the middle of the zombie pit.

  Vader pulled out of his bombing run the moment he felt the Hades leave his fighter and rocketed up, gaining altitude and checking his radar to find the skies still clear of enemy fighters. He tipped over on his right-wing tip and was totally amazed at the explosion and expanding fire as it engulfed the zombies in a great swath. He wished he had another one of those Hades, he would drop another on the small encampment of soldiers just outside of the pit. It was then that Vader checked his ammo stores and found he had a gun full of death at his fingers. He pulled out of his bank and tipped his nose over, aiming it towards the soldiers. He checked his speed and knew if he was going too fast he wouldn’t hit anything useful. He pulled the nose slightly and did a series of turns to bleed off energy. As he passed two thousand feet, he popped his speed brakes and pulled out of his dive. The Gs were pressing him against his seat hard but he breathed through it and banked hard left, bringing his guns to bare on the target. He pulled the trigger and let a three second blast go. He only had eighteen-hundred of the 25MM rounds in his arsenal, but with that three second blast he had torn apart any vehicles and trailers, leaving anyone in the vicinity of the blasts dead or badly wounded. He turned and came back two more times on strafing runs, destroying more and more of the Ridder equipment and people. It was then his radar let him know he had those two fighters searching for him.

  Vader gained altitude and checked on his fuel status, if he kept the turning and burning to a limit he could reach the Reagan with plenty left. Vader designated the aircraft as Tango one and two. His aircraft identified them as F-15 Eagles, the only aircraft in the military’s arsenal that was undefeated in air to air combat. But they had never flown against such a demon as his F-35 was. He doubted they even had him on radar yet. He climbed higher and popped into a cloud to hide, just in case those pilots saw him with their Mark One eyeballs. He waited until he was closer to them and locked Tango One up and loosed an AIM-120 and watched as it sped away from his fighter and then tip over, diving on its target. Vader had to see the hit, so he dove out of the cloud and banked hard right, looking at the direction his helmet indicated was Tango One and his missile. A bright flash appeared a couple of miles ahead and the blip that was Tango One disappeared off his radar. “Splash one bogey,” he said out loud.

  Now he wanted to try a gun kill, he checked his fuel status again and saw he was doing fine still. He had already delivered a heavy blow to Ridder, but now he wanted to shove that knife in a little bit more. He brought his head around finding Tango Two and banked over putting him off his nose. He flipped his gun and found enough rounds for three, three second bursts. He sped up, eating the distance between him and the F-15, he could read the distance in miles ticking down in his helmet and smiled when he saw the big twin tailed jet appear in the distance. He goosed his throttles and matched altitude with the fighter. He had a small feeling of remorse but remembered that with every piece of equipment of Ridders destroyed was a piece of equipment that could not hurt one of his brothers. He pulled the trigger just as the F-15 tipped over on its right-wing tip and down to the ground. Vader smiled at the tactic and was ready for it. He matched turn for turn and dive. When he felt bored reading the man’s maneuvers, he lined up one final time and pulled the trigger. The rounds chewed into the tail and stabilizers of the F-15 and walked across the fuselage and into the wings and internal fuel tanks. The fighter exploded in an incredible flash and threw debris and flames back at Vader, who was ready and dove to the deck. He pulled out at six thousand feet and pointed his nose home, he was getting close to bingo fuel, and to be honest was done killing things for the day. He chided himself for being an ass by playing with the other fighter. He should’ve just killed him with a missile strike instead of being a cat stalking a small mouse.

  Chun heard the call from Vader about his successful bomb run and a small report on the damage he witnessed. He was proud of the man, and promised when he saw him again, to congratulate him on his successful mission. But right now, Chun had his hands full, he was flying close to the ground flanked by the Osprey’s as the Apaches had rushed ahead to secure their route.

  “Ghost Flight, this is Houston. Over,” a call came over the radio.

  Chun shook his head. “Really, Houston? You are using two different movie quotes? Over.”

  Langham came on the line. “Hey, we never settled on call signs when you hurriedly left. Over.”

