Risk Taker (16 page)

“Damn!” Tait yelled, gripping the fuel throttles.

“Relax,” Sarah said. She hauled the Black Hawk around, feeling it respond. In such a flight situation, rough, quick jerks and pulls on the flight controls would send them into an even worse crisis. Knowing it had to be subtle, minute movements to not yank the helicopter around, Sarah felt the helo responding, righting itself. She heard less strain on the floundering engines. The blades were working hard, sucking air beneath them in order to rebalance. Some of her tension bled off, easing as the Black Hawk finally smoothed out to stable flight once more.

Tait was breathing hard, his eyes huge as he stared over at her. “Jesus, that was close!”

Sarah’s mouth quirked. Tait was getting a hell of a lesson tonight, something every medevac pilot would potentially encounter sooner or later. “Get your goggles down, Tait. I’m going to need your eyes on the landing zone in a minute.” Sarah’s heart began a long, slow thud in her chest. She told Tait to switch channels so she could talk to Ethan. He was going to have to bring her in, guide her into the blackness of the night into somewhere on that rocky ridge to save SEAL lives. The FLIR would help her once he chose the spot.

Sarah’s gaze moved to the digital clock on the instrument panel. “Gator Actual, this is Falcon Actual. Over.” She would use the clock’s seconds as a countdown to landing.

She waited. Nothing.
Damn.
Sarah called again, her heart rate amping up with fear. Was Ethan down? Wounded?
Oh, no...please don’t let that be.

“Falcon Actual, this is Gator Actual. Over.”

Sarah heard the rasp in Ethan’s voice, and the gunfire was loud and clear. What was happening? He sounded out of breath. “Gator Actual, I’m four minutes and thirty seconds out from your position. Give me GPS landing instructions. Over.”

Tait wrote down the information, then quickly punched in the position into their computer on board the helo. He then called Bagram and received authorization to go in. Sarah’s gaze whipped to the display showing the nine-thousand-foot mountain they were approaching. There was a crest-like ridge, and she memorized the land just below. There was nothing but rocks and very little soil and only some struggling brush trying to survive at that harsh altitude. Her worry focused in on the landing site. She saw the wadi two hundred feet away, to the north of the LZ. There was a slight knoll, about twenty feet high, just enough to set the two front wheels of her bird down on, but that was all. She’d have to keep the tail up in the air. Tait was running up the fuel throttles, giving the bird takeoff power to hang there and yet keep the front wheels on the earth so the men could be loaded on board. This was going to be dicey.

The surrounding area had fallen away, giving the blades of the helo enough room so that they would not accidentally strike any of the land formations, shattering the rocky outcrop and sending her and her crew into a crash. Judging from all the surrounding terrain, Ethan had chosen the best landing spot out of a bad situation. Sarah noted a hump of land to the north of her landing spot. She quickly estimated there was less than ten feet between that rocky cliff that jutted outward and the length of her bird’s rotor blade tip. If she didn’t set the helo down very carefully, her blade could strike that massive rock. And then they’d all be lost.

Sweat began to trickle down inside her uniform as she melded herself completely with her Black Hawk once more.

“We’re committed,” she told her crew, her voice tight. Somewhere down below, Ethan had the wounded SEALs waiting to be brought on board once she got the bird on the ground.

As she swung the Black Hawk around, banking in, Sarah knew they’d take on enemy fire. Praying that the Taliban would not shoot and destroy the Jesus nut on the rotor assembly, thereby causing them to crash, her mouth thinned into a single line, her eyes narrowed. They were going in....

Chapter 14

E
than’s heart wrenched as he followed the progress of the Black Hawk being flown in by Sarah. He crouched behind rocks; the two wounded SEALs were nearby. The firefight behind him was furious and escalating—the Taliban threw everything they had at them. Breathing slowly, the adrenaline giving him that cold, unemotional focus needed in battle, he heard the
whapping
of the blades puncturing the skin of the night. He worried about RPGs being fired at her helicopter from over the hill.

Tolleson was going to order the team into fire suppression mode, sending a wall of bullets into the wadi, hoping to stop that from happening. The LPO gave the order quietly over his mic to the SEALs. A roar of concentrated gunfire into the wadi began, booming thunder, lacerating the night.

