Genoskwa 5 blood mountai.., p.11
Genoskwa 5 : Blood Mountain, page 11
“Yeah, probably.” Mayfield pulled the layers away from his mouth and flipped the hood back from his parka. “So, my guys are telling me that they may not be able to provide air support through the night.” He dropped the gloves on the table and tugged the parka off. “Temps are just too low and visibility is shit.”
Chief Castile leaned away from his computer and raised a brow at Commander Erickson. “Thermals aren’t showing any activity out there, sir. Could be the colder weather is keeping them underground. It’s a good possibility that we won’t need their air support.”
Erickson sat back and chewed at his lower lip. “Will your people still provide ground support while my teams are sealing this side of the mountain?”
Mayfield nodded to himself. “I don’t see why not. They can bundle up if they catch a chill.” He smiled broadly. “They’re trained for this stuff, right?”
“Right,” Erickson muttered. “Chief, what’s our coverage?”
Chief Castile pushed his chair back and stood, stretching his lower back as he turned and made his way to the maps. “At the rate they’re going, sir, we should have close to thirty percent of the identified openings sealed by morning.”
“Just thirty percent?” Mayfield asked, his face a mask of concern. “That doesn’t sound like a lot.”
Castile raised a brow at him. “Sir, there were literally hundreds of ‘openings’ identified by LIDAR. Some have been nothing more than shallow outcroppings while others are manmade mines with much larger diameters than expected. It’s a game of numbers.”
“And the weather isn’t helping much,” Erickson added. “The teams have to bundle up and that slows them down. The satchels aren’t exactly light either. My teams are having to stage supplies and trudge back and forth across these damnable mountains to resupply.”
Mayfield stood erect and nodded. “Understood.” He took a deep breath and did some quick calculations in his head. “Still, I suppose that’s a pretty good number.”
“It’s on track with our projected completion time,” Erickson stated flatly.
“I wish I could see their faces when they finally hit the end of those sealed tunnels,” Mayfield stated to himself.
Erickson smiled and scooted to the side. “You should see something.” He brought up the video feed of the Genoskwa being trapped in the foam. “You might enjoy this.”
He clicked play and Mayfield bent lower to stare at the screen. “What’s the deal with this drone….oh, my.” A slow smile formed and he leaned closer. “Oh, wow!” He stood up and chuckled to himself. “Oh, I wish I could have seen that in person.”
“I’ll make you a copy for your personal records,” Erickson quipped.
“Appreciate it.” Mayfield beamed as he looked across the command center. “Yeah, the boys will get a real kick out of that one.”
Chief Castile watched the two superior officers gloat over the suffering of the animal and felt his stomach twist. He sat back at his workstation and fought the nausea that rose into his chest.
Grumbling to himself, he muttered, “I never thought I’d find myself rooting for the other team.”
14
Outskirts of Albany International Airport
Dale slammed the door of the old Crown Victoria and adjusted the top of his jacket, pulling the collar tighter to his neck. The wintery winds seemed to cut through the multiple layers of his heavy coat as if it weren’t there.
He trotted to the small steel door of the hangar and pulled it open quickly, fighting the wind as it threatened to pull the door from his grip. He stepped into the dimly lit building and stomped the slush from his boots.
His eyes quickly adjusted to the low light, and he caught movement in the rear of the hangar. As he made his way toward the people working there, he was nearly blinded by LED headlights and the clatter of a diesel engine cranking to life. His hand automatically came up to prevent the light from blinding him, and he stepped to the side as the big Range Rover rolled closer.
“You’re earlier than I expected,” Al called from the driver’s window.
“The roads are nearly empty out there.” Dale said, approaching the window.
“Contrary to what most might think, the average citizen around here has the good sense to stay indoors in this weather.”
Al grinned at him as he made a motion to the passenger side. “Good thing we’ve not been accused of having good sense then, innit?” He waited as Dale loaded into the truck and then pressed the button for the overhead doors. “Tell me you brought the gift I gave you.”
