When everything checks out, I get the flag to pull onto the runway.
“S-2-Lone Star to Tower,” I patch into my radio.
“Copy S-2-Lone Star, this is Tower.”
“S-2-Lone Star requesting permission to take off,” I say.
“Tower to S-2-Lone Star, permission to take off is granted.”
The F-35 is an interesting airplane. It’s one of very few that can pull both a conventional takeoff and landing and a vertical takeoff and landing. The avionics are cutting edge, and the skin panels and quiet engines keep it from being picked up by radar. It’s actually perfect for the surveillance missions we’re running today.
I push the thrusters and push on the throttle, and my aircraft lifts. Unlike other aircraft, the Lightning has a two-stick cockpit. Not many pilots like the change, but I love it. I take a deep breath, and like Icarus, I fly as close to the sun as I can. I can’t help myself. The sky calls to me.
Today, we’re going to fly past a small mountain range just past the barrier that we protect and see what we can see. Cinco, Hoots, and I are going to be a three-man three-aircraft team to run surveillance and patrol along the mountain range.
“S-2-Hooter to Tower, requesting permission to take off.”
“Tower to S-2-Hooter, permission to take off is granted.”
Hooter takes off and follows me to the mountains.
“S-2-Cinco, requesting permission to take off,” I hear Cinco say over the radio. Having these two at my back is always a good day. There’s no one else I would rather run a mission with. We flow seamlessly, can assess each other, and anticipate each other's moves.
We take the flight path we plotted out the other day. There’s rumored to be an insurgent stronghold just past the mountain range, and we’re going to try to see what we can from the air.
“So how’s the boyfriend?” Cinco asks over the coms, and I wish he hadn’t, because I will never hear the end of this once we land. It may seem like it’s just the three of us out here today, but there’s also a whole team on the ground and in the tower that are currently listening to everything we say.
“He’s fine,” I answer before changing the subject. “What do you think about the location at twenty-two twenty, north by northeast?”
“Noting the location at twenty-two twenty, north by northeast,” Hoots replies. “Do you need the talk?”
“Are you shitting me right now?” I gripe.
“We need to know if you know how to be safe,” Hoots replies.
“Besides,” Cinco wades in. “We need to know what his intentions are with our girl. Is he honorable?”
“You guys are idiots.”
“Or where to buy the tiny condoms the SEALs use,” Cinco laughs.
“Fuck you both,” I laugh. “The only one who needs tiny condoms is you assholes.”
“B-window-six,” the tower control says, breaking into our conversation. “B-window-six. This is a reminder that you are on an open channel.”
“Uhh… my bad,” Hoots cackles.
We fly for several more hours before our time is done. Other than the original location, there’s nothing noteworthy, but it doesn’t matter if we found twenty suspicious locations or none at all, because I got to be free for a small glimpse of time. I got to fly through the air where there are no pressures of who my brother or my sister are; there is no worry that I won’t be good enough for them. And there’s no pressure to be something or someone I’m not.
We head back to the base, and when we land, we go through our post-flight check and then hand our babies off to the ground crew.
“Have a good night, Mack,” Woody says to me when I’m about ready to head to the barracks for a shower and chow.
“Thanks, Wood,” I reply with a genuine smile for my friend. “You too.”
“Sure thing,” he says quietly.
There’s something about his words, or maybe it’s the way he speaks them, that bother me, only I don’t realize what it is until it’s much, much too late. Instead, I make my way to my barracks room, waving a quick goodbye to my friends, and then I take a shower and throw on some clothes so I can meet back up with Cinco and Hoots for dinner.
We’re patrolling the same area in two days, so tomorrow I’ll get to work out and help with the flight plan for the other teams. And if I’m lucky, I’ll get to call Kyle and see what he’s up to. Actually, I think I’ll call my brother and his wife to see how they’re doing in wedded bliss. I’ll call Kyle the next day. Besides, I don’t want to overload him with my neediness.
Metal clanks, and my dream dissipates like the marine layer over the shores. My head is pounding, and my mouth feels like I’ve swallowed a pound of cotton. I need water. I’m not sure when I last had anything to eat or drink or even how long I have been here.
My body aches all over, and I feel like I’ve been run over by a truck… or ejected out of an eighty-million-dollar airplane.
I can’t help but wonder, does Kyle know I’m gone? Is he worried? Will he mourn me? Does my brother know what happened? Will it change him? I hope not to either. I want Ryan to live his life full and happy with his family, even if it means I’m not there to see it. And I want Kyle to live his life, to be free to love someone else, someone more deserving than me. Maybe he’ll meet a nice girl in Virginia that bakes cookies and loves him immediately, not someone who makes him work for every morsel of affection and is terrified to give their heart over to him.
“Name,” a heavily accented voice demands, and I shake my head. I know the drill. Once they have any information from me, I’m as good as dead. Although maybe that’s not a bad thing. If they really are using me to get to Ryan, then it’s better if I die. The last thing I’ll do on this Earth will be to protect my family.