Ethan knelt, waiting, rifle in hand, listening to the Black Hawk approach. He’d thrown four green chem lights that would show her exactly where to place those two front wheels on the earth. Sarah was smart; she was coming in from the south, as far away from the wadi as she could get to protect her bird and crew from possible RPG attack.

His throat tightened as he watched the Black Hawk come in, flare, its belly up to quickly bleed off the forward air speed, the blades slicing heavily through the air. His mouth compressed into a hard line and his eyes narrowed as she set the bird’s two front wheels down lightly on that knoll. Christ, she was good. He bowed his head, feeling the blasts from the rotors nearly knocking him over backward. Sarah had to come in hot, had to keep the power up to takeoff speed and she knew there was no place to put down the rear wheel.

The door slid open on the Black Hawk. He recognized Pascal and the crew chief leaping out onto the rocky ground, NVGs on. Instantly, Ethan waved, getting their attention to where he had the wounded SEALs. Slipping the M4 over his shoulder, he got ready to carry the most critical SEAL, Dylan, the one with the head wound who was unconscious. It would require all of them to carry the SEAL to the hovering Black Hawk.

“This one first,” Ethan yelled to them, pointing down at Dylan. “Head wound.”

Pascal nodded, his face unreadable. The medic and crew chief each took Dylan’s shoulders and Ethan took his friend’s feet. They started carrying him as fast as they could toward the helicopter. Bullets started snapping and popping around them. Ethan crouched, cursing. Where the hell were those bullets coming from? His eyes were riveted on the helo. The rotor wash slapped them brutally, tearing at their clothes, making it hard to move forward or see where they were putting their feet. Ethan helped ease Dylan up and into the deck of the helo.

Pascal and Potter quickly hauled him over to the other side and placed him in the top litter.

“Stay there!” Ethan yelled. “I’ll get the other SEAL!” He turned, nearly losing his footing on the bumpy ground and rocks. Bullets were flying into the Black Hawk. He could hear them hitting the metal skin, ripping it open. Just as he crouched and lunged down the knoll, he heard the Plexiglas on the left side of the helo crack as four bullets smashed into it. The hardened plastic shattered, raining down around him like snow.

It was on Sarah’s side of the helo, dammit! Ethan couldn’t stop to look to see if she was all right or not. He raced down the knoll, heading for the second SEAL, Bristol, who was wounded in the thigh. The bullets spit up geysers around his boots as he raced toward the safety of the rocks.

Ethan grabbed his friend, sliding his arm around his waist, hauling his arm around his shoulder. Bristol had a tourniquet on his upper thigh, but he was weak from loss of blood. The SEAL was semiconscious, trying to get his legs under him as Ethan hauled him up to his feet. Gasping for breath, his lungs burning like fire because of the high altitude, Ethan knew he had to hurry. The longer that Black Hawk was on the ground, the bigger and better target it was for the Taliban.

Ethan made sure he was on the mountainside where the bullets originated. It had to be a new group swinging around to try and attack the SEAL force from the rear. The Taliban in the wadi were silenced by the continued fire suppression laid down by the SEALs.

Sonofabitch!
He tripped and scrambled, lunging forward with Bristol, practically dragging him along. Climbing, slipping and nearly falling several times, Ethan managed to haul the heavier SEAL up to the lip of the helo. Pascal was there, hands outstretched to receive the wounded man. Ethan pushed Bristol up into the helo. Gasps of air exploded out of his mouth from the monumental rescue effort.

As Ethan turned to leave, he took a bullet to his Kevlar. It spun him around, knocking and lifting him off his feet, throwing him backward. He slammed into the ground, rolling.

Damn!
Ethan felt the red-hot pain, the fire blossoming hotly across his chest, spreading, burning deeply. Grunting, he rolled to his knees, jerking the M4 off his shoulder. Through the Night Force scope he could see four Taliban running up, firing wildly toward the helo. He kneeled and shouldered the M4 with the rotor wash battering him from behind. He fired slowly, accurately, brushing the trigger each time. Just as the helo lifted into the air, he killed the last Taliban soldier, then watched his body fly backward, his AK-47 cartwheeling through the air. Satisfaction thrummed through Ethan. He crouched and risked a look upward.

