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“Mayday. Mayday. Alpha Team 7493745 Codename Ophis.”
“Go ahead, Ophis,” Greg’s voice comes through.
We might not have radio control like other planes, but we do have Apex Tactical, which is better.
“We’re in trouble. We’re going to have to make an emergency landing.”
“Roger that, Ophis.”
“Coordinates are—”
I fight the plane as Greg interrupts me. “Tracking you now. Black out in zero-thirty.”
I frown for a second, looking at Oz, before I close my eyes and blow out a breath. “Activating Operation STRIKE MODE.”
“Copy that. Godspeed, Ophis.” His voice softens just before I cut communication.
“What the fuck is that? There is no Operation STRIKE MODE.”
“I know. We’ve been compromised. We’re on our own for now.”
The plane loses altitude. I hear Salem scream in the back but focus on finding somewhere to land. The sun is up now, but it doesn’t provide much help. All there is as far as the eye can see are fucking trees.
“Fuck, fuck. Oz, tell me you can see somewhere we can put this bird down.”
“Negative. All I see are trees, and they’ll rip the plane to shreds.”
“We don’t have a choice, Oz. She’s going down whether we like it or not.”
I hit the intercom so Salem can hear me. Her crying is killing me, but there is nothing I can do for her right now. “Salem, honey, I need you to hold on for me. I dropped the mask. Put it over your face and make sure your belt is pulled tight. I have to land this plane.”
I kill the intercom as Engine No. 1 cuts out.
“Let’s get this bitch down before she drops out of the sky,” I yell at Oz.
We don’t have the luxury of choosing where to land right now. We need to get on the ground before we free fall. We’re close to the treetops when the second engine cuts out. Still, with some flat ground, I could have landed us safely.
“Hang on, Oz,” I yell to my brother, the bitter taste of regret twisting my gut.
I think of Oz as the plane clips the trees. The screech as we plummet is deafening, even with my headset on. I think of Luna and of Ruby as the earth rushes up to meet us, branches crashing into the glass, obstructing my view completely. Then, just before the world goes black, I think of Salem. The woman I just dragged out of the fire just so I could toss her into hell.
* * *
It’sthe pain that wakes me, which is bizarre since it’s the pain that’s threatening to drag me back under. I crack my eyes open to the sound of creaking metal and see red. Blinking, it takes me a moment to realize it’s blood running down my face that’s coloring my vision.
I turn my head, ignoring the pain, and find Oz hunched over, his face as bloody as mine. I lift my arm—or try to—but it doesn’t respond. Looking down, I see the bone poking out just above the elbow.
“Fuck,” I curse through gritted teeth.
Using my other arm, I unclip my belt and push myself into a sitting position. I reach over and place my fingers against Oz’s neck and take a relieved breath when I find his pulse. It’s thready, but it’s there.
Using my good arm, I pull myself to standing, gripping the chair when the world spins. My vision fades in and out as I fight back the need to vomit. Once it passes, I open my eyes, which land on a piece of twisted metal that I couldn’t see from my position before.
It’s protruding from the back of Oz’s seat.
Not wanting to move him until I know what I’m dealing with, I lean over him and slide my hand around him, my fingers hitting the metal that’s sticking out of his stomach, pinning him in place. I fight the urge to yank it out, knowing it’s most likely the only thing stopping him from bleeding out.
A sense of panic washes over me. It’s an unfamiliar response for me. I’m always in control. It’s who I trained myself to be after all the uncertainty that came after losing my parents when I was just a boy. I fight it down. Panicking won’t get us anywhere.
