Ghostmakers Chapter Two

Chapter Two
Before boarding the chopper, that would take them to the place where the supply convoy was awaiting backup, Matt stopped and pulled a small photo out of his tactical vest pocket. He stood for a moment staring at it, the girl in the photo was his fiancée. The chopper blades rhythmic beating pulled him out of his daydream, he saw his squad waiting for him. Chris was looking at him, he raised on eyebrow, a silent question of are you alright? Matt nodded and ran towards the chopper.
The RPG slammed home into the concrete side of the wall flinging Matt forward and out of his memory. Matt pushed himself up off the ground, looking round checking that Chris was ok. He was already off the ground and returning fire as the blast hadn’t knocked him as far. Chris’ head turned to see 6 of the marines running towards the getaway Humvee.
“Hey, what the hell are you doing?” he shouted as they got into the Humvee, “Daniels, what the fuck are you doing?” he shouted again. The man barely turned his head as he stepped into the Humvee and it sped away down the ramp. Matt and Chris stood awestruck that the men would desert the rest of the squad like this. They could still hear the engine roaring its way out of the car park even over the gunfire and explosions. One of the remaining marines stuck his head over the side and watched as the Humvee attempted to plough through the hostiles. The fire erupted from the hostiles ripping into the windshield and killing the two men in front, the one on 50 was ripped down seconds after, those in the back were pulled out of the vehicle kicking and screaming, the firing stopped and all the hostiles swarmed trying to claim the prisoners for their various warlords. The fate of the three marines would probably be worse than the one which had already befallen the marines in the front. Matt turned to Chris, evidently from the looks on their faces they both had the same idea in mind.
“Fuck this, Chris called in an immediate evac,” Matt shouted over the recommencing fire, evidently one of the more powerful clans had claimed the three marines, “the rest of you away from the walls now!” As soon as the order was given the remaining marines fell away from the wall and ran into the centre of the car park.
“Phoenix Command, this is Lieutenant Hunter, I need an immediate evac to my position, I am activating my locator beacon now,” Chris said into his headset pulling a PDA from his tactical vest and double tapping a button on the side.
“Rodger that, Lieutenant, the evac is on its way, eta 30 minutes,” the response came down his headset. Chris relaxed and signalled to Matt 30 minutes.
“All right people, evac is 30 minutes out, we need to hold them off. I need Davidson to rig the Humvees with C4. Jackson, I need you to take the remaining C4 and throw it over the sides of the car park, and then detonate it,” Matt reeled off quickly and they rapidly carried out his instructions, without hesitation. This was the mark of a true leader; his men respected him because he’d got them out of so many tighter situations. They threw the C4 over the wall, detonating it as it hit the ground of just before. The ensuing explosions caused panic as the men below began to fall and disembodied limbs flew everywhere. The next 25 minutes passed slower than any time had ever passed for any of the marines, longer than agonising birth of Johnson’s first child, longer than the hospital operation before the death of Chris’ oldest friend. Longer than anything. Matt and Chris sat hunkered down next to the concrete wall of the ramp, tuned out to the shouting of the hostiles, the firing had stopped now. Above them the beating of the helicopter blade dragged them out of their daze, the chattering fire of the Gatling guns frightening back the hostiles and scaring them away from firing RPGs up at them. Matt signalled for the others to get on the chopper as soon as the wheels hit the ugly concrete structure. The 6 of them clambered up onto the chopper, Matt tapped the pilot on the shoulder and they were away. The mounted guns again sprang into life, firing rapidly to scare away any threats. Chris allowed himself to relax and sat in the back of the chopper away from the open doors. Matt stood up hanging onto the railing beside the door watching the world pass by. The helicopter swung and headed towards the mountains and towards the base. The whirring of the engines became almost monotonous. The mountains were below them now, their dusty sides watching the helicopter as it flew.
“Heads up, we’re about to hit some turbulence,” the Co-pilot called back to them his voice muffled by the engines. The turbulence hit shaking the helicopter like a rag doll. Some of the marines fell backwards into the chopper landing in a heap at the back. Matt however was not so lucky, his foot slipped out of the helicopter, the wind dragging the rest of him out. He clung one-handed to the rail his hand slipping gradually until the wind got the best of him and he was torn free.
