The only way Matt will survive is if I take down both jets.
I have to get my pilot to eject, normally, without ripping off the canopy. It’s the only way to preserve the cockpit’s sensitive equipment—equipment I’m going to need if I’m to have a chance at shooting down the other jet. In other words, I need to boost my jet pilot’s total confusion into overwhelming panic.
I have an idea. It’s crude but it might work.
Crawling forward, I momentarily let go with my right hand and reach down and around the front edge of the wing, grabbing the tip of one of the missiles. It’s still locked in place, of course, but not as tightly as before. That can mean only one thing. The missile is now armed and the pilot is preparing to fire.
I pull it free, half expecting it to detonate in my hand.
The pilot looks over at me and even with his mask I can see his eyes widen. They swell so big it’s clear he knows he’s entered that twilight zone known as the last few seconds of life. To drive home the precariousness of his situation, I point the tip of the missile at him and flash a wide grin.
The pilot immediately ejects.
The jet wobbles violently, and once more I’m almost thrown into the clouds. Tossing the missile aside, I scamper along the edge of the wing and reach for the cockpit. Unfortunately, it’s still out of reach.
The hard plastic canopy is still attached but the interior is taking a pounding from the wind. I have to get inside now! Yanking myself forward with both arms, I spin in midair and make one last desperate grab for the rear of the cockpit, catching it with my fingertips.
A moment later I’m inside, sitting on what’s left of the pilot’s chair, which is not much. Pulling down the canopy, I secure the latch and study the instrument panel. It’s coated with a layer of frost but it’s still intact. A pair of headphones lies on the floor of the cockpit. I put them on.
The other pilot is trying to raise me. Or, rather, his friend.
“Alpha One, this is Alpha Two. Please respond, over?”
Did the guy not see his buddy eject?
Or is he playing dumb on purpose?
I clear my throat and press the transmit button while simultaneously easing back on the engine so I drift behind the other fighter jet.
“Alpha Two, this is Alpha One,” I say. “Are you as stupid as you sound? Over?”
He doesn’t answer right away and I take the time to rearm my missiles—they apparently disarmed when I snapped the one loose—and take aim at the rear of Alpha Two’s engine. I can see the pilot twisting his head around and can only assume he has major denial issues. He replies in a bitter tone.
“This is Lieutenant Andrew Simmons of the United States Air Force and I’m ordering you to land and surrender immediately.”
“Alpha Two,” I reply. “Would a crash landing be acceptable?”
He struggles to speak. “Huh?”
“Alpha Two, you have three seconds to eject or else you’re going to get ripped apart when I blow up your jet. Over?”
I really wish he’d listen to me but he’s a stubborn SOB. He refuses to eject. My first concern is Matt. The other pilot can still shoot him down at any moment. I don’t have a choice. I break the connection and fire a single missile.
It strikes the glowing interior of the jet engine in front of me and explodes. The ball of flame is massive and I have to thrust the control stick to the side to avoid it. I feel bad the man had to die for no reason, but what can I do? I creep up alongside the Gulfstream and wave to Matt.
He waves back. With hand signals, he makes it clear we should turn around and fly over the spot where we dropped the others, before bailing out. A smart move—in the short time since they jumped, we’ve flown at least thirty miles east of their position. Indeed, I can see Chapel Hill and Raleigh fast approaching.
Matt smiles and gives me a big thumbs-up.
I’m surprised how warm his approval makes me feel.
SIX
Matt and I parachute into a wide green field, not far from the others, and very near a dense forest we were fortunate to miss. I almost forgot how much of North Carolina is wooded. Just the thought of Seymour dangling from a strapping birch or massive maple makes me nervous. It’s wonderful to have him by my side on this adventure, and it scares me. He’s my best friend but when it comes to fighting he’s my child. I find myself constantly worried that I’m going to get him killed.
Like Teri.
We all meet up in the center of the field and I quickly note a dark stain of blood on Brutran’s slacks. My nose picks up the odor of freshly burned gunpowder. There’s a bulge beneath Brutran’s blouse, at the belt line, that wasn’t there before.
“Have any of you seen the pilot who ejected?” I ask.
“He’s not going to be a problem,” Brutran says.
I give her a hard look. “I want you to leave such decisions to either Matt or me,” I say.
She shrugs. “I wasn’t sure when you’d get here.”
Seymour blinks. “Am I missing something?”
There’s an uncomfortable silence, until Jolie speaks. “Mommy shot a man in the head,” she says, once again excited for all the wrong reasons.
Seymour glares at Brutran. “We’re not murderers,” he snaps.
Brutran smiles thinly. “Why don’t you ask your sweet Sita where the other pilot is.”
“That was different,” Matt interrupts. “She tried to get him to eject but he refused. She was forced to shoot him down.”
“Of course,” Brutran says. “She weighed the risks and acted. I did the same thing. I’m not going to apologize. That pilot could have called a squadron of helicopters to this spot. They might still be on their way here. We have to get moving.”
Matt points toward a sloping rise. “As I was coming down, I saw a road two miles north of here. We can reach it in a few minutes if you guys will let Sita and me carry you on our backs. I can take you, Cindy, and Jolie.”
Jolie claps with pleasure. “Will it be like horseback riding?”
Brutran kneels beside her and wipes the hair from her daughter’s big green eyes. “This will be even more fun. Uncle Matt’s faster than a horse. But you’re going to have to hold on to Mommy real tight while I hold on to Matt. Okay?”
Jolie is raring to go. “I want to hold on to Uncle Matt’s hair!”
Seymour looks at me and blushes. “I feel kind of weird treating you like a horse,” he says.