Page 56 of Fight or Fly

My headset went silent as everyone in the helicopter shut up and strapped in, waiting to see how things would play out. I’d taken a seat near the two stretchers laid out on the deck, and I passed the time watching the slow rise and fall of my packmates’ chests.

Slightly less than an hour later, the copilot’s voice came over the headsets again. “Enemy choppers are within firing range. Repeat, enemy choppers are within firing range. No missiles detected, but we’re taking machine gun fire. Do we engage?”

“Negative,” said the de facto commander. “We don’t have the fuel for a battle. Attempt evasive maneuvers, but keep heading for the base at top speed.”

I wasn’t sure what evasive maneuvers he thought the pilot would be able to manage without significantly altering course. Then again, no one had asked me. The helicopter dipped and swerved, my stomach struggling to play catch-up.

“Chopper Three is hit!” the pilot reported. “Smoke from the main rotor assembly! Taking evasive action to give them space to maneuver!”

The pilot banked into a steep turn to the port side, and we all scrambled for purchase.

“It’s no good!” he called. “They’re in a spin. They’re going down!”

Through the windows on the opposite side of the fuselage, I saw the horrible sight of a helicopter spiraling crazily, smoke pouring from the main engine, its trajectory headed for the unforgiving sea below. My heart jumped into my throat.

“Goddamnit!” the commander cursed. “Status of the pursuing choppers?”

There was a painful pause. Then, “Pursuing craft are changing course. They’re... they’re turning back, sir. Must have hit the edge of their range.”

Depending on where they’d started from, they could easily have utilized half of their fuel supply by now if they weren’t outfitted for long-range service. They would have to head back or risk the same watery fate that had just befallen Chopper Three. And right now, I didn’t give a flying fuck about any of that.

“Which helicopter was Beckett on?” I asked hoarsely, barely recognizing my own voice.

“Chopper Two,” the commander replied grimly.

The steel band around my chest snapped, and I sucked in a wheezing breath of air.

Respectful silence reigned for the rest of the trip, broken only by necessary communication between the pilot and copilot. It felt like an age before the sandy browns and vibrant greens of Cuba appeared before us, more welcome than I ever would have guessed they’d be.

Please, just let us get down safe, I thought.Get us back to Leona and Kam, and let all six of us survive this nightmare for another day. We’ll deal with the rest when it comes.

Numbly, I watched the ground get closer and closer, until the Black Hawk touched down with a dull thump. Through the windows, I saw Chopper Two land safely nearby, and breathed a sigh of relief. Both helicopters’ engines powered down with a low whine, leaving us once more inside Kostya Nikolayev’s territory.

I tried to take stock. I was still armed, but with Flynn and Alex unconscious, all I’d be able to accomplish with a single handgun was getting myself—and possibly them—killed. We were still trapped. I needed to make sure the others got medical treatment for whatever was wrong with them. I’d seen Alex’s left hand before one of the soldiers had bandaged it to immobilize the broken fingers. The memory made me long for a neck to break, the same way Flynn had broken the lab tech’s.

Once I was sure the others were being cared for, I needed to find Leona and Kameron, to confirm they were safe and let them know what was happening. My hand shook with adrenaline fatigue as I reached for the clasp of my safety harness and unlatched it. Both side doors on the fuselage slid open, revealing several figures hurrying toward us. Neither Alex nor Flynn stirred in response to the commotion; no more than they’d stirred when we were being shot at earlier. I positioned myself in front of them. Anyone coming for them would have to answer my questions first.

Before long, the soldiers had cleared out and two men wearing the uniforms of Nikolayev’s prison guards stepped in. Interestingly, they were unarmed.

“Stop,” I said. “These two need urgent medical attention. Are they going to get it?”

The one on the left looked at me like I was an imbecile. “Of course they are,” he said in a pronounced German accent. “There are alphomic specialists waiting outside. Now if you would please move so we can get them off the helicopter?” He glanced at my leg. “And have someone direct you to the medical building to get that seen to once you’ve been debriefed.”

I moved aside reluctantly, watching with an eagle eye as the broad-shouldered pair lifted Flynn’s stretcher and carried him outside. A second pair came in immediately afterward and did the same with Alex. I followed them out, favoring my left leg heavily and silently cursing the asshole who’d shot me.

Flynn was already being transferred to a gurney, with Alex close behind. We were losing the light. Nearly a whole day had passed since Leo had been taken away after breakfast for her private meeting with Nikolayev, and then come back afterward to talk me into helping with this mission.

Had it been a mistake? I still didn’t know the answer, but after seeing what had been done to my packmates in the handful of days since they’d been captured, it was hard to think so.

Medical staff in white coats leaned over Alex and Flynn, pressing stethoscopes to their chests and carefully palpating their ribs. Marginally reassured that they weren’t going to immediately be hauled off for more torture, I turned my attention to the second helicopter. Something occurred to me, and I stopped a passing soldier.

“Was Irina on that chopper? Or was she on the one that went down?” I asked.

“She was on that one,” the soldier replied. “She’s gone to make a report.”

“Thanks,” I said, not particularly caring if she were dead or alive on my own behalf. Still, I could only imagine that the fallout from Alex learning about all of this would be even worse if I had to tell her that her former mate had miraculously survived execution, only to fall into the ocean in a burning chopper after helping to rescue her. At least I could spare her that much.

The next order of business was Beckett. It seemed to be taking a long time for them to bring him outside, and my worry spiked as I approached the helicopter and heard the sound of animal snarling coming from within.

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