The Elite: The Complete Series of Boomer and Player (With Bonus) (25 page)

I sighed, long and slow. I knew Rachel was only trying to help, but her cheery disposition wasn’t sinking through my layers of worried thoughts and tangled fears.

“I can go get something and bring it back, if you don’t want to leave?” She suggested at my hesitation.

“No, no, it’s okay. I’ll go with you.” I leaned over and set the computer on the coffee table. After another quick glance at the news, as the anchor launched into the same story for the third time in the last few hours, I clicked off the channel. I made sure I was still logged into the video chat application before pocketing the phone in the kangaroo pouch on the front of my hoodie.

Rachel took the lead, knowing my mind was far too distracted to make decisions. We ended up stopping at a small cafe just a few blocks away from my condo. They had sandwiches, soups, and huge salads. We were seated right away at a table by the picture windows that looked out to the street and a line of shops on the other side. Rachel didn’t even bother looking at the menu, but I picked mine up, and studied it with unfixed eyes, as my mind was still churning through a list of possibilities of what happened to Jack. I couldn’t stop wondering what had happened. Where he’d gone. What it all meant.

Still undecided, my eyes wandered from the list of options on the menu, and drifted around the cafe. Everyone was going about their daily life as though nothing was happening. Like nothing was wrong. I didn’t blame them. I envied them. It struck me as a surprise at how far things had changed in less than twenty-four hours.

Our waitress came and Rachel took over, putting in my order, when I struggled to find something on the menu that looked good. After she left, I pulled my phone out of my pocket and opened the news feed. Rachel was patient while I scanned through, only saying something, when my breath caught in my throat. “Holly?”

There it was, the thing I’d been looking for, and dreading.

“Oh.

My.

God.”

I covered my mouth with my hand and my eyes filled with tears.

United States Naval Officer Shot Down in Firefight with Known Insurgents

“The White House has confirmed that a United States Naval F-18 fighter jet was shot down today over the Sinjar Mountain range in the Middle East. The jet was deployed as part of a strike force to provide air support for a unit on the ground that had come under fire…”

My eyes blurred and I couldn’t wipe away the tears fast enough to continue reading the article. The phone slipped from my hand and skittered across the table towards Rachel. “My God, Holly, what’s wrong?” She asked, even as she started reading the page that was still on the screen.

Each breath became harder and harder to take as my lungs burned and seized. The tears were rushing down my cheeks and I didn’t even bother to try and contain them. As I struggled to catch my breath, my heart raced and skyrocketed to unknown heights, making it harder to breathe.

“Holly?” Rachel’s face crumpled with concern as she reached for me. “Holly, slow down, honey.”

I shook my head violently. My heart felt like it was about to beat out of my chest, and I was swamped with panicked thoughts, not only for Jack, but for myself. I’d never been so out of control.

“Someone help her!” Rachel cried out, as she raced around the table to put an arm around me.

A man appeared from out of nowhere, and crouched down beside the table. “Miss? I’m Jordan, and I’m a PA, a physician’s assistant.”

Rachel got out of the chair beside me to make room for the man to get closer to me. He asked me a series of questions about how I was feeling and I did my best to answer.

“Her heart rate is at 160 and climbing quickly,” Jordan said. “Take slow deep breaths.”

Rachel’s voice carried to me. “Is she going to be all right?”

“She’s displaying the signs of an anxiety attack.”

“What should we do?” Rachel asked.

I sucked in a breath, that was as deep and slow as I could manage, but it was still too shallow to get relief. “I…can’t…breath.”

“Go to the ER. Now. I’ll call an ambulance.”

I shook my head but Rachel overruled me and told him to go ahead. Rachel sat back next to me as he grabbed my phone to call for help, and I pressed my eyes closed to focus on each ragged breath and block out the rest of the people who were staring at me.

Minutes later, Rachel was beside me as I was loaded into the back of an ambulance and taken to the nearest hospital.