Dale lifted the bottom edge of his jacket and flashed the lower end of a holster. “Just in case.”
“We’ll just have to pray we don’t need them.” Al gave him a knowing look. “Considering how hard those things are to drop, I’ve begun to second guess everything.”
Dale blew into the opening of his gloves and held his hands in front of the vents, hoping the heat was soon to come. “With what we’ve seen, I’m not sure that anything short of an RPG could stop one of them. Especially if it was angry.”
Al shrugged. “I took the liberty of strapping shotguns to the snow machines.” He glanced at Dale as he began to pull out of the hangar. “Slugs.”
Dale nodded and squinted through the windshield as the truck rolled into the dwindling light. “It’s going to be darker than dark when we get there.”
“The snow machines have headlights.” Al offered a crooked smile. “They’ll hear us coming from a mile away, though. We won’t be sneaking into their territory this time.”
Dale shivered involuntarily and pulled the seatbelt across his chest. “With any luck, the grand majority of them will have gone to ground. I can’t imagine any of them would want to be out in this kind of weather.”
“Normally, I would agree with you.” Al pulled onto the highway and pointed the truck away from the airport. “But as territorial as they are, I don’t think Mother Nature could throw anything at them that would deter them from running off an interloper.”
Dale nodded in the darkness of the cab. “Let’s hope we can get the sample we need and get the hell out of Dodge before they even realize we’re there.”
Al raised a brow at him. “What are the odds that the Guard will still have men stationed near the highway?”
“Where we entered before?” Dale shrugged. “I couldn’t imagine them trying to operate in this weather at all.”
“Never underestimate the tenacity of a senior officer, mate. They don’t care how their men suffer so long as they have a warm and dry place to sit and supervise.” He grinned to himself. “I’m pretty sure it’s been that way since Ceasar.”
Deep in the Catskills
Trick cursed as the Isuzu slid off the road again. “I think this is as far as we’re going.”
Bret leaned forward and tried to peer through the windshield. “I have no idea how deep we are into the park.”
Jimmy sat forward and held out his phone. “I don’t have shit for signal here, but this is the last place the GPS had us.” He handed the phone to Trick. “We should be about five or six miles north of where that camp was.”
Bret turned and gave them both a wide-eyed look. “I just realized something.”
“Do tell,” Jimmy replied sarcastically.
Bret swallowed hard and glanced toward the rear of the car. “How are we going to hoof all of that gear and the guns in this?”
Jimmy laughed as he flopped back in the seat. “You’re just now thinking of this? Fucking classic!”
“Shut up, Jimmy,” Trick grumbled as he tossed the phone back to the rear seat. “I can handle the tent and most of the other camping stuff if you two can carry the guns.”
“There’s no way in hell you’re carrying all of that out there,” Jimmy stated as he scooted forward again. “Trick, it’s gotta be almost waist deep in places.”
“What about the food?” Bret asked. “And the water.”
“We can melt snow for water,” Jimmy interrupted. “But we gotta have the food.”
Trick sucked at his teeth as he tried to make a mental inventory. “So, you carry the MREs and Bret can bring the guns.”
“Or,” Jimmy held his hands up at them. “Hear me out first. What if he all just carried our own crap? We toss a few MRE’s into each pack and—”
“And who’s gonna carry the tent?” Bret cut him off.
Jimmy groaned as he sat back. “You couldn’t wait, could you? I even said, ‘hear me out,’ but no, you had to—”
“Knock it off,” Trick stated softly. He looked up at Bret and nodded. “I said I’d carry the tent and the rest of the gear. We just have to find a way to tie it to my pack.”
“Screw this.” Jimmy spun in his seat and reached into the back of the car. “We got three sleeping bags, a tent and a tote full of other stuff.” He turned back to the other two and gave them a tight-lipped smile. “I have to ask, since it just seems obvious to me.”
