Chapter 7 - The Sky Falls
"Incoming bogey, six o'clock high!" the pilot shouted, his hands wrestling with the cyclic stick as the Blackwood private chopper shook under sudden turbulence.
Julian immediately unbuckled, shielding Leo’s sleeping body with his own torso. "Marcus, identify!"
Marcus swung open the side observation panel and peered through high-powered infrared binoculars into the black night. Against the backdrop of the rugged Adirondack peaks, a sleek, matte-black Eurocopter was descending from the cloud cover, running completely dark with no navigation beacons.
"It's an attack bird!" Marcus yelled. "Civilian conversion, but they’ve got door-mounted miniguns! They’re matching our speed!"
Suddenly, a blinding beam of light illuminated the cabin. The attack chopper had engaged an ultra-high-candela searchlight, blinding Julian’s pilot.
A voice boomed across the emergency aviation frequency, cold, aristocratic, and unmistakable.
"Julian. This is Uncle Harold," the voice of Harold Sterling crackled through the cabin speakers. "You are flying through restricted airspace over my private land. Cut your engines and land at the valley airstrip immediately, or we will remove you from the sky. You have five seconds to comply."
"Don't you dare touch that throttle!" Julian commanded his pilot. "Dive! Into the canyon!"
The Blackwood pilot shoved the cyclic forward. The helicopter plummeted toward the jagged, pine-covered ridges of the mountain range, pulling five Gs as the stomach-churning drop threw Julian against the bulkhead.
Behind them, the attack helicopter opened fire.
A deafening stream of tracer rounds tore through the night sky, illuminating the pines in violent flashes of amber and green. High-caliber bullets shredded the tail boom of Julian’s helicopter. Warning sirens wailed through the cockpit—red lights flashing violently across the instrument panel.
*Warning! Hydraulic Failure! Engine Fire Port Side!*
Leo woke up, screaming in terror as the cabin rocked violently, smoke pouring in through the ventilation vents. Julian grabbed the boy, strapping him securely into a tactical child-safety chest rig attached directly to his own torso. He wrapped his arms around the boy, holding his head down. "Hold on to Daddy, Leo! Hold on tight!"
"We’re losing the tail rotor!" the pilot screamed over the alarm. "I can’t hold her! We’re going down! BRACE! BRACE!"
The helicopter spun out of control, a vortex of spinning trees, black rock, and fiery tracer rounds.
Marcus kicked open the emergency side doors. "JUMP! INTO THE CANOPY! NOW!"
Julian didn't hesitate. Gripping Leo with both arms, he leaped from the spinning cabin into the freezing night air just as the helicopter clipped the treetops.
The sensation of freefall lasted three terrifying seconds before Julian crashed through the dense branches of a massive ancient pine. Pine needles whipped his face; thick branches snapped against his back and legs, absorbing the brunt of the kinetic impact.
Julian crashed into a deep embankment of lingering winter snow and soft pine needles, rolling violently down the steep hillside until he slammed against the trunk of a fallen cedar tree.
The impact knocked the wind entirely out of his lungs.
Seconds later, a colossal explosion lit up the mountainside. The Blackwood helicopter slammed into the ravine three hundred yards below, erupting into a towering fireball of burning jet fuel and twisted aluminum that cast hellish shadows across the snow.
Julian gasped for breath, coughing out snow and dirt. His entire body throbbed with agony—his left shoulder felt dislocated, and ribs on his right side burned with white-hot pain.
He immediately looked down at his chest.
Leo was crying softly, shivering violently from the freezing mountain air, but completely unharmed. The tactical chest harness and the snow had cushioned him entirely.
"Leo... baby, are you okay?" Julian wheezed, his trembling hands checking the boy’s limbs.
Leo nodded through his tears, sniffling, his tiny hands clutching the zipper of Julian’s tactical vest. "Daddy... cold. Bunny... where is bunny?"
Julian reached into his pocket and pulled out the tattered velvet rabbit, which had miraculously survived the fall. He handed it to the boy, pressing a fierce kiss onto Leo’s forehead. "Daddy has you. We’re going to be okay."
A rustle of snow came from twenty yards uphill. Julian instantly drew his Glock, aiming into the shadows.
"Don't shoot, Boss!" Marcus groaned, limping out of the darkness. His tactical jacket was torn, his arm bleeding, but he was alive, clutching a suppressed carbine. "Pilot didn't make it. The attack bird is circling back to survey the crash site. We have about eight minutes before their ground teams deploy."
Julian gritted his teeth, forcing himself to his feet despite the blinding pain in his ribs. He looked up at the fiery wreckage illuminating the sky, and then north toward the dark, looming silhouette of the mountain.
"Where is the Sterling compound?" Julian asked, his voice filled with lethal resolve.
Marcus pointed toward a glowing cluster of lights atop the adjacent ridge—a fortress-like estate overlooking Lake Placid.
"Two miles through the ridge," Marcus said. "It’s a fortress, Julian. Perimeter sensors, armed guards, high-voltage fencing. It’s suicide."
Julian looked at his shivering son, then looked toward the mansion on the mountain.
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"They tried to kill my wife. They tried to steal my son. They tried to take my life," Julian said, his eyes glowing like embers in the dark. "We’re not running anymore, Marcus. We’re taking the war to their front door."
***
