Chapter 14

A bullet grazed B.A's arm, but he carried on firing, unfazed, roaring mad with anger as the ammo got dangerously low, getting to the last rounds of bullets.

Suddenly, there was a burst of gunfire coming from above, ricocheting on the ground at both sides of the truck, and into the approaching enemy, then the helicopter whizzed past him really close, with a deafening, thundering sound of the rotor blades.

The hail of bullets hit the soldiers and their vehicles, creating chaos and hell, even more when the POW pilot fired some missiles and rockets, hitting the other trucks and some buildings, destroying most of the compound, except the building closer to B.A, where all the prisoners were kept. The next time the helicopter made a close turn and passed closed by, B.A looked at the pilot, who was laughing like a raving Murdock in one of his best days, having a ball, enjoying the pay-back time.

Brilliant, another crazy fool at the stick! Are they all the same? Don't they get their pilot licence unless they are mental?

"Quang! Lie low!" he cried, jumping off the truck carrying a lighter machinegun like Hannibal's, following his steps into the building, now that the path had been cleared for him.

AAA

When Harlow got the helicopter up, he had a hard time to control it, despite the fact he had handled the same or very similar models during the war, because he had not touched the controls of an aircraft for such a long time, and this was an improved, more modern version, a large helicopter heavily loaded with ammo. Initially, they headed away from the compound, when Harlow didn't intend to, but soon he got the hang of the controls, during a short, mini-practice flight, and they returned, opening fire against the approaching soldiers, that were showering that black man in the truck with bullets.

"Take that, motherfuckers!" Harlow cried, when the first burst of bullets came out.

"Kill them all. No mercy," Scott said softly, slouched in his seat, with a blood stain spreading fast on his chest, while Conley applied pressure to it.

"Use the missiles! Hit them with all you got!" Conley said. "Hold on, Bob. You'll be all right!" he added, but his worried voice lacked conviction. That wound looked pretty serious.

The helicopter whizzed by, over the truck, and made a sharp turn when Harlow jerked the stick, firing the first missile. When the building he aimed at blew up, they all cheered crazily, even the dying man.

"Awesome! More! Come on, shoot the trucks! Give them hell!" Conley cried.

"We should have taken this bird a long time ago!" Harlow said, firing again, blowing up the truck closer to B.A's, annihilating the machinegun that was giving him so much grief.

They had the time of their lives, watching the soldiers scrambling over the compound, trying to take cover from the non-stop hail of bullets coming from the sky, while the loud noise of the emergency sirens still filled the air. So many years after the war, the whole prison no longer had effective weapons to repel an aerial attack like that, coming from a fully-armed helicopter, so it was a piece of cake for the POWs to take over the compound.

AAA

Hannibal was running purely on the jazz, with his judgement totally overridden by the adrenaline.

"You're no fuckin' Rambo!" he heard B.A saying.

The hell I'm not! he thought while shooting down the first soldier that came his way, walking over that dead body like an unstoppable bulldozer, with Tia's words still resonating in his head: "come in right now! They are going to kill them!"

He carried on spitting bullets from that machinegun, hitting all the soldiers that came shooting at him on that corridor, as he searched for the right room, counting doors. He spotted Tia halfway down, frozen with her back against the wall, while soldiers and bullets kept passing by her, but when she aimed the rifle at him he thought that maybe he was mistaken and that was another soldier, and not her. She fired several times, and Hannibal jolted with a reflex, but he wasn't hit. He looked behind him, in time to see two soldiers dropping to the ground. Great! She's covering my back, how nice.

Another soldier came behind her then, with his rifle up and ready to shoot her, but Hannibal fired another round from his machine gun, killing that man too.

She smiled, giving him a thump up, and then he heard a desperate cry, the familiar voice of Face calling him from behind the nearest door.

"Hannibal!"

He kicked that door and entered the room, while Tia stayed on the corridor, guarding it. The first thing he saw, was Murdock fighting Colonel Shu on the floor, on their knees. Then, when he saw Face, battered and tied to a table, with his trousers down, he went mad.

