Epilogue
Pyro was amped up. He was ready for this mission. He didn’t like sitting at home in Virginia waiting to be sent somewhere. He lived for the adrenaline of the missions he and his fellow Night Stalkers were sent on. He’d joined the Army for the adventure, the danger.
Growing up, his life had been tough. He was a foster kid, one of thousands of unwanted children in the US who were shuffled through the system year after year.
He’d been well aware that when he turned eighteen, he’d age out, and knew he needed a plan.
Somewhere to go. A job. And his way out had been the military.
He hadn’t really planned on becoming a pilot, didn’t really think someone like him—with no connections, so-so grades, and a chip on his shoulder—would ever be accepted.
But his drill sergeants had seen something in him that Pyro never had.
The Army agreed. The structure of the military was something he’d never experienced, and he’d thrived.
He rose through the enlisted ranks quickly, learning as much about helicopters and other military vehicles as he could through his MOS.
Then he’d met a Night Stalker pilot one day, and he’d apparently impressed the man enough for him to become a friend of sorts. He’d been the one to encourage him to reclassify his MOS and go through the channels to become a Night Stalker, himself.
One of the worst days of Pyro’s life was the day he heard that his mentor had been killed while on a mission.
He’d vowed right then and there to become the best pilot the Army had ever trained, in order to honor the man who’d seen something in the scrawny former foster kid that no one else had bothered to see.
He’d done that and more. Pyro thought about his mentor every time he got behind the controls of his MH-60 with Casper, his copilot. They were damn good at what they did, and this mission in Africa would be no different.
They were in Gabon, tasked with evacuating US personnel from the embassy in the capital city of Libreville.
Tensions had been high in the country leading up to elections for president.
Corruption and poor governance were tearing the country to pieces, and just about every political figure and governmental agency engaged in corrupt activities, bribes, embezzlement, forgery, and extortion.
Some people might ask why in the hell anyone would go to the country in the first place, but Pyro admired them.
Embassy employees, Peace Corps volunteers, those in the oil and gas industry, security, healthcare and even technology, they were all there trying to help humanity… and make a living while doing so.
He’d been on the receiving end of gracious and kind workers like those trying to make the lives of Gabonese citizens better, and he had a soft spot for them.
It wasn’t their fault the government was corrupt, or the locals had finally had enough and were fighting back, using violence as a way to voice their displeasure.
The mission would be a challenge, because there was no guarantee those fighting the government wouldn’t turn their ire against the US citizens being evacuated.
Against the helicopters swooping in to rescue them.
It had happened in the past, and would happen again in the future.
Mobs had a mentality that was unstable and unpredictable.
Pyro and all of his teammates would need to get in, load up the evacuees, and get the hell out as fast as they could.
Flying over the capital, Pyro could see smoke rising from dozens of sites across the city. Buildings were burning, and even from his seat in his chopper, he could see the destruction in the streets below.
He and Casper had been assigned to evacuate one of the hotels American citizens had been sent to as they waited for extraction.
The original plan, devised that morning, was that two dozen women and children would meet them in a field by a school, not too far from the Radisson Blu Okoume Palace Hotel.
But as they flew over the area, Pyro knew that was no longer an option.
The plan had most likely been leaked by one of the very officials the US was working with to get the Americans out.
The field was now covered by dozens of vehicles, preventing the chopper from landing.
Not only that, Pyro could clearly see several men standing in the backs of pickup trucks, their weapons pointed at the sky.
The mission was getting more harrowing by the second.
“RPG fired!” Chaos said through the radio. He and Edge were on the other side of the city, attempting to evacuate US officials from the embassy building, and, as they’d expected, resistance was heavy in that area.
“Shit. This is gonna be dicey,” Casper muttered.
Pyro nodded but didn’t speak, all his attention on the ground, on trying to figure out their next plan of action.
“Look,” he said seconds later, pointing at the hotel. It was about seven stories high, and there were people on the roof waving white flags…no, bedsheets…calling attention to their plight. The hotel was surrounded by more vehicles, and there were swarms of people with weapons on the grounds.