He fell through the air, he did not flail his arms as so many would have; instead he pulled out his PDA and double tapped the button to activate his locator beacon, gripping the PDA tightly his back slammed into the ground, he heard several sickening cracks, his head fell back and smacked into a rock and he drifted out of consciousness.

Dr Gemma Triton stood in her lab, logging the results of the latest trial into her laptop. Her comm.-link opened, and a familiar voice sounded in her ear.
“Gemma? It’s Chris Hunter. I need you help.” Gemma’s face furrowed, wondering what trouble Hunter had got himself into this time. She put her hand up to her headset and tapped it,
“I’m here Chris, what do you need?”
“Medical supplies to stabilise from a 200ft fall, we’re en-route back, casualty is not with us, we need help,” Chris’ reply came frantically.
“Ok, I got you. I’ll have a field medical kit ready, why isn’t Matt asking for this?” Gemma replied, she already knew the answer but didn’t want to accept it.
“Matt’s the one who fell Gem, I’m sorry. He’s still alive. We need to get to him ASAP.”
“Rodger, over and out,” Gemma replied quickly choking back tears. She snapped the laptop lid shut, and ran over to a small locker in the far corner of the lab. She stripped off her lab coat and flung it into the locker, from the locker she then pulled a navy t-shirt and combat trousers. In moments she had changed out of her lab clothes and into the t-shirt and combats. From the locker she then pulled a leg holster, which she strapped around her thigh. She then reached to the top shelf and pulled out a Berretta pistol, into which she slammed a fresh magazine and dropped it into the holster. Next she pulled out a navy tactical vest which she slung on over the tight fitting t-shirt. She then bundled up her lab clothes and threw them into bottom of the locker, before removing a heavy pair of standard issue boots. She kicked off her heels and sat on a nearby lab bench to put them on. Seconds later she slammed the door of the locker shut, the resulting crash echoing around the quiet lab. She walked towards the door, tapping her comm. link as she went.
“Chris, send one of your marines to get the medical kit, I’ll meet you at the command tower.”
“Rodger that Gemma, we’ve just touched down, eta 2 minutes,” replied the voice from her comm. link. As soon as she heard the message, Dr Gemma Triton flicked the lights off and walked quickly from the building.
The helicopters wheels touched the tarmac and the marines jumped from the hold and began sprinting across the base towards the command tower. The pilots did as Chris had instructed them before they had touched down, fuel the chopper and have it ready to go ASAP and inform him on his personal channel when it was ready. One of the marines turned form the group and began heading towards the medical centre again following on of Chris’ orders.
Chris and the three remaining marines burst through the double doors of the Command tower; they stormed straight across the room boarding the open elevator, a man in full military uniform went to board it too but was deterred by a stern look from one of the marines. The elevator climbed the four floors to the top of the building. The four men stormed towards a man stood in the centre of the room between two banks of computers. As they reached him the second elevator dinged open and out stepped Dr Gemma Triton, a tall curvaceous brunette in her mid 20s, her long brown hair tied back into a pony tail and tucked neatly behind her tactical vest. She stormed straight over to where Chris was standing and stood expectantly leaning against a bank of computers. Chris spoke first.
“Sir, I respectfully request that you grant us permission to go back and rescue Captain Creston.”
“I’m afraid that’s not a practical option Lieutenant,” replied Mitchell in his posh upper class English which seemed so out of place in this country.
“Why the hell not? There is a man lying alive and injured after a 200ft fall. And you’re telling me that its not practical to rescue him. So much for no man gets left behind!” Chris shot back his temper flaring.
“Lieutenant Hunter, I understand that you and Captain Creston were close friends but remember that I am your superior…” his voice trailed off. Whilst he’d been talking Dr Triton had sprung up from where she had been standing and pulled the Glock 17 pistol that was hanging in the dress holster of General Mitchell’s heavy uniform. She put the barrel of the gun at the base of General Mitchell’s skull. She spoke softly and slowly.
“Robert, you and I both know what is going to happen if you don’t give this rescue the go ahead, and we wouldn’t want that now would we?”
“All of you out now!” Chris ordered, knowing that this would end badly if there were more hostages.
“My dear please, it’s not at all viable. Just put the gun down and we’ll talk,” Mitchell replied, his voice full of panic.
“No! We’ll talk right now and you will give me the answer I’m looking for!” As the last word left her mouth a group of marines burst in rifles raised. A small panic button slipped from General Mitchell’s hand.