Chapter Nine

Jack

A flash of light exploded behind my closed eyes, and when it was gone, I peeled them open. My eyes were dry and scratchy and it took a few blinks before the sandpaper grit feeling subsided. A pain radiated from the base of my skull all the way down my body, and each movement, from the tiniest wiggle of my fingertips, to the more pronounced attempt at craning my head around, shot lightning bolts down my spine, spreading waves of hot pain through my body like sparks. “Fuck!”

I took a deep breath and stopped trying to move. I had to remember what had happened. I sucked in another breath and focused. My surroundings were dark, other than the occasional flashes of light, that were followed by the distinct sound of mortars firing off in the distance.

The tap, tap, boom, roused my memory and suddenly, my mind wasn’t on the ground, it was up above. Ten thousand feet up in the air. My jet had been hit, and the impact had done enough damage to my engine to send me careening out of control. I’d exhausted my list of tactics to right the plane, and when all of them had failed—I’d been forced to punch out. I closed my eyes again, and a new wave of pain radiated through my body. I remembered spinning out of control and then, the throttle of being ejected from the cockpit. I’d watched from the air, as my plane had hit the ground and blown up in a million pieces.

After the impact, I’d pulled my parachute and begun my descent to the ground.

Which was far from safe.

The same rebels that had shot my plane down minutes before, were lurking nearby, and in the dark, I had no idea where they’d be. I had to stay down, get a grip on where I was and focus. I hadn’t landed with a parachute except in training, so while I knew the procedures, the reality of actually having to do it for real and having no control where I’d land, had resulted in not only a sloppy landing, but I’d done something to my leg.

It was an odd mix of relief and terror as I’d unstrapped myself from my parachute, grabbed my emergency kit, bundled up the parachute and stuffed it in between some rocks. After a few tender steps, I’d managed to get away from where I’d landed, knowing these crazy mother fuckers had to be watching to see where I’d ended up. They’d be all too willing to come and finish the job they’d started when they’d fired on me. As I’ trekked across the mountainous terrain, in the dark, without any night vision goggles, I lost my footing, crashed down a hillside and almost passed out. The pain in my leg was unbearable. But I had to get to a safe place. I knew Sparks and my boys would be looking for me.

As the recollection of the events returned to me, my heart rate jacked up, and I became more frantic to get up and moving again. I’d made a considerable amount of distance from my landing site, but was desperate to put more space in between me and the site—especially since I had no way of knowing how many bad guys were out there. I tried to sit up, ignoring my screaming nerves and throbbing headache, and pushed to an upright position. I waited, listening to the sounds around me, my ears pricked for any sign of footsteps, rocks, or whispered voices.

Only when I was sure that I was alone, did I take a second to inspect my leg, checking for any sign of injury. My flight suit had a slice in it, and upon closer inspection, I could see a bloodstain seeping through. I quietly moved over, closer to the shine of the moonlight and gave it a second look. I tore the fabric away and saw a sizable cut on the side of my thigh. It must’ve happened when I fell down the mountainside. It didn’t look bad, and the bleeding had stopped, so I left it alone. I’d stop to clean it and bandage it when I was sure I was safe.

I gave myself a thorough shake down, and the cut was the worst of it, besides my splitting headache. I fished some pain pills from my emergency pack and washed them down with a swig from my canteen, careful not to take more than I needed. I grunted as I worked into a kneeling position, the movements tugging on the wound along my leg, but I forced myself up and to continue on.

My plane—or, whatever was left of it—would have a signal, so that the Navy would be able to find the wreckage. They’d go there first to check for my body. Everything had happened so fast, but once they got to the crash site, they’d be able to see that I ejected. Even if all that was left of my plane was on fire, twisted and gutted, they’d be able to pull the log of data from the plane to find out what had happened. There was also the chance that they’d caught my ejection on one of the drones in the area, and would be able to find me even faster.

No matter how they found out, within the next few hours, a rescue team would be assembled, given their orders, and sent over enemy lines to get me home. I clung to that hope and formulated a plan. All I had to do was find a safe place to hunker down and wait.

