Clear as the Moon by Chris Stewart

Author:Chris Stewart [Stewart, Chris]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction
Publisher: Deseret Book Company
Published: 2008-01-15T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty-Five

Blade 65

Over Southern Kentucky

The military helicopter was incredibly noisy and uncomfortable. It vibrated with force and energy and noise and wind, all the combined energy of the turbine engines, the four main rotors, and the smaller tail rotor at the back. The seats were nothing more than thin nylon cushions stretched over aluminum framing, and the floor was dirty steel.

Bono sat in the right corner, looking out the large Plexiglas window. Caelyn sat beside him, resting her head against his shoulder. She stared straight ahead at the cockpit where the two pilots were working, but she didn’t really watch them, her mind racing. She was thinking of her parents. The army had promised to send someone to help them, and all she could do now was hope that they would. Ellie was asleep beside her, her head upon her lap, the adventure of the helicopter ride having quickly worn off. Azadeh was sitting on one of the seats facing the rear of the helicopter, her back to the pilots. Sam and a couple of other soldiers, one of them the Blackhawk crew chief, sat on the other side of the cabin. The center of the floor was taken up with the soldiers’ packs and weapons, all of the gear strapped down.

The chopper was flying at 145 knots, 300 feet above the ground. The air was clear of clouds but hazy, the ground beneath them having turned brown and dead from the coming winter. Bono watched the passing terrain in wonder. Every road they crossed was lined with dead cars and semis—all of them already looted—and rows of walking people. He looked across the open fields. Miles and miles of makeshift camps. Fires, smoking white, dotted the landscape in every direction. He frowned as he looked. The fires were too big. Completely inefficient. Fools! Why didn’t they save their fuel for the winter? A small fire to cook with would have been enough. Soon they were going to need that wood for heat.

The chopper crested a low, tree-covered ridge, the ground orange and yellow from the fallen leaves, then crossed a small lake. His eyes opened wide as they flew over the brackish water. At least a hundred boats of all shapes and sizes were sitting on the water, fishing lines stretched from all sides. He tried to count them all but quickly lost track. He didn’t know how many fish were in the lake, but it was pretty clear there were a lot fewer today than yesterday, and there’d be even fewer tomorrow.

The refugees were hungry. But it was going to get much worse.

He leaned forward, looking behind the helicopter as it passed the lake, amazed at the absurd number of boats he had seen. He could have walked across the lake without getting his feet wet by jumping from boat to boat.

They passed over a major highway, Interstate 30 or 40 or something, he didn’t know, but the helicopter followed it until it turned slightly south to bend around a low hill.

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