The belly of the Black Hawk was sliding down the mountain, picking up air, picking up speed and banking to the south, getting the hell out of Dodge.

Ethan wiped his mouth, sweat stinging his eyes. As he turned, he ignored the burning pain in his chest. The chest ceramic plate in his Kevlar vest had just taken a bullet meant to kill him. He’d have one hell of a bruise, but he was alive and that was all that counted. Ethan raced back toward his team, his mission accomplished. He was on the radio as he ran, talking to two Apache helicopters that were now speeding toward them from Camp Bravo.

As he raced over the uneven ground, lunging to the ground, landing next to Tolleson, Ethan knew the tide would turn shortly. No one survived the lethal power of an Apache. No one. And he felt good being able to call them in, sending a red laser beam into that wadi to show them where to focus their massive, obliterating firepower.

Tolleson ordered the fire suppression to halt. For a moment, there was a lull. And then, suddenly, the Taliban were laying lead into the team again. Ethan remained near Tolleson, calling in the air wolves that were going to arrive any moment. His mind and heart touched briefly on Sarah. She’d flown in under withering fire, landed that bird perfectly on that small knoll and kept it steady, enabling him to get his two SEAL brothers on board. God, he loved her. And if he got out of this alive, he was damn well going to let her know it.

* * *

Sarah bit down hard on her lip as pain radiated outward in her upper right arm. She’d taken a shard of Plexiglas—again. Only this time, it was bad. Saying nothing, ignoring the pain flaring every time she moved her hand, she flew the Black Hawk. The bullet had blown out a quarter of the Plexiglas inward on her side, allowing the wind to roar into the bird, making it freezing cold within the cabin.

She’d sent Tait back to help Pascal and Potter, who had their hands full. They desperately needed more help. Tait could do little things to help the medic stabilize the SEALs on board. The copilot could help the SEALs’ oxygen, hold a tourniquet in place or help prepare IVs for the wounded in their care. Tait was good with medical stuff, and Sarah felt positive about ordering him back to help. Just his help could save a life.

Stiffening, Sarah felt blood running down her arm. Sonofabitch, it hurt. She kept her focus on redlining the Black Hawk, sending it hurtling at top speed through the black night toward Bagram. The hospital was standing by to receive the SEALs. A neurology team was already preparing a surgery theater for the SEAL with the head wound. She felt hopeful, knowing that everything humanly possible was being done to save their lives.

Her mind went back to Ethan. She’d recognize his form anywhere. He’d been the one helping to get his SEAL friends to the helo with Pascal’s and Potter’s help. She’d nearly cried out as she happened to glance back toward the door for just a second and see him get struck by a bullet. Pascal had yelled that he’d been hit in the Kevlar vest and was all right. Otherwise, Sarah would have stayed and picked him up also. She knew Kevlar hits were a bastard and hurt like hell, but the person would survive. As she’d lifted her Black Hawk off that knoll, she’d glanced at Ethan kneeling and firing at some unseen enemy down the slope of the mountain. She knew he was all right, but that ridge was teeming with Taliban.

Within thirty minutes of Bagram, Sarah felt relief soar through her as she listened in on radio traffic with the women Apache pilots flying toward the SEAL position on that cold ridge. It took ten minutes. She listened to Ethan calmly guide the pilots to eradicate every last Taliban hidden in the wadi. Sarah closed her eyes for a moment, feeling her heart pound, knowing that he and his team were saved. All that would remain was for them to be picked up by Army Night Stalker pilots flying in a Chinook. Safe. Ethan and his men were safe.
Thank God.

Sarah brought in her Black Hawk, flaring it out at the last second, the wheels kissing the painted concrete circle just outside the doors of Bagram’s E.R. doors. It was 0300, and the night was black as two gurneys pushed by orderlies along with nurses and two doctors headed toward them. She turned, pain making her grimace. Tait was sliding open the door. The first gurney arrived, and the SEAL with the head injury was put on it and swiftly wheeled away. She watched as Pascal and Tait carefully moved the SEAL with the thigh wound. He was gently placed on the gurney. Pascal hopped out, holding the IV above the SEAL’s head. He was already yelling above the moving blades of the helo, telling the surgeon trotting at his side what his stats were.

