Page 102 of Luck Be Mine
Hunt reached for Bax, his brother, and lifted him over his shoulder.
They raced to the end of the block and took another alley to get to the evacuation site.
Baxter dead.
Baxter dead.
Baxter dead.
Reality echoed in his footsteps. His mind shut down. He pushed back, trying to shove emotion in a box. The monster rose stronger instead.
Mission focus. They weren’t safe yet.
He wanted to go home to Cait, not get nailed in this shithole country.
Hunt hit his mic. “Stallion.” He choked.
“Stallion here. Repeat.”
“Scout One. Blackjack. I repeat Blackjack. Six is down.”
A few seconds passed. The quiet answer brought no relief. “Copy. Blackjack confirmed.”
Brennan stopped at the corner to preview their destination, then grabbed his radio. “Scout Three. Exfil. Everybody. Now.”
Jack cleared his throat before continuing. “Stallion, Scout Three. Comet. I repeat Comet.” Rapid extraction requested.
“Copy. Blackbird inbound.”
Hunt kept a tight hold on Baxter. “Leave no man behind. No man behind.”
Brennan answered him. “Yes, no man behind.” He popped a flare, and the MH-60 stole in and landed in a tight, flat area across from the alley.
Both men raced across the street. Brennan lifted Tate into the chopper and pointed at a seat. “I’m going back to cover.” He returned the way they’d come.
Hunt eased Baxter’s body off his shoulder at the door, then laid him gently inside.
“I’m so sorry about your man,” Tate whispered, his face crumbling.
Hunt struggled with the standard answer. “It’s the job. We all know the risks.”
He sat on the floor instead of a seat, cradled Baxter’s body between his legs, and wrapped him in a tight hold. His weapon lay at his side.
If there was a quiet exit room before going to heaven, he wanted Baxter not to be alone.
The men would see him when they got in the chopper, but there wasn’t any hiding this or waiting for a good moment. He stared across to the alley. Brennan waved the men on.
Carter was the first to the door. His face fell. “No.” He launched into the chopper, going to his knees. “No!” His anguish matched Hunt’s.
“He’s gone, Carter. There’s nothing to do.” He kept his arms in place.
Carter felt for his pulse anyway, then cupped Baxter’s face.
Hernandez came behind him, then Tommy, then K-Rock, then Doogie.
The shock echoed.
Brennan came last and slammed the door. “Stallion, Scout Three. We are at Midnight. Last man out.” He turned to the pilot. “Take off. Last man.”