The flashes and bombs in the distance were winding down, and I stood on the ridge for a minute, getting my legs back under me, and watched the night sky light up with signs of the battle. I just hoped the dying down of the bombs and rifles firing meant the enemy had been subdued and not the other way around. No matter how many battles I’d been a part of, it always struck me in the gut, how powerless we were against the hate in the world around us. At the end of the day, I couldn’t stop any of it, all I could do was protect the people of the country I loved from feeling the wrath of the hostile enemies that sometimes seemed numberless.

My heart raced with every step. Every sound gave me pause. But I forced myself onward, focusing on my goal. To find a safe place to get some rest. I’d need every drop of strength and energy the next day, if I had any hope of survival. I needed to be ready for anything.

After a while, I began walking again, careful to test each footstep before continuing, especially when the terrain beneath my feet was too slick or rocky to fully trust without a visual confirmation of my path. I walked for a few hours, and stopped when I figured I’d put another four or five miles between me and the firefight that had died down over the course of my hike. I found a cut out in the side of a rock wall and decided it was as good of a place as any to camp for the remainder of the night.

My emergency pack, that had deployed with my parachute, contained a few MRE’s, a full canteen, basic medical supplies, a flashlight, and a loaded 9mm with an extra clip. I made sure the weapon was cocked and set it on the ground beside me before opening one of the MRE’s.

“Mmm, beef stew,” I mumbled to myself, after a quick glance at the brown paper package under the light of the moon. “God knows it’s not from any kind of cow I wanna know about…”

I wasn’t hungry to begin with, and the smell of the quick prepared meal wasn’t doing much to improve my appetite, but I knew it was the only chance I might have to eat since there was no way of knowing what the morning would bring. I needed something in my stomach, and as much water as I could afford to drink in my system as well.

When I’d choked down the last bite, I sat back, resting against the warm stone set into the side of the mountain. I tipped my head back to look up at the stars and replayed the events of the day, starting with my conversation with Holly. I cringed as I remembered how the call had ended. A pit in my stomach formed as I thought about how worried she must be and wondered what she was thinking. I hated to think of her alone and scared, waiting for me to come back online, to tell her everything was going to be all right.

I sighed and my last waking thought was the fucked up idea of Aaron having to go and tell Holly that I wasn’t coming home.

At least not alive.

Chapter Ten

Holly

“I still don’t think that was necessary,” I said to Rachel as we walked through the front door of my condo. I was exhausted. A quick glance at the clock on the living room wall showed that it was nearly one o’clock in the morning

“Holly, you heard the nurse at the cafe, your heart rate was maxing out and when the paramedics got there, your blood pressure was going through the roof!” Rachel objected, as she gestured at the couch for me to sit down. The ambulance had rushed me to the closest hospital, where I was put through a laundry list of tests and diagnostics, only to rule everything out. In the end, I was given anti-anxiety meds and discharged with the diagnosis that I had suffered a panic attack. “Now, let’s get you settled in here, no more complaining. What can I get for you?”

I sat down where she’d indicated, knowing my best friend well enough to know that she wouldn’t take no for an answer. “I don’t need anything except my laptop and the remote control.” I leaned forward to grab the remote from where I left it on the coffee table. Rachel had kept custody of my phone while we were in the emergency room, and I hadn’t been able to find any more information.

“Holly…” Rachel didn’t stop me, but her tone of voice was saturated in disapproval.

I ignored her and flicked the TV back on to the news channel I’d been glued to all night. I drowned out Rachel’s objections while I searched the new headlines along the bottom of the screen. Eventually, Rachel gave up on trying to talk me out of it, and sat down next to me on the couch. Hunter jumped up between us and settled down, lying his head in my lap and his tail in Rachel’s, and we both stroked him as we watched the news cycle through.

“I don’t know what you’re looking for. But I hardly think that the government is going to give much more detail than they’ve already shared. This is the eleven o clock news reruns, anyway.”

“Maybe so, Rach, but I have to try.” I knew she was probably right, but I didn’t know what else to do. I couldn’t simply turn off the TV and walk away, and go on with the rest of the day as if everything was fine.