Turning, Sarah pushed up her NVGs, feeling light-headed. “Tait,” she whispered. “Get up here.”

Tait climbed into the cockpit. He took one look at her and his face paled.

“You’ve got the controls, Tait,” Sarah said, her voice sounding so faraway. “Call E.R. here. Tell them I’ve got a piece of Plexiglas in my upper right arm.” She closed her eyes, feeling herself beginning to faint. Her last words were, “I’ve lost a lot of blood....”

* * *

Ethan walked into Bagram E.R. with Tolleson under his arm. It was 0400, and the first gray light of dawn was on the desert horizon around the huge air base. The bright lights of the E.R. hurt his eyes, and he winced.

“Hey!” he called out. “I’ve got a wounded SEAL here. I need help!” Ethan noticed a number of busy nurses halt, turn and run toward him. Tolleson had taken a bullet to the lower leg. Luckily, Ethan had been there, jerked out his blowout kit, found the tourniquet and slid it up above the bleeding wound. It had shut off most of the heavy bleeding.

Within seconds, Ethan was surrounded by orderlies helping him, taking Tolleson out of his arms. They placed the semiconscious SEAL on a gurney and rushed him into a cubicle. There was chaos everywhere Ethan looked. The curtained cubicles were open, and groups of medical staff frantically working over the wounded.

He wiped the sweat away from his eyes, standing there, feeling the effects of adrenaline still crashing through his bloodstream. The MH-47 Night Stalker helicopter had landed at Bagram, bringing Tolleson directly to the hospital. Ethan and the medic, Johnson, had cared for their semiconscious LPO.

Exhaustion began to encroach on his adrenaline high. They were safe. The word made him relax just a little. He was dying of thirst, and he headed for a water fountain located near the doors of the E.R. area. After drinking his fill, Ethan turned, wiping his mouth. And then his eyes widened.

Sarah!

Ethan’s heart thundered with shock. He saw her lying unconscious on a gurney in the second cubicle, her face so damned white he thought she was dead. Mind reeling, his emotions scattering through him uncontrolled, he walked quickly toward her. As he drew near, he could see the dark blood down the right sleeve of her flight suit. What the hell had happened to her?

And then he remembered the Plexiglas exploding above him, simultaneous bullets striking it, shattering it inward into the cockpit, where Sarah was sitting.

Shaken, he moved in a daze toward the cubicle, his gaze locked on her slack face. The doctor, a woman in her forties, was cutting away the arm of her flight suit. The name on her white lab coat was Tisdale. When she pulled the fabric aside, Ethan nearly groaned out loud. There was a fist-size piece of Plexiglas embedded deeply in Sarah’s upper arm. His entire world ruptured as he watched, unable to do anything but see the blood still leaking out around it.

“Sir,” a nurse said in a rush, hurrying over to Ethan. “I’m sorry, but you have to leave.”

Ethan’s gaze turned hard as he swung toward her. “Like hell I will,” he snarled, stepping farther into the cubicle, situating himself next to the doctor. He was damned if he was leaving Sarah’s side.

“You aren’t family, sir,” the nurse said, scowling. “Now, please, leave.”

“She’s my fiancée. She’s family, Nurse. I’m staying with Sarah.” There was no way he was leaving. No matter if she’d pushed him away or not. A fierce feeling of protection for Sarah rose in him. He loved her. Ethan would never leave her alone at a time like this.

The nurse paled, her brown eyes widening over his snarling words. She gave a panicked look over at the physician.

Dr. Tisdale looked up. “He stays,” she snapped. “Call E.R., get an operating theater ready for Chief Benson. Stat.”

Ethan gave Tisdale a nod of thanks. He knew enough to stay out of the way, and he eased around her to stand near Sarah’s left shoulder. “How bad is it, Doc?”

The woman grimaced. “Let’s put it this way, Petty Officer, that piece of shrapnel has cut into her brachial artery. It’s the most major artery in a person’s arm. If we pull it out here, Chief Benson will bleed to death. She’s got to have surgery in order to have it safely removed. The cut artery is going to have to be sewn back together.”