Chapter Eleven
Josh
“You want to do my area orientation flight, or what?” Will’s voice snapped me out of the study guide I’d had my face in for the last hour.
“Holy shit!” I stood, knocking my chair to the ground, and hugged him. “It’s about time you got here, West Point.”
“Yeah, yeah.” He slapped my back. “I bet you say the same thing when I get home three months after you, too.” He grinned and dropped his backpack on the table.
“I think I may have actually missed you, but the verdict isn’t in yet.”
Will arched an eyebrow but handed me a vacuum-sealed plastic bag. “Well, I know for a fact that you miss her.”
“No fucking way.” Ember. I grabbed a pair of scissors off the desk and cut into the bag, the smell of strawberry-cheesecake cookies wafting through my room. I shoved one in my mouth. “Oh my God,” I moaned.
“Would you like me to leave you alone with your baked goods?”
“Want one?” I asked, offering him the bag. He’d better recognize the sacrifice.
He shook his head. “It means a ton that you’d offer, but she gave me a few, and I’m not coming between that relationship.” He sighed. “She also wanted me to give you a kiss, but I’m going to pretend that never happened.”
“Good call,” I said, popping another cookie in my mouth. Slow down and save a few. There’s only a dozen here. They tasted like home, like Ember on rainy days when she baked insane concoctions. They tasted like kitchen sex and love. I made myself fold the bag over then hid it in the trunk under my bed.
“Have a problem with cookie thieves?” Will asked.
“Jagger has shown up twice in the last month, and I swear, he’s devoured the last two batches she’s sent. I’m always glad to see him, but he needs to lay off my fucking cookies.”
“Noted.”
“Where did they get you set up?” I asked, grabbing my flight suit top and slipping my arms through the sleeves.
“Just another building over. I got here a few days ago, but we’ve been on opposite shifts.”
I paused mid-zip. “You’ve had my cookies over there for three days?”
He didn’t blink. “I could have left them in the Op center, but I figured they’d be gone by the time you saw her pretty handwriting on the bag.”
I pointed my finger at him. “You know what…fine. Let’s get you oriented so you can get on the schedule.”
I shot Ember a quick text on the international cell while on our way to the flight line. That thing was worth every penny we spent on it. Fuck, the battery was dying.
Josh: Hey babe, i’m headed to work.
We headed to the aircraft, and a few minutes later the phone dinged.
December: Fly safe. I love you.
Josh: Will got here, and the cookies are amazing. I love you, too. Phone is dying. i’ll give you a call tomorrow afternoon your time.
I turned the phone on silent and stuck it in my vest pocket as we did the run-up on the aircraft. Captain Trivette was flying with me again today, and she tossed a half smile back at Will. “You the new guy?” she called over the coms as the rotors fired up.
“Yes, ma’am,” he answered, belting into one of the back seats.
“Welcome to the sand box. We’re going to give you a little tour.”
“Welcome to the sand box!” Rizzo sang with one hand on his chest, giving his best Elvis impression.
Captain Trivette shook her head. “Take us out, Lieutenant.”
“Yes, ma’am.” We launched, the ground falling away from us in a series of squares and zigzags. We headed north toward Tarin Kowt, or TK, where Jagger was stationed, while Captain Trivette gave Will a quick course in the area.
Man, it was nice having Will here. It felt like flight school, except for the whole foreign country, hostile enemy thing.
Twenty minutes in, I was enjoying the flight, something I hadn’t had much opportunity for in-country. Will asked questions from the back, and either Captain Trivette or Rizzo answered him.
Near the Tor Ghar mountains, the radio crackled. Troops were in contact nearby.
“Do we respond?” Will asked.
“Nothing to do yet, Lieutenant Carter,” Captain Trivette answered. She checked the fuel and then took the controls. “It won’t hurt to be nearby since we’re already out.”
My heart jumped in anticipation as she altered our course toward the mountains. Two Apaches came on the frequency, responding.
“Now what?” Will asked.
“Now, we wait,” I responded, looking back over my shoulder at him. “You ready to become a man? All buckled in?”
“Yes, Mom.”
I tossed him a one-fingered salute with a grin and watched the mountains approach.
“Gun one-one.” One of the Apache pilots came on the radio, his voice instantly familiar. Jagger. Holy shit. “In pursuit of target. Follow?”
My stomach lurched. “Carter,” I called back. “That’s Bateman.”
He instantly sat straighter, on alert just like I was.
The other helo came on. “Gun one-two, I have your six.”
Calls for air support came across the radio, and the Apaches responded. Tense moments passed, but no medevac call was sounded. My shoulders sagged in relief as the ground troops called up their thanks.
