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I kept my eyes trained on the screen and forced slow, steady breaths.
We neared the target and the bombers were getting into position in the middle of the four fighters when all hell broke loose. From the ground below, miles from the attack we would intercept, a single rocket launcher shot into the sky. Within seconds, rockets and anti-aircraft gunfire exploded from the ground like fireflies! We were taking fire from every direction.
“Shit!” Sparks cursed over the radio.
Another explosion and I jerked, narrowly avoiding the flare. “What the—how many are there?”
“Command? Command, we’re taking heavy fire from the ground! Anti-aircraft guns!”
Command scrambled instructions and the A6 bombers dropped some fire for us as we climbed higher into the air. The shots from the ground ceased for a few seconds and I thought the threat was over.
“Sparks! You all right?” I asked my wingman and in a split second, my radar detected half a dozen incoming missiles coming our way. “I’m tracking at least six missiles!”
“I’m tracking eight! Break right! Break right!”
I pulled the plane hard right, climbing and deployed my anti-missile defense system just as I took a hit to my left-wing. “Fuck!” My panel was flashing in and out, losing power, the alarms were blaring in the cockpit. “Sparks!” I yelled, “Sparks! You copy?”
I’d lost all communication, and I knew this was bad—I was going down!
“Mayday! Mayday”
28
Holly
I couldn’t bring myself to turn off the video call that connected me to Jack’s computer. He hadn’t returned since running out of the room nearly an hour before, even though the siren and announcements had long since faded.
While I waited and prayed for his return, I turned on the TV and scanned through the channels until I found the news station that focused on international news. The frustrating part was realizing how little I had to go off of. I didn’t know where Jack was, I knew the name of the ship he was on, but I didn’t know anything about his role in anything—other than his rank and the fact that he was a fighter pilot. We hadn’t talked much about it, and I didn’t even know what he actually did.
When the news station began discussing activity in the Middle East, I leaned forward, grabbed the remote, and turned the volume up. The anchor was a petite brunette woman. She wore glasses and looked intelligent and official in her sharp plum colored blazer. She began speaking about a protest that occurred in a Turkish marketplace earlier in the day, and I hung on her every word, waiting for her to get to the part about the attack. However, the story wound down just as quickly as it had begun, barely a blip on the radar of news for the day.
I sank back into the couch cushion and sighed as a commercial started to play. It was such a strange contrast. A story of a protest in a country thousands of miles away, where everything was so foreign and different than my life in sunny Southern California. Then, just as I’d settled into the story, I was ripped out of it and kicked back to an advertisement for a cell service. I squeezed my eyes shut and told myself to keep it together as the echoes of the siren and harsh directives played in my mind. With each loop through, my heart rate jumped higher and higher. The look of alarm in Jack’s eyes. His frantic apology. And his even quicker disappearance from my sight.
The news anchor came back on, and I opened my eyes again. I looked over to my phone to check the empty room that Jack had left behind, and I yelped when I saw my reflection in the black screen. I unlocked the screen and swiped to get back into the app. “Please, please. No, no. Come back,” I begged, desperate tears springing into my eyes. The app came back on the screen, but the call had timed out. Jack’s room wasn’t there, and his avatar was no longer listed as being available.
Jack was gone.
I redialed his number, ignoring the protest that it was pointless, and pleaded for him to answer.
“Shit.” I canceled the call after the tenth ring and threw myself back against the couch. Two hot tears slipped past my lashes and streaked down my cheeks. The two quickly multiplied, and within seconds, my cheeks were soaked. My breath came in tight puffs in between sobs and I curled into a ball, hugging my knees to my chest.
Hunter came into the living room from the kitchen and nudged my arm with his nose. I wrapped an arm around his body and buried my face in his dark fur, praying to God that Jack was all right.
The following day, despite scouring news sites for most of the night, I still had no information on what had happened. I’d sent an email to Jack with an attached read receipt so I’d be notified the moment he opened it. It wasn’t something I usually did, but it was the only thing I could think of. If he could get back online but not have long enough to call or write me, at least I’d know he was okay.