  “You got me there, Commander. So, give me some good news. Over.”

  “I have your little gift basket out for delivery. Over” Langham reported.

  Chun grinned slightly. “Good to hear Commander. ETA? Over.”

  “It’s not a long route for these guys, I would say an hour at most. Over.”

  “Excellent, I owe you if I ever get to see you again. Over.”

  “I tell you what, bring back that hot piece of sailor Lupo and we will call it even. Over.” Langham answered.

  Chun looked over to Lupo who had a big shit eating grin on his face and red blossoming on his cheeks. “He heard you, and now is blushing like a student getting caught by his teacher passing notes to the hot girl. Over.”

  Langham answered quickly with a giggle. “Lupo, if you can hear me, you better come back, I’ll wear my stilettos for you. Over,” she purred.

  Lupo answered. “I thought you said on the bus you liked women?”

  “Oh you poor boy, I said that to make that nice jealous girl feel comfortable with her mountain of a man Butch. Over.”

  “Whatever floats your boat, never bedded an officer before. You’re on Commander. Over.”

  “You have no idea the trouble you are going to be in Lupo. Okay, enough fun talk over the radio, good luck boys. Over.” Langham signed off.

  Lupo became a professional again, checking their status and location over the GPS and navigation systems. He thought back to his helicopter pilot training with a cantankerous pilot Captain Tim Feely. The man flew the Sikorsky SH-3 Sea King helicopters back in Vietnam. He was known as one of the only pilots to rescue a downed Navy pilot over the Jungles of Vietnam. He was a hard-assed instructor, but he shared every trick he knew about helicopters. Taking the young Lupo under his wing, he took him out in all types of whirly birds. He was the reason Lupo was the Teams designated pilot, but Chun liked to do the flying when he could. But knew Lupo could fly rings around him. Last time Lupo saw Captain Feely is when he was diagnosed with cancer. He had been a lifetime smoker, and paid for it. The two were in his backyard drinking beer on a hot summer day barbecuing steaks and sharing stories of their missions. They felt comfortable with each other, to share details that could get them sent to Leavenworth, if any other person had been there.

  Tim sat Lupo down at his outside table and they ate dinner and drained more beer than a full tilt tailgate party could. After he was done eating, he pushed back and got quiet. Lupo wasn’t used to the man being quiet, he had a bad case of verbal diarrhea when around Lupo. “What’s up, Paps?” Lupo had started calling Tim paps the second day he had met the man. Tim had always bristled at the nickname, but Lupo knew secretly he enjoyed it.

  Tim reached into his pocket and removed a battered pack of Marlboro cigarettes. He shook one loose, popped it to his lips and lit it up with an old zippo lighter with the US Navy crest on it. He took in a long drag, held it in and then let it out leisurely from his nose. His eyes tracked the smoke as it climbed and dissipated into the light wind. He pulled t
he cigarette from his mouth and gestured with it. “These fucking things have decided to kill me. Last month the docs down at the VA diagnosed me with stage four lung cancer. Gave me six months to live if I didn’t start chemo and all that shit,” he took another drag off the cigarette.

  “Yet you being the hard ass, big steel balled, hero Navy pilot, told them to go fuck themselves. You wouldn’t be taking their medicines and treatments.”

  Tim exploded into a mixture of coughing and laughter. It took him many moments before he could take a deep breath in. When he could, he placed the cigarette back between his lips. “You know it, kid. Anyway, I asked you to come today to tell you about this fucking cancer. I do not want you to come back to visit, I am going to be getting weak and go through some stupid shit. I see you as the son I never had, and you don’t need to witness this shit. I want your word, that you won’t come back until my lawyer contacts you. Betsy died five years ago, and I do not like many people. So, you will be the one who inherits all this marvelous shit.”

  Lupo licked his lips and drained his can of beer, crushed it and threw it across the deck into the blue Rubbermaid garbage can. He stared at Tim for a full five minutes in silence, before nodding his head up and down in agreement.