“You see Dr Triton it seems I won’t be giving you the answer you are looking for,” chuckled Mitchell as the new marines encircled him and his captor. There was a sudden sound of cocking rifles as the marines raised them. Chris and his marines stood on the outside of the circle waiting their rifles gripped tightly in their hands. Gemma looked at Chris pleading silently for help. Chris nodded acknowledging her. His earpiece crackled into life.
“Lieutenant Hunter, the chopper is ready and waiting. Over”
“Rodger that, standby, we’ll be out in 10. Over,” he whispered into his headset. He turned his head back to the scene in front of him. He could see a bead of perspiration rolling down Gemma’s forehead. He knew in his mind that she’d never experienced anything like this before, the only time she’d ever held a gun was on a firing range during basic training shooting at targets. General Mitchell looked at him for the first time since Gemma had pushed the gun into the back of his head.
“Don’t just stand there Hunter, do something!” he cried and relaxed as Chris nodded. He walked forward and raised his rifle. At first it was pointing at Gemma till he swung and pushed the barrel into the lead marine’s head. He nodded to his men who all turned their rifles on the marines encircling Gemma and General Mitchell.
“Lieutenant? What the hell are you doing?” Mitchell blurted out, his face stricken with terror.
“Sir, I’m taking control of the situation. Right all of you, weapons on the ground now!” Chris replied kicking away the dropped guns. “Now on you knees, hands behind your backs; you too, sir.” He ordered signalling to his men forward to bind the men with zip ties. He stepped forward and bound the General’s hands.
“You’ll be charged for this you know that. You’ll be in the military stockade before the week is out I promise you!” chattered Mitchell as Chris bound his arms. Chris turned to Gemma taking the gun from her; he removed the round from the chamber manually and threw the gun across the room.
“Right lets move guys. Gemma I take it you’re our senior medical officer for this mission?” Chris said as he began to walk towards the door. Behind him Gemma picked up one of the bound marines’ M4 and pulled a spare magazine from another. She tucked the magazine into her tactical vest. Then she swung the M4’s strap over her shoulder and jogged to catch up with Chris.

Chris and his squad made the long run back to the helicopter in no time at all. The pilot saw him coming and began to warm up the engine as the co-pilot and marine, that Chris had sent to the medical centre, finished loading the field medical kit into the chopper. Chris knew it wouldn’t be long till someone saw Mitchell was missing and they’d have a shitstorm to deal with if they weren’t off the ground by then. They reached the chopper and began loading themselves in when across the base General Mitchell could be seen stood shouting orders at the men under his command in the command centre. Davidson noticed this detail before any of the others in the chopper. He positioned himself in the chopper before shouting the slowly warming up rotor blades.
“Get us in the air! Now!” shouted Davidson to the pilot, Chris shot him a puzzled look. He pointed to the top floor of the command tower, Mitchell was stood there rubbing his wrists and silently shouting orders to the men inside the command centre. Chris tapped the pilot on the shoulder and gestured with his thumb upwards. The pilot responded by immediately pushing the engines to full. The helicopter jerked off the ground banking to the left and speeding away. Chris looked out and saw Mitchell standing at the window, a radio pressed to his ear.
“Lieutenant, this is Mitchell, you’ve got ten seconds to land that helicopter or you will be shot from the sky, your ten seconds starts now,” Mitchell’s voice said over the radio.

Corporal John Winters sat on the Anti Aircraft gun received his orders seconds later. Mitchell was ordering him to fire on the helicopter hovering in mid air in the centre of the base. He aimed the gun, and locked the target into the guidance system of the rockets; he was now just waiting for the kill order.
“Corporal, this is General Mitchell. You have your orders. Proceed, shoot Lieutenant Hunter from the sky,” crackled his comm. link. Winters didn’t hesitate at first, he flicked open the trigger guard, and went to pull the trigger. He paused momentarily. In his head, something didn’t seem right about this. It was something in Mitchell’s voice. A hint of happiness, maybe even joy in the demise of the man.
“General, Sir I decline to follow that order,” he replied over his comm. link, flicking the trigger guard back down.
In the command tower, General Mitchell threw the radio to the floor and crushed it under his boot. His face contorted into a silent scream as he watched the helicopter, bank left and fly off into the distance. It was as if no one would follow orders anymore.
