‘Tis the Season
Troll the Ancient Yuletide Carol!
December 20, 2023, 23:10 Hours
A tandem-rotor helicopter (a Chinook CH-47), on loan from the U.S. Army, sat on one of the heliports of Clarkston’s Adventure Airways. A silent crew began to board the vessel. For this trip, Mackenson Institute Security personnel would become special operators to carry out a rescue mission. That is all that anyone was told, save for Dr. Robert Williamson, the director of the Institute.
Emil Irving and Robert Latimer boarded first, as they were the pilot and co-pilot. They were followed by Dr. Hannah Wilson and Ghalia Williamson. Dr. Wilson was the overall head of security and the de facto second in command of the Mackenson Institute. Ghalia Williamson was Dr. Williamson’s Yemeni daughter. She didn’t have much experience in the field, but she had certain talents that made her valuable—her very name, in Arabic, means “valuable.”
Outside the chopper, Dr. Williamson stood speaking with Colonel John J. Williams, who was the commanding officer of the local US Army Ordnance Depot. They were not making small talk. Dr. Williamson had just given the colonel a device by which Williamson could be tracked. If the mission failed, and if the chain of command decided to do so, Williamson could be found. Or his body could be found. Nothing was ever guaranteed.
While the men were speaking, four others made their way to and into the chopper. Joe Dale Hopskiss, Harold Newman, Al “Big Boy” Franks, and Reggie Pollard were a black ops team that only existed on paper. Each came dressed in old-style BDU-type uniforms. All had the older M-16 rifles, 12 gauge shotguns, 9mm pistols, and enough ammunition to go on a big game hunt. Each man boarded the helicopter and went to work near the rear door where they began to assemble and mount a .50-caliber machine gun. The weapon was legendary, as it was powerful enough to destroy equipment, and personnel didn’t stand a chance against it. All the mercenaries were experts with the weapon.
The conversation having concluded, Colonel Williams turned and walked toward his car. The driver opened the door for him and then finally the vehicle pulled away, returning to the depot. Once they had arrived, the colonel and a couple of senior NCOs would monitor the progress of Dr. Williamson and his team. The colonel and Williamson would be in radio contact, as needed.
Dr. Williamson threw his rucksack into the Chinook. He smelled the cold air and detected, he thought, winter weather. The sky above the airport, if it could be seen, would be an ominous shade of gray. Yes, he could definitely smell ice or snow in the air. He inhaled deeply once again and boarded the helicopter. It didn’t really matter; let it snow. As long as ice didn’t affect the chopper, Emil could fly it. Once inside the vehicle, the doctor closed the door behind him. “Get ready to fly at 23:30 hours,” he commanded.
Dr. Williamson often laughed at the marketing practices of Texas’ dollar and retail stores, especially around holiday time. In January they began to sell items for Valentine’s Day. In late July they started selling items for Halloween and even Thanksgiving, and in September they began to sell items pertaining to Christmas. It was fortunate, he believed, that the real Christmas was only celebrated for one, maybe two, days. The real Christmas was nothing like he had imagined it to be when he was an innocent child. With this thought, he sat on one of the helicopter’s benches, leaned back, and rested. The time to take off would come, very soon.
He was just getting comfortable when his phone rang. “Yes?” It was Dr. Emma Easton.
“A winter storm is crossing the area right now, and the snowfall is creating problems for road travel. A short time ago, the weather service issued a do not travel recommendation. The subject made it to Crossroads, and he is there in the restaurant. It’s the only one there—I think it’s called Cassie’s 24-7.”
“Thank you,” said Williamson. “Emil, prepare to fly.”
© 2023-2025 Ren Adama
