Escaping Hac:- A USB Story based On the Movie Behind Enemy Lines

[Stormtrooper1990]

This story came about when I recently watched the movie Behind Enemy Lines, starring Owen Wilson. In the movie his character naval aviator Chris Burnett is shot down, along with his pilot Eugene Stackhouse over Serbia as they photograph mass graves, by Serbian forces. Over the course of the film, Stackhouse is killed and Burnett has to go on the run. Using a two way radio, he is in constant contact with his ship the carrier USS Carl Vinson. He his directed to the wartorn city of Hac, but soon comes under attack from his Serbian pursuers. In order to escape he switched uniforms with a dead soldier. I was inspired to write my on take on this scene. In my USB version, Naval Aviator Christine Burnett has the same predicament but develops a cunning plan to escape. This is her story...




Friday 26th December 1996


It had been a whole day, since their F/A18 Super Hornet had been shot down over the hills of Mesoviç. A day since Admiral Kelsey Reigert had put Lt Christine Burnett and her pilot Lt Eugene Stackhouse on the holiday mission. It was supposed to be a routine turn and burn operation, something to scare the locals to make sure the Serbians were adhering to the Cincinnati Accords but it had turned out to be anything but. Christine had detected movement on Radar within the DMZ somewhere the Serbs were not supposed to go, she had persuaded Eugene her best friend to do a low level fly past to take some pictures on the aerial camera. Of course that had been a big mistake they had caught the attention of Serbian SAMs, Eugene had done his best to evade the first missile but they were taken out by the second. Having ejected safely, the two aviators had landed somewhere in the hills, Eugene had done his ankle in upon landing and Christine had took their two way radio to try reach higher ground, to establish contact with the Vinson. She remembered the last thing she had said to Eugene. " You should have dodged that second missile, Gene. I thought you were an ace pilot, man you are slipping." He had just laughed her off, throwing a pair of binoculars in her direction. As she reached higher ground, Christine had witnessed a Serbian brigade led by a Colonel and a tracker garbed in a blue tracksuit, surround Eugene they simply stood him up, questioned him a little then the tracker executed him with a single shot to his head. Christine had screamed in horror, and since then she had the same brigade up her ass the chase had been relentless, but she wasn't alone she was being guided out of this nightmare by the Admiral himself . Christine had narrowly survived picking her way through a minefield then had fallen into a mass grave, face to face with the horrific war crimes perpetrated by the Serbo-Croat Alliance. This was undoubtedly the very same mass graves she and Stackhouse, had seen from the air the reason why those Serbian bastards had killed him, and why they wanted her too. As she reached an outcropping overlooking the road into Hac, she caught a moment to breathe.





At 25, Lt Christine Burnett was a navigator and Electronic Warfare Officer, she had been a naval aviator for three years and had known Eugene for that long. They had been thick as thieves ever since, nothing more than friends but only the only guy on ship who treated her like one of the guys. Now he was dead gunned down in cold blood, and it was all her fault. If she hadn't been such a selfish arrogant bitch to Reigert, then he wouldn't have been placed them on the holiday mission, Eugene would still be alive. They would have been joking about the quality of the Vinson's beef roast, while Christine would be on her third bowl of jello. But here she was, Eugene was dead and she was on the run for her life. Glancing in her field mirror to check any sign of pursers, Christine caught a glimpse of her reflection. She was an attractive woman with high cheekbones slightly squared features and narrow blue eyes. Her head crowned by a unruly tussle of honey blond hair cut into a pixie cut. The sound of the crackle of the two way radio, snapped her attention back to the present. " You there cowgirl, over?" Came the voice of Admiral Kelsey Reigert through the radio. " Yes, sir. Still alive and kicking. Do you have any news on that evac, over." The Admiral paused for a minute before her replied. " Roger that, cowgirl. You are to be extracted by a French NATO spec ops team, call sign Sabre 1. Over." Christine raised her eyebrows. " The French? Aren't the Marines coming?" Another pause followed before the reply. " Sorry, lass. It's been taken out of my hands." Christine could hear the frustration in his voice. "Your LZ will be on the other side of Hac, over." Christine checked her map, then remembered the brigade hot on her tail. " Hac? Sir that's a negative, negative on the pickup. Hac is not safe, there are Serbs in the area over." There was a short pause before the admirals reply. "According to our Intelligence, Hac is in the green zone. Regardless, this is your only ticket cowgirl. You miss this window and I cannot guarantee another rescue over." Christine took a deep breathe, before she replied. " Copy that sir, moving to exfil. Wish me luck, out." She replaced the radio in the pocket of her flight suit, as she glanced to the road, Christine could make out a red pickup driving towards Hac. She quickly ran down the bank, hoping to intercept the truck and perhaps if she was lucky cadge a lift from some locals.





