Hallowed Ground (Flight & Glory #4)

by Rebecca Yarros

  “Dustoff, this is Gunman. Glad you made it out. We have backup coming your way, ETA seventeen minutes. What is your status?”

  “Three Deltas and one KIA.” Will looked away from my stare.

  “Roger that. You have company coming your way fast. They’re armed and don’t look friendly. We’ll cover you while we can.”

  I stumbled to my feet and took his CSEL. “Is there movement from the other crash site?”

  “Not that we’ve seen on thermal.”

  “Fuck.” I thrust the radio back at Will and reached for one of the M4s they’d pulled from the bird.

  “Sir, I need you to sit down,” Rizzo ordered.

  “We have to get to the other crash.”

  “Not until I look at you. As soon as I do, we’ll go, so you’re just delaying us.” He motioned to a boulder.

  “Fast.”

  He did a quick exam while Will got details on our incoming from the Apache pilots. “Get on the ground. Your shoulder is dislocated.”

  I dropped to the ground without complaint. He braced himself with his feet, gripped my upper arm, and counted to three. Then white-hot pain seared my vision, and lessened as soon as it came. “All better?” I asked with a gasp, blinking through the residual pain that had dulled to a throb.

  “Hardly. My guess is your radius and ulna are broken. Can you rotate your forearm?”

  Shit. Pain shot up my arm when I tried to do as he showed. “No.”

  “Can you move your fingers?”

  I wiggled my digits. “Yep, so I can fire a weapon. Now let’s go.”

  Rizzo sighed. “Sir, I think you’ve forgotten that you have a six-inch-long piece of metal imbedded in your thigh.”

  Holy shit, he was right. As if voicing the injury had given it permission to hurt, it began to scream—pulsing, hot, and insistent. “Damn. Is it near an artery? How did I not feel that?”

  “Adrenaline,” he answered and ripped a hole in my pants to examine me. “Looks like it’s straight into muscle. Painful, but I’m not worried about you bleeding out. To be safe, we’ll leave you here with Captain Trivette and check out the other site.”

  Fuck that. I sat up, grabbed the shard of the slippery, bloody metal, and yanked it out with a guttural yell.

  “Damn it, Walker!” Rizzo dressed my oozing leg while he cursed me out. It only took a minute or two, but felt like years.

  “Seriously?” Carter asked, glancing at my leg.

  “You would do the same to get to him.”

  He nodded once, and then helped me to my feet. I tested my weight on my leg. It hurt like a bitch, but it would do until we could get to Jagger. With my left hand I took one of the M4s Rizzo had gathered, and checked the clip. My right was weak, and I still couldn’t rotate my wrist, but it’d do. “Go figure. I become a pilot, and I’m still on the fucking ground with an M4.”

  Always keep one bullet. Never let them take you alive. How fast being infantry came back to me.

  “Let’s go,” Will said, with Captain Trivette already over his shoulder.

  “Your ribs okay?” I asked as he flinched.

  “I’ll survive.”

  I ditched my helmet and ignored every bite of pain and dizziness as we crossed the rocky terrain by flashlight, knowing we were sitting ducks at the bottom of the valley. The Apache flew lower and fired just beyond the crash site. Thank God they were here.

  We made it to the site, and I swallowed the paralyzing fear that had made its home in my throat. Carter laid Captain Trivette on the ground carefully and then climbed the fuselage.

  “Gunman one-two, we have arrived at the second site,” I called over the radio, leaning on a large boulder to keep the pressure off my leg. Mentally, I walled off the pain, willing myself to focus on something else besides the throbbing that kept time with my heartbeat. A quick flashlight shine revealed that I’d already bled through the bandage. Fuck it. I climbed the rocks anyway, coming around the wreckage until I got to the cockpit glass, which was almost level with the hillside.

  “Roger that. We have a few more minutes of fuel, and then you’ll be on your own for about five minutes,” the Apache pilot radioed. “We will stay with you as long as possible. ETA of backup is about seven minutes, but these hills are crawling.”

  Five minutes. It had taken less time to crash. “Roger.”

  “What can you see?” I asked Will, who’d busted through the cockpit glass. Just be alive. I cannot take your body home. Just be alive.

