Chapter 3 #2
Irritation rose up within Monica, which was a relief. She was used to being irritated with people. It was more…comfortable, than the gratitude she felt seconds ago. Pressing her lips together, she nodded.
“I’m not trying to treat you like a child,” Stuart said with infinite patience, proving that he could somehow read her mood. “I just have no idea what we’re going to run into when we leave and if you’re holding onto my belt, I know where you are and can act accordingly.”
That made sense, and Monica appreciated him taking the time to explain. That was one thing her father never did. When he said something, he expected her immediate acquiescence, never bothering to explain the reasons behind his orders.
“With any luck, we’ll be inside the chopper in less than ten minutes and you’ll be reunited with your charges as soon as it can be arranged. Grab on and let’s get out of here.”
Monica wasn’t sure why she suddenly wasn’t more excited to see August and Remington.
Maybe because along with seeing them, she’d have to talk to their parents.
Deep down, she resented the fact that they’d left her in the house.
And it hadn’t been the ambassador or his wife who’d notified the authorities of her whereabouts.
It had been their son. She knew she was just another hired helper, but it still stung that they hadn’t immediately raised the alarm that another American citizen was alone and vulnerable in their home.
The walk through the streets was eerie. Almost completely silent except for the occasional barking dog. Monica could see flickering light from the random fires still burning in the distance, in all directions from where they were walking. The mobs had been busy.
She could also hear Slate talking to someone through the radios he and Stuart had in their ears. He was constantly updating their location and pinning down where the chopper should pick them up.
After ten minutes or so of walking, they came to the edge of a large park. Monica had been there with August and Remington in the past. There weren’t many trees, and the open space where children could play soccer was the perfect place for a helicopter to land.
She heard Slate confirming their coordinates as Stuart urged her to squat down next to some sort of shed on the edge of the field.
“Things are gonna go hard and fast in a few minutes,” he warned.
Monica took a deep breath and nodded. Instinctively, she looked around for potential dangers.
It was late…or early, depending on how she looked at it, and while most citizens in the area should be locked safely behind doors, considering what had been happening all around them, the possibility that there were still some people out and about looking for trouble was high.
Slate’s gaze was fixed to the sky, searching for the chopper and listening for its arrival, while Stuart did the same as Monica…looking for trouble on the ground.
Within three minutes, which seemed much longer, Monica heard the distinctive sound of a helicopter in the distance.
“We’ll wait until we have a visual before we leave cover,” Slate said.
Monica wanted to say “duh” but kept her mouth shut. It was never good to antagonize a soldier when their adrenaline was up.
When Slate gave the signal to move, she still couldn’t see the chopper in the inky black sky, but she could definitely hear that it was almost on top of them. Even with the full moon, the black helicopter was difficult to see until it was directly overhead.
The threesome ran for the center of the field—and for a split second, Monica thought she saw something moving on the far side of the open space. It was just a dark shape, but she didn’t hesitate to bring it to Stuart’s attention.
“Movement at one o’clock,” she told him as they ran, using the terminology her father had taught her for giving directions in battle.
Stuart looked in the direction she’d indicated. She saw the movement again, and opened her mouth to update Stuart when he called out urgently to his teammate.
“Slate! Two o’clock!”
No sooner were the words out of his mouth than gunshots rang through the quiet night.
“Fuck!” Slate swore. “Shots fired, shots fired!” he yelled.
Monica assumed he was telling whoever was on the other end of the radio, because she and Stuart had obviously heard them.
Quicker than she’d expected him to move, Stuart shifted, grabbing her around the waist and practically throwing her down.
He didn’t hurt her, easily controlling their descent so she didn’t slam onto the ground.
Then, to her surprise, he crouched over her, his chest to her back, his elbows on the scraggly grass on either side of her head, cocooning her under his body as he scanned the edges of the field.
The helicopter was directly over them now, the rotor blades kicking up dirt and making it almost impossible to hear anything other than the machinery whirring above their heads.
“Get her inside!” Slate yelled as he went down on one knee and held his rifle at the ready.