Christine yelled at the top of her lungs, at the driver of the red pick up as she intercepted it at the crossroads. As the truck screeched to a halt in front of her, Christine could have sworn she heard "The Wanderer" by Dion blearing out of his car radio. Christine did a double take when she saw the driver get out of his truck, he was slightly overweight his hair cut into an Elvis style quiff wearing star shaped shades. Christine chuckled despite herself, the guy obviously liked his rock music. The man pointed into the air, Christine humoured him repeating his gesture the local Muslims had obviously known about her crash, she bounced on her feet as she glanced anxiously up the road, having no idea how far the Serbs were behind her. To her relief the man gestured to the back of his truck, thanking him she clambered into the flatbed only to be greeted by three of his family. One a young man, armed with an AK-47 wore an Ice Cube hoodie, the man's son given his similar look. The other two were women, one a young pretty girl his sister and the other an older woman, their mother. As the truck drove down the road, the kid stubbed out his cigarette. " Are you American?" He said glancing at her figure hugging flight suit. Christine smiled, as she nodded. " Yeah, that's right. I like your top, Ice Cube right?" The kid looked down smiling. " I like all things American. Rap, hip-hop, R&B." He then launched into a fairly humourous rendition of "Public Enemy Number One." As his sister rolled her eyes. Christine glanced at her. " Your brother is very talented." The girl didn't reply. Christine leaned back, letting out a long sigh. " Man I could really go for some water. I haven't had a drop since the crash." The brother glanced at his sister, who retrieved a brown paper bag. As she pulled off the bag, Christine's eyes widened in surprise it was a bottle of Coke, she hastily grabbed the bottle unscrewing it. She felt as if all the stress of the last day had washed off, as the caffeinated liquid poured down her throat. " Thanks, I needed that. You cannot beat a swig of Coke." Christine said as she handed the bottle back to the kids sister. She turned around and closed her eyes, feeling the cool winter air brush across her face as the truck drove down the road to Hac.



Any illusion that said Hac was a safe zone, was quickly shattered as their pickup came under mortar fire. The driver did what he could to evade the blasts that tore up the road, to his credit the driver had dodged three blasts but not the fourth. Their pickup was blasted onto it's side, spilling out Christine and her new friends, without stopping to check on their parents the kid grabbed Christine by her shoulder leading her into a bombed out department store, followed by his sister. A quick glance had told Christine that these Muslim guerrillas were using the building as a command centre, there were many armed young men and women, plus quite a few civilians. They dragged Christine to a guerilla commander, a moustachioed middle aged man the kids sister exchanged some words in rapid Bosnian with him before he rounded on her. " So you are the American pilot that the Serbs are hunting?" Christine nodded confused as to why they were training their guns on her. " Yes, I'am an American Aviator, my name's Christine Burnett. I need your help to--" The commander cut across her. " Silence! You Americans are not worth shit. Where were you when the Serbs massacred my family? My wife and my daughters are lying out there in a mass grave just outside of town." Christine held out her hands in a placating gesture. " Yes! I have seen them, the graves. I had to wade through their bodies, I'am sorry. When I flew over, we took pictures with our camera. Help me and I will make sure these bastards won't get away with this." The man raised his arm in frustration. " Silence American! We will see who wants you more. Your people or the Serbs." Before Christine could answer, an explosion from the outside tore into the command centre, bowling them all over. Reacting quickly, Christine sprang up darting into an empty sports goods store. The sounds of gun fire ringing out behind her, as the Serbian troops behind her mercilessly gunned down those behind her. Not sparing anyone, no man, no woman, no child.




Private Yelena Jankovic opened fire at a fleeing Muslim, cutting the man down in a five round burst with her AK-47 feeling righteous fervour as she did so. Ahead of her, she swept into a ruined sporting goods shop separating herself from her patrol. At 21, Yelena was proud to join the holy crusade against the Muslim infidel she like so many Serbian girls had answered General Ratko Mladic's call. And now she was part of Colonel Kracic's death squad, hunting down the last American witness to the genocides they had committed over the Christmas period, in the name of Christ himself. Yelena had heard the American was a woman like herself, but that's where the similarities ended. This American bitch, was like the rest of them Godless, decadent and immoral she had no place here in Serbia, telling them how to live, involving themselves in their holy war. Yelena was dressed in a green figure hugging tactical jumpsuit, with matching black gloves, combat boots and black ammo webbing clipping around her slim athletic chest, a CB radio clipped on her right shoulder. On her left shoulder was her unit patch, with the Serbian flag on her right. Her beautiful face was covered by a black balaclava, all the better to instill fear in the Muslims before she gunned them down. As she rounded the counter of the store, her AK-47 drawn Yelena felt the curious sensation that she was being watched. Before she could key in her radio for backup, Yelena felt the cold sensation of an Iron bar press against her throat as her attacker kicked her knee from under her, dropping her rifle in surprise. On her knees, Yelena started to choke, putting her hands up gripping the bar in a desperate move to throw off her attack. Yelena could feel her consciousness fade as the blood and oxygen were cut off from her brain. All her training now forgotten, Yelena started to panic crying in fear under her balaclava. Suddenly, her attacker savagely pulled the bar up and too the right. The last thing Yelena Jankovic heard was the sound of her neck breaking with a sickening crunch. As her attacker pulled her body forward her cold dead brown eyes, stared into the blue ones of Christine Burnett.





