Ain't War Hell?
By: Maximillian von Fischgeist
Chapter Eighteen
Transport
The incessant throbbing of the helicopter's propeller blades had become by now a comfortable
sound; so prevalent and dominating that it would be missed when it came time to disembark from
the helicopter (a fat transport type, not unlike a large penguin or some such obese and flightless
bird) and take to that mode of travel still (after centuries of war and the technological advances
connected to war) so prevalent and necessary among organizations of fighting men: Hoofing it.
Actually, Lowlight had nothing against traveling on foot. He rather enjoyed it, in fact. It was much
more... honest, he supposed, was the word. There was a world's worth more freedom, that was
for sure. In all the twentieth-century wars (and even earlier ones; they were no less dependent on
the technology of the day), how many men had died in the targeting (or even random stroke of
luck resulting in the happily accidental destruction) of their transport before they had a chance to
affect the outcome of a battle?
______________________________________________________
Continued in Part Nineteen!
Conversation among those being transported (Lowlight, Snake Eyes, Airtight, Grunt, Breaker, and
the now-seemingly-ubiquitous Scarlett who had begged, shouted, pleaded, demanded, and done
whatever else was necessary to be reactivated for this mission) was at a bare minimum due to the
overpowering sound of the engines. Lowlight hadn't spoken to Scarlett in the couple days since
their... well, whatever it had been. He also hadn't had a drop of liquor or a cigarette since then.
Mistake, he now thought, feeling his hands tremble with a compulsive need to strangle the closest
object, which was his sniper rifle. In an attempt to keep his hands occupied, he began to check the
weapon again, to be absolutely sure (perhaps he'd missed something the first seven times) that it
was all in order.
Snake Eyes' gloved hand came down over Lowlight's. He looked up at the concealed face and
saw his own reflection glaring back from those deep, black goggles. Scarlett, sitting beside Snake
Eyes, spoke (shouted, rather, to be heard over the din of their host transport) for the mute man:
"You've checked it already."
"You're makin' the rest of us jumpy, man." That was Grunt, sounding not-at-all amused. His
expression was dark, his complexion pale.
"You picked a bad time to stop smoking," Scarlett added with her annoyingly attractive smile.
(She either was making a guess or there was a peculiar gossip circle that included Lowlight's
activities; an unnerving prospect.) The constant wind coming from the opening in the aircraft's side
(there was no door, for ease of entrance and exit) whipped her ponytail against one side of her
face. She didn't seem to notice it.
The night was beautifully dark outside the opening. The black mass of forest below was not unlike
a shadow cast by the comparatively pale mountain peaks haunting the horizon. The scene lulled
lazily, then desperately, as the helicopter banked. The mountains twisted out of view, and the
forest was replaced by neatly-segmented farmland. Another fluid lurch and the forest now
dominated the landscape. The second helicopter containing the five members of Team Bravo
could be seen for an instant, already dropping under cover of the trees.
Breaker brought his hand up to cover the microphone branching off from his headset. He shouted
to the rest: "We're descending. There's been some movement seen on the ground, both in the open
and at the edges of the forest. No enemy transport has been spotted. Bravo will sweep from the
northwest. We'll move up to meet them from the south."
Airtight gave breath to the question that sprang into all their minds: "Did Intelligence come up short
on this one?"
"We'll find out soon enough," replied Breaker. "Stay sharp."
After the search for Odem had proved useless, the Intelligence division had been scrambling for
alternatives. Suddenly, the order came for this excursion to a small stretch of farming lands in the
southern reaches of New York's Appalachian Plateau. What had prompted it was mysterious to
Lowlight, as well as the others, but orders were orders. If Odem's poison was to be introduced
here, it certainly would be one of the least strategically-profitable areas for such a venture. Unless
it was to be a test site.
As the helicopter descended, Breaker, with a frown caused by whatever was being reported in his
headset, made another announcement: "We're still not sure what's down there, but Bravo's already
committed, so we are too. Stick with the gameplan."
Airtight spoke just as the helicopter halted its descent, hovering about five feet over the ground.
"Anyone finds anything chemical, contact me immediately. Same goes for unmarried heiresses."
There were a few chuckles, and then everyone was on their feet. Grunt was the first to hop out.
Lowlight was the last.
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