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“Please… This is a cakewalk compared to our last trip together.”
“And now, you’ve jinxed it. Good thing I’ve got that feather.”
“Jerk.”
Wyatt gave Booker one final shove, angling toward the back as Booker did a quick walk around. Not that he didn’t trust Calloway, but Booker had meant what he’d said. His teammates were counting on him safely delivering them to the landing zone, and crashing because one of them had missed an easy fix was a stupid way to die.
John gave him a scathing side eye as he jumped into his seat, running through part of the checklist before donning his helmet — clicking the mike. “I suppose you’ll insist on flying.”
Booker wouldn’t yell. He had more control than that. “You got a problem with that?”
“I thought the whole reason for pairing me up with someone like you was to give me more experience.”
“Or maybe, they’re hoping you’ll learn a few things. Like how to get along with your teams.”
John scoffed. “I didn’t say anything.”
“That’s the point. These men have enough to worry about without thinking their pilot’s a jackass.”
The muscle in Calloway’s temple jumped. “Is that your official position, sir?”
“Consider it a friendly tip. How many times have you taken off from a carrier?”
The man snorted. “Plenty.”
“Simulators don’t count. I mean real world takeoffs.”
That smug grin slipped a bit. “A dozen or so.”
“So, like three.” Booker ignored the man’s glare. “I’ll make you a deal. We’re second in line. Show me you can anticipate Pierce’s movements when he takes off in front of us — follow his lead — and I might let you fly us the whole way. But… If I change my mind foranyreason, you don’t hesitate to relinquish control. Are we clear?”
“Yes, sir.”
“When it’s just us, you don’t have to call me sir. Just don’t be a dick about it.”
Booker shook his head as Calloway nodded, still glaring, before the man ran through the rest of the checks, readying the chopper for flight. Even as he started the machine, rolling on the throttle, Booker was second guessing himself. Aware the other man was right — he needed the experience — but not wanting to give up control. Not when that prickling along his neck hadn’t eased. What felt like a full-on premonition that shit was about to go sideways.
The comms chirped, Captain Walker Pierce from the other helicopter calling in a warning light. What would either be a slight delay or a complete washout of the mission. Calloway glanced at Booker, but he merely shrugged, waiting as Pierce dealt with the situation.
Wyatt came over the comms. “Booker. Something wrong, buddy?”
Booker looked over his shoulder, keying up his mike. “Just waiting on a possible issue with Eagle One. We should know in a few minutes if the mission’s a go.”
Wyatt frowned but nodded, leaning forward to chat with the rest of his team. Normally, Booker would have been talking to the crew, laughing it up to keep them at ease, but with John scowling in the other seat, it hadn’t felt right. And Booker didn’t trust the other man not to relay anything he said to his superiors. Not that Booker really cared, but… He didn’t need some greenhorn making waves. Causing issues because the guy was more interested in climbing the ladder than actually doing his job. Harsh, but Booker had witnessed it before. And John Calloway had it in spades.
Another five minutes, then Pierce was calling the tower — getting the green light. Booker slipped on his night vision goggles, nodding at Calloway as the man made one last check, giving Booker the thumbs up.
Booker looked out the window as Pierce eased his bird off the platform, adjusting for the gusting winds and the constant pitching of the deck. The guy had gained about fifteen feet, was dipping the helicopter forward to gain speed, when the machine rocked, swinging violently to the left before starting to spin.
“Shit. Calloway, get us airborne. Now.”
Booker snapped his head toward the other man, cursing the man’s parted lips and white knuckles, before grabbing the controls. “I have her.”
He moved, yanking on the controls — countering the sudden increase in torque — as he lifted the chopper off the deck, dipping them back and sideways. Sliding left just as the other helicopter spun toward them, narrowly missing the tower before heading for the platform. Right where they’d been parked seconds earlier. What would have been a collision if he hadn’t managed to move in time. Get them clear. There was a moment of silence. Of the machines dancing around each other, the surroundings blurring into that eerie shade of green, before the deck erupted into flames, burning everything a bright white.
Booker clawed the goggles off his face, fighting the controls as Calloway snapped out of his trance, nearly reefing the cyclic out of his hand. Sending them back through the billow of smoke.
“Damn it, John, let go!”