Colonel Shu had a gun, and while they fought for it, it was getting too close to Murdock's head. When Murdock saw his boss, he quickly let go of that man's arm and jumped away, rolling on the floor, so Hannibal could fire safely. Without hesitation, before that deranged man could shoot his boys, Hannibal pressed the trigger to riddle that body with bullets, the last ones left in that weapon. Out of ammo, he tossed the empty machinegun away, grabbing his pistol. While growling, out of his mind with rage, he approached the moribund, injured General that lied on the floor behind Face with his trousers unzipped, and shot him multiple times, wasting half the magazine on him. Not happy with that, he got back to fire a few more shots on Colonel Shu, who was already dead, ending up with an angry, biter cry of frustration, and a mighty kick to his side.

"Captain, are you alright?" he said, tending for him first, as he was closer, offering his hand to get him off the floor, but Murdock didn't take it, nodding towards his friend.

"Don't worry about me, Colonel. Help him first."

Hannibal rushed to Face then. He could not believe the state he was in. If he had known, he would have never suggested Tia to take Face there, to that chamber of horrors. The picture of that injured man tied to that table would be another ghastly image that would get stuck in his mind, imprinted forever, something he would never be able to erase or undo. Like when he found him in a similar state at the POW camp. And he would never forgive himself for allowing that to happen again.

First, he cut the rope holding his good arm, and then walked around the table, behind him, kicking and pushing the general's body out of the way. Doing so, when the body rolled away, the plastic bag with the dog tags fell off his pocket. Recognizing the items inside, Hannibal picked it up, keeping the bag safe in his own pocket. Then, he pulled Face's underwear and trousers up, fastening them, mildly relieved when he didn't see any blood at the back end, and he got him off that table, supporting him in his arms because he was too weak to stand up.

"I got you, Kid, I got you! It's over now!"

"It's so good to see you, Rambo," Face mumbled, looking at him with a weary, washed-out smile, until his eyes rolled back, going limp, unable to fight the dark zone anymore.

B.A arrived then, storming in.

"You alright, guys?"

"B.A, take Face! I'll help Murdock!"

B.A took the fainting Face in his strong arms then, while Hannibal got Murdock back on his feet.

"Captain, can you walk if you lean on me?" he said, also appalled by the state of his pilot, who had an eye so black and swollen he could hardly see with it.

"I think so, Colonel. I'll try. Give us a hand."

With the adrenaline-rush completely over now, Murdock suddenly felt worn-out, dizzy, and very wobbly on his feet when the colonel pulled him up, with a throbbing pain in his injured shoulder and over the burn on his temple, but he was too willing to get out of there to complain about anything. Hannibal could drag him out by the nearly burnt ear, for all he cared, as long as he took him away from that hell.

"Tia, you cover us! Let's go!"

They got out of that building and waved to the helicopter, which Harlow landed close to the truck. B.A ran to it first, lifting Face onto the back cabin. Hannibal followed him, helping Murdock, and while B.A lifted the loony pilot up, Hannibal went back to the truck to help Quang. The healer was still lying in the truck's cabin floor, covered in pieces of glass and debris, but none of the bullets had hit him. Tia helped him to lift her friend to the cabin too, and climbed up herself.

Some of the remaining soldiers had taken cover, and started firing at them from different positions. Harlow could not repel that attack on the helicopter from the ground, so Hannibal got hold of another machine gun and stayed at the stirrup, with his feet on the landing skid, returning fire.

"Let's go!" B.A cried through the intercom when everybody got up, bracing himself for flying, especially after crashing a helicopter only two days ago. But, this was one of the rare occasions he didn't mind too much to be taken away from danger by air.

Harlow got the chopper up, while the soldiers and Hannibal crossed fire. As they got away, one of their bullets hit Hannibal's right leg, and he lost his balance. He slipped off the stirrup, but as he fell, he managed to get hold of the landing gear as the helicopter flew away, over the jungle.

"Shit. Hannibal!" B.A cried, dropping to the floor, fighting his overwhelming fear of flying to look over the edge, extending his hand, but he could not reach him. "Come on, man, get up!"

He had done it a thousand times before, but his time, the older man struggled to climb up the bar, and he looked at him with an eerie calm while his gloved hands slip off the bar little by little, until he fell off, crashing on top of the trees.

