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Operation: Red Pepper Installment 1: Apocalypse All is silent. Rubble lies on the spot of once beautiful state of Massachusetts. The charred remains of houses and office buildings is all that can be seen from Boston to Worcester. Occasionally, a lone bird will fly over head, looking for its now gone nest. The sun sets in the sky and all turns blood red in the light. A solitary figure walks slowly across the wasteland of Framingham limping to its right. Torn clothes fall off its body and it appears to be holding an arm as it proceeds up to the place of its former home. Still limping, the figure paces towards a lot with a foundation in its middle. There is a pile of rubble not far away. A small hand appears to be poking out of the great pile. The hand is still, waiting to be seen. The figure turns and sees the remnants of his wife buried underneath the pile of singed wood and cinder blocks. The figure grabs the hand and holds it tightly to its chest. Now on its knees, the unknown figure begins to weep. "Jenkins?" Another form emerges from the opposite side of the pile of rubble. "No need, I already checked." It said calmly. "Why?" Jenkins muttered softly. "Who would do this, and why?" "I don't know." "You don't know?" "That's right Jenkins, I don't know. Come on, she'll be safe for now, you can come and get her in the morning. "Right," the first figure said in a daze. The two dim shapes stood in the dim red light of the setting sun and walked off. Their long shadows passed over debris and scorched dead grass. "President?" he sat up. "Yeah, we're secret service agents remember? We were off duty when that missile hit somewhere around here. My guess is that it hit around Natick so that the destruction would go all the way out to Boston and Worcester." "What about my wife?" "Right, let's bury her fast; now so we can start to head down to M-E-M-A. "Let's go," said Jenkins rising slowly. ****** Two men, one with a slight limp and a torn dress shirt, and the other in a T-shirt and jeans arrived at the hatch of the Massachusetts Emergency Management Association. Both had guns strapped to their hips. "How do we get in?" asked the one with a limp. "I suppose we could try to knock," replied the other. Reaching out with his left hand, Jenkins rapped on the heavy metal hatch. With a creak, the hatch opened slowly to reveal a man in a two-piece-suit with a gun in hand. Behind him stood more armed people, hiding their bodies behind pillars and walls. "Jenkins? Murray?" the man who opened the hatch asked. "It's us!" Murray said as he stepped into the dimly lit hallway. Jenkins followed. "You okay, Jenkins?" the man who answered the door asked as the three of them walked through what seemed to be a never-ending series of tunnels. "Yeah, I'm fine Daley," responded the limping Jenkins. "You sure?" "I'm sure." "Well, down to business, that missile came from somewhere in South America. We have a feeling that they were after the president." stated Daley. "Is the president okay?" Murray wanted to know. "Yes, he's fine, and so is the rest of the first family, we're going to them now." "Good." "As soon as his choppers get here, we're going to a secret location, from there, you and the president will climb aboard Air Force Two and we'll fly to another secret location. From there, we'll direct a mission. Air Force one was destroyed when the missile hit." "A mission, for what?" Jenkins questioned. "You two will be in command of a small platoon of troops to go and try to find out who launched that missile and get rid of them if possible."
Installment 2: Knife The flight on the president's helicopter was not fun. Even in the relaxing throb of the rotor blades, the tension aboard that small helicopter was thick as mud. Aboard Air Force Two, it was even worse. President Webb snapped at his wife in front of his cabinet, and the first lady sent her daughter to another part of the plane because she asked a simple question. When Air Force Two finally landed at an airport that was part of Area 31, an undercover military installation in the Rockies, Commander Card escorted Lt. Jenkins and Lt. Murray to a briefing room where they were briefed about their mission. "Your job will be to command a strike force of a dozen men to Northern Chile and try to find the missile bases that attacked us, if they exist. After the bases are found, you will destroy them without setting off any nuclear weapons," Commander Card briefed the two on their mission. "And how are we expected to destroy a missile base without setting off any of the missiles?" Murray wanted to know. "Good question," replied Card, "you will also have to find the control center for these missile silos, that will be your main target." "Hmm, I see." "What are the names of our men?" Jenkins asked next. "Men and women." Corrected Card as he pulled out two sheets from his briefcase and handed them to Murray and Jenkins. "Their names and information about them are all on these papers. Your strike force will be designated knife on all radio transmissions and the control area here in the U.S. will be designated as blade." "Four snipers?" Murray asked of Card while looking up from his paper. "Yes, four. You will all be in a forest area and the four snipers will cover the front and back to keep the rest of you safe," Card responded. "When do we leave?" was Murray's next question. "Tomorrow," was Card's next answer. "You will be flown down to another secret area in Texas where you will meet up with your strike force to be flown down to Chile. So I suggest that you get a good night's rest and I'll see you tomorrow at 0-six-hundred hours. Dismissed. Private Donnahouge will show your rooms." ***** All the fourteen people sitting in the cramped helicopter felt their hearts pounding in their chest as the helicopter flew over the grassy plane of northern Chile. "We're at the drop point now." The pilot said to the four snipers, one Navy Seals, three marines, two army rangers and two secret service agents sitting on benches with parachutes strapped tightly to their backs. One by one, while under the cover of the dark night and a gunner covering their descent, the ten most talented people in the United States Armed Forces, and two secret service agents departed from their semi-safe haven of the large helicopter and dropped to a grassy field.