Christine panted with adrenaline feeling intense euphoria as she killed the female Serbian soldier, one of those bastards who killed Eugene. Kneeling by the dead woman Christine pulled off her balaclava, revealing a surprisingly young pretty face underneath with shallow cheekbones rounded features and deep brown almond shaped eyes. Her short dark brown hair tied into a ponytail. As Christine caressed the collar of the dead woman's uniform, an idea came to her. The dead bitch was near enough her size, her clothes would allow Christine to walk past the Serbian troops pursuing her, and proceed towards her extraction. Wasting no time Christine dragged the dead woman, around the counter using her ammo webbing then after stripping off her boots and flightsuit, started to undress her. Christine started by removing the dead girl's webbing, gloves, boots and radio. Christine quickly tested the girls combat boots against her feet, satisfied that they were a decent fit she unzipped the green jumpsuit peeling it off her slim athletic body, working it loose from her shoulders, then past her slender hips and finally down off her long divine legs. As she got dressed in her stolen uniform, Christine glanced down at the dead former soldier, clad only in a matching white crop vest and scanty thong panties and silver cross with dogtags around her throat, more out of morbid curiosity then any attraction. Her eyes traced the swell of her small but firm B-cup breasts under her vest, nipples peaking through the thin white fabric and the gentle curves of her hips supporting a pert tight ass. Her beauty marred only by the brushing around her throat, where Christine had crushed her throat. Christine shook her head, she couldn't wait to be out of this hell hole and back into the loving arms of her girlfriend. When she was finished getting dressed, Christine pulled the balaclava over her head then dragged the scantily clad corpse over to some discarded duffel bags, concealing her half naked corpse with them. After picking up the fallen AK-47, Christine checked the weapon satisfied that it was ready for use, she looped it over her shoulder at parade rest. As she left the shop, walking past the Serbian soldiers who were busy looting their victims, Christine regretted leaving her radio behind it was her only contact with Reigert but she knew that she had to leave to it behind. Her disguise wouldn't hold up otherwise. Looking like she had every right to be there, Christine made her way past the unsuspecting Serbian troops.






Using her stolen uniform, Christine walked past squads of Serbian troops both male and female some had flashed her a wave. One had even patted her on the back, as she walked past an idling T-74 Man Battle Tank. Once she was safely away from their prying eyes, Christine pulled off her stolen balaclava then glanced back over her shoulder, checking if she had gotten away clean. Then not standing on ceremony, Christine quickly ran into the treeline towards her evac.




Colonel Kracic entered the sporting goods shop, coming upon a disturbing site. A squad of his men, including the tracker Sasha were standing over the underwear clad corpse of Private Yelena Jankovic. The tracker turned to him. " It seems we have underestimated the Americans resolve. She shows cunning, killing one of ours and stealing her clothes. I admire her ingenuity." Kracic rounded on the man. "You admire this defilement of one of our sisters in arms!" Sasha shook his head. "I admire anyone, man or woman who has a strong will to survive. She had something the American needed, and she took it. That is something to respect." With that the tracker, shouldered his PSG-1 sniper rifle and walked away. Kracic shook his head at the dour sniper, then turned back to his men. "Why are you fools still standing around? We have an American bitch to hunt. She couldn't have gotten very far." He clapped his hands, sending his troops scurrying away. He turned back to the naked corpse of Private Jankovic, sighed deeply and walked away. He was done underestimating this American, soon she would die just like the pilot did fearing for his life. Soon she would pay for defiling the body of poor Private Jankovic. All trace of their war crimes would die with this Lt Christine Burnett.

[esercito sconfitto]

well this is something I have to admire... it looks like a cliffhanger, at the very beginning of the big scene packed with fast action, ( as promised, the Bosnian Serbian militias hunting the american pilot)... but it is instead the finale of the story presented here.

This is what happens in a USB universe ...the side story is the only part

Basically, you produced a novelette shaped as an excerpt, what is really unexpected. I believe it requires some self-control, because a part of you wants to describe the rest of the action... but you don't

[Stormtrooper1990]

well this is something I have to admire... it looks like a cliffhanger, at the very beginning of the big scene packed with fast action, ( as promised, the Bosnian Serbian militias hunting the american pilot)... but it is instead the finale of the story presented here.

This is what happens in a USB universe ...the side story is the only part

Basically, you produced a novelette shaped as an excerpt, what is really unexpected. I believe it requires some self-control, because a part of you wants to describe the rest of the action... but you don't

Thanks Esercito I really appreciate that.

I was debating whether to include the movies finale and beginning into the story but I wanted to cut straight to the USB scene. As the movie itself as only that one scene, I wanted to write an USB homage to it. The movie itself is very good, and I fully recommend it.


I wanted to develop Christine as much as possible in the small segment, mirroring Owen Wilsons character and to do the movie as much justice as possible. I would like to cast Brie Larson in the role of Lt Christine Burnett


But unlike her movie Namesake, I wanted to present Christine as a tough cookie we gets tired of running and when she has the chance of killing one of those soldiers who was responsible for Stackhouses' death, she took it. Taking the woman's uniform was both an act of survival and revenge all in one.

As Sasha says " You have to admire any man or woman, who as a strong will to survive. "


I'am really glad you enjoyed reading my story, my friend