SECTOR 64: Ambush Read Online Free Page A
Author: Dean M. Cole
the two aircraft.
"Break left!" Jake screamed.
With the bright orange tracers slicing between the two fighters, Jake banked his fighter hard right, narrowly avoiding the wall of lead.
"Crap! That was close," Jake said. "Must have been a Zeus." It was the common nickname for Russia's deadly four-barreled ZSU 23-4 anti-aircraft gun. Good thing he missed. That rate of fire with high explosive shells… The thought sent an involuntary shudder down Jake's spine.
"I'm hit, I'm hit!" Richard screamed over the radio.
"Oh shit!" Jake said. He toggled his radio. "Gunslinger Two-Six, how bad are you hit? Is it flyable, over?"
No reply.
"Gunslinger Two-Six, Richard, what is your situa—" a bright explosion flashed from the direction Richard had turned. To his relief, Jake saw the silhouette of a parachute canopy briefly outlined by the light of the exploding fighter jet.
Rolling his aircraft to bring weapons on the ZSU, Jake jumped into the job of protecting his wingman.
Another burst of fire shredded the night. Like flaming orange basketballs, a new volley of explosive twenty-three millimeter shells rose from the desert floor, blindly seeking out his aircraft. Apparently, the weapon's operator knew not to turn on his radar. That mistake would attract Jake's HARM radar seeking missile. Still, his initial success against Richard's aircraft had made the enemy gunner overconfident. His odds of repeating the original feat were nil. Firing again into the screaming darkness merely supplied Jake with a bright orange dotted line pointing to the source of his friend's demise.
His last Maverick missile locked onto the anti-aircraft gun's infrared silhouette. Lifting the guard, Jake fingered the missile launch trigger. "Bye, bye." With a pull, he launched the missile. It rapidly accelerated toward, and then destroyed the ZSU in a brilliant explosion, briefly bringing daylight to another small patch of desert.
"Good shooting, Gunslinger One-Three," Jake heard over the emergency frequency.
He breathed a sigh of relief at the sound of his downed wingman's voice. "Keep your transmissions to a minimum, Two-Six. After all my hard work, I don't want a load of artillery raining down on you. What's your condition?"
"I'll live, but this is Indian country, so hurry with the cavalry already," Richard said. Apprehension seeped through his humorous façade.
***
Jake heard an electronic click as the inane hold music ended. "How the hell are you, buddy?" Richard asked.
Leaning against the bar top separating the apartment's kitchen from its dining room, Jake looked at the ceiling. He took a deep breath and slowly let it out. "I've been better. Sorry I haven't called, things have been … crazy here. How's the leg?"
"It's better. As a matter of fact, I just returned to flight status."
"Listen, Richard, I've got—"
Not pausing to let Jake finish, Richard kept speaking. "In the meantime, I've been assigned to a special unit in the Pentagon. Actually, that's why I'm calling."
"I'm sorry, Richard, I have something going on here. As much as I'd love to catch up—"
"I understand," he interrupted again. "I've been watching your situation develop. We need to talk."
"Richard … wait, what do you mean? What do you know?" Jake asked, confused.
"I'd rather not discuss it over the—"
Jake's frustration boiled over. "Damn it, Richard, nobody wants to discuss this thing. Every time I try to bring up details, they cut me off. I haven't been able to tell anyone what really happened!" Lowering his voice, he looked toward the bedroom. "I haven't even told Sandy."
Richard ignored Jake's rant. "You're meeting me in DC tonight."
What the hell? How can Richard be involved in this? After an extended pause, Jake said, "Okay."
"I'll tell you more tonight. You're booked on a noon flight out of McCarran. An e-ticket is waiting for you at the United counter."
"Okay, Richard," Jake said. His mind reeled. "I'll … see you tonight."
"Good, tell the lovely and
"Break left!" Jake screamed.
With the bright orange tracers slicing between the two fighters, Jake banked his fighter hard right, narrowly avoiding the wall of lead.
"Crap! That was close," Jake said. "Must have been a Zeus." It was the common nickname for Russia's deadly four-barreled ZSU 23-4 anti-aircraft gun. Good thing he missed. That rate of fire with high explosive shells… The thought sent an involuntary shudder down Jake's spine.
"I'm hit, I'm hit!" Richard screamed over the radio.
"Oh shit!" Jake said. He toggled his radio. "Gunslinger Two-Six, how bad are you hit? Is it flyable, over?"
No reply.
"Gunslinger Two-Six, Richard, what is your situa—" a bright explosion flashed from the direction Richard had turned. To his relief, Jake saw the silhouette of a parachute canopy briefly outlined by the light of the exploding fighter jet.
Rolling his aircraft to bring weapons on the ZSU, Jake jumped into the job of protecting his wingman.
Another burst of fire shredded the night. Like flaming orange basketballs, a new volley of explosive twenty-three millimeter shells rose from the desert floor, blindly seeking out his aircraft. Apparently, the weapon's operator knew not to turn on his radar. That mistake would attract Jake's HARM radar seeking missile. Still, his initial success against Richard's aircraft had made the enemy gunner overconfident. His odds of repeating the original feat were nil. Firing again into the screaming darkness merely supplied Jake with a bright orange dotted line pointing to the source of his friend's demise.
His last Maverick missile locked onto the anti-aircraft gun's infrared silhouette. Lifting the guard, Jake fingered the missile launch trigger. "Bye, bye." With a pull, he launched the missile. It rapidly accelerated toward, and then destroyed the ZSU in a brilliant explosion, briefly bringing daylight to another small patch of desert.
"Good shooting, Gunslinger One-Three," Jake heard over the emergency frequency.
He breathed a sigh of relief at the sound of his downed wingman's voice. "Keep your transmissions to a minimum, Two-Six. After all my hard work, I don't want a load of artillery raining down on you. What's your condition?"
"I'll live, but this is Indian country, so hurry with the cavalry already," Richard said. Apprehension seeped through his humorous façade.
***
Jake heard an electronic click as the inane hold music ended. "How the hell are you, buddy?" Richard asked.
Leaning against the bar top separating the apartment's kitchen from its dining room, Jake looked at the ceiling. He took a deep breath and slowly let it out. "I've been better. Sorry I haven't called, things have been … crazy here. How's the leg?"
"It's better. As a matter of fact, I just returned to flight status."
"Listen, Richard, I've got—"
Not pausing to let Jake finish, Richard kept speaking. "In the meantime, I've been assigned to a special unit in the Pentagon. Actually, that's why I'm calling."
"I'm sorry, Richard, I have something going on here. As much as I'd love to catch up—"
"I understand," he interrupted again. "I've been watching your situation develop. We need to talk."
"Richard … wait, what do you mean? What do you know?" Jake asked, confused.
"I'd rather not discuss it over the—"
Jake's frustration boiled over. "Damn it, Richard, nobody wants to discuss this thing. Every time I try to bring up details, they cut me off. I haven't been able to tell anyone what really happened!" Lowering his voice, he looked toward the bedroom. "I haven't even told Sandy."
Richard ignored Jake's rant. "You're meeting me in DC tonight."
What the hell? How can Richard be involved in this? After an extended pause, Jake said, "Okay."
"I'll tell you more tonight. You're booked on a noon flight out of McCarran. An e-ticket is waiting for you at the United counter."
"Okay, Richard," Jake said. His mind reeled. "I'll … see you tonight."
"Good, tell the lovely and
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