Hunter Killer by James Rouch Read Free Book Online Page A

and called back to Revell. ‘I’ve got Malmo tower on; in five minutes I start my lame duck routine. You better board your bus.’
    For, the fifth time Burke checked his seatbelt, tightening it yet again. He’d positioned himself in the second row, so that by holding on to the back of the seat in front he at least had the illusion of a degree of control over what was about to happen.’ The flashing red light high up on the front bulkhead gave off a continuous glow. Two more minutes. At one and the same time he wanted to get it over with, and for it never to happen. It seemed as if his heartbeat was counting down the seconds to the moment when the rams would push the sled back along the fuselage, the chutes would deploy and they’d be snatched out into space. Closing his eyes to hide the still unlit green bulb from his sight didn’t help, it only made the clock inside him louder, until its pumping roar filled his ears.
    Revell was the last to take his place. As he sat down alongside Hyde in the back row he took a final look across the several rows of seats. The two groups had remained clannishly separate, with most of the artillery men occupying the left of the cabin. It made him think of a neatly packed box of toy soldiers, waiting for the next game. An involuntary shudder ran through him as he fastened his lap and shoulder straps together. Had Hyde noticed it? He gave no sign, but then none was ever to be found in the British sergeant’s face.
    Now the aircraft was pitching more violently and the movement was being transmitted to the men, even through the sprung floor of the cabin. To Revell it was a sure sign that they were right down low, making the final approach.
    The green light went on, its brightness blotting out the red even as it faded, then that too was extinguished as a sudden jarring lurch severed the cabin’s umbilical link with the aircraft’s systems with a jerk. They were on their way.

    FOUR

The cabin moved more smoothly as the powerful rams overcame the initial resistance of the metal runners. Dooley felt the aircraft rise as the first sled went out, noting the pilot’s immediate correction to the controls. He sensed they were moving faster, then the Starlifter soared again as the second sled followed. It was their turn next. He clamped his teeth on the piece of rubber he’d been given and closed his eyes against the sensation he knew was coming.
    There was a savage wrenching acceleration and suddenly the cabin seesawed wildly and the contents of his stomach raced for his throat. His mouth filled with foul taste and he was conscious of being weightless one moment and undergoing the stress of several ‘g’ the next, as the brake parachutes levelled the yawing sledge and violently checked its speed.
    Dooley only had an instant to register the total silence and absence of vibration as he opened his eyes to the pitch-black of the interior, then the runners made their first contact with the ground. Despite all the springing, it felt as though a thousand sets of steel-shod boots were trying to kick his backside over the moon. That was followed immediately by a second massive jolt, and then the world burst apart.
    A torrent of bricks and splintered beams, lit by sheets of sparks, hurtled in through the crushed left front of the cabin. Glass and fragments of wood scythed from the dust and crashed into the walls of the cabin, some of them clattering and rebounding from the steel helmets of the men crouched low in their seats. ‘Stay where you are. Stay in your seats.’ Even as Hyde’s bellow filled the interior, the thunder of the collision ceased abruptly and his shouted words encountered no competition for the men’s attention.
    Canted over at a steep angle, the first frantic attempts at movement by some of the men had caused the cabin to rock and threaten to turn over. The pitching ceased as they resumed their places.
    It was quiet, except for a low moaning coming from the front. A torch flicked