Chapter Two
Before boarding the chopper, that would take them to the place where the supply convoy was awaiting backup, Matt stopped and pulled a small photo out of his tactical vest pocket. He stood for a moment staring at it, the girl in the photo was his fiancée. The chopper blades rhythmic beating pulled him out of his daydream, he saw his squad waiting for him. Chris was looking at him, he raised on eyebrow, a silent question of are you alright? Matt nodded and ran towards the chopper.
The RPG slammed home into the concrete side of the wall flinging Matt forward and out of his memory. Matt pushed himself up off the ground, looking round checking that Chris was ok. He was already off the ground and returning fire as the blast hadn’t knocked him as far. Chris’ head turned to see 6 of the marines running towards the getaway Humvee.
“Hey, what the hell are you doing?” he shouted as they got into the Humvee, “Daniels, what the fuck are you doing?” he shouted again. The man barely turned his head as he stepped into the Humvee and it sped away down the ramp. Matt and Chris stood awestruck that the men would desert the rest of the squad like this. They could still hear the engine roaring its way out of the car park even over the gunfire and explosions. One of the remaining marines stuck his head over the side and watched as the Humvee attempted to plough through the hostiles. The fire erupted from the hostiles ripping into the windshield and killing the two men in front, the one on 50 was ripped down seconds after, those in the back were pulled out of the vehicle kicking and screaming, the firing stopped and all the hostiles swarmed trying to claim the prisoners for their various warlords. The fate of the three marines would probably be worse than the one which had already befallen the marines in the front. Matt turned to Chris, evidently from the looks on their faces they both had the same idea in mind.
“Fuck this, Chris called in an immediate evac,” Matt shouted over the recommencing fire, evidently one of the more powerful clans had claimed the three marines, “the rest of you away from the walls now!” As soon as the order was given the remaining marines fell away from the wall and ran into the centre of the car park.
“Phoenix Command, this is Lieutenant Hunter, I need an immediate evac to my position, I am activating my locator beacon now,” Chris said into his headset pulling a PDA from his tactical vest and double tapping a button on the side.
“Rodger that, Lieutenant, the evac is on its way, eta 30 minutes,” the response came down his headset. Chris relaxed and signalled to Matt 30 minutes.
“All right people, evac is 30 minutes out, we need to hold them off. I need Davidson to rig the Humvees with C4. Jackson, I need you to take the remaining C4 and throw it over the sides of the car park, and then detonate it,” Matt reeled off quickly and they rapidly carried out his instructions, without hesitation. This was the mark of a true leader; his men respected him because he’d got them out of so many tighter situations. They threw the C4 over the wall, detonating it as it hit the ground of just before. The ensuing explosions caused panic as the men below began to fall and disembodied limbs flew everywhere. The next 25 minutes passed slower than any time had ever passed for any of the marines, longer than agonising birth of Johnson’s first child, longer than the hospital operation before the death of Chris’ oldest friend. Longer than anything. Matt and Chris sat hunkered down next to the concrete wall of the ramp, tuned out to the shouting of the hostiles, the firing had stopped now. Above them the beating of the helicopter blade dragged them out of their daze, the chattering fire of the Gatling guns frightening back the hostiles and scaring them away from firing RPGs up at them. Matt signalled for the others to get on the chopper as soon as the wheels hit the ugly concrete structure. The 6 of them clambered up onto the chopper, Matt tapped the pilot on the shoulder and they were away. The mounted guns again sprang into life, firing rapidly to scare away any threats. Chris allowed himself to relax and sat in the back of the chopper away from the open doors. Matt stood up hanging onto the railing beside the door watching the world pass by. The helicopter swung and headed towards the mountains and towards the base. The whirring of the engines became almost monotonous. The mountains were below them now, their dusty sides watching the helicopter as it flew.
“Heads up, we’re about to hit some turbulence,” the Co-pilot called back to them his voice muffled by the engines. The turbulence hit shaking the helicopter like a rag doll. Some of the marines fell backwards into the chopper landing in a heap at the back. Matt however was not so lucky, his foot slipped out of the helicopter, the wind dragging the rest of him out. He clung one-handed to the rail his hand slipping gradually until the wind got the best of him and he was torn free.
