34. Bring Them Home
Chapter thirty-four
Bring Them Home
Matt
The plane bucks through turbulence, rattling as if it’s held together by duct tape and a prayer. The engine whines at the wrong pitch, like it isn’t sure it wants to keep going. Not exactly comforting, but it’s airborne, and that’s all that matters.
The air hangs heavy with sweat, gunpowder, and burned fuel. The aftermath of the fight clings—grime smeared into fatigues, dried blood on sleeves, muscles aching from exertion. The drone of engines fills the space, but nobody speaks.
Not relief—just men waiting for the other shoe to drop.
I sit hunched, elbows on my knees, staring at nothing. My pulse has slowed, but the tension in my chest hasn’t. Across from me, Bishop sits with arms crossed, his expression unreadable. He isn’t the only one still wired.
Hale tilts his head back, eyes closed, but the muscle in his jaw ticks. Steele slumps against the bulkhead, running a hand over his face before lazily tapping the butt of his rifle against his knee—click, click, click.
The cabin jolts, a low groan shaking through the airframe.
Steele cracks an eye. “That went well.”
Bishop doesn’t look at him. “Flawless execution.”
Demo huffs. “If by flawless, you mean alive by accident, then sure.”
Hale laughs. “At least we stay consistent.”
Charlie’s voice cuts through. “We’re good for now, but we need a landing plan.”
Bishop leans forward. “Tell me we’ve got a radio.”
Charlie shakes his head. “Yeah, but unless you’ve got a direct line to God, we’re not calling the U.S. from here.”
Bishop sighs. “Then find someone who can.”
Charlie adjusts in the cockpit, flipping through frequencies. “This is Alpha Team, Aegis Global. Any station, do you copy?”
Static hisses. Every failed attempt feels like a fist tightening around my ribs.
Hale rubs his temple. Steele keeps tapping. The plane jolts again, making Demo shift in his seat.
Charlie tries one last frequency. Then—a burst of sound, calm and professional, slices through the static.
“Unidentified aircraft, state your call sign.”
Charlie doesn’t hesitate. “This is Alpha Team, Aegis Global. Requesting priority contact with HQ.”
Silence.
Then another voice. “Alpha Team, this is Relay-6. Stand by for HQ.”
Bishop tenses beside me.
“Callahan must’ve set up a forward relay after we went dark,” Demo murmurs.
I glance at Bishop. He doesn’t say it, but I know what he’s thinking. Callahan was prepared for this.
A long stretch of quiet, then Callahan—sharp and unwavering. “Bishop.”
Bishop answers instantly. “Damn good to hear your voice, boss. We’re airborne. Extraction compromised. Need an LZ.”
“Already set,” Callahan replies. “Private strip outside N’Djamena—transmitting coordinates.”
Charlie taps the nav screen, adjusting course. “Chad. We can make that.”
“Fuel and supplies will be waiting. Bravo’s securing the strip now.”
Bishop exhales, tension finally easing from his shoulders. “Copy.”
The radio crackles once more, and Callahan’s tone softens, barely. “Good work. Bring them home.”
The line cuts.
A beat of silence.
Then Demo lets out an exaggerated sigh. “Well, boys, looks like we get to live another day.”
Steele groans, stretching his legs. “Would’ve been a real pain in the ass to die in Niger.”
“Hell yeah, it would’ve,” Hale mutters. “At least somewhere with a beach, you know?”
The weight in the cabin loosens, but it remains. Enough for fatigue to settle in.
Steele pops his neck. “Two and half hours to Chad? Plenty of time for a nap.”
Demo scoffs. “Nap? I need a steak, a beer, and a woman who doesn’t want to kill me.”
Hale smirks. “Two out of three ain’t bad.”
Charlie chuckles from the cockpit. “I’ll make sure we land smooth so none of you wake up with whiplash.”
Demo snickers. “Somebody remind me to send Callahan a thank-you card. Not for the rescue—just for keeping us from hoofing it across the desert.”
Steele props his boots up on the empty seat. “After the month we’ve had, we were owed an easy one.”
Hale sighs, tired. “That was our easy one?”
The laughter that follows is gritty, raw, edged with exhaustion—the kind that only comes when you walk out of hell alive.
I lean back, eyes on the ceiling of the aircraft.
For now, all we can do is fly.