Page 133 of Agency
I twisted back around, looked to my crew of operatives. “You guys good?”
Eyes flickered to mine. Hard, steely eyes. All three sets, as they nodded curt, tight, disciplined nods.
“Good.” Nodding back, I shifted in my seat and again faced front.
“Woo!”
Jesus Christ. My eyes went back to the outside. Not that changing my center of attention did much good. The world beyond the cockpit was nothing but smears of purple and blue pigment across a black canvas. Darkness upon darkness, upon more darkness.
“Three minutes!”
Now, the adrenaline started, flooding my veins and sending my heart beating so fast that the bundle of cardiac muscle tissue might outpace the prop motor. My hands gripped the door. My vision began to tunnel as the world grew brighter, more distinct, sharper in focus.
I tightened my safety harness. I fiddled with my headset. Wriggling in my seat, I adjusted the erection I’d silently derided Mac for likely having.
This was the mission. This was the fucking mission.
I took deep breaths. I drew them in, long and slow, holding them for multiple seconds before breathing them out to make sure everything was expelled. I drew in another. Slow is smooth–smooth is fast.
Behind me, my crew ran one last weapons check, readying to stow them as best they could in the tight quarters. Magazines being drawn, re-checked, slapped back in. Bolts drawing back to verify clear chambers, and safeties being ensured.
“One minute! Might be rough! Woo!”
I wanted to close my eyes, but the adrenaline wouldn’t let me. What good would shutting them do, anyways? Wasn’t like I could see the water rushing up at us. If I was going to die, I was going to die.
“Incoming, y’all!” Mac shouted, his voice piercing my ear drums. “Woooooooooooooo!”
The small prop plane lurched as its pontoons struck the lake’s surface, halting our forward and downward momentum. Rocking, then. Rocking and shuddering, before skipping up again maybe eighteen inches for a split-second, then coming back down and shaking so hard I thought the filling in my back molar might come loose from the force.
More rocking, more shaking, then easy floating and bobbing.
“Wooo, baby! That’s how it’s motherfucking done!”
Mac cut the engines, and we began to drift towards the grassy shore as I mentally patted myself down, just to ensure I was all there. There wasn’t a dock we could use for disembarkation. Things were going to get wet for my team.
“Lock and load, soldiers,” I said, already leaning down to patch my coms into the Cesna’s more powerful radio. They’d be traveling inland a ways from this drop zone, and I’d need a heftier signal to stay in touch.
Taking a deep breath, I turned back to my crew. Headsets off and coms already placed in ears, they’d begun to ready their gear. As I looked them over, I was struck by the way I was thinking of them. Not my crew, plus Ambyr.
My eyes went to hers, first. To the fierce, determined look in her eyes as she did final checks. Fluid and smooth as the other two, if not even more professional.
Then to Morgan, who was already measuring up the situation outside the windows.
Finally, to Andrew. All that lighthearted joking was gone from his face as he worked his weapon’s charging handle and checked the chamber was clear, and I felt a pang of sadness that a man like him had ever needed to go to war in the first place.
My crew. All three of them.
Not my crew, plus Ambyr.
Just my crew.
Especially after Billings.
And not going with them killed me.
“Good hunting,” I said as Ambyr opened the door.
Pausing, she looked back at me in the dimness of the interior, her ice- blue eyes thawing for a split second as she gave a soft, singular nod.
