Untitled Black Ops Thriller by Sam Alcott — part 1
(Today is my son’s birthday. He is 11. He’s working on a novel, and asked me to post the first few chapters to get feedback. Ideas for titles are also welcome.)
2000 hrs, Military Headquarters, California
Adrian, 31, 2/10/16
“And…Fire!” the training officer yells. I shoot at the target and hit it in the center. I’m a fairly better shot than the rest of my team. I don’t know why, it’s not like I’ve been training longer, in fact most of them have been training much longer than me. We’re specially trained black ops Marines and have been in the military most of our lives.
“Nice shot, Adrian,” our training officer compliments me.
“Thank you sir,” I say.
“Okay Marines, report to the obstacle course station” our training officer orders us. By us, I mean my team, we’re Delta Squad, and there are seven of us. Me and Sam are the riflemen, Henry is the sniper, Alyx is the engineer, Marolyn and Jacob are the submachine gunners, and Carter is the commanding officer.
We head to the obstacle courses, which consist of tubes to climb through, barbed wire to crawl under, far jumps, and walls to vault over. When we’re done a voice speaks out of the loud speakers: “Delta Squad, report to Hanger A.”
CHAPTER 2: Peter Sheppard
2100 hrs, Military Headquarters, California
Adrian, 31, 2/10/16
My team and I are as confused as a turtle at the bottom of a well. “A new mission?” asks Henry.
We half run to the hangars where Colonel David Baker, the man who’s in charge of our whole organization, and two personal guards are waiting. David is wearing a suit with a red tie. His guards are wearing similar outfits but with blue ties.
“What is it sir?” Carter asks as we salute.
“There is a terrorist by the name of Peter Sheppard, and I need him dead. He’s been smuggling in weapons and may use them. He’s in a small town in New York and has a team with him that is very dangerous. Which is why I’m counting on Delta Squad to get the job done,” David answers.
“How will we get there?” Carter asks.
“You will be flying in one of our best armored choppers, it is covered with steel plating, has a heat seeking missile launcher, and automatic machine guns on the front, back, sides and bottom. It is very fast. We will be controlling it and will fly you to your destination from headquarters,” David answers with a proud smile on his face.
“And where is this magnificent helicopter, sir?” Carter asks.
“Right there,” David answers as a crane-like machine carries in the armored chopper.
I have to admit, it is an amazing vehicle. “Are you ready Marines?” David yells.
“Sir yes sir!” we all answer. Then we walk into the chopper and get seated. The chopper has two windows on either side, and they’re actually the only way to see outside.
“Good luck,” David says to us as the chopper lifts off the ground.
Chapter 3: Flight
2100 hrs, outside of Military Headquarters, California
Adrian, 31, 2/10/16
The flying tank soars through the night sky, almost gracefully. Our team doesn’t talk very much, but today’s an exception. “Why would they suddenly send us on a mission at night, to kill a terrorist?” Sam asks.
“I don’t like it,” Alyx says.
“A mission is a mission, and this is perfectly normal,” Jacob concludes.
Just then the hum of the helicopter blades ceases. And then we’re launched into free fall. “Hold on! Everybody hold on!” is all I can get out of my mouth before the chopper slams down on rocky ground and explodes.
Chapter 4: Chopper “Malfunction”
2200 hrs, unknown location
Adrian, 31, 2/11/16
The ringing in my ears is dreadful, but at least it signifies that I’m still alive. I open my eyes to find Marolyn is unconscious on the ground next to me. I try to stand but there’s a heavy piece of metal debris on my heavily bruised left leg.
I observe the area around me. Alyx and Jacob are on the ground about five yards away to my right, and Sam is about ten yards away from them. I look to my left to find Carter crouched over a piece of the chopper, and Henry is nowhere to be found.
“Sir?” I ask.
“Yes, soldier?” Carter answers back without turning his head.
“We should have gone for the parachutes,” I say.
“I did,” he answers, and this time there’s a long silence. “There were none,” he concludes.