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The grass between the northwest-southeast parallel runways flanking the field bulged, then dimpled, then collapsed, sending a cloud of dirt to join the smoke still coating the field.
"Between the runways," Ahn-Kha shouted from his position at a supporting column. And unnecessarily, as Valentine locked eyes on the spot and brought up his binoculars.
A corkscrew prow the size of one of the old Thunderbolt's lifeboats emerged into daylight. Striped blacks and browns on a pebbly, organic surface spun hypnotically as it rotated. Brown flesh behind-the snout pulsed, ripples like circular waves traveling backward to the hidden portion of the thing. It rolled like a show diver performing a forward twist and nosed back into the earth. Overgrown prairie plants flew as the giant worm tilled and plunged back into the soil.
"What the devil?" the Arkansan said, watching the creature dig, still spinning clockwise as it reburied itself.
Tiny planes whipped over the inverted U of exposed flesh.
"Tunnels, Colonel, they've tunneled to the airfield," Valentine said into the field phone. He consulted the map of the airfield and its surroundings, pinned to the carpeted wall of the observation van. "We need fire support to grid N-7, repeat N-7."
The tunneling worm's other end finally appeared, another shell-like counterpoint to the prow. Valentine marked an orifice at the very tip this time, though whether it was for eating or excreting he couldn't say.
The two identical warcraft, turbofans bulging above their broad wings, banked in from the west, aiming directly at the parking garages.
Valentine dropped the field glasses and the phone handpiece. Something about the crosslike silhouettes of the aircraft suggested approaching doom.
"This won't be good," Lewis said.
"Out! Out! Out!" Valentine shouted.
Ahn-Kha was already at the van door, perhaps ready to bodily pull the men from the observation post, but the three jumped from the van and ran for the central stairway.
They didn't quite make it.
Valentine heard faint whooshing noises from behind, over the Doppler-effect sound of the quickly growing engine noise. The men flung themselves down, recognizing the rockets for what they were.
The planes had aimed for the floor beneath theirs, as it turned out. Though loud, the only damage the explosions did was to their eardrums. A stray rocket struck their floor of the garage over at the other wing of the structure.
The van caught some of the blast from below. Their carpeted cubbyhole tipped on its side, blown off its blocks.
"Let's see if the phone's still working," Valentine said.
"What if they come around for another pass?" the Arkansan asked, teeth chattering.
"They've got to be out of fireworks by now," Lewis said.
"You alright, old horse?" Valentine asked Ahn-Kha, who was inspecting his puddler.
One business envelope-sized pointed ear drooped. "Yes. The sight may be out of alignment. I dropped it in my haste."
Back at the edge of the garage, in the shadow of a supporting column, Valentine gulped and met Ahn-Kha's eyes before cautiously peeping over the edge of the parking lot wall and surveying the field. A beating sound had replaced the higher-pitched airplane engines.
Helicopters!
Gradually Valentine made out shapes through the obscuring smoke of still-burning jellied gasoline and the more recent rocket blasts. A great, sand-colored behemoth with twin rotors forward, and a smaller stabilizing fan aft thundered out of the west. Smaller helicopters flanked her, like drones looking to mate with some great queen bee.
One of the little stunt planes flew in, dropping a cannister near the holes. It sputtered to life on impact and threw a streamer of red smoke into the sky.
Where's the damn artillery?
"Field phone's still good, Major," Lewis said, extracting the canvas-covered pack from the van.
"Spot for the artillery, if it's available," Valentine said, trying to give intelligible orders while racking his brain for what he knew about helicopter function. "Target that cherry bomb by the holes. And send Base Defense Southwest to Colonel Meadows."
"Base defense southwest, yes, sir," Lewis repeated.
Another plane roared by, seemingly inches from the garage, with a suddenness that momentarily stopped Valentine's heart.