He fell through the air, he did not flail his arms as so many would have; instead he pulled out his PDA and double tapped the button to activate his locator beacon, gripping the PDA tightly his back slammed into the ground, he heard several sickening cracks, his head fell back and smacked into a rock and he drifted out of consciousness.

Dr Gemma Triton stood in her lab, logging the results of the latest trial into her laptop. Her comm.-link opened, and a familiar voice sounded in her ear.
“Gemma? It’s Chris Hunter. I need you help.” Gemma’s face furrowed, wondering what trouble Hunter had got himself into this time. She put her hand up to her headset and tapped it,
“I’m here Chris, what do you need?”
“Medical supplies to stabilise from a 200ft fall, we’re en-route back, casualty is not with us, we need help,” Chris’ reply came frantically.
“Ok, I got you. I’ll have a field medical kit ready, why isn’t Matt asking for this?” Gemma replied, she already knew the answer but didn’t want to accept it.
“Matt’s the one who fell Gem, I’m sorry. He’s still alive. We need to get to him ASAP.”
“Rodger, over and out,” Gemma replied quickly choking back tears. She snapped the laptop lid shut, and ran over to a small locker in the far corner of the lab. She stripped off her lab coat and flung it into the locker, from the locker she then pulled a navy t-shirt and combat trousers. In moments she had changed out of her lab clothes and into the t-shirt and combats. From the locker she then pulled a leg holster, which she strapped around her thigh. She then reached to the top shelf and pulled out a Berretta pistol, into which she slammed a fresh magazine and dropped it into the holster. Next she pulled out a navy tactical vest which she slung on over the tight fitting t-shirt. She then bundled up her lab clothes and threw them into bottom of the locker, before removing a heavy pair of standard issue boots. She kicked off her heels and sat on a nearby lab bench to put them on. Seconds later she slammed the door of the locker shut, the resulting crash echoing around the quiet lab. She walked towards the door, tapping her comm. link as she went.
“Chris, send one of your marines to get the medical kit, I’ll meet you at the command tower.”
“Rodger that Gemma, we’ve just touched down, eta 2 minutes,” replied the voice from her comm. link. As soon as she heard the message, Dr Gemma Triton flicked the lights off and walked quickly from the building.
The helicopters wheels touched the tarmac and the marines jumped from the hold and began sprinting across the base towards the command tower. The pilots did as Chris had instructed them before they had touched down, fuel the chopper and have it ready to go ASAP and inform him on his personal channel when it was ready. One of the marines turned form the group and began heading towards the medical centre again following on of Chris’ orders.
Chris and the three remaining marines burst through the double doors of the Command tower; they stormed straight across the room boarding the open elevator, a man in full military uniform went to board it too but was deterred by a stern look from one of the marines. The elevator climbed the four floors to the top of the building. The four men stormed towards a man stood in the centre of the room between two banks of computers. As they reached him the second elevator dinged open and out stepped Dr Gemma Triton, a tall curvaceous brunette in her mid 20s, her long brown hair tied back into a pony tail and tucked neatly behind her tactical vest. She stormed straight over to where Chris was standing and stood expectantly leaning against a bank of computers. Chris spoke first.
“Sir, I respectfully request that you grant us permission to go back and rescue Captain Creston.”
“I’m afraid that’s not a practical option Lieutenant,” replied Mitchell in his posh upper class English which seemed so out of place in this country.
“Why the hell not? There is a man lying alive and injured after a 200ft fall. And you’re telling me that its not practical to rescue him. So much for no man gets left behind!” Chris shot back his temper flaring.
“Lieutenant Hunter, I understand that you and Captain Creston were close friends but remember that I am your superior…” his voice trailed off. Whilst he’d been talking Dr Triton had sprung up from where she had been standing and pulled the Glock 17 pistol that was hanging in the dress holster of General Mitchell’s heavy uniform. She put the barrel of the gun at the base of General Mitchell’s skull. She spoke softly and slowly.
“Robert, you and I both know what is going to happen if you don’t give this rescue the go ahead, and we wouldn’t want that now would we?”
“All of you out now!” Chris ordered, knowing that this would end badly if there were more hostages.
“My dear please, it’s not at all viable. Just put the gun down and we’ll talk,” Mitchell replied, his voice full of panic.
“No! We’ll talk right now and you will give me the answer I’m looking for!” As the last word left her mouth a group of marines burst in rifles raised. A small panic button slipped from General Mitchell’s hand.
