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Midway Atoll
Lee and Salvo pushed the large hangar doors open as Spectre limped out with his AK-47 up and ready. Before the doors were open, Sullivan had already engaged the F-15’s Jet Fuel Starter. The small jet engine whirred to life as Sullivan quickly went through his start up procedures for the F-15D
Spectre took a knee outside the hangar as he scanned the ramp behind the hangar for threats. Seconds later, Lee joined him as they waited for the F-15’s two Pratt and Whitney engines to come online. Spectre knew that once the F-15 was up and running, they would have very little time before the hostiles would descend upon their position.
He wondered if he had made the right decision. It wouldn’t have been pretty, but he could have figured out how to fly the F-15. He could have taken Decker and left the President and the others to fend for themselves. That was exactly what the President was doing to them, so why not?
Spectre couldn’t believe the President had blown off his concerns about the Vice President. She had given him the political song and dance without even considering the evidence. Decker was convinced that the office of the President was more important than any one person, but after talking to President Clifton, Spectre wasn’t so sure. Her own Vice President was likely trying to kill her or was at least an accomplice to it and she didn’t even seem to care.
And there he was, spending the last hours of his life trying to protect someone who would never appreciate it. He was trying to save a woman he was growing to detest while the woman he loved was doomed to die with him. He didn’t care about dying, but thinking about Decker losing her life sent chills up his spine. He had to figure something out.
Looking back over his shoulder, Spectre could see Graves busily working around the F-15 as he talked to Sullivan through their communications cord. Graves worked with the speed and efficiency of a seasoned crew chief as he finished the final checks, closed panels, and kicked out the massive wheel chocks.
With the chocks out of the way, Graves unplugged and tossed his headset to the side as he grabbed a rifle and jumped into the back seat of the running F250 Crew Cab truck. The Air Force flight attendant and reporter David Williams, each with their own rifle, crouched in the bed of the truck. Decker was waiting for him in the driver’s seat as the Secretary of State and Salvo waited in the back seat with Salvo propping his AK-47 out the right rear passenger window.
Decker pulled the F250 forward ahead of the F-15. Spectre jumped into the passenger seat and rolled down the window as he rested his AK-47 on the door sill. Lee entered through the left rear door and did the same. Between them, they had less than two hundred and sixty rounds of ammo. In a prolonged firefight, they would be defenseless in a matter of minutes.
With everyone secure in the truck, Decker floored the F250’s accelerator and took off down the taxiway as the two in the bed struggled to hang on. The F-15 followed behind as they cleared the ramp toward the intersecting taxiway. Decker turned hard to the left as the F-15 turned right toward the runway.
“Here goes nothing,” Decker said as she turned on her headlights and hazards and sped down the parallel taxiway.
“Contact left!” Lee said before firing from his window. The Secretary of State ducked down to the floor as rounds impacted the truck’s front fender. They had reinforced the doors with aircraft panels they had found lying in the hangar, as well as pieces of paneling from the metal hangar, but it would do little more than slow a rifle round at close range.
Spectre leaned out of the window and began firing across the hood as he saw the muzzle flashes in the darkness. The hostiles appeared to be on foot, running toward their direction. For the time being, the diversion seemed to be working.
They continued down the taxiway toward the buildings where the President had been held. Decker slowed as she neared the end of the taxiway and turned left into the grass. Lee, Williams, and Spectre continued firing as the F250 bounced through the muddy grass.
Spectre looked back momentarily to see the F-15 taking the runway. It seemed to be taking forever as Sullivan lit the afterburners and started their takeoff roll. As Spectre looked back, he saw a man carrying a shoulder-launched missile. He couldn’t tell if it were an RPG or MANPAD in the darkness, but the man was aiming it at the F-15 on the runway.
“RPG!” Spectre yelled. “Ten o’clock, by the warehouse!”
Spectre struggled to take aim as the truck bounced through the grass and onto the taxiway. Lee fired in the direction of the man, but missed as they hurtled toward him. Spectre fired twice, missing the man as he heard the F-15 pass behind them.
Reestablishing his aim using the iron sights, Spectre fired and hit the man in the chest as he launched the rocket. It screamed past them toward the F-15. Spectre looked over his shoulder, wincing as the fighter rotated and lifted off the runway. The rocket shot past the F-15, impacting the water a few hundred meters away and exploding.
Spectre watched the F-15 for a second as it raised its gear. Its dual afterburner plumes lit up the night sky as Sullivan pointed the nose nearly straight up. Seconds later, it disappeared into the overcast sky. The President was safely off the island.
“Where to now?” Decker yelled as she cranked the wheel and turned toward the approaching terrorists.
“There’s a boat dock out that way!” Graves said, pointing to the right from the back seat. “Maybe we could find something there!”
Decker cut the wheel hard and skidded as the truck hit the wet asphalt and turned. Lee fired more rounds toward wildlife and fisheries building before his magazine went empty.
“Reloading!” he said as he reached into his pocket to pull out a fresh magazine.
Graves leaned over him and fired out the window as Lee pulled the magazine out and ejected the old one. As he pushed Graves out of the way, a round smashed into the door and splintered, sending shrapnel into Lee’s left leg. “My leg!” Lee yelled.
“Keep shooting!” Spectre yelled as he leaned back out and fired across the hood.
“Fuck!” Lee yelled out in pain as he pulled the rifle back up and aimed it out the window.
“You couldn’t have maybe mentioned the boat thing earlier?” Spectre yelled over his shoulder.
“I forgot about it,” Graves shot back as he fired out the window next to Lee. “The rocket in the water reminded me. I think there’s a boat house at the north end of the island.”
