Off Limits
U.S. Marine Corporal Jim McKenzie knew a hundred ghastly ways to kill, a thousand ugly techniques to survive the perils stalking war-torn Vietnam. And these bloody talents had plunged his tortured conscience into unspeakable horror…Then into that darkness fell a tempting ray of hope. Congressman's daughter Alexandra Vance, her helicopter shot down over McKenzie's particular purgatory, was in mortal danger, and only his damnable talents could help her. Yet to save her, McKenzie would have to destroy himself.. . .MOMENTS OF GLORYVietnam, 1965: A moment in history, a moment in time. But for three Marines and the women they love, these fleeting MOMENTS OF GLORY add up to a lifetime of love!
Читать Off Limits онлайн беплатно
U.S. Marine Corporal Jim McKenzie knew a hundred ghastly ways to kill, a thousand ugly techniques to survive the perils stalking war-torn Vietnam. And these bloody talents had plunged his tortured conscience into unspeakable horror....
Then into that darkness fell a tempting ray of hope. Congressman’s daughter Alexandra Vance, her helicopter shot down over McKenzie’s particular purgatory, was in mortal danger, and only his damnable talents could help her. Yet to save her, McKenzie would have to destroy himself....
Previously published.
CONTENTS
South Vietnam, April, 1965
“We’re hit! We’re hit! Prepare for emergency landing!”
Alexandra Vance gasped as the pilot yelled the warning. The marine helicopter suddenly shuddered, a hail of bullets slamming through the aircraft’s thin skin and peppering the cabin. She gripped the nylon seat as the aircraft jerked upward. Its engine shrieked and groaned, the blades flailing awkwardly, like wings on a wounded bird. The crew chief gave a startled cry, gripped his chest, then crumpled to the deck. The smell of hot oil stung Alex’s nostrils as the door gunner began returning fire, and the pounding chut, chut, chut of the machine gun reverberated through Alex’s body like pummeling fists. Black, oily smoke spewed up in front of the cockpit’s shattered Plexiglas windshield. Directly above where Alex sat, the pilot and copilot worked feverishly to keep the helicopter airborne over the enemy jungle.
Like the crew, Alex wore a helmet, the wire jack plugged into the intercommunications system. Curses, screams and groans filled her ears as the world seemed to shatter around her.
Oh, God! Alex cried out involuntarily as bullets smashed through the cockpit again, striking behind and around her. The gunner screamed and was catapulted backward. Alex threw her hands up to protect her face from flying debris. She was being wrenched from side to side as the aircraft bucked and lurched drunkenly. One of the pilots slumped forward, struck by a bullet. Without warning, fire and shrapnel exploded through the cockpit.
A hot, stinging sensation seared Alex’s shoulder, and she was slapped against the bulkhead by gravity as the helicopter wrenched downward. Heat scorched her, and she gagged and choked on the nauseating smoke filling the cockpit. Then the aircraft nosed over, its engine still shrieking like a wounded person.
Everything began to reel off in single frames, as if Alex were viewing a movie—only it was a movie in which she was the main participant. The seat belt held her captive as the Sikorsky helicopter brushed along the tops of the triple-canopy jungle. The trees acted as a last-moment cushion to the crippled aircraft, so instead of nosing down and grinding with savage, killing impact into the red earth of Vietnam, the helicopter caught in the trees as its airspeed bled off.
The helicopter was on fire, with smoke funneling out of the cockpit and escaping through the open rear door near Alex. There was a great screech as it listed unexpectedly, its tail flipping into the air as it settled on its starboard side, finally halting.
Alex hung suspended upside down in the cabin, the nylon seat belt nearly strangling her. Frantically, she looked around. No one else moved. Her heart denied that her companions might be dead. Alex clawed wildly at the metal clip. Her gaze locked on the machine gunner’s window—her only escape route. Brush, leaves and limbs had collected in the usual exit area during the helicopter’s long, downward slide. The window was partially blocked by the vegetation.
Fire and smoke, too, continued to pour into the cabin as Alex struggled with shaking fingers to release the safety harness. Suddenly the belt gave way, and she fell hard against the aircraft wall below her. Panicking, she flailed blindly around to check the crewmen who lay unmoving at her feet. Anxiously, Alex tried to find pulses on their necks, but her desperate fingers felt nothing. Coughing and choking violently, she tried to make her way forward to the cockpit to see if the pilots were still alive and needed help escaping, only to be driven back by the flames and intense heat.
Her eyes blinded with tears as she groped her way through the dense, thick smoke, Alex fell onto wobbly knees. Which way was the window? She couldn’t see a thing. Heat scorched her skin. Die! She was going to die!
On bloodied hands and knees Alex crawled toward the rear, trying to find the exit. There! Her hand met the leaf-and-branch barricade. She lunged through the window. A scream caught in her throat as she threw herself from the burning helicopter, thinking the ground must be nearby. But she fell a good twenty feet, before slamming onto the damp, leaf-strewn floor of the jungle.
