“And if we do locate them and perform an exfiltration, we can’t get caught behind enemy lines. We need total denial ability.”
“Which we won’t have if our pilots are alive and are captured.”
Dugan grimaced. “That would be a political nightmare.”
Chapter 27
Sydney sighed dreamily as satisfaction hummed through her body. In the distance, the unmistakable soundtrack of birds singing and crickets chirping brought a smile to her lips.
“It’s always a good sign when a woman wakes up with a smile on her face.”
At the sound of her husband’s voice, Sydney fluttered open her eyes and broadened her smile. “I see you’re wearing one as well.”
Jett leaned forward and brushed a kiss against her lips. “That’s because I made love to an angel last night.”
“Anyone I know?” Her gaze drifted down and she frowned. “Unfair. What are you doing already dressed? How long have you been up?”
He kissed her again. “A couple of hours. I cased the area and found a small stream not too far from here. I like to get you over there so we can clean your leg up a little better. I also fund some good strong branches that I can fashion a pretty good stint.”
Sydney covered her immediate disappointment of Jett shifting to soldier mode. She was being ridiculous. They’d been shot down behind enemy lines and their primary mission was to survive, evade, resist, and escape-not to mend a dysfunctional marriage, make love in the rain, and whisper sweet nothings the morning after.
What was wrong with her?
Jett laughed as if he’d heard her thoughts and leaned forward for another kiss. “If it makes you feel better, I also ogled your naked body before I left this morning.”
Unmoved until she met his gold stare, the woman in her won out over the soldier. “For how long?”
“For a long time.” He laughed again and stole a second kiss.
Sydney slid her hands around his neck and deepened the kiss before she responded. “Then yes, I feel much better.”
When the morning smooching was over, Jett took extraordinary care in helping Sydney get dress and repack their tarp and camouflage nets. His guilt about their lovemaking returned tenfold when Sydney’s ability to walk on her bad leg became impossible. Not only that, but her pride also returned in full force and, she refused to accept help.
After the blazing sun zapped the rest of her energy and sweat poured like a waterfall down her body, she hitched onto her husband’s back and allowed him to carry her the rest of the way.
At the surprisingly crystal clear stream, she felt and was certain she looked like a frightened deer. They were taking a high-risk lingering to wash and clean up, simply because the area was so open. Both kept darting their eyes around in fear of being discovered.
Even with the two of them washing and cleaning her up, it took a considerable amount of time and when it came to her leg neither of them said what the other was thinking: infection had settled into her leg. The stint Jett design, did aid in her walking, but the truth of the matter was she was beginning to lose feeling in the limb and her fever had returned.
“Try the radio again,” Sydney said unable to fathom how much longer she could survive out in the wilderness.
Jett nodded, but waited until after he maneuvered her back into the thicket of trees and was satisfied with the hiding spot. He returned to the open stream and pulled out of his radio. With little confidence Osan would able to pick up the signal, he switched on the channel, made a silent prayer and called for help.
Mickelson must have dozed off while he waited to be connected on a conference call to the President of the United States because when a loud rap sounded on his door, he nearly jumped out of his skin and his chair. His secretary didn’t wait for him to bark his usual, ‘Enter,’ but rushed inside like the devil himself nipped at his heels.
Annoyed, Mickelson shook his head at the young man. “Whatever it is, it’s going have to wait. I’m on an important phone call.”
Lt. Shaffer didn’t bat an eye at the reprimand. “I think you’re going to want to here this, sir.”
The young lieutenant successfully won his attention and since the President had yet to come onto the line, Mickelson leaned back in his chair and met the soldier’s eyes. “What is it?”
“We picked a transmission, sir.”
Mickelson stood. “From?”
“Captain Colton, sir. We have a lock on his position.”
Jubilant, Mickelson pounded his fist on his desk. “Hot dog!”
“That’s not all, sir. There’s another pilot with him. She’s reportedly wounded.”
“She?” Mickelson’s heart clutched with hope for his no-nonsense, crack-pilot who lived and breathed the Air Force.
“Yes, sir. Major Sydney Garrett is with him. Captain Colton has reported that she will need immediate medical attention.”
Mickelson nodded grimly.
“And...”
“And what?” Mickelson frowned at the young lieutenant’s hesitance.
“Well, during Capt. Colton’s transmission he said something strange once.”
Mickelson immediate thought the captain maybe coerced through his transmission to the base and wanted to warn of a potential trap. “What do you mean ‘strange’?”
Lt. Shaffer dropped his gaze for the first time and seemed uncertain of himself.
“Come on, lieutenant. Spit it out.”
“Well, sir. I could have sworn one time he referred to Maj. Garrett as...” His gaze dropped again.
Mickelson was seconds away from throttling the young man. “Referred to Maj. Garrett as what?”
“As his wife, sir.”
An excited Jett returned to Sydney’s side and relayed the good news. Her reaction, however, was rather subdued with her flashing him a weak smile. “How long do you think it will take for them to get here?”
