The Virus, Lee, Damien [summer beach reads .txt] 📗

no time asking for an explanation. He sprinted over to his aircraft and climbed into the cockpit.

“What have we got?” he asked as he pulled on his headgear.

“Bogey entering our airspace in less than five minutes.” The static-filled voice of Frankland replied through the headset. “We need to take it down before it gets over US soil.”

“Take it down? What if it’s a friendly?”

“There are no more friendlies,” Frankland urged.

Tyler shook his head as he busied himself assessing the controls. Before long, the engines roared to life as he prepared to take off.

“Pre-flight check complete. Are you with me?”

“Shit!” Frankland spat, “One of my engines isn’t responding.”

“What?”

“Get up there, dude. We don’t have time.”

Tyler looked over at Frankland’s motionless jet. He couldn’t see inside, but he knew his friend was frantically checking the displays. Without waiting for any further prompts, he taxied towards the runway and took off, listening to the instructions through his earpiece.

“Don’t waste any time, Raptor One. Shoot it down on sight.”

“Where is it?” Tyler asked, scanning the sky in front of him as he ascended higher.

“Co-ordinates being sent.”

Tyler looked at the screen to his right. The display showed the target was only two minutes from land. He banked hard to the left, setting himself on an intercept course with the unidentified aircraft.

“Got him.”

The distant target came into view. He soared past and performed a quick turn. Within seconds he was behind the jet with missiles locked on target. His thumb hovered over the switch as he watched the aircraft. Its shape was unfamiliar, yet it looked capable of greater speeds. That, coupled with the unsteady flight pattern, gave him the impression a novice was piloting it.

“What’s the status, Raptor One?”

He ignored the query as he pulled alongside the jet and established a communication link.

“This is the United States Air Force. You are about to enter restricted airspace. Turn back immediately.” He listened, awaiting a response. When none came, he spoke again. “This is the United States Air Force. Do you copy? You are entering restricted airspace. Turn back now or you will be shot down.”

A clatter came over the transmission as the hurried gasps of a man became clear. “Hello? Hello?”

“Do you copy?” Tyler repeated.

He looked at the display, which showed they were thirty seconds from land. He dropped back, once again tailing his target. His thumb hovered above the switch once more as the man’s pleading cries filled his headpiece.

“Please, help! My wife is sick. She needs medical attention!”

Tyler’s thumb faltered. Images of his own wife at home filled his mind. His heart hammered as a growl sounded from the jet. The man let out a frightened whimper.

“Please!”

Tyler’s heart pounded against his ribs. He knew he had to destroy the aircraft, but his conscience forbade it. His hand trembled, tormented with the choice.

“Raptor One!” The voice from air traffic control sounded over the speakers. “He’s going to be over land any second. Take him out!”

Tyler glanced at the display and knew they were right. He had to act fast.

“I’m sorry.”

He locked the missile’s senses onto the aircraft.

“What? Please, no!”

“I have to.”

“No!”

“I’m sorry.”

“No!”

The jet suddenly nosedived right before his eyes. Tyler blinked and followed its rapid descent. Alerts beeped from his control panel as the force of the manoeuvre threatened to overpower his aircraft. He felt a tightness in his chest as the pressure started to cripple him. He knew he had to pull up. His target was a lost cause. Even if the man could pull out of his suicidal dive, there was no way he could do it in time to regain his altitude.

Tyler dragged the jet back into a horizontal position. Assessing his altitude, he noted he was only a thousand feet from the ground. If he had gone any closer, his attempts to pull back up could have failed. He felt a wave of relief wash over him, but also a flicker of guilt. The man and his wife had perished in what must have been an almighty crash. He breathed deeply, waiting for confirmation of the wreckage. Seconds passed, with no notification from air traffic control. Tyler’s brows creased. There were only a few seconds to spare until impact. The jet had to have crashed by now.

He cast an appraising eye over the wreckage as he descended back to base. Fire burned ferociously as black plumes billowed towards him. The jet had crashed towards the end of the runway. As he watched, the diminutive specks of his colleagues dashed over to the blazing inferno. The carnage that ensued would stay with him forever.

***

Eddy Frankland ran after his comrades as they sprinted towards the wreckage. He knew nobody on board could have survived, but the raging fire burned dangerously close to a fuel supply. If the flames drew closer, more explosions would ensue. The high-pitched whine of an emergency vehicle stole his attention. He turned as the fire truck raced towards him. He recognised the stocky man behind the wheel as Arthur Morris; one of the oldest officers still in active service.

“Morris!”

He waved to halt the vehicle’s progress. The man slowed to a crawl as he drew alongside Frankland, allowing him to jump onto the side. Clinging onto the rail, he looked ahead as the vehicle took off once more.

“Your boy Lincoln is gonna be in deep shit for this one!” Morris yelled through the open window. “His days flying birds are over.”

“No. We’re on red alert and Tyler’s a great pilot. If anything, they’ll have him scraping shit out of the engines for the next two weeks.”

“I hope you’re right.”

Frankland mopped his brow as they neared the wreckage. The scorching temperature of the sun, coupled with the intense blaze, made his skin seep with sweat.