The Shift: Book II of the Wildfire Saga (41 page)

"I got him, sir," said Garza's voice.
 
He helped Chad to his feet.
 
“Whoa, steady there, sir.
 
There’s shit all over the floor, watch your step,” Garza said.

"14!" said 13 as her fingers groped in the darkness.
 
Her hand brushed his leg.
 
"Something landed on my leg—help me move it…”

Chad shrugged off Garza’s help and knelt to find her still entwined in her harness on the floor with a heavy crate across her lower legs.
 
He and Garza lifted the crate off her and Chad reached down to release her harness.

"Hang in there,” he grunted.
 
His voice nearly caught in his throat from the pain in his side.
 
“Let’s get you out of this thing," he said trying to sound reassuring.
   

The smell of smoke grew stronger and stronger.
 
Chad turned his head toward the dim light at the front of the aircraft and could see the crumpled cockpit engulfed in flames.
 
The crackle and snap of the fire as it worked its way toward them raised the hair on the back of Chad's neck.
 

Deuce had smelled a fuel leak at the tail end of the aircraft.
 
Chad wondered how long would it take before the flames reached the fuel and they all went up in a giant ball of fire.

He was determined, more than ever, to escape.
 
They hadn't died in the air, they had survived the plane crash, and he would be damned if he was going to be roasted alive inside the Osprey.

A loud, metallic shriek erupted from the rear end of the aircraft and suddenly daylight flooded the smoke-filled cabin.
 
The Marines and Deuce cheered as they forced the ramp open. It swung to the right, like a door.
 

"Everybody out!" yelled Deuce.

"There's too much shit on the floor, we can't get back there.
 
Fire chain!” said Alston.
 
Rangers and Marines began flinging gear and weapons hand over hand toward the exit.
 
Deuce was the anchor and flung the gear far as he could from the aircraft out into the sunlight

Chad finally tore away the last of the restraints from 13's chest and helped her to her feet.
 
She wrapped her arms around his neck and used him for support as he stood.

For a moment—a slightly longer moment than he expected—the two of them stood together in the darkness, he with his hands around her waist, she with her arms around his neck.
 
They stared at each other in the light that came in through the rear of the aircraft.
 
She looked away first.
 
As they stepped away from each other, Chad cleared his throat and brushed his hands on his pants.
 

"Are you okay?" he asked.

"Do not worry about me," she said softly.
 
Her hands probed his arms, chest, and neck, seeking injury.
 
He winced at her touch.
 
“You are bleeding!”

“You are too,” he said, gently touching the streak of red on her forehead.

“My leg is worse,” she said.
 
“I don’t know if I can walk on it.”

"We got time for that later, lovebirds," Garza growled.
 
"Let's go, the path is clear—we need to make like Elvis and leave the building.”

Chad helped 13 navigate the tangled guts of the doomed aircraft as they gingerly stepped over seats and equipment.
 
They worked their way toward the ramp and limped out into the bright autumn sun.
 

Chad blinked as his eyes adjusted.
 
They supported each other as they both limped away from the wreckage.
 
They were in the middle of a forest, surrounded by massive oaks, elegant beeches, and bushy pines.
 
Birches were interspersed among the other trees—a few distinctive golden leaves still clinging to their
 
branches.
 
Everywhere he looked he saw faded glory—autumn rapidly retreating in the face of the coming winter.
 

Slowly he turned and took in the destruction around him.
 
The Osprey had left a ragged scar in the landscape as if someone had taken a giant chainsaw and sliced out a chunk of the forest.
 
Smoking branches and burning leaves lay scattered in all directions.
 
A few of the pine trees in the distance were on fire, a parting gift from the Osprey as it barreled through the canopy.
   

 
He turned around and watched Captain Alston leading the effort to remove equipment and weapons
 
from the burning wreckage.
 
A finger of thick, black smoke pointed up into the clear blue sky.
 
Anyone chasing them would have no trouble finding the crash site.

“Hey, get back, sir—we got this,” said Sgt. Garza.
 
“Take her over to that tree until I can check you guys out.”

They took a few more hobbling steps away from the Osprey before he finally saw the full extent of the damage.
 
What remained of the left wing was almost perpendicular to the ground.
 
Bits of twisted metal and wires were strewn along the path the Osprey had taken through the trees.
 
He wondered if somewhere back there a wing and an engine were stuck in a tree.

The airframe itself looked like a piece of crumpled paper tossed aside by
 
a careless child.
 
The front half of it was engulfed in flames and smoke.
 
Bright orange fire shot out from the cockpit.
 
Black smoke billowed through the cargo ramp at the rear.
 
It didn’t look like anyone in the cockpit could have possibly survived.

Chad helped 13 limp into the shade of a large oak tree still bearing its red and brown leaves.
 
He
 
eased her gently down against its grooved trunk and knelt next to her wincing in pain.

"Are you okay?" she asked.
 
"Your ribs," she murmured and reached out a hand to tentatively touch his side.

Chad instinctively turned away and winced again.
 
"I'm okay," he gasped, short of breath.
 
It didn't hurt too bad if he didn’t breathe.
 
"I just got banged up a bit when we landed.”
 
He forced a weak smile.
 
“I’ll be okay.
 
Honestly, my shoulders hurt more," he said as he rubbed his left shoulder.
 
"The seat straps cut into me like razor blades.”

He gingerly reached forward and brushed the blonde hair from her forehead.
 
She looked up in surprise and quickly glanced away.
 

"You are very kind," she said quietly.

