Hard Contact (A Breed Thriller Book 8) by Cameron Curtis

Author:Cameron Curtis [Curtis, Cameron]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Inkubator Books
Published: 2024-02-18T00:00:00+00:00

13

THE THIRD DAY – LATE AFTERNOON, ÉSPEROS

Water surges through the open door. Sloshes around my legs. I don’t claw my way back to consciousness. I wake up as though the light has been switched on.

The seats have all collapsed. My seat slid down the H-frame rails. On these helos, the seats crush down on impact. This creates a shock-absorbing effect to protect the occupants. The Apache and the Black Hawk are built the same way. These seats probably saved our lives.

Intentional or not, the Sea Hawk came down in the surf. We’re a hundred yards from the beach, sinking fast.

“I couldn’t reach them.” Carlyle’s still stunned, looking up at the power levers. Water is pouring through his door. It’s already chest high.

“Bail out,” Ellison says.

Keller shakes his head as though to clear it. The water level has risen to our necks. The flight engineer splashes out the door, paddles away from the helo. Carlyle opens his own door and exits the aircraft as it slips below the waves.

I gulp air as we sink, hold my breath. Open my eyes underwater. Reznick plants his hands on the edge of the door and drags himself out of the sinking helo. My eyes sting. My scuba gear is rolling around on the deck in the back of the compartment. I release the straps holding me to the H-frame. Grab the mask, put it on, blow it clear.

Clearing the mask cost me breath. I look toward the cockpit. Carlyle has egressed through his door. Ellison is struggling with his own door, can’t get it open. The impact bent the frame. He gives up and levers himself out of his seat. Swings his left leg over the cyclic, reaches for the copilot’s door.

We’re going to make it. I swim through the open door and kick for the surface. Gulp air, look around.

Flat on his back, Carlyle bobs in the water. He’s only a couple of feet away, and I splash to him. Grab his arm, pull him toward me. He turns his head, and his eyes meet mine. There are thwacking sounds and bullets smack into his chest and throat. High-powered rounds from a G3, full metal jacket. His eyes turn skyward and lose focus.

I jerk and splash away from him. Bullets slap the water where I had been. I hear the crack of G3s firing. Look around. A bullet blows off the top of Keller’s head. A black object—skull and scalp—flies into the air. Reznick panics, swims for shore. Bullets stitch his back and he founders in the surf.

Gulp air, dive. Bullets leave cavitation trails as they decelerate in the water. This close to the surface, they’re still going fast enough to kill me. I kick hard—force myself to go deeper.

I see the Sea Hawk on the bottom. A hundred yards out, the water can’t be more than thirty feet deep. Ellison is egressing through the copilot’s door, kicking for the surface.

I grab Ellison. His eyes are open and he stares at me through my mask.

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