  “Well that shit has been settled then,” he motioned to the house. “The house is paid off and is yours as well as all the shit inside. Let me show the other three cool things though,” he got up from his chair slowly and put his cigarette out in the overflowing ashtray. Lupo followed him to the oversize hobby garage.

  As they entered, Tim flicked on the overhead LED lights and flooded the garage with light. The walls were a gleaming clean white, that reflected the light making the room shadow free. A vehicle of some sort sat under a beige car cover. Tim strode over and pulled up a corner of the cover and folded it forward until he had uncovered a charcoal grey 1967 Ford Mustang GT500 Fastback. Lupo choked on his tongue when he saw it gleaming under the sun like lights. “You are out of your fricking mind, Paps!”

  Tim dragged a fingertip down the side of the car following its lines and stopped at the hood. “I’ve had this car since I came home from Vietnam, on my first tour. Bought it with the enlistment bonus, I had a friend who was a race mechanic for Ford. He made this thing one of the fastest street legal production Mustangs for its time,” his eyes grew distant as if he was reliving the day.

  Lupo waited quietly, letting Tim live that happy day over. He looked over the garage at the many neon Ford and Coke signs. That was when he saw another cover over a much smaller item. Tim came to then and saw what Lupo was looking at. “Oh, you are in for a treat, kid. Come over and see what this badass is,” he repeated the folding of the cover and unveiled a large motorcycle. “That right there, son is a 1958 FL Duo-Glide Harley. My daddy rode it until he hurt himself at work, then gave it to me. I have painstakingly restored it to its former glory, then got bored and customized the shit out of it. The color is a cream you found only on the old 57’ Chevys. To my knowledge there is none other like it. Do me a favor, drive them like they deserve to be driven. And think of your Paps when you do,” in a rare moment he turned to Lupo and pulled him in close. He held Lupo in a hug that lasted a couple of minutes.

  Lupo had to clear his eyes, and choke back a couple of times before trying to speak. “Paps, you have no idea what this means to me. I feel like I don’t deserve it.”

  “Stop being such a weepy pussy boy,” Tim got out and then exploded in that raspy coughing laughter. “Seals don’t cry, now get your ass in the car. We need to take a little ride to show you the last present,” Tim grabbed his Navy flight jacket off a hook by the door and climbed into the Mustang. He hit a switch and the garage door motored open. He then tapped Lupo’s knee. “Watch closely or you will never be able to start this thing when I am gone,” Tim flipped two switches on the dash and then reached under his seat, like he was going to adjust the seat, and hit a button. The mighty engine roared to life, shaking the car. He took a hold of the stick shift and popped it into first gear and let the clutch out slowly. The car felt like a cheetah with a leash on, just begging to be let loose. Tim closed the garage door and motored down to the street. He checked both directions and pulled out. He smiled over at Lupo and motioned for him to hold on. Tim dropped the clutch and slammed down on the gas. An explosion of sound and smoke erupted as the car spun its rear tires. In a blur of motion, Tim shifted gears and the car roared down the country road, passing houses and barns. Lupo peeled his eyes off the scenery flying by and turned his attention to the speedometer. It was hovering near a hundred miles an hour. Lupo decided to put his trust into the old man and sat back enjoying the short ride out to the little airport. As they neared, Lupo watched as a man ran out and slid the gate open to the runway, as he heard and then saw the Mustang speeding towards him. Tim spun the tires and shifted gears, sliding the rear end of the car around and pointing the hood to the open gate. He shot through and shifted back up again. As he entered the runway, he pushed the pedal to the floor and the car rocketed down the paved smooth surface, quickly reaching a scary hundred and thirty miles an hour in no time at all. As they reached the end of the runway, Tim applied the brakes and downshifted, bringing the speed down to eighty. “Scared you a little bit, didn’t I?” Tim asked watching Lupo from the corner of his eye. “Don’t worry, boy. I had the brakes upgraded to a whole new system. I can stop on a dime.”