"NOOOO!"

B.A stood up quickly and grabbed the interphone again.

"Go back! The colonel fell off!"

"Where?" Harlow voice came through the intercom speaker.

"Down there, in the jungle! Go back!"

The helicopter made a sharp turn and hovered over the trees.

"I can't see him! If he fell on the trees, I can't land there! We may have to go!" Harlow said.

"Are you nuts?! We ain't going nowhere without Hannibal! Go back!"

"Back where? Can anybody see him?" Harlow said looking down as the helicopter covered the ground slowly. Tia, Conley, and B.A also looked for Hannibal, one at each side of the helicopter, but nobody could see him in that sea of green.

"Drop me outside the prison, and keep covering for us! I'll find him!"

Harlow manoeuvred the helicopter, turning back to the prison.

"Wait for us! Don't you dare leavin' us behind!" B.A said with a growl.

"Hurry up then!"

The helicopter hovered close to the ground and B.A jumped off, carrying Tia's rifle, heading for the jungle.

Harlow got the chopper up again, and carried on shooting to keep the remaining soldiers at bay inside the compound. B.A had to hurry up, because they would have called for reinforcements, and more helicopters or even fighter jets would be on their way by now, and he didn't fancy a full air-combat with any other aircraft. That would be too much for one day.

AAA

Hannibal felt the sharp pain of a bullet piercing his thigh, above the knee. He lost his footing, and out of balance, he fell from the stirrup. He panicked, but managed to get hold of the landing skid at the last moment. He had been hanging like that from a flying helicopter many times before, and now he only needed to hoist himself up, and climb back into the cabin. Easy. However, when he tried to pull himself up to pass his elbow over the bar, he couldn't, and at his age, lifting the good leg that high from that position was also out of the question.

Damn. He was too weak already, after the two intense days of thrills, and his body gave up on him, with no more adrenaline left to spur him up.

He cursed his bad luck, because he had been about to say his catch phrase as they flew away, and now the plan not only didn't come together, it went totally tits up for him. Maybe he took the role of Rambo too far, and he shouldn't had stayed exposed on the stirrup like that, while the bullets flew around him, with that fearless, "all macho" pose. Maybe, but it was too late to regret it now.

B.A tried to help him, reaching out with his hand, but he was too far away to grab it. Maybe it was for the best: one less injured body for B.A to worry about, because he had enough on his plate with Face, Murdock and Quang.

He looked at him as calmly as he could, as a kind of farewell, because he didn't think he could survive that inevitable fall, while his worn-out leather gloves slipped off the cold metal slowly but surely, until he couldn't hold on anymore, and he fell off.

After a few meters of free fall, he hit the first branch, followed by multiple others. It felt like being beaten all over by a mob of maniacs with clubs, which did nothing good to his busted ribs. He cried out when one of the branches pierced his side and snapped, and that large portion of wood stayed in there, embedded in his muscles. At least, all those bumps helped to slow him down, and when he finally hit the ground, instead of getting totally squashed, he survived the crash with only a dislocated shoulder and a fractured leg.

He didn't get knocked out on impact, which was a kind of a miracle, and a bittersweet occurrence: that way, he could try to do something about his predicament, but his whole body hurt like hell.

His first consolation was that at least, the fractured leg was the same one shot on, and he still had a good leg to try to walk on. That's it, if he was strong enough to get on his feet. Which he wasn't. He didn't dare to move, because it hurt too much when he tried.

He wished B.A would be wise and give up on him, taking the others to safety, but he knew that would be very unlikely. He could hear the helicopter hovering over him, but could not see it, so he doubted they would be able to see him either.

Too stunned and shocked to think clearly, he just lay there as the minutes went by, until he heard the crack of one of the walkie-talkies. He scolded himself, because he didn't think about using them to let the others know he was alive, and took his time to reach for it, taking it out of his pocket with a shaky hand.

AAA

B.A travelled a reasonable distance over the jungle until he felt he should be close to the area where Hannibal had fallen, but he couldn't find him. He called for him a couple of times, and got no answer. Then, he remembered he still had the walkie-talkie in his pocket.

