Chapter 9

John

08-11-2022

2 days after Chapter 6

John and Mike stood in the open green field. A small line of trees parted this field from the other, where they camped with the others, and whilst that field was sometimes crawling with soldiers from one tent to another, this one was almost always empty. The sky was blue, with only a few white clouds away from calling it clear. The sun shined brightly, but the cold of the winter still persisted to infiltrate the air, and left the soldiers with a temperature just above 0 degrees Celsius. They were at the location for two days now. John had recovered from the captivity, except for a few burns on his back. He enjoyed his time here. Shadow came sprinting towards Mike with the ball they were throwing.

'Good boy! Loose.'

Shadow obediently dropped the ball from his mouth. Mike grabbed the ball and stepped back a bit as Shadow waited patiently but alert. He hurled the ball into the distance. Shadow turned and shot off behind it.

'So, big day tomorrow,' said John.

Mike nodded silently as his eyes followed Shadow.

'Yeah... don't worry though.'

Shadow lunged himself towards the ball, rolling over the ground as he caught it between his powerful jaws.

'If you remember the jet-training, you'll be fine.'

Mike had shown John the way the soldiers here had gotten onto the carrier ship before, and how they would do it tomorrow. They had improvised it in an improvised simulator, but according to one of the soldiers, it was nowhere near the real experience. To say the least, John was nervous of what was yet to come.

Shadow came jogging towards John and dropped the ball by his feet. Mike smiled. John gave Shadow a rustling stroke across his back and grinned as the dog licked his hand.

'That's a good boy!'

That evening, a few of the soldiers had prepared a thick soup, and served it to everyone in the camp. Mike and John took their time to enjoy something which had not been packaged and stuffed into a backpack, left there for days, taken out and then heated up in boiling water. It was a thick French onion soup, with cheese and bread. It reminded the two men what real meals tasted like, after having eaten packaged food for months on end.

The two men slept in hammocks under a dark-green canopy. They watched the sun go down through the trees. Mike turned around to go to sleep, with Shadow lying below him on a soft bed of clothes. John looked at the dog, who slept peacefully, and yet still with one ear up to listen out for noises. Snoring filled the canopy, and John could not figure out whether it was Mike or Shadow. But the snoring was not what kept him awake. Instead, the thoughts of the next day was the cause of his restlessness. With eyes wide awake, he thought about how he would be soaring upwards through the sky, and what would face him when they got onto the ship. He thought about Robert and Mason. If he would find them on the ship, and if so, in what state. What if they had been faced with the same fate as he had, on the same day? A body in the middle of a field. A parachutist without a chute. A mysterious suicide or murder. No explanation as to how the body got there or who was involved. How long would it even take for someone to find it? Days? Weeks?

The next morning was an early one. Before dawn, John was woken up by Mike, who patted him a few times on the shoulder. Mike walked from under the canopy and into the treeline to take a piss together with Shadow. John had maybe slept 2 hours in total, with a few minor nightmares in the mix. He got up from his hammock and put on his special clothing, which was extra thick. After he had done that, he too went into the treeline to do his business.

After a good breakfast, the Scottish man who had rescued John, called Liam, gave the men a briefing of their mission in one of the tents. He would also join them as the commander of the group, and lead the operation.

'Right, both of you have simulated and practised the jump as well as you could. It does not even come close to the real thing, however. When you blast off, you will go from 0 miles an hour to 60, in 4 seconds. You will feel great pain in your back, but the most important thing is that you do not give in to the force and bend, because you will tilt and spiral out of control. When we are on the ship, you will listen closely to my commands at all times. We're searching for a classified object. If you think you've found an object of interest, report it to me.'

Roughly two hours later, John walked over the grass towards Mike and Liam in the open field. The sky was shrouded with a thick layer of grey clouds; the cover for the ship. John had been armed and geared up by two soldiers who had done these things many times before. During the process, they had kept on reassuring John that everything was going to be fine, which really only invoked more nerves. The jet blasters were strapped secure to his waist. His rifle was secured to his chest, and the backpack of the parachute rested on his shoulders. He had been fitted with a helmet and a small emergency oxygen tank. He was about to execute several lethal stunts with little to no training. 

'You two go first on my mark, I'll follow to make sure you are doing okay. Remember; keep your body straight, and don't panic when you tilt, adjust carefully,' instructed Liam a final time.

In the distance, Shadow barked ferociously at the soldier who held his leash tightly. All he wanted to do was go to his boss. Technically, they would only be gone for a few hours at most, but it felt like they would leave for days or weeks. Mike looked at his dog with saddened eyes.

'Don't worry, mate. He'll be here, waiting for you,' John said.

One of the soldiers raised his hand in the air. A second later, Liam shouted 'Go! Go!'