Pyro had no idea if they’d infiltrated the hotel yet or not—and if not, he didn’t know what they were waiting for—but he wasn’t going to wait to find out. Every second they delayed increased the threat of violence against the citizens they were charged with picking up.
They’d been flying together so long, Casper and Pyro could almost read each other’s minds. They were both on the same page as Casper said, “There. The north side. There aren’t any antennas and I can set the skid on the building and hover as you help get as many people as possible loaded.”
“They’re going to have to leave their shit behind,” Pyro said, as they flew closer and he saw that just about everyone had suitcases and bags.
“They aren’t going to be happy about that.”
“Tough shit,” Pyro mumbled. “If they want to get the hell out of here, they’ll leave it behind. Make room for everyone on board.”
Pyro wasn’t concerned about material things.
He’d spent the first eighteen years of his life having to leave stuff behind as he was moved from one foster home to the next, many times only able to bring what fit into a garbage bag.
He’d learned that he didn’t need much. A roof over his head, food, water…
those were more important than stuffed animals and clothes.
These people would have to learn that as well. A human life was more important than whatever they had in their suitcases.
As Casper maneuvered their chopper closer to the roof of the building, Pyro looked down and noted that the pissed-off citizens were mobilizing. Moving trucks to the side of the building where they’d be hovering.
“We’ve probably got about three minutes, maybe more, maybe less,” he warned Casper.
“Understood. Get those people onboard, Pyro. Do whatever you have to do.”
He nodded. He didn’t need his teammate to tell him that.
He was more than aware of the danger they were in.
The details of what happened in Mogadishu were fresh in all their minds anytime they were on a mission in an urban area.
The Night Stalkers who’d lost their lives there were a constant reminder of the dangers of ordinary citizens when pissed way the hell off for one reason or another.
Pyro unclipped his seat belt and prepared to duck into the back of the chopper and open the door to assist people inside.
“Do not leave this chopper, Pyro,” Casper warned. “I don’t give a shit what’s happening on the roof. I’m not leaving you here, so if you get out, we’ll all fucking go down.”
Pyro nodded. He wasn’t about to forget what happened when he and Casper had left their chopper in the mountains between Syria and Turkey. How Laryn had been taken right from under their noses. And when Buck had left his chopper in the rainforest to find Mandy.
He wasn’t going to make that mistake. He was a rule follower. He wouldn’t do anything that could possibly hurt his career…and one of his best friends. Because he knew without a doubt Casper was a man of his word. He wouldn’t leave without him, would die if he had to.
No one was dying today. Not on Pyro’s watch.
Casper lowered the chopper until it was hovering over the edge of the roof, then he shifted the huge machine a few inches until the right skid bumped against the rooftop.
“Go, go, go!” Casper ordered urgently, as he held the helicopter steady on one skid.
Pyro jumped out of his seat and into the back. He grabbed the door and wrenched it open.
Dozens of frightened gazes met his as they huddled around each other. Women, children, and even a couple of men. Pyro gestured for them to run toward the chopper.
To his annoyance, no one moved. They seemed frozen in fear.
Shit. They didn’t have time for this!
Just as he was about to lose his temper and scream at them to get the fuck moving, a woman separated herself from the group. At least, Pyro thought she was a woman. She was petite. Short and skinny. She could be a teenager but…the more he stared, the more he realized that, no, she wasn’t a kid.
She had black hair, was wearing a pair of jeans and a T-shirt, and unlike most of the other women, she had no suitcases or bags. Only a small cross-body purse that Pyro hoped she was smart enough to use for carrying her identification and other important paperwork.
To his surprise, she leaned over to speak to a child who’d been standing behind her. The little girl, who looked like she could be anywhere from five to ten years old, nodded and began to walk slowly toward the chopper.
Her black hair was blowing around her face in the downwash from the rotor blades, and she frowned slightly as she walked toward him. Her head was tilted to one side and her steps were small, but not hesitant.