Monica couldn’t tell if someone was still shooting or not.
She also had no idea if they were trying to hit them or the chopper.
She supposed it didn’t really matter at this point.
If the helicopter went down, it would crush the three of them like bugs.
A bullet to the head or being crushed under tons of metal and steel would have the same outcome.
She didn’t have time to think about what was happening. A ladder suddenly appeared in front of her, and Stuart jerked her upright. He had a tight hold on her biceps as he reached for the metal ladder with his other hand.
Then, to her surprise, he let go of her and climbed up a few rungs.
Monica was positive he was leaving her to save himself, and not altogether surprised.
Until he stopped, her head level with his knees.
The ladder was swinging with the movement of the chopper twenty or so feet above them.
He fiddled with something on the ladder before he leaned down and held out his hand.
Monica stared at his fingers—and literally couldn’t move.
Another day…another person’s hand…and the consequences of taking that hand flew through her brain.
“Monica! Grab on!” Stuart yelled.
But she didn’t move. Couldn’t. Her muscles wouldn’t cooperate. If she accepted his help, something bad would happen. She knew it.
As if from the far end of a long tunnel, she heard Stuart swear, then he was back down in front of her once more.
He took hold of her chin and tipped her head up so he could see her eyes.
In a distant part of her mind, Monica knew there was no time for this.
Someone was out there shooting, and they needed to get into that chopper and leave the area.
“You need to get on the ladder,” a deep voice said. “Can you do that?”
Monica nodded without thought.
“Okay, I’ll hold it still. Here. One foot up…good job. Now the other.”
Monica followed directions without hesitation.
“Grab onto the sides, yes, like that. Step up one more. Good.” He quickly but calmly encouraged her up two more rungs. “Hold on. Whatever you do, don’t let go. No matter what. Can you do that?”
Could she? Yes. She was her dad’s little soldier, she could hold on like he told her to. She didn’t want to know what the repercussions would be if she didn’t.
A part of her knew that this man wasn’t her father.
She wasn’t ten years old and she wasn’t back in Wyoming on her dad’s “training grounds.” But the vision of that hand reaching down to her wouldn’t leave her mind.
Was making her remember too much, and her brain had turned off in order to protect her from reliving the pain that had come as a result of accepting help.
“Now don’t freak out, but I’m coming up behind you,” Monica heard the man say a second before she felt his body heat against her back.
He was so much taller than her, even standing on the rung below her own.
She watched him clip a carabiner onto the side rail to her right, then a moment later did the same on the left.
His left hand curled around hers, holding her tightly to the ladder.
“Secure,” he said.
And just like that, Monica snapped back to the present. Stuart was behind her, talking into his radio. The wind from the rotors continued to whip around them as the chopper rose a few feet higher.
Looking down, she saw Slate step onto a rung below them. The ladder had been long enough that part of it was lying on the ground when she and Stuart had strapped in.
“I’m on. Go!” Slate yelled loud enough for Monica to hear him, even without a radio in her ears.
The helicopter immediately rose at a fast clip and began to head out of the area.
Monica squeezed her eyes shut as they flew through the air. It was dark, but the burning houses she’d glimpsed were more than enough for her to see how high up they were.
“You’re doing great,” Stuart said as he pressed closer, speaking into her ear. “Hang on for just a minute or so longer and they’ll pull us up.”
Even as he said the words, Monica could feel the ladder shuddering under them as people in the helicopter hauled them upward.
There was so much she wanted to say to Stuart, but it was just as well, talking was next to impossible as they flew toward safety, because the words were stuck in her throat.
She’d choked. Bad. Any one of them could’ve been shot by whoever was lurking in the shadows along the edge of that field.
She realized now that Stuart had gotten onto the ladder first to stabilize it before assisting her, and she’d made everything more complicated by refusing his help.
The position he was in right now couldn’t be comfortable, yet he hadn’t berated her or become impatient. He’d simply pivoted to another plan.
Monica felt sick. It had been years since she’d suffered this intense feeling of dread in the pit of her belly. Stuart would have every reason to chew her out when they were finally safe. She’d put them all in danger, and there was no way he could overlook that.
