46. Sarah
SARAH
The helicopter hit the runway hard.
Metal screamed beneath us.
The side door opened before the aircraft stopped moving.
Cold wind tore through the cabin.
“Go!” Rook shouted.
Shadow Division moved.
Sniper and Shark jumped out first, securing the route to the waiting cargo transport.
Reef followed.
Dad and Luke Dawson helped Eric Hale from the helicopter.
Grant Barrett and Jackson Cole moved under their own power.
Wade stayed beside them.
After five years, he still put his men first.
I jumped down beside him.
The cargo aircraft waited less than a hundred yards away.
Its rear ramp stood open.
Engines roared.
The crew chief waved us forward.
“Where’s the other helicopter?” I shouted.
Rook looked toward the eastern valley.
“Coming.”
A warning siren began wailing across the airfield.
Fathom checked his screen.
“Hostile aircraft nine miles out.”
“How long?” Rook asked.
“Less than two minutes.”
The fighter would reach us before Falcon’s damaged helicopter.
Rook keyed his radio.
“Falcon, status.”
“Thirty seconds out.”
“You have fifteen.”
“I’ll mention that to the broken helicopter.”
Wade gripped my arm.
“Move.”
“I’m not leaving without them.”
“We’re not leaving anyone.”
His eyes held mine.
“But standing in the open won’t help.”
He was right.
I hated that everyone in my life had chosen tonight to be right.
We ran toward the transport.
The survivors boarded first.
Medics guided Hale toward a secured stretcher.
Dawson remained beside him.
Grant stopped at the top of the ramp and looked back.
“What?”
He stared at the open sky.
“The stars.”
I followed his gaze.
Clouds were breaking beyond the mountains.
For the first time in five years, he was standing beneath an open sky.
Jackson stopped beside him.
A rough laugh escaped him.
“I forgot there were that many.”
Wade looked upward.
His expression shattered something inside me.
Five years without stars.
Without snow touching his face.
Without knowing whether it was day or night.
Dad stepped beside him.
“We’ll find somewhere better to look at them.”
Wade swallowed.
“You still have the cabin?”
“I never sold it.”
“You said you hated that place.”
“I lied.”
Wade smiled.
The warning siren continued screaming.
Rook pointed into the aircraft.
“Inside. Now.”
The survivors moved.
A roar emerged from the eastern valley.
Falcon’s helicopter appeared.
The aircraft listed badly to one side.
Smoke trailed from its damaged tail.
“Come on,” Rook whispered.
The helicopter crossed the edge of the runway.
Its landing gear struck the ground.
The aircraft bounced.
The tail swung sideways.
The pilot fought for control as the helicopter skidded across the tarmac.
It stopped fifty yards from the transport.
Falcon jumped out.
Then Cobra.
Two operators pulled Reeves from the cabin.
Alan Madow came next with his hands restrained.
The pilot stumbled out last.
“Move!” Falcon shouted.
They sprinted toward us.
Fathom looked at his screen.
“Missile launch!”
The words froze my blood.
“Target?” Rook demanded.
“The airfield.”
The fighter wasn’t aiming for the helicopters.
It was aiming at all of us.
Rook ran down the ramp.
I grabbed his arm.
“What are you doing?”
“Buying time.”
“With what?”
He looked toward the damaged helicopters.
“Fuel.”
Cobra heard him.
His grin appeared.
“I knew you were my favorite.”
The two men ran toward the helicopters.
“Rook!”
He looked back once.
“Get Wade aboard.”
The cargo aircraft began rolling slowly.
The crew chief shouted from the ramp.
“We have to go!”
Falcon shoved Madow toward the aircraft.
Reef dragged Reeves behind him.
Everyone boarded except Rook and Cobra.
The fighter closed.
“Thirty seconds!” Fathom warned.
At the damaged helicopter, Cobra opened a panel and armed a charge.
Rook released the emergency brake.
The runway sloped toward the western edge.
The helicopter began rolling.
Slowly at first.
Then faster.
Directly away from the cargo aircraft.
Cobra and Rook sprinted toward us.
The transport gathered speed.
“Come on!” I screamed.
Rook caught the edge of the ramp.
Falcon grabbed his vest and hauled him aboard.
Cobra jumped next.
His hands caught empty air.
Wade threw himself onto the ramp and grabbed Cobra’s wrist.
The sudden weight dragged Wade forward.
I caught the back of his vest.
Rook grabbed me.
For one terrible second, all three men hung at the edge of the moving aircraft.
Then Falcon and Shark pulled.
Cobra crashed onto the ramp.
Wade fell beside him.
I landed on top of Wade.
The crew chief hit the ramp control.
The door began rising.
“Missile ten seconds out!” Fathom shouted.
The cargo aircraft accelerated.
The rolling helicopter reached the far end of the runway.
Cobra lifted the detonator.
“Goodbye, beautiful.”
He pressed the button.
The helicopter exploded.
Fire erupted into the sky.
The incoming missile altered course toward the sudden heat signature.
It struck the burning wreck.
The blast ripped through the airfield.
Our cargo aircraft lifted from the runway as the shock wave reached us.
The fuselage shuddered.
People slammed against restraints and equipment cases.
The rising ramp sealed shut.
For several seconds, no one spoke.
Then Cobra looked at Wade.
“You almost fell out of an airplane saving me.”
Wade remained flat on his back.
“I’m beginning to regret it.”
Cobra grinned.
“You like me.”
“I don’t know you.”
“You will.”
I pushed myself upright and looked at my brother.
“Are you hurt?”
Wade stared at me.
“You nearly went over the ramp.”
“Because you nearly went over the ramp.”
“Because he nearly fell.”
Cobra lifted one hand.
“In my defense?—”
Three voices answered at once.
“Shut up, Cobra.”
Silence held for a heartbeat.
Then Jackson began laughing.
Grant joined him.
Dawson laughed from beside Hale’s stretcher.
Even Dad gave up and shook his head.
The sound spread through the cargo bay.
Rough.
Exhausted.
Disbelieving.
Alive.
I looked around the aircraft.
Shadow Division.
Five survivors.
My father.
My brother.
Two captured architects of Project Nightfall.
Everyone who had entered that mountain had made it out.
Wade reached for my hand.
I took it.
He looked toward the small window in the fuselage.
Dawn touched the horizon.
The first sunlight he had seen in five years spilled across his face.
Wade closed his eyes.
A tear slipped down his cheek.
Dad placed one hand on his shoulder.
I held tighter.
No one spoke.
No words could hold what that moment meant.
My brother was free.
His men were coming home.
And somewhere behind us, seven powerful people were discovering that the ghosts they buried had survived.
They had tried to erase every witness.
Instead, they had created an army.