30. Carson
CHAPTER 30
CARSON
Wind whipped around us, pelting us with sand from every direction. The chopper touched down in the middle of the circle we’d formed around the LZ. We weren’t taking any chances with Taliban forces hot on our heels. This op was a bust.
An empty hole that should’ve been a goldmine of HVTs and intel but instead was eerily reminiscent of the op where Adam was captured. Only this was drier. At least we’d taken out a couple of low-level guys on that op.
Considering what I’d wanted to happen this past week, a useless mission and a dry hole fucking sucked. To be honest, though, the Middle East always sucked. Just… more so when you’d planned to be doing something you’d always dreamed of.
With the only person you’d ever dreamed of.
This was my first mission as an officer. I should’ve been ecstatic. I dreamed of becoming a SEAL, a tier-one operator, from as far back as I could remember. Every day I strapped on my gear, I lived my dream. Yet, here I was, praying the op would end.
I didn’t know why.
It wasn’t like Roman would be in Virginia waiting for me. He had to be back in Germany already. I didn’t have a hope of seeing him anytime soon. Not unless something happened to one of us. Luckily, the likelihood of a German holiday grew smaller as we climbed into the chopper, and it rose into the air.
After a week of little to no sleep, no showers, and only MREs to eat while trekking through the desert and forest to hit the target, I couldn’t wait to get back to base. Food, a shower, and as much fucking uninterrupted sleep as I could get topped my to-do list.
Right after I texted Roman.
Brock’s words to Roman in Newport about me keeping shit close to the vest ticked me off, but I knew I needed to be more forthcoming with Roman and my family. Living isolated like I had for the last ten years wasn’t healthy.
I let my head drop back against the wall of the chopper. My eyes drifted closed, and the image that greeted me was the same one I saw every time I closed my eyes since last summer. Margot in Roman’s arms, smiling at me. I didn’t know where they were. The background didn’t matter. What mattered was they were waiting for me, even if it was a figment of my imagination.
My foot jerked. I peeled my eyes open, glaring at my teammates, trying to figure out who kicked me. Foster’s grinning face smiled back at me.
“Wake your damn ass up.”
“Not sleeping. I was just sick of your ugly mug.”
He flipped me off. The action softened by the words that followed.
“You did good, kid.”
“You’re still not old enough to call me that.”
“Good luck with that. He does that shit to all of us except Walker and Parker.” A female voice sounded over the comms unit.
Foster’s laughter cut off, and he leaned to the side. My gaze followed his. The pilot looked fucking familiar, but I couldn’t place her.
Foster apparently could because he grinned like a fucking kid in a candy store.
“Lieutenant Holt, thanks for the ride,” he said.
She turned, looking over her shoulder at us. “You’re welcome, Lieutenant Holt.”
“It’s Captain Holt, now,” he corrected.
That’s when I realized she looked just like Foster’s cousin Heidi. “Heidi?”
“I thought that luscious little piece of heaven was a PMC?” Finlay asked.
“Heidi warned me about your Irish ass. Nice to meet y’all. I’m Celeste. Heidi’s twin sister.”
“Two beautiful, sexy lasses? Luck o’ the Irish, that is,” Finlay asked.
Leave it to him to hit on an admiral’s niece and his CO’s cousin.
A chorus of hellos and nice meeting you filled the comms unit. My head dropped back against the wall, rolling to stare out the chopper’s open door. Celeste turned off the comms link. She and Foster were still chatting, but I was too far away to hear what they were saying over the spinning rotor. I was okay with that.
The desert terrain gave way to the trees and mountains we climbed a few days ago. My eyes drifted closed, only to pop open. The tell-tale sound of a SAM pierced the air just before the missile warning system blared to life.
Chaos erupted. Voices yelled over one another. Sirens cut off words, making things sound garbled and disjointed.
“Motherfucker!”
“Incoming SAM, Lieutenant.”
“No shit, Sherlock.”
“Deploying countermeasures!”
“TOC, Alpha One, Missiles fired. Repeat. The exfil vehicle has been fired upon.”
“Find me a place to land this bird. I don’t wanna go down in the trees.”
“No LZ in sight, LT.”
“FUCK A DUCK!”
The chopper swooped and tilted as Celeste tried to evade the incoming rockets. All of us hung on for dear life.
“Brace for impact!” Celeste yelled.
“Yeah, we’re already there, dollface!” Finlay called back to her.
The surface-to-air missile struck the tail of the chopper, and the Black Hawk spun. Pieces of the bird exploded, showering down around us. I held on, trying to keep myself from being flung through the helicopter.
Another whistle filled the air.
“Where’re they coming from, goddammit?” the crew chief yelled, his head hanging out the gunner window.
I turned back to the window, searching the air for the tell-tale smoke trails, spotting it just as we twirled around.
“Brace for second impact!”
The chopper shuddered. Sparks and flames burst from above us. The bird rolled through the treetops. Metal screeched and groaned as we plummeted to the ground. Tree limbs smacked the side of the chopper.
Foster yelled over the cacophony.
“TOC, Alpha One, we’ve been hit! We’ve been hit by two SAMs. We are going down hard! Repeat. Exfil vehicle is going down!”
Moments later, the chopper smacked the earth, and everything went black.