He kicks me hard and swift to my ribs, and all the air in my lungs whooshes out as my body screams in pain. “I said name.”
“Black,” I whisper.
He kicks me again and again. “Rank?” And another kick.
“Captain.”
“Will anyone miss you, Captain Black?” he asks me, and I can tell by his tone of voice that my worst nightmares have come true. He already knows the answer, but I’ll still do my best to give as much as I want or don’t.
“No,” I lie.
“We’ll see about that,” he says. “Here’s some water. Try not to die while we wait.”
And then the metal door clanks and groans again, and he’s gone.
And I’m all alone. Again.
Chapter Fifteen
Kyle
Call you later
I let out a frustrated sigh as I open the folder on my computer drive. If anyone told me that reports and paperwork would be a big part of my day-to-day life working in the private sector, I’d probably have jumped off a cliff instead. I know Cole mentioned paperwork, but I apparently glazed over when he was telling me how much. My bad. Now I just want to bang my head on my desk over and over until I forget that reports and filing are even a thing.
Okay, that’s an exaggeration. Sort of. Maybe. Okay, not at all. Why are reports like pulling teeth? I can’t stand them. I should make Sean finish this since he left me to do all the bullshit legwork on last week’s assignment. He owes me that much, but the truth is, I have nothing better to do. And isn’t that just pathetic?
After Sean and I went out to dinner the other night, I felt better, more like my old self, but still, I didn’t want to be out and about every night. There’s something about going out when MacKenzie can’t that feels unfair, or a little bit like a betrayal. I know she doesn’t want me sitting at home pining for her, but still, I just don’t want to do much. It feels weird living my life while hers is on hold.
My email pings with new messages, and I open the app on my desktop. The first is from HR.
FROM: [email protected]
TO: [email protected]
Subj: travel itinerary
Here are your plane tickets and schedule for your next assignment.
My next case is a solo one. I just left the meeting with Mark Dixon, where he handed me a folder and told me to pack my bags for the San Diego office. Maybe some time at the beach will make me feel more grounded. Or maybe staying in her space will. I need to reconnect with her in some way or another. I don’t know. All I do know is that I’m ready for a change. I need to find my balance if we’re going to survive this deployment and all the ones that will come after it, because there’s no way MacKenzie will ever give up the sky, and I love her so much I would never ask her to.
The next email is from MacKenzie.
FROM: [email protected]
TO: [email protected]
Subj: payphone
Hi. I just got back from PT and I had a chance to hit the computers. I just wanted to say hi and that I… miss you. I hope everything is good, and I’ll talk to you soon.
Today was a good day. I should get a chance to hit the payphone and call in the next day or so.
-M
I wish she would tell me more. Not about the deployment or her missions, because I know she can’t. Been there, done that, and I’ve got multiple T-shirts to prove it. Call me a girl, but I want to know what she’s thinking, how she’s feeling. I want her to tell me that she feels the same way I do, and isn’t that just ridiculous?
I quickly type back an email, hoping that it encourages her to open up a little more when she can.
FROM: [email protected]
TO: [email protected]
Subj: RE: payphone
Everything is good here. I’m headed back to the condo to do some work on that coast. I’m enjoying it. So far, the work is interesting for sure. Maybe I’ll even get a little surfing in. The beach reminds me of you and happy times. Be safe, and I’ll make sure I’m available for your call.
And I miss you too, MacKenzie.
-K
Then I close down my computer, grab my bag, and head out of the office. I toss the duffle in the back seat of my SUV and climb in. Traffic on the way to the airport is ridiculous. I thought Southern California traffic was awful, but I had clearly forgotten how bad it can be on the east coast.
I park in the long-term lot and grab my bag from the back seat before locking it up. I check my bag at the ticket counter and make my way through security. I stop to buy a cup of coffee and a newspaper from one of the shops in the terminal and wait for my plane.
My flight is uninteresting, and when I land, I catch an uber to the condo where Mack’s car and my old truck sit in the garage until we figure out what we’re doing and where we’re going. I change into a pair of board shorts, grab my board, and hit the beach.
The water is even colder this time of year, but it’s nothing I can’t handle. In fact, it grounds me to the here and now. I let the saltwater waves batter against me, and the sting feels good on my skin. It helps release the pent-up pressure just under my skin. Like a balloon with a pinhole leak.
After a few hours, I finally feel a little bit like myself again. I leave the water, sit on the beach, and watch the sunset over the water, and I let myself remember the night I sat in the sand just like this with MacKenzie. Sitting between my legs, wrapped up in me, and how I told her that I would wait, that she was worth it, that we were worth it.
I let her words from weeks earlier wash over me and reinvigorate me. Being the one left behind is hard, but if anyone can do it, it’s a goddamn SEAL, right? Right.
I grab my board and walk back across the street. I pull on a shirt and grab my wallet and keys. I check my phone just in case I missed our chance to connect, still no call. There’s an almost nervous jittery anticipation that wells up inside of me while I wait to hear from her.