The woman then turned to the group and began talking and gesturing. Pyro hoped she was trying to convince them to get the hell on the helicopter.
It was a strange scene, a group of women and kids huddled together in fear, while a small child walked almost fearlessly toward the side of the building.
But…there was something about the girl’s movements that Pyro couldn’t put his finger on at first. She had a serious expression on her face and her brows were furrowed even more now, as if she was concentrating extremely hard.
When she got closer, she slowed even more—and put her hands out in front of her, as if she was afraid she was going to run into something.
It hit Pyro then. It was almost unbelievable, but the proof was right there in front of him.
The kid was fucking blind.
She’d been using the sound of the helicopter to guide her, but she obviously wasn’t sure how far away it was now, as the sound of the rotors was extremely loud and the wind was whipping her hair around her head like she was in the middle of a tornado.
The only thing that could’ve gotten Pyro out of that chopper was this kid. A blind little girl with more courage in her little pinky than the others behind her had in their entire bodies.
“Here!” Pyro called out. He jumped out of the chopper and took two steps forward to touch the child’s hand. She didn’t jerk away from him, simply smiled in his direction in obvious relief.
“Hi!” she chirped. “Mommy says you’re here to take us away from the scary people.”
Pyro had been through some shit in his life. Both as a child and as a Night Stalker. He’d seen the worst of humanity, and what he’d assumed was the best. He’d experienced every emotion under the sun…at least he thought he had. And yet this kid, this tiny human, somehow managed to surprise him.
He wasn’t a man who believed in love at first sight, but in that moment, he lost his heart to this brave, sunny, beautiful child.
“Gonna pick you up and put you in the helicopter,” he warned, almost yelling to make sure she heard him.
“Okay,” was her response, and she held her arms up toward him. Her blank stare was focused over his shoulder, as she obviously had no idea where exactly he was standing.
Pyro gently but quickly put his hands on her waist and lifted her easily into the back of the chopper.
“Walk about seven steps forward until you can touch the other side, then sit, knees pulled up to make room for everyone else,” he instructed her, instinctively giving her directions she could easily follow without the use of her sight.
The little girl nodded and did exactly as he instructed.
His heart beating hard, Pyro turned back around and saw the girl’s mother—he assumed that’s who it was, since the girl had said her mommy told her to go to him—was pushing another woman and a teenager in his direction.
Seeing the little girl get inside the helicopter safely was apparently what the others needed to become unstuck.
Suddenly, they all ran toward him in a panicked rush.
Pyro braced.
But the black-haired woman was right there too, telling everyone to calm down, not to rush, not to panic. She was also pulling bags out of people’s hands and throwing them back onto the roof, out of the way.
Things were still chaotic, and the people around him weren’t exactly calm, but without the woman’s help, things would’ve taken a lot longer and been a lot more dicey.
It didn’t escape Pyro’s notice that even though her daughter was onboard, the woman didn’t insist she be allowed to get into the chopper before the others.
She stayed back to help, to reassure, to organize.
It was going to be a tight fit to get everyone inside the chopper. They were over capacity already and had another six people to load.
“Shit, Pyro. Get ’em on! RPG being loaded at three o’clock.”
Pyro’s blood ran cold. If that missile hit the chopper while it was a sitting duck on the side of this building, loaded with all these people, they were all dead. He needed to get inside, help Casper get them the hell out of there.
But he wasn’t leaving. Not until everyone was onboard. Not until the little girl’s mother was onboard. The trust the little girl had shown by walking toward him, fucking blind, had left its mark on Pyro.
She needed her mom, and he wasn’t leaving without her. Not a chance in hell.
Will Bowie and Penny be okay? Will the chopper be blown to bits taking out our heroes and all the women and children along with it? (I think you know the answer to both of these questions!)
Getting off that roof is only the first problem Penny has to overcome…
but she’s lucked out because with Pyro at her side, things will become much easier for the single-mother.