Chapter Twenty
Location: Springfield, USA.
"We're just outside of the drop zone now," Sikorski shouted over the rotor noise. He turned to gauge Hawk's reaction. He could tell that Flagg's aid was slightly nervous to be flying outside of Springfield air space after the fate of their first mission. Knowing the reception that the first team met, it was decided that the second group would be dropped two miles outside of Springfield where they would then proceed on foot.
Roadblock was already opening the Black Hawk's side door and affixing the zip line for his companions. Beachhead was barking out orders, he would be the first down the wire—noone was going into hostile territory before a Ranger could set foot on the ground—then Breaker, Cover Girl and Roadblock would be the last. It should take the team less than fifteen minutes to cover two miles distance and sneak their way inside the town.
"Remember Beachhead, this is an extraction mission first and foremost. We want you all to come back alive, intelligence is secondary consideration." Hawk said.
"I understand, Sir." Beachhead nodded, clipped himself into the zip line and disappeared from sight. Moments later, the others were on the ground with him and the Black Hawk veered away, returning in the same direction that it had come. "Time to form up people, I've got point and Roadblock's got the rear guard."
Cover Girl ducked down, trying to get a visual on the outskirts of Springfield. She could see the town population sign a mile down the road, and the light pollution from inside the city limits. It wasn't difficult to keep pace behind the sergeant, Lord knew the man drilled each of them enough to ensure they could move faster than normal even without his verbal abuse. Something about the sight ahead of them bothered her. They were moving into a heavily populated area, which should have just as much sound pollution filling the air as it did light pollution. She couldn't hear so much as a revving car engine coming from Springfield.
"It's too quiet," Breaker said as though reading Cover Girl's mind. "Cities were never meant to be this quiet." He unwrapped a piece of bubblegum and was about to place it in his mouth when Beachhead turned and cocked his head. The communications officer had a habit of blowing large bubbles which tended to pop rather loudly. He wrapped the gum up again and stuffed it in his pocket.
Minutes later the team was standing on the outskirts of Springfield. It looked like a fortress. Beachhead noted several installations of missile batteries, and small blue vehicle like emplacements that he couldn't identify. They reminded him of Anti-Aircraft cannons, though these were set up more like small automobiles with twin guns. He waved for the others to follow him while he got a closer look at the weapon.
"Lookit that," Breaker said as he dug in his shirt pocket. He pulled out a small camera and snapped two quick photos, one was of a serial number stenciled on the side of the weapon and the other was of a manufacturer's name: MARS. He pocketed the camera as quickly as he'd drawn it.
Headlights approached from somewhere down the street from them, causing Beachhead to push Breaker back behind the weapon installation. A black Humvee rode past with a man in blue riot gear behind the wheel. Another man in similar attire stood in the gun turret atop the vehicle. The team ducked low until the Humvee passed them by and they quickly moved deeper into the city streets.
"Where do you suppose they're keeping the others?" Cover Girl asked. "I doubt we'd find them in the local jail, it'd be too obvious."
"Quiet Cover Girl," Beachhead snapped. "We'll have time for that in a moment, first things first. We need to get our bearings and figure out where—" he paused at the massive domed structure standing in the near distance. At one time it could have been a sports arena, however Beachhead rather doubted that was what the building served as now. Towers stood on the outer perimeter of the dome, machine gun emplacements were nestled atop each one. It eerily reminded him of the bunkers at Omaha Beach.
Somewhere nearby Breaker heard the sound of someone whistling loudly. He turned to his left and saw someone approaching from the south. It was a man in his late thirties, bearded, and he was wearing dungarees that the Navy had returned several years before. He wore his cap slightly tilted to the side, and he carried a fishing rod against his shoulder as though it were a rifle. Breaker was about to say something when he saw Beachhead wave them down a side street, reluctantly he followed and ignored the approaching sailor for now.
"Whatever that thing is," Beachhead pointed toward the dome, "it isn't an original part of this city. I think it's safe to assume that our friends are being held inside, as it would be too obvious to seek out the local jail." Cover Girl grinned, it wasn't often that the sergeant gave an indirect compliment or direct ones either.
"Even so, how do we get in there without making a scene?" Breaker asked, momentarily forgetting the sailor from before.
"We find a door and let you crack the code, that is what you were brought along for—is it not?" Beachhead grinned behind his mask. "Unless someone has a better idea."
"Oi, what'cha doin' out afta dark mate?" a voice shouted somewhere behind them.
Breaker was the first to turn back, thinking perhaps the sailor had come up behind them without warning. On the street the bearded sailor was bathed in headlights from another Humvee, this one however was driven by a blonde man with large framed glasses and a torn yellow shirt.
"You knows the law, da Major don't want anyone out after lights out." Leaning out of the turret atop the vehicle was a burly man with a beard and red bandanna, also speaking in an accent.
"Eh, sorry about that fellas," the sailor chuckled and rubbed the back of his head nervously. "Thought that the fish'd be biting a bit more after sunset. I guess you got me this time."
"It's ol' Shipwreck it is!" a third man offered from inside the vehicle. This man too had a beard, flattop hair style and reflective glasses. "Poor bastard ain't got no luck it seems, let'm go mate. He ain't worth the trouble." this elicited laughter from the three men before driving off.
The man called Shipwreck kicked the ground at his feet and kept walking. It was clear that he wasn't very friendly toward the men in the Humvee, perhaps he wasn't too friendly with the people in charge of the city either. Before Beachhead could say anything, Breaker was moving away from the group and moving down the street toward Shipwreck.
"Hey there fella," Breaker borrowed the term hoping it'd make talking with the man easier. Shipwreck turned around, looked him up and down before starting off again in the opposite direction. Not one to give up, Breaker continued after him. "Is it all right if I ask you a question, Mr. uh..."
"The name's Delgado, Hector Delgado and don't call me Mr. anything." Shipwreck responded gruffly. "I don't know who you are, or what you're doing here, but I'd suggest you forget it and get out of town before those jokers come back through."
"Same team pal, or don't the chevrons on your sleeve mean anything." Breaker asked. "You're a Chief, right?" That seemed to get Shipwreck to pause in his step and glance back over his shoulder for a moment.
"Was a Chief, Uncle Sam decided I wasn't up to his standards and cut me loose. What's it to ya?" Shipwreck stopped and leaned his rod up against a nearby wall. He fixed Breaker with a cocky stare and grin.
"You know as well as I do service is a commitment that outlasts even service," Breaker said. "I'm not going to stand here and try to feed you a bunch of garbage man, but we've got a coupla folks that could really use some help. I know what assuming does, but even if you're not still in I imagine the fact that you're still wearing those dungarees accounts for something."
"I don't think so," Shipwreck said. "But how about this, you and those other people I saw you with can come back with me to my place so we can get you off the street. It may not look like it, but the Major has this place under constant patrol and those goons you just saw aren't the worst of it."
"I appreciate the offer, but we're under a bit of a time crunch here." Breaker said.
"I know how you feel buddy, really I do. Seals don't play around when there's a deadline to be watched, but I think you'd better reconsider the offer." Shipwreck nodded his head in the direction of oncoming headlights again. Reluctantly, Breaker waved for the others to follow after him and Shipwreck.