Mike switched his gaze from shadow and looked into John's eyes. He tapped the small button on his waist. John did it a split-second later. He had his back tightened, and felt the pain which Liam had warned them about. John saw the horizon lowering beneath him. A third blast sounded two seconds later; Liam. At this point, John didn't even know if he was tilting or not, he just went with it, thinking only about how high he was. The gear was specially designed to keep the flight straight, but if one were to tilt his body, the blasters would be guided by that instead. John kept his body as straight as possible. He looked up. The clouds came closer rapidly. Their greyness engulfed his sight.

Suddenly, he felt water and humidity on his body as he went through the cloud layer. His vision was impaired by countless of droplets on his helmet as he passed through. Then blue. A beautiful, stunning blue. Still keeping his body as straight as possible, he looked around him. Still a little above him, the massive vessel hovered. The edge of the flight deck was somewhat 100 metres away. Now came the hard part: tilting towards the ship to make the deck, before the fuel which was stored in the relatively small tanks of the blasters ran out.

Liam shot up towards John. They almost hit each other. As Liam was the flight coordinator, so to speak, and he could adjust his speed whilst John and Mike couldn't. Liam pulled John's shoulder into the correct angle. John let his body sway into the direction and flew towards the colossal floating ship. The grey steel of the massive vessel glimmered in the sunlight. At this point, the fear kicked in with John that they could be identified as missiles, and the anti-missile system would kick in, in which case they would soon be penetrated with countless bullets. John felt hot, even though the air at this altitude was below freezing point. He saw Mike in the distance, and the bright lights of his jet blasters. Liam passed Mike as well and led the two men to the ship.

John prepared himself for the landing. He now knew that they had gone unnoticed, because if they had been, they would have already been fired upon. He followed Mike and Liam until he flew over the asphalt flight deck. John hit the button again, which initiated the landing system. He remember what he had learned in the training and threw his body backwards. The jet blasters twisted downwards and threw him up straight, before decreasing power, whereby John softly dropped to the ground and landed on his feet. He looked around, quickly. Mike and Liam had landed 50 metres away from his position, 20 metres away from each other. John unclicked the rifle from the two braces on his armour. The weapon was equipped with a silencer for stealth and a reflex scope for accuracy. John ran steadily towards Liam and Mike. When he was somewhat 10 metres away from them, a loud siren came to life and echoed across the deck.

Under the shrill blasts of sound, Liam shouted; 'Come on, we have to get to cover!' as he pointed towards the fighter jets which were parked 50 metres away from the runway, around 200 metres away from their position.

They ran as fast as they could directly towards the row of fighter jets. They ran into the row of aircraft and stopped between two of the large jets. This ship was the same design as the one on which John had been held and tortured. At the end of the flight deck, there was the same steel building and doorway.

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'The siren is not an alarm for us, but a call for crew. They're going to launch a jet,' said Liam.

'So what do we do? We're stuck here,' answered John.

'No,' said Liam. 'We simply blend in.'

The doors opened, and crew members came streaming in. They were dressed in bright overalls and had earmuffs on their heads. The sirens still blasted loudly. Liam took his rifle and rested it casually on his shoulder, after which he walked out from behind the jets. Mike and John followed his example and did the same. The crew members ran out over the deck. They passed John, Liam and Mike, completely oblivious of the fact that they were enemies infiltrating the vessel. The three men went through the doors and entered the steel, badly lit corridor.

They descended into the countless lower decks of the flying ship. They reached the storage deck, after passing a few other sailors and soldiers on the steps. The deck was a maze of corridors, which ran between large storage cabins, each secured by a thick steel door. The storage system was fool-proof: the bright lights in the corridors revealed the white large numbers on each of the doors, and there was a clipboard which was hung on the wall, with the numbers of all the storage units and what was stored inside them. Liam took the clipboard and led John and Mike through the corridors. He avoided all of the storage units with food and maintenance equipment, and sometimes appointed one of the two men to check a storage unit which contained ammunition or "diverse storage". Whilst Mike was checking a storage unit, John and Liam continued through the corridor.

'Is there anything like a torture floor, or captivity floor?' asked John.

Liam turned around. 'Focus on the primary objective first, John. Your friends are secondary. I know that you're worried, but we'll find them. In the meantime, open this door. Ammunitions.'

John obediently unlocked the door. He shifted the metal bar across the crack of the door, which triggered two thick steel pins, one above and one below, to shift out of place and unlock as well. He pulled the heavy steel door open with all his strength. The door came into motion, and slowly shifted across the metal floor. John looked inside. Complete darkness. John stepped inside the darkness of the room and slid his hand across the wall in search for a switch. When he found the switch, he gripped it with his fingers and flicked on the lights of the storage unit. Glistening in the bright light which had just been born, magazines of small arms ammunition, to explosives, to the ammunition for the big guns of the ship. Anti-Air shells, grenades, rockets, missiles, rifle ammo, machine gun ammo, crates of everything, stockpiled neatly into the storage unit, and there were 15 units of these in total. The ship was armed with an arsenal of weaponry, and this was the fuel behind it; the stored ammunition which would be able to keep the defences going for hours on end.

