Ch 2 P.5. Bird Strike

The pilot transitioned back to his previous conversation. “ Chattanooga Tower, Army Alpha Whiskey Zero Two One. My target returns are maxing out.”

The tower voice answered, “Army Alpha Whiskey Zero Two One, Chattanooga Tower. We read the same. The mass runs east to west from five thousand to nine thousand. That's just an estimate.”

The zip tie MP sat and asked, “Can we make it to Chattanooga?”

“Possible,” answered the pilot. “But I'm not liking the low altitude shadow. Chattanooga Tower, Army Alpha Whiskey Zero Two One. Time to aurora?”

“Army Alpha Whiskey Zero Two One, Chattanooga Tower. You have twenty minutes,” answered the tower.

The pilot asked, “ Chattanooga Tower, how is my path above?”

“Army Alpha Whiskey Zero Two One, Chattanooga Tower,” answered the tower. “XO gives a thumbs-up.”

The pilot announced, “Hang on in back. I'm ascending above the strike.”

Marle asked, “So, we're going to miss them. Right?”

The pilot answered, “That's the plan.”

Marle was tense. This high up, if the helicopter took a strike, it would be catastrophic. And the pilot was going higher! He looked between the two MPs, but their faces were hidden behind the augmented shields. The roar of the motor seemed strained. Marle would rather have his feet on solid ground. Could it get any worse? Yes, it could; Murphy's Law, thought Marle. He had seen a lot of Murphy lately and did not expect him to go away any time soon. Marle fully expected a bird strike, and there he sat, without a parachute.

The pilot said, “Chattanooga Tower, Army Alpha Whiskey Zero Two One. Leveling out at nine thousand. Returns looking good.”

It always happens that way, thought Marle. Just when you think you're on top, the bottom drops out. He had been with Hera; now he wasn't. He had known hope; now he didn't. He had been free; now he had a zip tie around his wrists. The pilot sounded confident in his actions, but Marle was unconvinced. Somewhere, off in the black night of peril, Marle imagined he heard Murphy laughing.

If the helicopter felt like a safe and enclosed space, that reality was suddenly shattered by the loud bang of a bird strike. The windshield shattered in front of the empty co-pilot seat. The helicopter lurched backward and began to spiral wildly. Marle gripped his seat belt as he watched the MPs being thrown against the sealed door.

“Mayday! Mayday!” called the pilot. “ Army Alpha Whiskey Zero Two One has taken damage. We're going down. Marking coordinates. I repeat, we are going down.”

Marle could see that the pilot fought his control stick heroically, but the cause was already lost. The shoulder-holding MP pulled himself from the floor and gripped a handhold behind the pilot.

The pilot said without being asked, “The rotors are damaged and the tail rotor is unresponsive.”

The spin of the helicopter was sickening. The second MP tried to stand but fell across Marle. The pilot unbuckled and pushed past the standing MP; both of them fell. The pilot crawled toward the door, reaching desperately for the release.

“Bail!” shouted the pilot.

“What about me?” shouted Marle.

The second MP was on his knees in front of Marle, shouting a reply. “We'll jump tandem. I'll strap you to my harness.”

The MP released Marle's seat belt and pulled him to his feet. The corkscrew spin of the helicopter made standing all but impossible. The shoulder-holding MP stood close, producing a second harness and began to connect them when the pilot found the release. The door flew open.