  He guided them to a small hangar set at the end of a line of them. He parked in front and climbed out, and immediately was struck with a coughing fit that bent him in two. “Holy fuck! That one knocked something loose, I think,” he spat, a ball of blood and phlegm on the ground. He stared at it for a while and then hunched his shoulders and sighed. “Pussy lungs, can’t keep up!” he strode away toward the doors of the hangar and rolled them back to expose a large open area. In the middle of the hangar sat a gleaming, Bell UH-1 Iroquois or Huey Vietnam era helicopter. It was painted blue and yellow and had the Navy crest decorating the side of it.

  Lupo walked over to it and took in the beauty of the helicopter. “It is stunning.” He put his hand on the fuselage.

  “I picked it up at an auction a long time ago. Pissed Betsy off to no end, it is worth more than the house. I do all the maintenance on it myself and take it up as much as I can,” he walked over and opened the cockpit door, and climbed up inside. “I named her Betsy after the only person I ever loved. Take good care of her for me.”

  Lupo appeared at his side and placed a hand on Tim’s shoulder. “I will take the utmost care of her, I promise,” Lupo was ripped out of his memories when a voice came over the radio.

  “Ghostrider one. This is Reaper two, how do you read? Over.”

  Lupo answered the call. “Ghostrider reads you five by five, what’s up Reaper one? Over.”

  “Just got a call from Nunzio, said they just watched the F-18s drop a shit load of ordnance on the enemy. Says it had helped but they need us there ASAP. Seems that Ridder is being re-enforced. We need to throttle up and hopefully cut that off before it finishes. Or they are going to be in a world of hurt. Over.”

  Lupo turned to Chun and arched an eyebrow waiting for an answer from his Lt. “Lupo, I am at my end with this helicopter, take over,” Chun released controls to Lupo and took over the radio. “Reaper one, roger all. Take off and add support, we will follow you in and help when we can. Over.”

  “Roger all, Ghostrider one. Over,” the Ospreys throttled up and pulled away from the Dragonhawk.

  Lupo advanced their own throttles and went through his weapon stores. He was loaded with four Hellfires and enough rounds for his M-230 chain gun. He was satisfied with his ordinance and figured he could play mop up after the modified Ospreys and Apaches were done. He didn’t have the power to keep up with the Ospreys but he could cut the time down with his knowledge and training on helicopters that Tim had taught him. He may be the youngest guy on the team, but he was the most dangerous when it came to his ability with the advanced
helicopter.

  He came upon the battlefield and witnessed the Ospreys delivering their aerial death on the enemy. The damage they were inflicting on the Ridder forces was awe inspiring. He locked up his weapon systems on an advancing armored column and let loose his first salvo of two Hellfires. They exploded off their hard points, and rocketed high into the sky before acquiring their target and tipping over and coming in at a high speed on their objectives. They exploded on the thinner armor on top of the tanks and penetrated the armor before exploding inside, blowing their turrets into the air, spinning away into the darkness and colliding with the tanks nearby. The column slowed and tried taking evading actions. They zig zagged and popped smoke trying to confuse the Dragonhawk pilot. Lupo switched to his FLIR, or forward looking infrared radar. He targeted two more tanks and loosed his remaining Hellfires. They found their targets in a flash and with that the tank armored column turned and ran for the hills.

  Chun worked the radio and checked the battlefield for troop movements. He pointed to their port. “We have a platoon of men moving in the trees there.”

  Lupo switched to his gun and blew through a four second burst. The movement of men stopped and dropped to the ground. “I really hate killing other Americans boss. This needs to stop now. I feel like we are fighting the second civil war,” Lupo remarked.

  “We have dealt them a pretty decent blow,” Chun answered back, ignoring the civil war remark.

  “Ghostrider one, Reaper one, we are bingo on ammo and getting close on bingo fuel. Over.”

  Chun answered the call, giving Lupo the autonomy to fire on whatever he designated as a target. “Roger that Reaper one, RTB. We will mop up,” Chun told the Osprey flight to return to base.