Free 47 Echo by Shawn Kupfer

mother’s face, saw her holding in laughter while trying to figure out how to explain what his father did for a living.
    “Your daddy travels all over the world to help people, Nick. He doesn’t get to choose when he goes, but he always comes back home to us.”
    “Okay. But he’s not a seal.”
    “All right, honey.”
    ***
    “Phantom 1-1 to Cougar 4-7 Echo,” the radio crackled in his ear.
    “Go for 4-7 Echo,” Nick said, waking from his dream instantly but coughing slightly.
    “We are now zero-five minutes from the landing zone.”
    “Okay.”
    “Say again?”
    “Sorry. I, uh, copy.”
    “Callback for retrieval will be at 0530 local. That gives you four hours, 4-7 Echo.”
    “Right. Thanks for the ride, gents.”
    “Our pleasure.”
    A few moments later, the Cougar’s wheels hit the ground. Nick sent Michael and Peter outside to release the straps and told them to remember what they’d done in case they needed to hook it back up again. It took them less than two minutes to clear the straps, and the Chinook lifted back into the air and vanished into the night.
    “All right, guys. Time for a quick drive. Chris, you got the locator on the Aero?” Nick asked as Michael and Peter got back into the truck.
    “Yep. Still transmitting. Coordinates are in the nav system.”
    “Look alive, folks. I have no idea what we might run into out here, but I’d like not to get killed by it.”
    A series of mumbled and grunted affirmatives came from the back of the truck, and Nick started up the engine and headed where the navigation system told him to.
    “Hey. You read the manual on this thing, right?” Christopher asked after a few minutes.
    “Yeah.”
    “I’m not going to blow anything up if I smoke in here, am I?”
    “Nah, you’re fine. Light me one while you’re at it.”
    Christopher lit two cigarettes and handed one over to Nick. Nick pushed the Cougar up to fifty miles an hour—just shy of the vehicle’s maximum operational speed, but he knew the thing could take it. It could probably hammer up to sixty-five in a pinch, but Nick hoped he didn’t have to test that out. The road was smooth and clear under the Cougar’s wheels, and just for a moment, Nick imagined he was driving a nice, new hydrogen-powered SUV down the Santa Monica Freeway, rather than an armored vehicle full of convicts to God-knew-what.
    It only took twenty minutes to reach the Aero’s coordinates. Nick stopped the truck when the nav system told him to. He could see the white UAV about two hundred feet ahead, nose dug into the ground and missing a wing.
    “All right, kids. We’re here. I want everyone to load up. I’m assuming most of you know how to shoot a gun. If you don’t, speak up now.”
    No one said a word.
    “Right, then. Let’s get out there, pull the recorders from the Aero, and get the fuck out of here.”
    Gabriel opened up the back doors, and 47 Echo poured out of the truck. Nick opened his door, as well, taking the M4 that Christopher handed down to him.
    “You stay here on the radio. Watch the screens for anything that could be, you know, coming to kill us,” Nick said.
    Christopher nodded.
    “Good luck out there, boss.”
    It was seconds after Christopher said those words that automatic gunfire ripped through the air.
    “Get down! Cover! Cover!” Nick yelled into his helmet radio. In front of him, he saw his men scatter toward the side of the road, ducking down behind a broken-down Lada Kalina. The eight Mechoes crowded behind the small sedan, which was quickly getting torn up by gunfire. “Chris! Can you see who’s shooting at us?”
    “They’re half a klik to the south. I have ‘em on screens now. Six men on foot.”
    “Half a kilometer? How the hell are they hitting from that far away?” Nick fired a spray of bullets to the south as he ran to join his men behind the Lada.
    “Chinks have some damn good tech. Computer-aided telescopic sights, I think. I’m pulling the Cougar around in front of