“He’s all good,” I called back.
Will threw a thumbs-up, then lowered his head to his hands for just a second.
“Gun one-one, headed back to FOB,” Jagger called out, and I breathed a hell of a lot easier. I’d always known it was a possibility we would cross paths on a mission, but it wasn’t something I wanted to— “Fuck!” Jagger called out. My breath froze in my chest. “What was— Fuck, we’ve been hit! We’ve lost our tail rotor.”
I lunged forward in my seat like I could physically get to him, as my stomach plummeted to the ground hundreds of feet beneath me. The belts held me back. “Go!” I shouted to Captain Trivette. She’d already changed our heading toward the last known location.
“Mayday, mayday,” Jagger called over the radio. “We are going down. Repeat, we are going down!”
No. No. No. I was too far away. I couldn’t get to him, couldn’t save him. Couldn’t stop this from happening. Jagger. Every moment of our friendship flashed through my misfiring brain—hockey, rooming together, moving to Alabama, graduating flight school, that last barbecue before we left. He was the closest thing I had to a brother.
And I was fucking helpless.
The crumpling blast on the radio broke me into a million pieces, but the silence…it eviscerated me.
“Fallen Angel! I repeat, Fallen Angel!” Gunman one-two called over the radio. “They’ve gone down!”
Fallen Angel. Helicopter down.
The cry that came from my throat was animalistic, inhuman. “Jagger!”
Will reached through from his seat, putting his hand on my shoulder.
My best friend. My brother. He had to be alive. There was no other option.
“Gunman one-two, this is Dustoff one-two inbound. What is your current position?” Captain Trivette was steady on the stick and in her voice. I input the coordinates we were given, and she nodded. “We are three minutes out.”
It was the longest three minutes of my life.
“He’s alive, Walker. Even a helicopter crash couldn’t take down Jagger Bateman,” Will called on the com, but his voice shook.
He’s alive. He has to be. He’s alive. God. Paisley. The baby.
“Gunman one-two, what’s the status of an LZ?” Captain Trivette asked.
“We’ve got ground troops headed there on foot, but it’s cherry red, Dustoff. We’ve taken a few shots in our direction. I’m not even sure you can land near the site.”
Captain Trivette locked eyes with me, her face set and somber. “Are we in?”
“Yes!” Will shouted.
Rizzo hesitated for the smallest of seconds, then called out, “In!”
“Fuck, yes!” I damn near screamed. Every second we wasted was another that he could be bleeding out…if he’d survived the impact. He survived.
We flew over the ridgeline and into the valley, the Apache providing cover overhead. Figures darted beneath us, and an unwelcome sense of foreboding lodged in my throat as the walls of the valley rose above us like we were being lowered into a grave.
“Damn it. Could this be a worse location?” Captain Trivette asked as we moved further up the valley.
“There!” I shouted, pointing to the plume of black smoke mixing with the rising dust.
“Shit,” Will said.
Jagger’s bird lay on its side, a mangled mess, rotors torn off, and looking at the terrain along the hillside he was smashed against, he must have rolled down a fair share of it. He’s alive. That’s the only option.
Gunshots pinged, hitting us in the side. “We’re taking fire. We’ve been hit,” Captain Trivette radioed, her voice calm and collected. “Aircraft is stable.”
“Everyone okay?” I asked.
“Yeah,” Rizzo answered.
“We can see daylight back here,” Will added. I turned in my seat to see bullet holes in the sliding doors. Fuck.
“Seems like a good day to die,” I muttered.
“Roger that, Dustoff one-two, we’re trying to cover you,” Gunman radioed. They came in closer, laying down fire along the ridgeline.
I scanned the valley floor as my heart threatened to pound out of my chest. “There,” I said, pointing to a relatively flat section. “We can put down there.”
Captain Trivette nodded, her full concentration on the bird. We passed just over Jagger’s crash site on descent, but from its angle, I couldn’t see anything but the belly of the aircraft.
Ping! Ping! Glass cracked. My head snapped to the left as Captain Trivette heaved forward, blood streaming from her helmet.
She’s dead. Holy shit, she’s dead.
Her body slammed into the controls, putting us into a dive.
“Shit! We’re hit! Fuck!” I gripped my controls and pulled back, but I couldn’t compensate for her body weight on hers. There was no way to recover, not this close to the ground. “We’re going down! Brace!” I yelled, but it was too late.
December. Her name was my only prayer.
The ground rushed up to meet us at a terrifying speed.
There was nothing I could do to slow us down, to change the angle, to—