“What?” Bret asked with a frustrating tone.
“Are we here to camp, or are we here to kill Chewie’s cousin and get the fuck out of Dodge?”
Trick gave Bret a knowing look. “He’s got a point.”
“So, we leave the camping gear in the car?” Bret shook his head nervously. “I mean…I’m okay with it, but it sure seems like we might need a place to fall back to and…I dunno. Warm up or something.”
“Face it, bro. A tent ain’t gonna protect us from one of them things if they decide they want to make us the squishy shit between their toes.” Jimmy crossed his arms and sighed. “I say we put on everything we brought for clothes, grab the guns and march our happy asses into Apetown and get this party over with.”
Trick nodded nervously. “Yeah, he’s right. The sooner we get this over with, the sooner we can turn this beast around and head back home.”
Bret took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Fine. In and out.” He glanced at Jimmy and shrugged. “Maybe we take a couple of the MRE’s with us. Just in case.”
Catskill Command Center
The radio crackled to life and Chief Castile reached for his, turning the volume up as he keyed the mic. “Say again your last? Over.”
The voice sounded lost in static as the winds attempted to bury the soldier’s words. “That was the second satchel charge that refused to detonate. Over.”
Chief Castile sighed heavily and turned to face Commander Erickson. “Sir, the men are reporting that—”
“I heard the radio traffic,” Erickson stretched his neck and slowly came to his feet. He glanced at the frosted over windows and sucked at his teeth. “I don’t think those satchels were designed to work in this kind of cold.”
“They were designed to be used in the Middle East, sir,” Castile offered.
“Thank you, Captain Obvious,” Colonel Mayfield snipped. He came to his feet and stood next to Erickson, lowering his voice. “If we don’t close off this side while the weather has them inactive, we may not get another chance to seal them in.” He raised a brow at Erickson and gave him a knowing look.
“And if we waste these satchel charges, we may end up coming up short.” He took a deep breath and sauntered toward Chief Castile. “How many reserve charges should we have if the rest of the LIDAR targets are all legit, Chief?”
Chief Castile turned back to his computer and tapped at the keyboard. “If the remaining LIDAR hits are all valid, we’ll have roughly a ten percent margin for error.”
Erickson nodded slowly. “And the current failure rate?”
Chief Castile shrugged. “I’ll have to contact the field teams and see what kind of failure rate the rest of them are experiencing.”
Erickson gave him a knowing look then nodded toward the computer. “Then do it!”
Castile stammered a moment then reached for the radio. “Yes, sir.” He cleared his throat then keyed the mic of the radio, “All field teams report the number of satchels that have failed to operate.”
He leaned forward and clicked his pen, preparing to take notes as the teams reported in. Once they were finished, he tallied the failed satchel charges and then compared them to the inventory.
“Well?” Colonel Mayfield asked angrily.
Chief Castile sighed as he sat back. “We’re at roughly eighteen percent, sir.” He looked up at his commanding officer and shook his head. “If it continues at this rate, we’ll be short, sir.”
Erickson clenched his jaw and squeezed his eyes shut. “Of course we will.” He ran a rough hand over his unshaven jaw and shook his head. “Call the teams in. Have them stockpile any packs that failed in the field and seal them away from the others.” He stepped toward the window and stared into the inky blackness. “We can’t have them suddenly go off and ruin the remaining charges.”
“Yes, sir. Understood.” Chief Castile turned back to his workstation and keyed the radio, relaying the teams’ orders.
Colonel Mayfield slipped in next to Erickson. “We’re throwing away our best opportunity here, Commander.”
“Probably.” Erickson took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “But we can’t take the chance that the teams waste the remaining charges due to this ungodly weather.”
Mayfield ground his teeth in frustration and stepped closer, lowering his voice. “And when the sun comes up in the morning and the temperature rises slightly, do you intend to send them back out?”