Jett’s good mood soured at the sheen of sweat that blanketed her face. He placed his hand against her forehead and his heart nearly stopped. “You’re burning up.”
“No. It’s nothing,” she lied and slid her thick tongue across her cracked lips. “It’s just a slight fever.” She attempted another smile but it resembled a grimace. “How long?”
“Not long, baby.” He brushed the hair back from her forehead. “The transmission was picked up on the Guard Channel. They know our exact location. You can hold on a little while longer, can’t you babe?”
She nodded. “Piece of cake.”
Jett’s eyes swelled with tears. The needling thought of losing her again after so much wasted time felt like a hammer slamming against his glass heart. Could life actually be this cruel?
A tear trickled down his face when the answer slammed into him. Yes. Life had always dealt him a bad hand. Why would now be any different?
Sydney slumped back awkwardly.
“Syd!” Jett caught her before her head slammed against a nearby tree. His heart lodged in his throat as he repositioned and laid her flat on her back. “Sydney, baby. Wake up. Sydney.” As gently as he could he patted her cheeks, trying to wake her. When she didn’t respond, he checked the dilation of her eyes and could barely contain his panic when all he saw were the white of her eyes.
“No. Oh, God. No.” He slapped her face again. “Wake up, Sydney. That’s an order!” A sob escaped his closed throat as he scrambled to look around. He needed to get her cool or break her fever. Jett couldn’t remember which.
His hands moved without much thought as he stripped off her survival vest, kit, and G-suit off. Doing so, he also removed the stint he’d made for her leg. From her kit, he removed a knife and made strips of cloths from the suit. Next, he gathered them up and raced back to the stream and soaked them in the water.
Hurry. Hurry.
Yet, it seemed he couldn’t move fast enough. Like everything was playing in slow motion. You can’t lose her now. Help is on the way.
He stood from the stream with the bundle of wet materia
l; but when he glanced up, time stopped as his gaze crashed into a young Korean soldier across the stream.
One HH-60G Pave Hawk and two A-10 Thunderbolts IIs launched within minutes of Capt. Colton’s end transmission to Osan Air Base. The HH-60G is monstrous helicopter who primary wartime mission is combat, search and rescue, infiltration, and exfiltration. Recoveries are made through landing or rope repelling. The five-man crew consider of a pilot, co-pilot, flight engineer and two parachute jumpers. The A-10 Thunderbolts commonly called the Warthog or the hog is a single seat twin-engine attack aircraft. The jet aircraft was design to provide close air support by attacking tanks, armored vehicles and other ground targets.
Now the team was airborne and covertly crossing the DMZ, the crew staved off concerns on whether they could re-establish communication with the ground survivors. They stayed on the coordinates of Capt. Colton’s last transmission. When they arrived to the evacuation site Korean soldiers were to greet them.
The sound of heavy gunfire penetrated the hazy fog clouding Sydney’s mind. Despite the steady pop of automatic weapons, the danger she was in didn’t quite register. She could only think about how hot it was and how nice it would be to have something cool to drink.
After what seem like a lifelong struggle, she managed to flutter open her eyes only to be confused once again by the Amazon-like trees surrounding her. Like her last black out, her memory was slow to kick into gear. When everything finally clicked into place, she forced herself into action.
But where is Jett?
Slowly, she sat up; surprised to be just in her basic olive green flight suit. The shooting finally registered and she jumped to the conclusion that Jett had met hostile fire. Lying next to her was her survival vest and she withdrew the 9mm Beretta.
Determination overruled pain as Sydney lumbered to her feet. However, it didn’t stop her body perpetual sweating. Realizing time was of the essence; she picked up her pace as she edged toward the sound of gunfire. If she were lucky, the element of surprise would be on her side.
Fact of the matter remained that she unable to move swiftly and she feared by the time she did arrive, it would be too late.
Turned out: she was lucky.
An American soldier with an Air Force Special Operations Command seemingly appeared out of nowhere and shouted through the deafening sound of the HH-60G hovering approximately a hundred feet above ground.
“Are you, all right?” the man shouted.
She nodded and nearly collapsed in the man’s arms. From there, she had a devil of a time remaining conscious, but she must have been hoisted over the man’s shoulder because the vision she had was of the ground but watching booted feet run across green grass. She blacked out, but came to, when she was being clipped to some type of hoist.
Black out.
Hands pulled her into a hub of a helicopter. At the back of the hub, another wounded soldier was being strapped into some type of apparatus.
Black out.
“There’s one more coming,” a man shouted in the distance.
Sydney pried open her eyes and peered out a small glass window to see a familiar figure race toward the lifting helicopter.
Jett.
She sat up, rooting like a personal cheerleader inside of her head. But then she watched in horror as a Korean soldier closed in behind Jett and took aim. One bullet hit above Jett’s knee. He stumbled and another bullet hit him in the back and spun him around to take a final bullet in the chest.
“No!” Sydney screamed until this time, she welcomed the darkness.