I jump in my truck and find a taco stand up the coast on the beach. That’s the one thing Virginia Beach doesn’t have like San Diego does—real Mexican food. I order what Mack would call a ridiculous amount of tacos and eat them sitting at a table that overlooks the water.
The cool ocean air is crisp and refreshing. I didn’t think I would miss San Diego, but I do. I’ve never known anything other than the east coast and the places I’ve been stationed. I let myself wonder what the Texas town Mack grew up in looks like. I don’t even know what it’s called. The fact that I know so little about her when I want to know everything, and anything, burns in my gut like acid.
I pull my cell phone from my pocket and slide my finger across the screen to unlock it. I google her brother, Ryan Black, who is well known in the media as President Chancellor’s aide-de-camp. His Wikipedia page lets me know he was born in a small town in East Texas called Tall Pines.
I immediately pull up another browser tab and google Tall Pines, Texas. It’s a small oil and gas town on the Louisiana border. It’s full of cattle ranches, pipelines, and gas plants. Not to mention hundreds and hundreds of pine trees as far as the eye can see. Coming from New Jersey, it’s not what I expected. But then again, I’ve never been to Texas so other than cowboys and cattle I’m not sure what to expect.
It looks beautiful, peaceful almost, and I hope MacKenzie will want to show it to me someday. I want to see where she was born and went to school. I want to know who took her to prom and if she was the homecoming queen. I want to know everything almost as much as I want her to share it with me. I’m a desperate fuck like that.
I finish my dinner, pick up my trash, toss it in the trash can, and climb back in my truck. When I get back to the condo, I stand under the hot spray of the shower and wrap my hand around my stiff cock like I do every night to get myself off. Afterward, I towel off, climb in bed, and drift off to sleep.
The next day, I head into the San Diego offices to get caught up to speed on the job, and I happily hit the ground running. I’m getting the feel for the way the company runs, and I like it. It’s a lot like the teams, and it definitely helps me transition.
When I get home, I hit the beach, this time for a run, and then grab a burger down the street from the condo. When I get back, I shower and go to sleep, but this time, sleep doesn’t come as easy, because in the back of my mind, throughout the day, I did it with the knowledge that Mack never called.
And I can’t help but feel like something is terribly wrong.
Chapter Sixteen
MacKenzie
Nothing is ever free
Not free.
Nothing is ever free. That’s a lesson I’ll have to remember, but something tells me it’s also the last lesson I will ever learn before I die.
As a pilot, we know it’s always a possibility. We wear a target on our backs, and even though we fly some of the hardest to find aircrafts with the most advanced technology and avionics, it’s always a possibility.
Especially when there’s a double agent involved.
I greet my plane happily and accept the clipboard from Woody.
“It all looks good,” he says, and he watches me as I look over the checklist. He’s giving me a weird look. I smile at him. Maybe I was frowning. I’ve been a little melancholy being away from home. My brother always says that my resting bitch face is ridiculous. My sister just laughs and says that if looks could kill, my RBF definitely would do. Just in case I’ve made him feel like something’s wrong, I smile a friendly, reassuring smile at my favorite mechanic.
“Thanks, Wood.”
“Have a safe flight,” he says and there’s something weird about his tone of voice but I pay it no mind. I’m about to do my favorite thing in the world, fly.
“I always do,” I reply, and then I climb in the cockpit, and the glass dome comes down.
I pull on my helmet and hook up. The touch screen lights up, and I begin to check the gauges and avionics. Like the other day, Cinco, Hooter, and I line up but in reverse order from last time. Now I’m bringing up the rear in line for takeoff.
“S-2-Hooter to Tower, request permission to take off,” I hear him say over the coms.
“Tower to S-2-Hooter, permission to take off granted.”
Hoots lifts into the sky and takes off back toward the mountain range we’re patrolling again. The original site we found turned out to be nothing, so now we’re going back to see if we can find anything else.
“S-2-Cinco to Tower,” I hear Cinco say. “Requesting permission to take off.”
“This is Tower to S-2-Cinco, permission to take off granted.”
And then he’s gone, into the sky, following in Hooter’s trail.
“This is S-2-Lone Star,” I speak into my coms. “Requesting permission to take off.”
“Tower to S-2-Lone Star, permission to take off granted.”
I push forward on the throttle and lift into the air. I take a deep breath, because, again, I’m free. I follow behind, in the direction we’re supposed to go, but I don’t see them. The hair on the back of my neck stands on end, and I feel a sense of foreboding skitter up my skin.
“Lone Star, where did you go?” Hoots asks.
“I should be right behind you,” I answer, but I still don’t see them. In fact, I don’t see any sign of them.
A warning light flashes on my dash. Something’s wrong with the engine. Because we’re not birds, we’ve only invented technology that lets us pretend to be birds. Only that technology can’t work when the engine fails, and this engine is failing catastrophically.
Trap: A Salvation Society Novel Page 11