It took a bit of maneuvering to get both her and Stuart inside the chopper.
Monica realized another reason he’d gotten onto the ladder first, climbing a bit higher than she’d been—it would’ve made it much easier to get into the helicopter.
Now, the men inside had to awkwardly haul both her and Stuart together over the edge of the open door and into the cabin.
He pointed to a corner, and Monica gladly crawled toward it, trying to make herself as small as possible as she watched Stuart turn back to the opening and help bring Slate inside as well.
The second the door slid shut, the noise level dropped considerably, but not enough to have a normal conversation.
Stuart took a set of headphones from one of the crew members and brought them over to her. He started to put them on her head, but stopped himself at the last second. He gestured to them with a nod, then lifted an eyebrow.
Too tired and off-kilter to reach for them, Monica merely nodded.
Stuart gently placed them over her ears, and she sighed in relief as the noise from the engine reverberating all around her was immediately silenced.
Stuart kept his eyes on her for a long moment before nodding and turning back to grab his own set. Monica kept her gaze glued to him as he settled himself nearby. He began to talk to someone through the headset, but she was too shaken by her flashback to pay attention to what everyone was saying.
Ten minutes later, Monica felt a change in the helicopter’s engine. They’d throttled back or something. Looking over at Stuart, she found his gaze on her. He gave her a thumb’s up and a small smile.
Then she felt a thump as the chopper landed.
Blowing out a sigh of relief, she waited for the helicopter to shut down so she could take off the headphones. The door slid open, and she saw four men dressed exactly like Stuart and Slate standing there.
“Good to see you!” one of the men exclaimed.
“If you wanted a ride, I would’ve approved some time off so you could go to Disney World,” another quipped.
The others simply smiled as Slate hopped out of the cabin.
Stuart followed, then turned back to her. “Come on, you’re safe now.”
Monica noticed that he didn’t hold his hand out to her. A part of her was grateful, and another part hated that he was so observant, he knew exactly how badly she’d freaked out earlier.
She scooted over to the door of the chopper and dangled her legs over the edge, somewhat disgusted that because of her height, she was still quite a ways from the ground.
“You got this?” Stuart asked.
Monica nodded and hopped out. Her legs almost gave out under her, probably because adrenaline was still coursing through her veins, making her unsteady.
But Stuart was there to ensure she didn’t make a complete fool of herself by falling on her face.
He grabbed hold of her arm, letting go as soon as he was certain she wouldn’t fall.
Again, a part of her was glad he was so perceptive. Oddly…another part wished he’d held on longer. To say she was confused was an understatement.
“Monica Collins, I assume?” one of the men asked.
“That’s me,” she said. Looking around, she saw that the helicopter had landed on what could only be an airport runway. There were stretches of blinking lights and she could see a well-lit building in the distance.
“There are two little boys who will be very glad to see you,” another man said.
Monica felt her muscles loosen at knowing August and Remington were obviously safe.
“These are my friends,” Stuart said. “Midas, Aleck, Jag, and the guy with the phone to his ear is Mustang, our team leader.”
“Nice to meet you,” Monica said, shocked that the dread she always felt when she saw men in uniform was currently absent. She didn’t have time to figure out why before Mustang turned to Stuart with a frown, holding out the phone.
“It’s the commander. He wants to talk to you.”
“Now?” Stuart asked.
“Now,” Mustang confirmed.
Butterflies began to flutter in Monica’s belly again when she saw Mustang’s gaze dart to her, then slide away, as if something was wrong.
Stuart accepted the phone and took a step away from her, but Monica impulsively reached out and grabbed hold of his sleeve. “If that’s about me, I want to hear it.”
He shook his head, but Monica took a step closer.
“It’s my right,” she insisted.
Something passed between them as they stared at each other, and just when she was sure Stuart was going to deny her, he nodded.
“I don’t think—” Mustang started, but Stuart held up a hand, cutting off his friend.
Stuart glanced at the phone and hit a button before saying, “Pid here. Mustang said you needed to speak with me, Sir?”