"Hannibal, where are you?" B.A cried over the two-way speaker, hoping he wasn't unconscious and he could guide him somehow to his location. "Hannibal!"

It took a long while but he eventually got a reply, in the form of a weak and wishy-washy: "B.A, I'm here."

"Where are you, man? Are you all right?"

"I'm lying on the ground… surrounded by trees… all I can see…" that feeble, broken voice said very slowly, as if he was drunk, and with great effort, tinged with pain, "…with a dislocated shoulder… a broken leg, which is also bleeding like a fountain… and a few more niggles…" he said while looking at the piece of wood sticking out of his side. "I'm peachy. And you? Flying away to freedom?"

"I'm down here, lookin' for you, fool! The pilot's waitin' with the chopper. Do some noise or something, man, so I can find you! Quick! Shout!"

"I can hardly move, or talk, B.A. Don't ask me to shout, please," was Hannibal's calm and faint reply. "Wait a second."

Hannibal reached for the other handset and called Tia.

"Tia, do you copy?"

"Hannibal! Are you OK?"

"OK-ish, but B.A can't find me. Can you keep talking, or make a lot of noise, so B.A can hear you? Thanks."

"What do I say?" Tia said, looking at Murdock.

"Give me that. I'll do it." Murdock said, sitting up at the crew cabin, with his back resting on the back panel, reaching for the walkie-talkie.

Hannibal cranked up the volume, and Murdock's deep voice blasted through the jungle, scaring away all the birds and wildlife.

"One, two, three… One, two, three… Biiiigggg guuuyyyy, foooollow the sound of my wooonderful, alluring voice! The one you looove above all things on Earth, the voice that drives you nuuuts and insane, the voice you cannot live without, and find the colonel, to return him to us safe and sound… I command you, B.A! Find him! Fiiiiind hiiiim!"

"Is that good enough?" Hannibal said over the other handset. "Can you hear that, B.A?"

"Oh, man, couldn't that be someone else but the fool! He gets in my head like a drill bit!"

With the help of that non-stop prattle, it didn't take long for B.A to come across Hannibal.

"Oh, man. Shit. Look at you!"

Hannibal was covered in cuts and bruises, with his clothes in tatters; the gunshot wound in his thigh was bleeding profusely, as he said; and he looked ghastly pale, in shock, moving as slowly as a sloth.

"I told you! You're no Rambo! No more Rambo business!" B.A cried, jerking Tia's headband off his head to make a tourniquet above the wound, tying the band as tight as he could, while Hannibal cried out in pain. "OK, what's the damage?"

"Busted ribs again, dislocated right shoulder, and I think that leg you just strangulated is also broken," he said with his left hand covering his eyes, trying not to pant, whimper or cry. At least, not too much.

"Shit, I'll carry you then. But don't complain about them ribs!"

"You are bleeding," Hannibal said, looking at his arm.

"That's nothing. You, are bleeding, fool, not me! Come on, I'll get you on my shoulder. We have to hurry up."

"OK, but try not to disturb this too much," Hannibal said, opening his jacket to show him the piece of wood stuck on his side, sticking out of his bloodstained shirt.

"Holy fuck! Jesus, man! How did you get that there?"

"Trees, remember?" Hannibal said, pointing up. "I hit a million branches on the way down, and one of them stuck with me."

"Let me pull it."

"I think it will be better if we don't touch it. Let the doctors do it, if you get me to a hospital in time."

Murdock was still talking nonsense over the speaker, driving B.A mental, stressed as he was, even without the jibba-jabba. He grabbed the walkie-talkie first, and ordered Murdock to shut up, but as he carried on jabbing, with his finger on the button, oblivious to any incoming messages, he gave up and just put the volume down.

"Damn fool! He's givin' me a fuckin' headache! Come on, let's go!"

He struggled to lift Hannibal on his shoulder without disturbing that wound, while the older man grunted and complained, obviously in a lot of pain. When he got him up, more of less stable on his shoulder, he walked as fast as he could back to the prison, guided by the helicopter noise. He could not believe the whole team was down now, and he was the only one still standing.

AAAAA