The Genesis Plague (2010)

Blackhawk.
    ‘Fuck,’ Meat groaned, rubbing his neck. ‘Are we dead yet?’
    ‘We will be if we don’t keep moving,’ Jason said. He tried to think how far the chopper had flown from the bridge. ‘They’re going to come for us.’ He unclipped his helmet and tossed it into the shallow pool that covered the floor, worked the harness buckles next.
    Meat did the same.
    ‘Camel?’ Jason called out. ‘Jam? You guys okay?’
    No answer.
    Jason slid off his seat and peered into the rear to check on them. What he saw was horrifying. Both men were hanging limply from their harnesses. Camel’s helmet had been blown clear off, along with half his skull. A foot-long metal rod speared through the top of Jam’s helmet and out through his face. Behind them, the fuselage had been punched open by the obliterated transmission.
    Feeling his knees starting to wobble, Jason fought to remain focused, called upon his training to override the threatening emotional storm. You won’t survive unless you keep it together. He closed his eyes for a moment and cycled a deep breath.
    ‘Jesus, Google,’ Meat said, distraught. He gestured the sign of the cross. ‘This is fucking awful. How could this happen?’
    Overwhelmed, Jason didn’t have an answer for him.
    The distant sound of a roaring truck engine echoed through the canal, gaining in intensity.
    ‘Now what?’ Meat said.
    Jason reached around his seat and grabbed the M-16s stowed there. He tossed one to Meat.
    ‘Now we make them pay for this.’

57
    Jason and Meat climbed the embankment and low-crawled into a dense barley field that bordered the canal. Fifteen seconds later a lone pickup truck made a slow approach through the canal, heading straight for the bright flames shooting up from the fallen Blackhawk.
    ‘You’ve got to be kidding me,’ Meat whispered, craning his head up and peeking out through the wispy stalks. ‘These guys look like kids.’
    Scanning the enemy, Jason counted five men - the driver, a passenger, three men with machine guns in the cargo bed. Meat was right: even with scruffy beards, none of these guys looked older than twenty. Certainly not Kurds, thought Jason. He couldn’t help but wonder why an Iraqi Security Force patrol had yet to respond. Complete autonomy in Kurdistan would be slow coming if this was any indication of a US handover.
    Jason felt sick to think that there hadn’t been time to pull Camel and Jam from the wreck, because the chopper’s engines were now fully ablaze. It wouldn’t take long for the bodies to be roasted. However, with the entire fuselage roiling in smoke, it was impossible for the Arabs to notice that the cockpit was empty. This gave them a false sense of security, because when the truck came to a stop, all five men let their guard down, certain of victory. They jumped out from the truck, shouldered their weapons and gathered close to the crash site. They raised their hands to the sky and began ululating and chanting ‘ Allahu Akbar !’
    When they started posing for pictures, however, something inside Jason snapped. This disrespect for human life was the very cancer that was eating away at the Middle East. Without thinking, he rose up and clasped his M-16. Caught up in their jubilation, the Arabs didn’t notice him trawling the top of the embankment.
    Jason’s impulsive move surprised Meat. Left to devise his own tactical response, he opted to sneak behind the chopper to the opposite embankment in hopes of catching the Arabs unawares, should they spot Jason.
    The posse formed a tight circle around the cameraman to view the digital shot he’d taken.
    Positioned directly above them, Jason’s presence went undetected. He shook his head in disbelief and lowered the M-16. There’d be no satisfaction unless he could see terror in their eyes, so he whistled to get their attention. That did the trick. They turned in unison and a long moment of pure confusion paralysed the posse as they assessed his tatty Arab attire. Jason could tell that they suspected him to be one of their own.
    On the opposite embankment, Meat emerged from behind the chopper’s severed, flaming tail. The Arabs had their backs to him, so he readied his weapon and waited for a cue from Jason.
    With dramatic fervour, Jason jabbed his fist skyward and yelled, ‘ Allahu Akbar !’
    Only one Arab echoed his cry, but the man’s gullibility elicited only rebuking stares from the others. Trepidation had taken its hold. Two of the men exchanged