Installment 3: Blade A silent jungle in the heart of Chile is usually only disturbed by the screeching of birds and other animals. During the night, it's even quieter. Occasionally, a lone Jeep may drive by some great trees in the dead of the Jungle night. But not tonight. The still air was disturbed by the pulsating throb of two sets of propeller blades. A light searched the ground below the two descending helicopters as they sped over the trees. The two flying monsters stopped their forward movement and hovered over a grassy field. "You guys ready?" asked the pilot of the helicopter containing Jenkins and Murray. "I think so," Murray told the pilot "Just let me check if they're ready in the other chopper." Murray put the microphone of his headset closer to his mouth and muttered a few words to his elite troops in the helicopter that was hovering next to them. "Yup, they're ready, bring us down to the appropriate altitude." "Yes, sir." the pilot said as he brought the helicopter to about ten feet above the grass. Five troops jumped the ten feet to the grassy plane from one helicopter and seven from the other. All twelve of them crouched in the deep grass wearing infrared goggles, and looking along the field for people who may have been alerted to their descent. They all crouched there for about ten minutes as the two helicopters flew away leaving them feeling abandoned and scared. "Okay, let's move." Murray spoke into his headset as he checked his compass. "We have to go south," he said as he pointed towards the Jungle. In the dark, the twelve of them slowly tromped under the cover of the snipers at four corners. "Danger, ten o'clock" said the sniper named Janice Olson from the top right corner. All the soldiers stopped in their tracks crouched. Most reached for the M-16's they had strapped to their backs while Murray and Jenkins took out their Berettas. "If the silencers aren't on those things, then put 'em on now." Jenkins ordered the platoon as he screwed a small cylinder on to the barrel of his own gun. Several reached in to their field jackets and placed their own silencers on to their M-16's. "Olson, report." Murray ordered to the sniper who had spotted the man standing on the border of the field and the forest. "He's looking directly at the spot where we landed, he's not in any type of uniform and he appears to be wielding a sub machine gun of sorts." Olson informed the group. "Are there any more?" Jenkins continued the conversation. "I see two more beyond the first, they are dressed differently, but they're wielding the same type of gun." "Okay, thanks Olson, I think we're going to form a semi-circle around the three, Zondervan and McDowell, you'll cover our flanks and Olson and Lewis, you'll cover our back. Form the semi-circle and don't do anything until I give the word." Jenkins told the group by means of his headset. Ten of twelve soldiers slowly and stealthily moved in to a semi-circle around the three armed men. Two stayed behind and covered their back. "When I give the word, every other man, or woman, whatever you may be, will stand up and point your guns at them. I will order them to place their arms on the ground. Don't shoot until either they shoot or it looks like they will shoot." whispered Jenkins in to his headset. "Does everybody get that?" "Yes, sir." he heard eleven whispers in his ear. "Now!" Six armed soldiers popped their heads up and stood with their guns pointing in the faces of three very surprised men. "Don't move! Place your weapons on the ground!" Jenkins ordered the three men while he moved his beretta between them. "Come on! Now on the ground!" The three didn't move. Jenkins advanced until he was about twenty feet from the closest one. "There are three more coming from twelve o'clock, sir." Jenkins heard another whisper in his ear. "Sir! Look out!" McDowell shouted from his flanking post. Jenkins Dove out of the way just in time for a spray of bullets from one of the three men's guns to miss him. Olson fired a shot, taking out the man who had fired on Jenkins. Jenkins again poked his head up from the grass and fired off three shots into the chest of one of the other men who fell back with a cry. "Shoot! Shoot!" Jenkins yelled as the remaining man and the three approaching people started firing on his platoon. The remaining soldiers from the American platoon started firing on the four men next to the clearing. One by one they each fell until there were their six lifeless bodies lying on the bed of dirt and weeds. "Report in." Murray ordered. "Jenkins, here." "Olson, here." "McDowell, here." "Zondervan, here." "Lewis, here." "Raitt, here." "Williams, here." "Ruff, here." "Lasley, here." "McNally, here." "Bourke, here." The entire platoon reported in. "And, of course, I'm here," stated Murray. "Okay, Let's move out, we've got a lot of work to do before daybreak." Critiques: -Overall well-written; very vivid description. |