"Mr. Huntley!" called out Alston.

Chad cursed his luck.
 

The tall Ranger strolled over through the leaves, his eyes never resting on one spot but constantly scanning through the forest.
 
"I need to have Garza take a look at those ribs, now.”

Chad turned to look back at 13.
 
"Are you gonna be okay?" he asked.

She half-chuckled and nodded.
 
"I will be fine.
 
Go, you are injured more than I.
 
More important.”

Alston helped Chad get to his feet and limp to Garza, who was triaging one of the Marines.
 
Garza slapped a bandage on the Marine’s leg and wrapped it tight with elastic tape from the first aid kit.
 
He turned his attention to Chad.
 
“Let’s see your chest, sir."

Chad gingerly lifted his shirt as Alston whistled.
 
"Yeah, something sure smacked the shit out of you," he said.
   

Garza gently applied pressure in the exact spot that hurt the most.

“
Damn
," Chad hissed.

"That hurt?"

Chad closed his eyes to fight the pain.
 
"Hell yes!"

"Does it hurt to breathe, sir?" asked Garza.
 
He stepped back and folded his arms.

"A little," Chad muttered.
 
“But not as much as before we got out of the plane.”
 
He lowered his shirt and rolled his shoulders to adjust the bones inside.
 
“I’ve certainly felt better," he said.
 
The soldiers stared at him with stony expressions.

Garza shook his head.
 
“I don't think anything is broken, but he may have cracked some ribs.”

“Will he be able to keep up?” asked Alston.

Garza shrugged.
 
"We need to get him to see a doctor, maybe get some x-rays.
 
Sorry, sir, there’s not a hell of a lot I can do for him at the moment, other than wrap it.”

Alston nodded.
 
"Roger that," he said.
 

Garza pulled out an ACE bandage.
 
“Hold your shirt up as best you can, sir.
 
I’ll have you wrapped up real quick.”
 
He wrapped Chad’s chest as he talked, “This will keep your ribs from moving too much.
 
It may feel a little tight right now, but you’ll be better off with it than without.”

Alston looked at Chad as Garza finished wrapping the bandage and secured the end.
 
"You think you're good to walk?"

Chad looked around at the wreckage, the smoke, and the forest that surrounded them.
 
"I don't suppose I have a choice, do I?"

Alston looked around as well.
 
"None of us do.
 
Garza’s got a few men left to treat, then we’ll be Oscar Mike.
 
The pilot spotted a town not too far from here before we went down.
 
Well,” he said, hands on his hips as he looked about, “if we went down anywhere near there.
 
The pilot’s the only one who could tell us that…”

Guilt washed over Chad.
 
He’d been so concerned over 13 and his own safety he’d forgotten to ask if anyone else had been seriously hurt.
 
“Who… I mean, how many…"

Alston stood silent for a moment.
 
“We lost the flight crew and two Marines in the crash.
 
Zuka’s leg got tore open again and Deuce got banged on the head—”

“Well, that won’t be a problem—he doesn't have anything up there to begin with…" snickered Garza as he repacked his medical kit.

"Fuck you!" echoed across the clearing.

Alston laughed.
 
"Well, it certainly hasn’t affected his hearing."

“Radio works fine, sir!" yelled Deuce from his sentry position on the other side of the aircraft.

"Evidently," Alston said.
 
The smile faded from his face.
 
He excused himself and let Garza get back to the wounded Marines.
 

Chad limped over to 13 and crouched next to her with a sigh.
 
"We’ve got a few minutes while Garza finishes up, then we’re going to get out of here."

"Do we know where the Russians are?” asked 13.

Chad shrugged.
 
"Captain Alston said something about the pilot seeing a small town from the air.
 
Once he gets his bearings, he's going to lead us in that direction, I think."
 
Chad shrugged again.
 
"I don't even know what state we’re in…"

13 leaned her head back against the tree and closed her eyes with a sigh.
 
The pain slowly melted from her face as she relaxed in the embrace of the ancient tree trunk.
 
“Sleep…” she murmured.
 
“Right here…"

Chad heard footsteps and turned to see Garza tromping through the leaves with his first aid kit.
 
He knelt next to 13.
 
"Ma'am?
 
Excuse me, but I'm gonna need you to keep your eyes open…"

13's eyes fluttered.
 
"What?
 
Why?" she asked, suspicion creeping into her voice.

Garza held up one gloved finger and moved it back and forth in front of her eyes.
 
Chad watched as her eyes struggled to track the movement.

"Because, I think you might have a concussion.
 
It's not safe for you to fall asleep right now.”
 
Garza shined a penlight in her eye and brushed some of the hair back from her forehead.
 
He clicked off the light and noticed a faint smear of blood on his hand.
 
"Yeah, you've got some bleeding up here, ma'am."

Chad's heart raced.
 
“Is she going to be okay?” he asked, his hand already intertwined with hers.
 
He felt her squeeze reassuringly.

"Oh, I think she should be fine, but she's in for one hell of a headache in a few hours,” Garza chuckled as he applied a bandage to her head.
 
He handed her his canteen.
 
"Here, ma'am.
 
Drink plenty of water."
 
He looked at Chad.
 
"You too.
 
And make sure that she doesn't fall asleep, sir.
 
We’re gonna have us a long walk and she needs to keep up."

"You think the Russians will come after us?"

Garza stood and took the canteen back.
 
He picked up his first aid kit and slung it over his shoulder.
 
"No," he said.
 
"I think they’ll come after you."

C
HAPTER
21