  “He’s alive!” Will shouted.

  Thank you, God.

  “What about the copilot?” Rizzo asked, pushing ahead of me to get to Jagger.

  Will used a knife to loosen the seal on the glass toward the front of the cockpit and then kicked through it. He leaned in for a few seconds. “Front seater is KIA.”

  Fuck. The Apache left us to refuel, and I started my stopwatch. Five minutes.

  Rizzo cut Jagger loose and dragged him out of his seat. I took the brunt of his weight, gritting my teeth against the pain radiating through my arm. Rizzo jumped down and then helped me lower Jagger to the ground.

  His face was a bloody mess, and the rest of him wasn’t much better. I put my fingers against his neck and felt his pulse, faint and thready, but there. I leaned over him and lifted his eyelids. His pupils weren’t blown. “Jagger, it’s Josh. Time to wake the fuck up, man. You have a wife at home, and a baby who needs you.”

  “Jesus Christ, he’s a mess,” Rizzo muttered, swinging his bag down from his back.

  “He’s also my best friend. College through flight school.” I bit out each word as I gave him room to work.

  Rizzo’s eyes flew to mine, understanding dawning. Keep him alive. He gave me a curt nod and went back to taking Jagger’s vitals, and I helped Will remove the mangled body of the copilot. We got him to the ground, and I checked my watch. Two minutes. The numbers swirled in my vision, and I blinked, trying to focus.

  Gunshots popped, then wizzed past us. It was a sound that I thought I’d only hear again in my nightmares. We hit the ground, Rizzo covering Jagger.

  A new volley of shots tore up the ground to my left.

  “They’re up the hill!” Will called out.

  “I can’t fucking see!” I answered.

  We low-crawled to the nearest rocks, hauling Jagger behind us. God only knew the extent of his injuries, but he’d be safer here.

  Will and I locked eyes, weapons ready, and with a nod, both rose over the rocks. Holy shit. They were coming straight for us, so many that I couldn’t count. I fired until my clip ran dry, and then threw my only extra magazine in after Will did.

  A gunshot hit the boulder next to me, and I turned to see four more coming around the fuselage. We were surrounded. A battering ram punched into my chest, sending me into the rock behind me. Rizzo fired, crouched next to Jagger.

  No blood. Round didn’t go through. Now get up or you’re dead. You’ll never see her again.

  I sucked air into my lungs and pushed off the rock, meeting Will to stand back-to-back over Jagger. They kept coming. I dropped the M4 when I expended my ammo and reached for my nine mil off my vest.

  “Dustoff one-two, this is Gunman one-four. Two minutes out with Dustoff one-one. Pop illum,” the radio called.

  I set the device to signal the Apache while Rizzo covered me, then tossed it on top of the fuselage and reached for my radio. “Gunman, we’re taking fire. LZ is red hot.”

  I was firing again before the radio hit the ground. One bullet. Save one bullet. Never let them take you alive.

  My last magazine loaded, I counted every shot until I reached thirteen. Two more.

  I will do whatever it takes to come home to you. The last promise I’d made to Ember shot through my mind, and I shouted as I fired the last two shots from my magazine. “I’m out!”

  Everything happened at once. The Apaches arrived, their guns splitting the night, but one guy rounded the back of the fuselage and raised his weapon to me.

 
December, I’m so sorry.

  “Josh!” Will spun, shoving me to the ground and firing a round to take out the last of them.

  He stood over me, illuminated by the moonlight, and looked down with a relieved sigh and a nod. The Apaches were here, and the radio announced the arrival of the ground troops and medevac.

  I glanced at Rizzo, who threw a thumbs-up as he checked Jagger’s vitals. Maybe we’ve made it. Maybe we’ll be okay.

  Will looked at us then offered me a hand to pull me to my feet. As I reached for it, three shots rang out from over the rock.

  Will’s eyes flew wide, his stunned gaze locked onto mine.

  “No!” My scream was so raw that I barely recognized it as my own. “God, no!”

  My vision swam in red and pain raced through my body like an electric shock.

  We’d been so close.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Ember

  This wasn’t happening. Not again. Not Josh.

