The silence that followed was more than enough to send his gut into his boots. Before he got too lost in the possibility of losing another chopper, Hendricks responded amid the thumping of helicopter blades. “Go ahead, Hunter One.”
“What’s your position? Over.”
“About ten klicks south of you, circling over a parking lot. There was supposed to be a pickup, but the unit was compromised. They’re gone, so I’m heading back. Over.”
“Has there been any word from the Air Force? Over.”
“Bombing runs have started in West Texas and northern California. Don’t know any specifics. I’ve been kind of busy. Over.”
Adderson tried to narrow it down using what he knew about shifter movements over the last several days. He swore under his breath when he realized things were bad enough in so many places that he couldn’t make any guesses as to where those bombs were being dropped. All he could do was hope the cities had been properly evacuated. Forcing his mind back to the present situation, he asked, “How many men are you carrying?”
Asking one question without framing it in proper radio procedure gave Hendricks the go-ahead to speak normally as well. “Just the door gunners, sir.”
“Have you spotted the Class One yet?”
“Saw him hopping around to the north. He might have been headed your way. Want me to swing by there?”
Holding the radio away from his mouth, Adderson looked to the closest Marine he could find. “Warren, what’s the status on Raven Four?”
She was lying on her stomach on top of a squat cement building containing a set of bathrooms. Under normal circumstances it might have been a disgusting place to set up. Since there hadn’t been anyone in that park since the first werewolves had torn up a kids’ soccer game there, the only smells coming from that building were rusty water and mildew.
“Visual contact on the messenger, but not with the rest of them,” Warren replied.
Every IRD soldier had a radio and at least two other means of communicating with their teammates. Because the wolves were just too damn fast, the most reliable way to keep tabs on another team was for them to leave stragglers behind. Those were called messengers. If the rest of the team was attacked, the wolves wouldn’t stop before coming back for the straggler. If that happened, the soldier watching that team would know. Otherwise, they got a thumbs-up from the messenger. It wasn’t a very friendly way to go about things, but Adderson had never known the military to be cordial.
“Any sign of the Class One?” he asked.
After taking a sweeping look at the horizon through her binocs, Warren said, “Not yet.”
He keyed the radio. “Hendricks, see if you can bring the Class One to my position.”
“I’ve herded that thing into one ambush after another, sir. None of them do jack shit. All I’ve been doing is wasting a lot of ammo and getting scratches on my bird.”
“The attacks have been launched on a diminishing schedule,” Adderson said. “That thing is slowing down.”
“Slowing down a little, but not enough. We’ll have to—”
“Whatever it is, we’ll have to do it, Lieutenant. Do you understand me?”
The familiar tone in Adderson’s voice had been instantaneously replaced with authority, and Hendricks responded in kind. “Roger that. It’s my professional opinion that the ordnance I’m carrying won’t be enough to do the job. Over.”
“Then we’ll have to throw all of it plus what I’ve got at that thing. We back off now and it’ll just get a chance to lick its wounds so it can come at us fresh in the next city. No matter what happens in that fight, it means this city will be completely compromised. Is that understood?”
“Yes sir.”
“How many other Ravens are in the air?”
“Last time I checked, three.”
“Good,” Adderson replied, even though he knew that meant two choppers had either been brought down or crashed when their pilots were turned. “You and another Raven take turns firing at that Class One to lead it to my position.”
“That thing can fade in and out, sir. When it ghosts like that, nothing even ruffles its fur.”
“Then act wounded and make it chase you. I don’t care how, just bring it to me so we can all hit it in one concerted effort.”
“All due respect, Major, but we haven’t been collecting in a big group like that for a reason,” Hendricks said. “What happens when we start to drop?”
It had become habit for soldiers in the IRD to assume any one of them would be turned at any given moment. Not only was it a harsh dose of reality, but it brought out the best in any fighting spirit. Adderson cringed when he heard it even though he’d been pivotal in starting the trend. It was nothing but a cold statement of fact when he replied, “We may drop now or later, but the longer this fight goes, the more of us will wind up turned into one of those things. And the more of us that go, the fewer volunteers we’ll have to join this outfit and do what needs to be done.”
“That’s a load of shit, sir,” Hendricks said without hesitation. “And with all due respect, I’d punch you in the mouth for saying it if I was there.”
“Good, then prove me wrong.”
“Yes, sir.”
The connection was cut, and Adderson had no doubt it was so Hendricks could issue orders to the other helicopter pilots circling the city. Times might change and wars might come and go, but certain things remained constant. Sometimes a soldier just needed a good old-fashioned boot to the ass.
He lifted the radio to his mouth but paused before touching the button. Sensing a tremor working its way through his body, Adderson decided to let it pass before it put something into his voice that he didn’t want broadcast to the rest of the IRD. When it turned out to be a simple shiver sent by the cold instead of a wave of broken bones sent by a deranged creature, he let out the breath he’d been holding and prepared to speak.
“Hunter One, this is Hunter Three!”
Grateful for another moment to prep himself, Adderson said, “Go ahead, Hunter Three.”
“We found at least five packs of Class Twos in an apartment complex and they’re being engaged by a team of specialists.”
“Say again, Hunter Three?”
“Have found a large group of Class Threes, but there are specialists on site. Repeat, we have specialists on site.”
All Adderson had to do was look up to see some very relieved expressions on his soldiers’ faces. To Warren, he said, “Get down to the others and rally everyone to join Hunter Three.”
“Will we be getting a lift from any of the Ravens, sir?”
“I’ll try to arrange it, but we may be humping it across town. Either way, we’re going in hot.”
“Yes, sir!”
Before she could climb down from her post, another voice crackled through the radio. “Hunter Three, this is Raven Two. Looks like the Class One sniffed out those specialists of yours. It’s headed your way. Over.”
“This is Hunter One. Are there any Ravens in the area to take me and some of my troops in to meet up with Hunter Three?”
All of the chopper pilots chimed in with their positions. Raven Two was closest, so Adderson ordered them to make a quick pickup and sent the others to gather as many troops as they could before heading into the hot zone. The pilots gave their affirmatives and broke contact.
Less than fifteen minutes later Adderson was sitting on the edge of one of the fold-down seats inside Raven Two’s cabin area. The rotors churned over his head as the helicopter navigated the Shreveport streets in a gut-wrenching series of hard turns that culminated with a drop into what could have been hell itself. Even through the noise of the engine, wind, and radio chatter from the cockpit, he could hear the wild howling and hungry snarls scattered amidst the choppy barrage of automatic gunfire. When an unwavering howl rose above everything else, the pilot followed safety procedures by immediately dropping to a safer altitude. Adderson broke some safety protocols himself by unbuckling his harness and grabbing onto one of the rails above his head so he could get a look out one of the windows.