Armageddon: 2013

Chapter Eight Armageddon: 2013 Reynold Jay

Chapter Eight

February 24—1:00 P.M.  529 miles off the Coast of Somalia, Indian Ocean

Admiral Mahdi searched the sky from the deck of the Limburg while he talked into the phone with the negotiator. He thought he saw a speck on the western horizon and brought the binoculars to his eyes. Ah good; this will be over shortly. There had better be no tricks. The chopper with the ransom was going to make the drop without touching the deck. The crew and the captain were ordered to the deck where they would be visible from the air and told to sit quietly while his B-Wasy’s pointed AKM assault rifles in their direction.

“I have you in sight. Come in as we discussed. No tricks or everyone dies.”

The Aerospatiale SA 341G Gazelle hovered over the deck and a rope was lowered with a brief case attached. Mahdi figured the Fourth Airmobile Brigade had loaned it out for the one day mission. His B-Wasy’s detached the briefcase and examined the contents.

“It is as we discussed,” said one.

Mahdi waved off the chopper and watched as it disappeared over the horizon. The sun was setting and they would soon be jetting over the waters headed for the mainland under the cover of darkness.

~*~

February 24—1:13 P.M Baidoa Grain Warehouse 159 miles north of Mogadishu

***

      Prime Minister Sharmarke shook hands and embraced each representative as they took turns signing the Russian pact. “May Allah be with you,” he said as he greeted each one. Most chose to stay and chat over coffee and sweet rolls and others, who signed earlier, were now departing.

      Sharmarke was endeared by all. He was a gentle person who often called his fellow citizens his “brothers” and “sisters” and all children were “his children.” He had none of his own and his wife had died in one of the refugee camps in ’03 with a fever. He felt very much alone and found that the political life provided solace and gave purpose to his life. He abhorred violence, never carried a weapon as did many of the others, and felt that Allah would protect him until it was “his time.”

      One of the guards that had been posted at the door came running into the room shouting, “THE ETHIOPIANS ARE ENTERING THE CITY! RUN FOR YOUR LIVES!”

      Pandemonium ensued as everyone pushed toward the exits. Suddenly the walls erupted and the roof began to collapse. Screams filled the air as 75mm howitzers pounded the metal structure.

     Sharmarke and Al-wzai survived the first blast and ran toward the door as the roof came down around them. Al-wazi was a few steps ahead and found the door and dove to the gravel while the world seemed to crumble behind. He turned to offer Sharmarke a hand, however he was not there. The building was a shambles and his friend was inside.

     “May Allah help us all.”

~*~

The sound of artillery fire could be heard over the next hill. From behind, Robinson heard the unmistakable sound of choppers racing overhead toward the commotion. He looked up in time to see a squadron of Russian Mi-28A’s mounted with 30mm Shipunov 2A42 cannons and in an instant they were out of sight and over the hill.

“Baidoa is ahead!” shouted Ath. “Something really big is going on I’d bet.” He raced the engine to the top of the hill and slammed on the brakes at the top, bringing the Suburban to a screeching halt in a field of lavender flowers that stretched endlessly down the hillside. Everyone jumped out in time to see a militia at one end of the town wielding rifles and RPG’s. Tanks were pulverizing one end of the town, particularly a large metal building that had figures streaming out and running for the hills.