Feral Nation - Consequences by Scott B. Williams

Author:Scott B. Williams [Williams, Scott B.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Lightning Struck Press
Published: 2024-07-23T00:00:00+00:00

TEN

Keith’s thoughts were racing as he and the others scrambled to put out the campfires, kicking dirt and sand onto the flickering flames to extinguish them as fast as possible. The distant thrum of helicopter blades grew louder with each passing second, and he knew they had precious little time to conceal their presence. This was the first time they’d faced a threat from the air since the establishment of Sierra Zulu, and Keith could only hope the low-flying helicopter was merely passing over the area on the way to someplace else. That hope was dashed just moments later, because it became obvious from the sound that it was following the east bank of the river, and that the intersection of the bayou caught the attention of the crew. They heard it circle back and then seem to come straight at them, obviously following the smaller channel east.

“Everyone, get to cover!” he yelled, as soon as he confirmed with a glance there were no visible flames remaining. “Keep your faces down! Cover anything reflective you have on you!”

The residents of Sierra Zulu did as they were told without hesitation, scattering into the underbrush and disappearing from view. Keith grabbed Jonathan by the arm, pulling him behind the cover of a fallen cypress tree, the thick trunk providing a modicum of protection against potential gunfire. The two of them peered out over it just enough to scan the starlit sky for a glimpse of the approaching aircraft. The pounding of the rotors grew deafening until finally, a sleek black silhouette was visible as it passed slowly overhead about 500 feet above the treetops. Keith knew from the shape it was no Black Hawk, but though he was unable to identify the model, he was certain that it was a military helicopter.

“It ain’t one of Rencher’s,” Jonathan agreed, as they watched it disappear and then listened as it seemed to circle to the north to either leave the area or make another pass.

Keith felt the knots in this stomach as he considered the implications of their hideout being discovered. So far, the helicopter crew hadn’t turned on a spotlight, nor were they running navigation lights, but he knew that didn’t mean they didn’t have other surveillance capabilities, such as night vision or infrared. And if they did, they couldn’t miss the more than three dozen people huddled down there beneath the tree canopy amid the camouflaged tarps and tents and makeshift shelters they’d erected over the previous weeks.

While Sierra Zulu was well hidden from boat traffic using the Atchafalaya River, Keith knew how difficult it was to hide from a low-flying, slower aircraft like a helicopter, especially one equipped with high-tech combat equipment. If they were detected down there and the helicopter was armed like that Black Hawk from Camp Hurley, they’d be in for a world of hurt. They had no real defense against such an attack, other than the Browning M2 aboard the gunboat, and that vessel was tied up out of reach down the bayou, where there was sufficient depth and room for it to maneuver.

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