Page 1 of Destiny Reclaimed
Chapter One
From slightly aboveone thousand feet, Jack Cornelis’ gaze zoned in on the quilt-like patterns of water-filled fields, otherwise known as rice paddies. The tall elephant grass surrounding the field was thick enough to hide an entire military unit on the ready for an ambush. Under this scenario, his twenty-twenty vision wasn’t foolproof. He’d learned that firsthand during his initial evacuation when they underwent close fire, losing both his gunners and several soldiers as they carried wounded to his Huey Helicopter.
The rhythmic thump of the rotors snapped him back into the task at hand. The sound of the blades had two effects on him. At times, they practically hypnotized him, flipping him into auto-pilot to perform his mission. Other times, they mesmerized him, holding him hostage in memories of past evacuations. Luckily, right now he’d been cast quickly into auto-pilot. He scanned over the rice paddies, particularly the edges which were commonly used to set booby traps.
Up ahead, a soldier stepped out, waving his weapon in the air. Jack descended quickly, grass blowing flat as he landed. They’d only have a short time—seconds—to collect the wounded before they had to ascend.
Pop...pop...pop...pop...tink...sloosh.
Pain ripped through his left eye, and his head jerked back, hitting hard against the seat. He blinked, at least he thought he blinked. Sandpaper ground against his eyeball. Through his good eye, he darted his gaze to his co-pilot. The man slumped forward. Unmoving.
With a glance over his shoulder, he saw wounded being loaded.Pop...pop...pop...pop...echoed through his head along with incomprehensible, muffled yells from soldiers. He needed to get out of here—get the wounded to safety.
His hand ached as he wrapped it tighter around the collective and ascended as quickly as he could. Adrenaline rushed his veins, his heart hammered, and the pain ripping through his skull now rendered his good eye blurry, the left one useless. His right hand throbbed, and he felt faint.
His jaw clenched at Singleton’s dead body in the copilot seat, but he couldn’t worry about that now, the wounded in the back counted on him to get them to the medical unit. He couldn’t let them down.
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Astrong odor of alcoholstung Jack’s nostrils. He opened his eyes, then blinked to get the sand out of them. It took a second to realize his left eye was covered. As he reached up to touch it, he noticed the bandage on his hand. When he wiggled his fingers, they burned with pain, but it was tolerable, and he found some comfort in the fact he could move his digits.
With his other hand, he reached for his eye. The soft gauze was layered thick. At that moment he recalled how he’d been injured. Fear cracked through him with the force of a whip.My eye. He remembered not being able to see out of his left eye as he flew the Huey back to the medical unit. Was the damage permanent? His throat went dry. On one hand, that could be his ticket out of Vietnam, but on the other...flying Hueys—medivacs were his destiny. He was good at it, and the wounded needed him.
A soothing whisper floated into his ear canal drawing his attention. As to not further upset his pounding temples, he turned his head slowly in the direction of the calming sound. A nurse stood a few feet away, on the opposite side of the next bed over. She inspected a wound on the soldier’s leg. The small-framed woman with long, golden hair smiled softly at her patient.
The soldier reached up and touched her porcelain cheek. “I love you,” he whispered.
She darted her gaze around the room. If she’d noticed he watched them through his slit eye, she didn’t let on.
“I love you, too. You did it. You preserved history again.” Her sapphire blue eyes emitted warmth—love—pride.
He knew that expression and longed for it again. The nurse gazed at that soldier the way his girlfriend gazed at him.Gwennie.Oh, how he yearned to see her again. First chance he got he planned to propose to her. He could kick himself for not marrying her before he left for war. Make her his before someone else snatched her up.
“I couldn’t have done it without you,” the soldier replied to the woman. “Plus, we won’t know for sure if anything will be impacted until we know the extent of his eye injury. As per history, he has a lot of missions to fly yet, and lives to save.”
Jack wondered who the man referred to in his comment about missions to fly and lives to save? More importantly, what had the nurse meant when she said the soldier preserved history.
His heart picked up pace. Their conversation reminded him of the discussion he’d had with his dad only months before he’d left for Vietnam.
His father had sat him down, and the seriousness in the man’s gaze and tone worried him. He was sure his dad had been about to tell him he was sick and dying.
He’d even started the conversation with, “Son, it’s time you know.”
Jack recalled his heart leaping into his throat, positive the man was ill.
His father continued, “We’re not like other people. Normal people. We’re special.”
How? They were the most regular people he knew. No frills. Sure, his dad was a veteran and a doctor, and for that, he was very proud. But still, they were just normal people living in small-town Wisconsin, and his dad was about to retire.
“Special?” Jack questioned.
“I’m almost sixty-five, and I should have told you this—relinquished the power to you a while ago, but I didn’t want to burden you with it until I had no choice. The missions are getting harder and harder, though, and I’m afraid if I don’t pass the power on, I’ll risk losing it all—all our ancestors worked for.”
Nerves had shook his father’s voice, and he’d begun to ramble which was extremely unusual for him.
A slight quiver had raked through him and he folded his sweaty hands together and rested them on his lap. This whole exchange was crazy.
“Power?” Jack remembered questioning.