Epilogue
“Love is a fragile thing. You never know where you’re going to find it or even when you’re going to lose it.” Sydney sniffed and then drew encouragement from the tightening grip on her hand. “The easiest thing to do is to take love for granted.” She glanced up at Steven—her brother, best friend, and diary all rolled up in one. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t be babbling on about this. What time is the limousine coming?”
Steven pressed back the sleeve of his black suit and glanced at his watch. “Don’t worry. We have more than enough time.”
Sydney nodded, but then removed her hands from his. For a long moment, they sat in silence while she composed her thoughts. “Daddy was the first man I ever fell in love with,” she began. “For the longest time I didn’t believe that anyone could ever take his place in my heart—so I didn’t really bother to look.”
Suddenly feeling foolish, she laughed at herself before glancing around her father’s old private study. Her mother had kept everything pretty much the same. The old, grainy brown and white photo of her grandfather stared back at her. Underneath that one was picture of her father, handsome and debonair as always. Next to him was her military photo. She’d stared solemnly into the camera determined to display the very definition of an Air Force airman.
Sydney lowered her hands and navigated her electronic wheelchair around the room to take a closer look at her picture. After a long inspection, she sighed and leaned back in her chair and chuckled. “I was so full of myself. I was always so...”
“Serious?” her brother supplied.
Her smile split wider. “Yeah. Too serious.”
Her brother joined in on her amusement. “You’re just now figuring that out? Appears I’ve been giving you way too much credit. I thought you were quicker than that.”
She smiled, and then turned her attention to the collection of model airplanes setting on bookcases and shelves. “You know, I need to add a few modern planes. The HH-60G and the A-10 Thunderbolts II. After all, they did help save my life.”
Her humor faded.
“Well, I’m sure we can find those models somewhere—probably the Internet.”
Sydney nodded, sniffed, and tried to knuckle away a tear before it streaked down her face.
“No. No.” Steven rushed up to her chair with his handkerchief at the ready. “No crying today.” He kneeled down beside her and gently dabbed her eyes. “It breaks my heart to see you cry.”
Sydney glanced up at her brother while he fixed her face. Steven’s strong resemblance and matching baritone briefly transported back to when her father had said those very words to her and more tears rose to the surface.
“Okay. I think you’ve sprung a leak.” He hopped up and rushed toward the door. “I’m going to get mom.”
Before she could stop him, Steven was out the door and she was left to fix her own make-up.
Less than a minute later, her mother made a light tap of the door and then ducked her head inside. “How’s my little angel doing?”
“Fixing my leaky pipes before Steven completely freaks out on me.”
As Bethany Garrett eased into the room and approached her daughter, she held the same magnanimous smile she’d worn since the day Sydney returned from Korea. It didn’t matter what shape she was in, or how many surgeries she had to endure, or how many nights she cried into her pillow from the one wound doctors couldn’t fix, her family was just happy to have her home.
Sydney turned away from her mother and stared at the empty space next to her military picture. “There’s another picture that should be up here.”
Her mother placed a comforting hand against her daughter’s shoulder. “I think you’re right.”
A knock sounded behind them and the women turned to see Steven enter.
“The limousine is here. Are we ready?”
Sydney sucked in a deep breath and raged a war against an Army of tears. “As ready as I’ll ever be.” She shifted the remote and chair wheeled around and rolled toward the door.
At the stairs, a newly installed electronic apparatus aided in Sydney’s decent down the stairs. In foyer, her supportive family, including Uncle Jimmy surrounded and bestowed warm kisses and encouraging hugs.
It was a beautiful day. The grass was green, the clouds so white, and the sky a beautiful shade of blue.
Xavier Colton fidgeted in his black suit, trying his best to keep it together. His heavy h
eart was filled to capacity with guilt and regret. There wasn’t much in his life he was proud of; there were plenty of times he’d let his younger brother down—too many to count.
But today, he was finally going to be the big brother he should have always been.
“The limousines are arriving,” Valerie, his ex-wife and his brother’s childhood love, informed as she entered the room. “Everyone is getting ready. Don’t you want to go downstairs and greet the guests?”
Xavier hesitated.
Valerie moved to his side and slid an arm around his waist. “Stop punishing yourself. The past is the past. There is nothing we can do to change it.”
He knew she was right. Jett had pretty much told him the same thing at their father’s funeral three years ago, but their was something about the sadness and grief of his brother that day that made it difficult for him to believe that he’d truly been forgiven.
How can someone forgive you when you can’t even forgive yourself?
“Come on,” Valerie encouraged. “It’s time to do our duty.”
“Duty. Honor. Courage. Integrity.” Xavier smiled. “You’re starting to sound like my brother.”
“Those are code words for the United States Air Force. You forget my father served.” She winked. “Come on. Let’s take our place.”
As her black limousine rolled to a stop outside Atlanta Baptist Church, Sydney was nearly a basket case. She was feeling so many emotions at one time she didn’t know she could possibly go through with this.
Blue Skies Page 17