Mike lent a hand with pushing the door back into place and locking it again. He had found nothing of interest in the storage unit of "diverse storage" which he had to check. Suddenly, the clunk of steps on the metal stairs sounded in the corridor. Someone was coming down.

'Act natural,' whispered Liam quickly.

Two soldiers came down the steps. Mike and John silently followed Liam towards the next storage unit, as if they had to check the units, or something of the sort. John heard the two soldiers walking behind them. A voice sounded. Russian. Liam stopped, and Mike and John came to a halt as well. For a second, all was silent. John nervously wondered if Liam knew how to speak Russian. He knew so much details about the ships, and tactics, but had he faced the challenge of learning the language as well?

Liam let out a deep sigh, as the three men still did not face the two soldiers. 'Sides,' said Liam calmly but clear and loud.

It took a split-second for John to realise what it meant and react upon the order. Mike and John almost simultaneously threw themselves against the steel walls. Liam turned around as he pulled up his rifle and discharged several bullets through the silenced barrel. Before the Russian soldiers could react, they were both struck by the suddenly incoming projectiles. The corridor fell silent after the two men had fallen to the floor.

A soft groaning rose from that short silence, as one of the two soldiers had survived the shooting, but was still incapacitated and unable to produce any louder or clearer noise from his mouth. Liam and Mike thought that the situation had been deflated and were relaxed already, but John noticed that the soldier, who was on the edge of death at this point, was reaching desperately for his gun. An unsilenced fired round would loudly echo through the lower decks, and alert everyone who resided within the ship. John acted swiftly. He fired a round into the man's chest. A thin splatter of blood jumped from the chest and landed thinly and unevenly on the steel floor. The man's arm dropped to the floor, his bloodied fingers only a few centimetres away from the trigger of his gun.

Mike and Liam complimented John for his caution and the three men continued their search for whatever it was they were looking for. They did not bother hiding the bodies, because the floor had been smeared and splattered with blood anyways. Only Liam knew what they were looking for, and he never wanted to reveal what it was to the "grunts" in this team. Six storages later, John opened the door of a storage unit for diverse storage. The storage unit was dark, with the lights switched off, as always. By now, John knew exactly where the switch was for the light. He flicked it, and an almost empty steel chamber was revealed. All there was, was a rectangular box in the centre of the storage unit. It measured around a square meter and seemed to be extremely reinforced, with thick metal plates along every side. There was an eerie vibe to it.

'Liam, come check this out,' said John. His voice was mildly cracked because of the nerves he had, which were created by the presence of this intimidating and mysterious object. Liam entered the room and inspected the box further.

The box, patterned by the thick metal plating, came to Liam's waist. He inspected the locking mechanism of the container and walked around it a few times to check for weaknesses in the reinforcement. John stood in the doorway and Mike stood behind him in the corridor, keeping a secure eye on the stairs. To Liam, it didn't matter how long it would take to break open the box, but John and Mike still had their friends in mind, who could possibly be on this ship as captives. Liam gestured John to come to him.

'Hold this open,' commanded Liam when John came to stand by him.

There was a thick latch along the front of the box. Behind it, there was some sort of a digital square keyhole. In some ways, the box turned out to resemble an ordinary chest, only perhaps with some more modern attributes.

John did as he had been commanded and lifted the heavy, thick, steel latch. Liam pressed the barrel of his rifle with the silencer at the end of it, against the keyhole.

'You can let go of that latch now, thanks.'

John slowly slid the latch back. It rested against Liam's silencer.

'I'm gonna attempt to break the lock, alright? Step back, mate.'

John took a few steps backwards, and he and Mike watched anxiously as Liam steadied his aim. It was a wildcard. This would either work, or it wouldn't. It might trigger a silent alarm, or may already have triggered one. Liam pulled his trigger and a bullet crashed into the lock of the box. A blast threw Liam backwards. The man crashed against the steel wall to the John and Mike's shock. They ran over to him. The man's eyes were wide open, but still. A little teary as well, or at least they seemed to be, in the bright light. Mike requested a response from him and John checked for a pulse. When John laid his hand upon Liam's wrist, he felt a little jolt. It was like the jolt received from static electricity, but a little fiercer, compared to what John remembered about a jolt of that kind. The lid of the box lifted silently as Liam's life force faded from his body. John went to feel a pulse again. Nothing.

'Mike, start reanimating him.'

John pulled Liam's body from the wall and Mike pulled the backpack from his shoulders. They put him on his back and rested his head on the backpack. Mike folded his hands and started to pump onto Liam's chest.

Three minutes later, after having switched places as well, the two men were forced to give up on Liam. Now it was just John and Mike. The "secondary objective"; their friends, came to the surface a little more. But they would not let Liam die for nothing, and would complete the primary objective first. John looked at the rectangular steel box, of which the lid had now been lifted. A dim yellow light glowed onto the underside of the lid. John looked at the container, and the box stared right back at him, provoking the fiercest curiosity he had ever felt and bringing to the surface a fear of what it was that resided in a heavily reinforced container on a Russian carrier ship, floating in mid-air, far above the French Alps.