  Paisley squeezed my fingers as the officers walked toward us. I fought my lungs to draw air, as if they’d given up the will to do so.

  “What do we do? What do we do? What do we do?” Paisley chanted rhythmically in a whisper.

  I drew my eyes away from the reapers at our door and turned to her. “We fill the holes.”

  Her gaze flew to mine, wide and already shimmering with tears. She gave a series of tiny nods, and we stepped forward together to the edge of our porch.

  He never called me when he got off mission. He never called. He always calls.

  “Officers,” I said with a voice much stronger than I thought I was capable of.

  The two captains stopped a few feet from us, their eyes darting back and forth between us. Time stopped when the taller of the two opened his mouth to speak.

  I blinked, and in that second, I pictured Josh’s hands on my skin, his smile when he asked me to marry him. The way his hand had warmed me through the glass when he played hockey. Being held above his head after his game. Everything about him coursed through me, and I held my breath and that feeling as I opened my eyes again.

  “Paisley Bateman?”

  My breath left in a whimper that was part relief, but more grief. It’s not Josh. He’s okay. Not Josh. But Jagger. Oh, God. Jagger. Her knees buckled, and I caught her against me, holding her upright.

  “I’m Paisley,” she said in a half whisper.

  “I’m Captain Xavier, this is Captain Jones. Would you like to go inside?” The taller one stepped forward onto our front steps.

  Paisley shook her head, but we backed up so they could meet us. “Tell me. Just say it.”

  The shorter one swallowed. “The Secretary of the Army has asked me to express his deep regret that William Carter was killed in action in the Tor Ghar mountains, Afghanistan, late last night, the sixteenth of May. He was killed in a firefight that followed a helicopter crash, which is still under investigation. The Secretary extends his deepest sympathy to you and your family in your tragic loss.”

  What oxygen I’d managed to suck in left in a gush.

  Will. No. No. No. He was just here. Two weeks. It’s only been two weeks.

  “Will!” Paisley turned into my shoulder, her slight frame shaking in gut-wrenching sobs. I wrapped my arms around her and held on tight, knowing that the ripping my heart felt for the loss of my friend was nothing like what she was enduring.

  She loved him.

  A thousand words came to mind as tears flooded my eyes—the normal things people said when tragedy struck someone else. But I couldn’t lie and tell her it was okay. I couldn’t placate her and say that I was sorry. We’d both been here before and knew that the words we needed to hear might not even exist in human language, so I said the only thing I could. “I’m here. You’re not alone.”

  “Will!” His name was an anguished cry, and I felt the first of my tears slip down my face. “Oh, God, not him. His mama—” She sucked in her breath and stood, turning to the officers. “Have you told his mama?”

  Their eyes met, and a darker feeling of unease settled over me.

  “You’re listed as his primary next-of-kin, ma’am. His parents will be notified directly, but everything is in your name.”

  She wiped her tears away with the back of her hand and nodded, trembling. “Okay.”

  The officers locked eyes again, and the tall one, Captain Xavier, swallowed.

  I was going to be sick. I knew that look. I hated that look.

  “They’re not done,” I whispered. “You’re not done.” Helicopter crash. There’s never just one casualty from a helicopter crash.

  Captain Jones cleared his throat. “December Howard?”

  Every cell in my body stopped functioning. My heart ceased its beat. Paisley took my hand again with a desperate grip. A roaring began in my head that I fought to ignore.

  “I’m December.” My mother is June. Past and present warred for control of my brain.

  “Maybe now we could step inside?” Captain Xavier said to Paisley.

  “No, you tell us together,” I said. “No matter what it is.”

  The two officers looked at each other. “I’ve never had this happen,” Jones whispered.

  “Yeah, me, either,” Xavier replied.

  “Tell us!” Paisley shouted, her usual sweet demeanor long since forgotten.

  Captain Xavier swallowed. “We would normally make a phone call, first. Both Lieutenant Bateman and Lieutenant Walker have been seriously injured in helicopter crashes in the Tor Ghar mountains, Afghanistan. It was a combined incident.”

