Quadruple Duty: All or Nothing

Ryan’s teeth looked bleach-white as he grinned.

“You look like ass.”

“I feel like ass.”

“Good. Then we’re in agreement.”

One by one the chopped filled up, with both men I knew and didn’t know. Dakota boarded last. He jumped on as I kept scanning each face. Looking for—

“Murphy’s not here,” Dakota shouted. “He’s back at camp.”

I nodded in relief as the chopper lifted off. The gunner pulled back on the bolt latch, squeezed the trigger, and the blare of the mounted .50 cal obliterated the rest of our conversation. At least until we were out of range.

Eventually I was left staring at the corrugated receiver assembly, glowing an angry orange as smoke drifted up from the end of the barrel. The desert horizon spun crazily outside as the Hawk nosed down and throttled up.

“That’s not all you’ll find back at camp either,” Dakota smirked strangely.

Forty-Two

SAMMARA

The chopper began as a tiny black dot. It came in low, its engine sputtering. I gasped in horror as I noticed a thick plume of angry grey smoke, trailing off somewhere behind it.

It’s burning!

All the hope and elation I felt was quickly draining away. My hair spun around my head as I whirled on Kyle.

“Is it burning?”

“Oil probably,” said Kyle. “Grey’s okay. Black smoke would be worse.”

Relief surged through me. Even so, I clutched his arm tightly as the chopper drew near. It was holed in a bunch of places. Blackened on one side of its nose.

Then it landed… and men began pouring out. They were cheering. Happy. Elated.

None of them were the men I needed to see.

“Kyle…”

Ignoring me he limped forward. I stayed with him, acting as his other crutch.

“Kyle, I—”

“Hey hey!”

Markus jumped down and strutted out, moving with swagger even though he looked like he’d just been through a war. His tactical vest was ripped down the center, the camouflage material peeled back to show finely-woven ballistic plates. Some of the Kevlar had been ripped away, revealing a reddish-brown bloom of blood beneath.

“Where’s Dakota?” Kyle demanded. “And Ryan. And—”

“I’m just fine Murphy, thanks for asking,” Markus sneered. “In fact—”

He pushed past the ex-mercenary quickly, bad leg and all. I was left face to face with Markus Ladrone. He finished peeling off his Interceptor body armor and dropped it, still smoldering, at my feet.

“You’re welcome,” he said flatly. Then, looking me right in the eye, “Now remember our deal. Don’t forget what you owe me…”

I nodded quickly and sprinted after Kyle. And then I saw them: Dakota and Ryan, walking on either side of Jason. Propping him up as they exited the helicopter, which was still belching intermittent grey smoke.

Oh my God, YES!