“You see Dr Triton it seems I won’t be giving you the answer you are looking for,” chuckled Mitchell as the new marines encircled him and his captor. There was a sudden sound of cocking rifles as the marines raised them. Chris and his marines stood on the outside of the circle waiting their rifles gripped tightly in their hands. Gemma looked at Chris pleading silently for help. Chris nodded acknowledging her. His earpiece crackled into life.
“Lieutenant Hunter, the chopper is ready and waiting. Over”
“Rodger that, standby, we’ll be out in 10. Over,” he whispered into his headset. He turned his head back to the scene in front of him. He could see a bead of perspiration rolling down Gemma’s forehead. He knew in his mind that she’d never experienced anything like this before, the only time she’d ever held a gun was on a firing range during basic training shooting at targets. General Mitchell looked at him for the first time since Gemma had pushed the gun into the back of his head.
“Don’t just stand there Hunter, do something!” he cried and relaxed as Chris nodded. He walked forward and raised his rifle. At first it was pointing at Gemma till he swung and pushed the barrel into the lead marine’s head. He nodded to his men who all turned their rifles on the marines encircling Gemma and General Mitchell.
“Lieutenant? What the hell are you doing?” Mitchell blurted out, his face stricken with terror.
“Sir, I’m taking control of the situation. Right all of you, weapons on the ground now!” Chris replied kicking away the dropped guns. “Now on you knees, hands behind your backs; you too, sir.” He ordered signalling to his men forward to bind the men with zip ties. He stepped forward and bound the General’s hands.
“You’ll be charged for this you know that. You’ll be in the military stockade before the week is out I promise you!” chattered Mitchell as Chris bound his arms. Chris turned to Gemma taking the gun from her; he removed the round from the chamber manually and threw the gun across the room.
“Right lets move guys. Gemma I take it you’re our senior medical officer for this mission?” Chris said as he began to walk towards the door. Behind him Gemma picked up one of the bound marines’ M4 and pulled a spare magazine from another. She tucked the magazine into her tactical vest. Then she swung the M4’s strap over her shoulder and jogged to catch up with Chris.

Chris and his squad made the long run back to the helicopter in no time at all. The pilot saw him coming and began to warm up the engine as the co-pilot and marine, that Chris had sent to the medical centre, finished loading the field medical kit into the chopper. Chris knew it wouldn’t be long till someone saw Mitchell was missing and they’d have a shitstorm to deal with if they weren’t off the ground by then. They reached the chopper and began loading themselves in when across the base General Mitchell could be seen stood shouting orders at the men under his command in the command centre. Davidson noticed this detail before any of the others in the chopper. He positioned himself in the chopper before shouting the slowly warming up rotor blades.
“Get us in the air! Now!” shouted Davidson to the pilot, Chris shot him a puzzled look. He pointed to the top floor of the command tower, Mitchell was stood there rubbing his wrists and silently shouting orders to the men inside the command centre. Chris tapped the pilot on the shoulder and gestured with his thumb upwards. The pilot responded by immediately pushing the engines to full. The helicopter jerked off the ground banking to the left and speeding away. Chris looked out and saw Mitchell standing at the window, a radio pressed to his ear.
“Lieutenant, this is Mitchell, you’ve got ten seconds to land that helicopter or you will be shot from the sky, your ten seconds starts now,” Mitchell’s voice said over the radio.

Corporal John Winters sat on the Anti Aircraft gun received his orders seconds later. Mitchell was ordering him to fire on the helicopter hovering in mid air in the centre of the base. He aimed the gun, and locked the target into the guidance system of the rockets; he was now just waiting for the kill order.
“Corporal, this is General Mitchell. You have your orders. Proceed, shoot Lieutenant Hunter from the sky,” crackled his comm. link. Winters didn’t hesitate at first, he flicked open the trigger guard, and went to pull the trigger. He paused momentarily. In his head, something didn’t seem right about this. It was something in Mitchell’s voice. A hint of happiness, maybe even joy in the demise of the man.
“General, Sir I decline to follow that order,” he replied over his comm. link, flicking the trigger guard back down.
In the command tower, General Mitchell threw the radio to the floor and crushed it under his boot. His face contorted into a silent scream as he watched the helicopter, bank left and fly off into the distance. It was as if no one would follow orders anymore.