  My heart dropped to the porch beneath me. “They’re not dead,” I whispered to Paisley. To myself. “Injured, not dead.” I could handle injured, any kind of injured, as long as Josh was coming home to me.

  Paisley nodded.

  I straightened my shoulders and tried to shove my grief over Will to the back of my mind. “Officers, if you’d like to come inside, we’d like to hear what you know.”

  “I’m getting on a plane,” Sam said through the phone. As much as I wanted my best friend here, it just wasn’t possible.

  “No, you’re not,” I responded, zipping my carry-on. “Where the hell is my passport?”

  “Ember…”

  “Sam, you have another final to take, and I’ll be in Germany anyway. I’m not sure how long they’ll keep Josh there.” I lifted my suitcase off the bed then pulled it into the guest room so I could sort through the fire safe. “Paisley booked a flight, and we’re airborne in two hours.”

  “I can’t do nothing.”

  I pulled my passport from under a stack of papers in the safe and put it in the back pocket of my capris. “You’re not. You’re doing exactly what I need you to do, which is take your final.”

  “There’s nothing else?”

  My heart sank as I glanced at a framed picture of all of us at flight school graduation. “I need you to check on Morgan, but I’m not sure she knows yet.”

  “I can do that. Ember, I’m so sorry.”

  I paused in the doorway and almost let it in, the reality of what had happened. It was like this giant monster screaming at the gates of my sanity, begging to be let in, to be acknowledged. But I knew the moment I did, I wouldn’t be able to function.

  I was not my mother. I would not break.

  “He’s okay,” I said. “He’s alive, and that’s all that matters.”

  “You’re right.” A door closed in the background. “Grayson’s home from post.” She handed over the phone.

  “Ember? I’m sorry it took so long to get here. I was…making arrangements. Sam filled me in a little, but how bad is it?”

  Grayson’s voice buckled my knees, and I sat at the top of our stairs. Thank God he hadn’t been with them. “They’re alive, and everyone has their limbs. Jagger’s legs are pretty torn up, and he has some bad internal bleeding. The last we heard he’s still in surgery. It’s only been a couple of hours since they notified us.”

  “Josh?”

&nb
sp; I took in two gulping breaths, trying to maintain some semblance of control. “Broken arm, dislocated shoulder, and a ruptured spleen. He’s out of surgery but not awake yet. And Will…” The words wouldn’t come.

  “I know,” he said softly. “I’ve got a call into his unit and already talked to Paisley’s dad. I’m leaving tomorrow for Kandahar. I’ll bring him home.”

  Grief welled in my chest, a sorrow that could not be ignored and refused to remain compartmentalized. My throat tightened, and I covered my mouth as if it could keep my internal screams silent. I nodded, like he could see me, my teeth sinking into my lower lip. “What are the odds?” I squeaked. “What are the fucking odds of this happening?”

  Grayson sighed. “If Josh knew it was Jagger that went down, you know there was nothing that could have stopped him from going. Any one of us would have done the same. I would have. I should have been—”

  “Stop right there.” I cut him off. “You are exactly where you need to be right now.”

  A few moments of silence passed between us before he finally spoke. “You’re headed to Germany?”

  “Yeah. Josh won’t be there for long, but we don’t know about Jagger, and I don’t want Paisley to go alone. And honestly, if I can see Josh for even five minutes…”

  “You need to feel his heartbeat.”

  My forehead dropped to my hands. “Yes. Does that make me weak?”

  “That makes you human. He’s going to need you. I lived with him for almost two years, and he never really talked about what happened his first tour. Someone who carries that around, Ember, they’re going to need to lean somewhere.”

  He hadn’t talked to me about it, either, just glossed over details, promised me he was fine, and moved on. But I’d never pushed.

  Maybe you should have.

  The front door opened, and Paisley popped her head in. “Car’s here. You ready?”

  “Paisley’s here. We have to go. Give my love to Sam, and we’ll call you from Landstuhl.”

  “I’ll keep my cell on,” he promised then hung up.

  “I still can’t believe you found us plane tickets so quickly.” I hauled my bag down the stairs and grabbed my messenger bag from the couch. There was a knock at the door. “You called a cab?”