Red Hammer: Voodoo Plague Book 4 Read Online Free Page B

ceased to exist less than half a second after
detonation.
    A cheer sounded in the conference room as massive plumes of
dust obscured the satellite view of the two targets.  There were no iconic
mushroom clouds since the detonations were subterranean, but even on the
monitor it was obvious that dust and debris was being thrown all the way into
the upper atmosphere.
    “Congratulations, Comrade President.”  Air Marshall Kuchenko
said from across the table, standing to address Barinov.  “With your permission,
I will have the technicians adjust our view so we can watch the next phase.”
    Barinov nodded and Kuchenko turned and barked orders to
three Russian Air Force Captains seated at a side table laden with computers. 
A moment later the giant screen blinked, then displayed a single image.  They
were looking directly down onto Canada and the northern United States, the
extreme upper edge of the display showing the polar ice cap. 
    Flying in formation over Canada, nearly into US airspace,
were 1,200 Sukhoi and Mig fighters, 200 aerial tankers for refueling, and 140
cargo planes.  Looking like toys on the display, everyone in the room knew that
the cargo planes were the massive Antonov AN-124 aircraft, loaded with troops, helicopters
and supplies for the invading army.  In 2001, Barinov had acquired the Antonov
aircraft manufacturing enterprise and had been building the massive planes,
capable of lifting nearly a quarter more weight than the venerable American
C-5A Galaxy, preparing for this day.  Every man in the invasion, as well as 75%
of the Russian population, had been vaccinated against the virus that had been
unleashed on the Americans.  He smiled as he watched his planes enter American
territory, unopposed.

4
     
    I had time to see two of the Russian Mi-28 ‘Havoc’ strike
helicopters explode in mid-air along with one of the Apaches before our pilot
reacted.  A Havoc was coming down the river, straight for us, and he spun us into
a nose dive for the water, flaring and jinking to the left at the last second. 
A missile streaked by close enough that it seemed I could touch it, then we
were gaining altitude and turning so fast I was pinned at the end of my safety
tether.  A moment later a hellfire missile leapt off the right pylon with a
roar, tracked the Havoc for a couple of seconds and detonated as it impacted
the Russian’s tail rotor.  The back half of the helo sheared off, the remainder
of the aircraft spinning out of control and crashing into the Mississippi
River.
    The pilot continued to fly an evasive pattern and I crawled
my way to the door mounted minigun and started trying to strap in.  Blanchard
saw what I was doing and made his way across the tilted deck to help.  Finally
secured in place I grabbed the headphones Crawford held out to me and slapped
them on my head. 
    “Come on you fucking bastard, hold still for Daddy!”  I
heard the pilot’s voice over the intercom a moment before another missile
roared off its pylon, destroying another Havoc that was pursuing a Black Hawk. 
Unfortunately the Russian had launched at the same time we had, the Black Hawk
exploding into a ball of fire a heartbeat before the Havoc died.
    We headed north, following the river, directly towards the main
air battle that had quickly developed.  I wasn’t able to count aircraft, but it
looked at first blush like the Russians were getting the worst of it.  Roaring
under the bridge, we cut speed and suddenly popped straight up a couple of
hundred feet, two more missiles streaking away and finding their targets. 
Another Black Hawk and an Apache exploded and both fell burning into the
tightly packed mass of infected at the eastern entrance to the bridge. 
    Tearing my eyes away from the dog fight I looked for the
train.  After a moment I spotted it still rolling west.  Whoever was driving,
Jackson I presumed, had the diesels at full throttle.  Thick, black smoke
belched from each of the locomotives and