Decker gunned the F250’s diesel engine and accelerated away from the hostiles pursuing on foot. A stray round hit the back glass, shattering the windshield above the back seat.
“We’re gonna die!” the Secretary of State cried out.
“Stay down, ma’am, we’re not going to die,” Lee said as he turned and shot through the now-missing back window.
“Shit! Williams is down!” the flight attendant yelled as he crouched over the elder reporter’s lifeless body lying prone in the bed of the truck.
“Just keep shooting!” Spectre yelled.
“Where is this place?” Decker yelled over the gunfire. Spectre was now hanging out the window facing backwards and firing at the pursuing terrorists.
“Past the warehouse,” Graves responded as he turned to point. “At the end of the ramp!”
“I see it!” Decker yelled.
Rounds peppered the tailgate and bed of the F250 as they passed the warehouse where the President had been held toward the second warehouse where Spectre and Graves had surrendered to the Chinese.
“Left side!” Lee yelled as they neared the second warehouse. More rounds zipped by and hit the side of the F250. As they neared the warehouse, there was a loud bang and the wheel suddenly jerked to the left as Decker struggled to keep the F250 traveling straight and the engine started to sputter.
“The left front tire is gone!” Decker yelled as she struggled to steer the massive ¾-ton pickup. “They hit the engine block!”
Decker pushed the truck, trying to keep it heading toward the docks. A few seconds later, the tire separated from the rim, sending sparks flying in the dark night sky as the truck veered left.
“We’re going to have to go on foot!” Spectre yelled as the truck came to a stop. “Everyone out, right side.”
Spectre flung open the passenger side door and helped Decker out as he crouched and moved to the front of the truck. Using the engine block as cover, Spectre peered around the front bumper and returned fire while the others exited the truck.
The flight attendant leapt from the bed of the truck to the ground, crouching next to the right rear tire as the others evacuated the truck.
Lee dropped to a prone position and fired underneath the truck as Graves helped Decker and the Secretary of State move to the right front fender of the truck behind Spectre.
“I’ll stay and cover, you guys get moving,” Spectre said before dropping his empty magazine and reloading his last mag and slamming the bolt carrier closed. “Go!”
“Cal, come with us,” Decker said as Salvo helped her move.
“I will,” Spectre said. “But I need to cover your escape.” The boathouse was a hundred meters away with no cover or concealment in between. Their only chance was for Spectre and Lee to lay down accurate return fire to neutralize the threat.
Salvo didn’t wait for Decker to respond as he pushed her forward with her arm over his shoulder. Graves and the Secretary of State followed, moving as quickly as Decker’s injured leg would allow the group as they made their escape. The flight attendant followed, laying down covering fire as he moved behind them.
As he turned to shoot, two rounds hit him in the chest. He stumbled back and fell as the group continued toward the boathouse. Spectre ran and grabbed him, dragging him back to the right front wheel.
“Shit!” Spectre yelled as he saw the flight attendant’s lifeless eyes. The rounds had struck him in the chest, piercing his heart and killing him instantly. Spectre returned his attention to the approaching fighters.
“How many mags do you have left?” Spectre yelled after firing two rounds and dropping an approaching terrorist.
“Last one, you?” Lee replied.
“Same!”
As Graves turned to lay down cover fire, the Secretary of State took off running away from the group toward the boat dock.
“Ma’am!” Salvo yelled as he tried to help Decker along. Secretary Martha ignored him as she sprinted as fast as she could toward the docks.
“I’m down to my last ten rounds,” Spectre said, having kept a mental count of his thirty-round magazine as he shot them one at a time.
“I’m probably pretty close to that!” Lee replied.
“Can you run?” Spectre asked as he fired another round.
“I’ll do my best!” Lee yelled back.
“Go! I’ll cover your escape!” Spectre yelled.
Lee struggled to his feet past the flight attendant’s body after firing three more rounds. As he turned, he saw Graves and company nearing the boathouse. He limped as he ran, hopping on his left leg as he tried to catch up.
He looked back to see Spectre firing his last rounds and then Salvo turned forward to try to catch up with the group. As he turned back toward the boathouse, he heard gunfire and then watched the Secretary of State suddenly collapse near the building.
Lee continued running forward, catching up with Graves as he stopped to help the Secretary of State while Decker and Salvo continued into the building.
“Take this!” Graves said as he offered his rifle to Lee. Lee turned back and dropped down on his good knee while leaving his left leg extended. He fired toward a group running toward them.
“I can’t feel anything!” Secretary Martha yelled out as Graves tried to help her. He picked her up under her arms and dragged her backwards into the boathouse with the others.
Lee covered their entry into the building. He strained to find Spectre, but he had vanished in the darkness. His rifle lay next to the truck, but there was no sign of him. Lee sent another volley downrange before he stood and hurried into the building.
“Where’s Cal?” Decker demanded as he rushed into the small boathouse.
Lee shrugged as he turned back to cover the doorway.
Decker grabbed him and spun him around. “What happened to Cal?” she demanded.
“I don’t know!” Lee said, shrugging off her grip. “When I turned back around, he was gone!”
“There’s a boat in here!” Salvo exclaimed. He had dropped off Decker as they reached cover and searched the other room.
“I can’t feel anything,” the Secretary of State moaned as Graves tried to tend to the bullet wound in her upper back.
Decker pulled the handgun out from the small of her back and hobbled toward the door past Lee.
“Where are you going?” Lee asked as he tried to stop her.
“I’m going to get him!” Decker said frantically.
Lee pulled her back. “No, you’re not,” he said as he held her arm.
“No!” Decker said as she tried to fight his grip.
“He’s gone now,” Lee said solemnly. “We have to focus on getting off this island.”