Erickson turned and gave him a steely stare. “If the situation warrants it, Colonel.” He squared his shoulders and set his jaw. “Don’t forget, Colonel, this is my operation. You’re here as support only.”
Colonel Mayfield snorted a short scoff. “As if you’d let me forget, Commander.” He pointed to the window. “Just remember one thing, Mr. Erickson. If those things end up sealed outside of those tunnels, we’re going to have a bunch of very pissed off, eight-hundred-pound gorillas roaming this side of the mountains.”
“I’ve not forgotten the details of the situation, Colonel.” Erickson felt a snarky smile pulling at the corners of his mouth. “I would remind you that these creatures are primarily nocturnal. However, if they do happen to emerge from the mountain and get sealed on this side, that won’t be my problem.” He leaned closer and lowered his voice. “That will be your problem.” He leaned away and smiled again. “My orders are to seal the accessways on this side of the mountain as soon as possible.”
“And you’re pulling your teams from doing that very thing!” Mayfield barked.
“Either you’re an idiot or you’re blind,” Erickson stated softly. He saw Chief Castile staring at them from the corner of his eye. “If we continue to use the satchel charges at these temperatures, we will definitely come up short of our goal.” He cocked his head to the side and eyed him carefully. “Now, if you would prefer to only have…” he glanced at Castile. “Would you say that seventy percent is a fair estimate, Chief?”
Castile nodded. “Very close, sir.”
He turned back to Mayfield and raised a brow. “Is that acceptable to you, Colonel?”
Mayfield ground his teeth in frustration and turned away. “Fine. But I expect your people to be back at it the moment those charges are deemed usable, Commander.”
“Trust me, Colonel. Nobody wants off this damned mountain any more than I do.” He reached for his coffee and added. “I can think of a hundred different ways to spend my Christmas.” He took a quick drink then winced at the bitterness. “None of them include you, Colonel.”
15
At the Edge of the Catskills
Dale started the snowmobile and edged forward and away from the trailer. “How far do you think we’ll get?” he yelled into the wind.
Al offered an animated shrug then straddled his machine. “As far as the Fates will allow, mate.” He started his snowmobile and shot into the darkness. If not for the taillights and the faint glow of his headlight, Dale would have had no idea which direction to go.
His snowmobile bounced and thrashed as it fell into and attempted to exit Al’s track in the ever-deepening snow. It took him a few moments to orient himself and assume a position just to the side of Al’s tracks.
Both men found themselves slowing as unseen obstacles threatened to flip them. Small stumps and rocks, hidden by the snow, attempted to break the machines they rode.
Eventually Al slowed to a stop and lifted his goggles, waiting for Dale to pull alongside. He reached for the key and shut off the snowmobile. When Dale pulled alongside, he killed the motor on his machine as well. “What’s wrong?”
Al shook his head, dislodging the snow packed around his neck. “We have to get back onto the main trail.” He took a deep breath and let it out slowly, admiring the thick steam that streamed from his mouth. “There’s just too many obstacles off the trail and we’re likely to end up afoot.”
Dale glanced to the sides and the inky blackness on either side of them. “I thought we were on the main trail.”
Al snorted a laugh and pointed to his left. “About twenty yards over there. I’ve been trying to navigate us parallel to the road we used going in and out, but this is just too rough.”
Dale squinted in the icy wind. “Do you really think they’ll have someone patrolling the trail?”
Al shrugged. “Wouldn’t you?”
Dale chuckled. “Not in this weather, but you led me to believe that the military wouldn’t care, so…” he trailed off.
“You’re right. They won’t.” He took another chilling deep breath and let it out slowly. “But we’re close enough that they wouldn’t miss us coming in; they can hear us from a mile away.” He raised a brow to Dale. “Your call, Director. We can attempt to trudge on through off the trail or chance running into a roving patrol.”
Dale shrugged. “Either way, they’ll know we’re here.”
“True, but there’s a difference in an armed guard ordering us to go back the way we came and one radioing ahead that we’re on our way in.”
