Page 1 of Coming In Hot
CHAPTER1
PHARO
“GSC,this is Havoc. Approaching the landing.”
The crackle of static fills my ear.
“Havoc, this is GSC, good copy,” Milo returns.
“I’ll be back at headquarters before you know it. Don’t you touch that sandwich. It’s mine. I licked it.”
His laughter filters through my headset. Milo handles communications at headquarters, and whenever I’m away, my lunch mysteriously disappears. Switching channels on my headset, I yell into my mic at my crew, “We’re coming in hot! They have boots on the ground. Do not engage. I repeat, do not engage. You are to provide backup support for the medical staff. If you encounter fire, return fire.”
Technically, we’re only supposed to return fire as a secondary option, after evasion, but fuck that noise. If someone shoots at me, they’re going to get shot at.
I hope these insurgent fuckers are prepared to swallow a bullet, because I don’t often miss.
On paper, we may not be at war, but in a country as divided in political conflict as Egypt, everything is war.
The rhythmic whup, whup, whup of the helicopter’s blades reverberates through the air like a steady pulse, drowning out everything but the voices in my ear. Each rotation cuts through the atmosphere with a powerful swish, causing a vibration that rumbles through the fuselage, shaking everything from the seat beneath my ass to the controls in my hand.
As a pilot, flying is a delicate balance of focus, intuition, and control. When I’m in the air and the might of the machine is at my mercy, I become one with the bird. Raven and I have a connection. We understand each other. But like any pretty girl, she’s high maintenance and demands constant attention.
Every motion is a conversation with the aircraft, a dialogue of subtle adjustments, and after piloting her for the past three years, I’ve learned to speak Raven’s love language.
“Touching down. Heads on swivel!”
My team is ready, goggles down and guns in hand. Well, notmyteam, exactly. I pilot them. Fly them in and out of danger, and get them where they need to go. But I don’t lead them. I gave up that responsibility long ago.
Willingly.Gratefully. And with a heavy heart.
The air is alive with an electric current—adrenaline, excitement, danger— that’s both thrilling and demanding. Once I land this bird, anything can happen. Lives lost, bodies injured, or the relief and satisfaction of completing our mission without obstacles or casualties.
Despite the ear-shattering noise, my focus is sharp and clear. Control must be maintained at all times when you’re handling this much power. The sound becomes second nature, a background hum to the complex dance of keeping the craft steady in the air. The pitch of the blades, the rumble of the engine, and the wind outside the cockpit combine into a singular soundtrack of flight that grows louder the lower we drop, as if the sound reverberates off the ground and roars back at us.
Hot, dusty air surrounds the chopper in a thick cloud as we touch down, diminishing our visibility. The team scrambles off the bird like it’s on fire. They yellGehenna!—The name of our team.
Gehenna means a place of misery. Hell on Earth. The way God's justice deals with evil in the world, much like we do.
Jaw clenched tightly, I watched them clear the soccer field, the only place I could find to land quickly in the city. Greystone negotiated a deal with the Egyptian government to access common areas, such as parks, schools, and hospitals, making it easier for me to land my big-assed bird just about anywhere.
Gehenna disappears single-file into the tree line. There’s barely any perimeter as it bleeds into the asphalt jungle of the city. As always, I throw a prayer to whoever is listening up above that they make it back to me. They’ll rendezvous with the medical team and make sure they get wherever they’re going safely. There are too many factions in this region that want to see international aid programs fail. Mostly so they can take control of the region and claim power.
I may not work for Uncle Sam any longer, which was the greatest honor of my life, but I still have the satisfaction of knowing that I’m risking my life to keep others safe and to forward an agenda that will save thousands, if not millions, of people who can’t defend themselves.
There’s nothing I hate more than a bully, and no matter who signs my paychecks, fighting for justice, freedom, and knocking down the Brotherhood and others like them one by one is my sole purpose in life.
Transitioning from a hover, I tilt back on the stick and lift Raven off the ground and circle the area, checking to see if I can spot trouble lying in wait for my team. Only after I’ve cleared a five-mile radius do I take off and risk leaving them on their own.
They’ll be in touch soon enough. Greystone Security’s headquarters isn’t far. Less than seventy klicks. I can return in a matter of minutes.
When I return to Greystones’ concrete fortress, I head straight to my quarters. They’re not much, just a cot, a small desk, and four cinder block walls. What more do I need? Nothing about this facility is high-tech or luxurious, except for the equipment and the security.
God himself couldn’t breach these walls without setting off a dozen alarms and bringing every armed mercenary out of hiding to witness his swift death.
I don’t have much with me besides a large duffel shoved under the cot. When I’m deployed to Egypt, I travel light. My team moves around from base to encampment, making a home wherever we’re needed, wherever conflict arises. Sometimes that’s in a jungle, sometimes on the shores of the Mediterranean or the Red Sea as a pirated ship tries to dock illegally, and sometimes it’s in the desert or the Sinai Mountains, my least favorite of all.
Reminds me too much of my time in the Army.
