Page 54 of Coming In Hot
I glance at Orson. “You think Arlo’s gonna be back anytime soon?”
Orson doesn’t even look at me when he answers. “He’s here, but he’s not here. You know how he is. He’ll lead even when he’s half-dead.” His voice is dry, but I can tell it bothers him, too.
“Yeah,” I mutter, focusing on the horizon to avoid thinking about it. “Guess we’ll just keep doing the job, right?”
“Always do,” Orson replies, voice calm, like it’s the simplest thing in the world.
That’s the job, right? Just focus on the mission. It’s not about heroics or anything flashy. It’s about getting in, getting out, keeping civilians safe, and keeping the team safe. Simple.
But today, something doesn’t feel simple. My gut's telling me that this isn’t going to be as easy as we hoped.
Orson leans forward slightly, his eyes narrowing. “You see that?”
I follow his gaze, squinting as I spot the village below. It seems quiet. Too quiet. There's too much movement for a place that’s supposed to be under our protection.
“That’s... not right,” I mutter, my instincts kicking in.
Orson's already reaching for his mic. “Gehenna Two, this is Raven. We’ve got movement near the drop zone. Need confirmation before we proceed.”
They’ve been on the ground for two days. And until now, all’s been quiet. It’s like these sons of bitches were watching for us, waiting to fuck up our exfil op.
The comms crackle, and Hogan’s voice comes through, calm but with an edge. “Negative on the all-clear. Abort the drop. We’re doing recon. Hold position.”
“Roger that.” I keep the chopper hovering, circling the area as we wait for the all-clear.
The minutes stretch on, but no further updates come through. I try not to think about how long it’s taking. The sun’s starting to bake the cockpit, and it only adds to the anxiety building in my chest.
Finally, Hogan's voice breaks the silence. “Recon's clear. Looks like a false alarm, but we’re still not clear of potential hostiles. Keep your guard up.”
“Copy that,” I mutter, keeping my gaze fixed on the ground below.
I bank the chopper down, lining up for the drop. But as we get closer, I feel that knot in my stomach tighten. Something’s off.
The chopper touches down in an open field on the outskirts of the village, and the sound of the rotors slows. I turn over control to Orson. “Switching control to you. Stay sharp.”
He nods, keeping her warm as I jump out. I follow, keeping my hand on my sidearm, eyes scanning the village. The volunteers are already running to the LZ, the usual chaos of a humanitarian mission adding to my discomfort.
After things went south on my last mission with the team, and then Arlo’s injury, I couldn’t help but feel uneasy.
“Orson,” I bark into the mic, “We’ve got hostile movement in the area. We need to get the volunteers back to the bird. Now.”
He raises his head, his face tense. “How much time?”
I pull my gun from its holster, gritting my teeth, and scan the surroundings again, trying to piece together what’s happening. “Not enough. I need to get them moving.”
“Shit,” Orson curses. He hates when I jump ship and join the team. It means shit’s going south. Fast.
I turn to the volunteers, yelling, “Get to the chopper! Now!”
I don’t wait for them to respond. I just grab the nearest volunteer by the arm, pulling them toward the bird. The team is close behind, bringing up the rear, running backwards with their weapons pointed toward the village.
Then, I see it—movement behind one of the buildings. It’s quick, too fast. I catch the metallic flash of a gun barrel.
“Shit!” I shout, pushing the last volunteer into the helicopter as shots ring out.
I climb back into the cockpit and resume control as the last man of my team boards. Arlo, legs dangling over the side, gun aimed. His head is on a swivel as he scans the treeline for something to shoot at.
We lift off in a hurry, the volunteers still scrambling to take their seats. More gunshots ring out, and Arlo returns fire.
