Page 24 of What is Lost

Even as the ramp was still going up, the Moose was backing away from the terminal, but the mob—all men—followed, heedless of two Humvees filled with shouting Marines spinning futilely alongside. Having managed to climb onto parts of the plane, some men clung to sponsons; others swarmed over one another, using each other as a human ladder to try and boost themselves onto the wings. Over a dozen men balanced on the plane’s gigantic wheels and were monkeying up the landing gear.

This is insane, John thought as he watched two agile men—my God, they looked like teenagers—shinny up into the wheel wells. A person would never survive at altitude.

“No, they won’t.” He wasn’t aware he’d spoken aloud, and he turned to look down at Roni who stood, grim-faced, her body rigid with frustration. She said, “If they don’t let go in time...”

She didn’t need to say the rest. There is no wasted space on any military aircraft. That includes the wheel wells. Anyone in the way ends up as a smear. Worse, as soon as the pilot powered up, John remembered the night at Benning when the ambulance brought what was left of an airman who’d been sucked into an engine. Hamburger had more shape and a better consistency.

“She’s right.” He turned back to Daniel Driver, a man he did not know but whose help Roni thought they needed. “We can’t stand here and watch this go down without trying to help. I’m in,” he said to Roni. “You got a plan?”

“Yes,” she said. “Driver gives us weapons and a Humvee.”

“And then what?”

“I drive,” she said, “and you shoot.”

“What?” He gawped. “Roni, are you?—”

“No, I’mnotnuts. You’re a better shot than I am, and we both know it.”

Yes, they did. He could thank Emery for that. He was, in fact, better than good; he’d known that, too, for a long time before that nocturnal visit to arifle range. “But what am I supposed to do with a rifle?”

“Easy,” she said. “Don’t hit the plane.”

At that, Driver snorted. “What do you think this is, a Clint Eastwood movie?Next, you’ll tell me you can shoot a kerchief out of a person’s hand.”

“As a matter of fact, I can.” Roni hooked a thumb at John. “And he’s even better.”

“Roni,” John said, a little too sharply. He really didn’t want to advertise because, sooner or later, that meant questions heshouldn’tanswer.

“EvenI’mnot that good,” Driver said.

“Then isn’t it fortunate we’re not you?” Roni snapped.

At that, the smaller Afghan let go of a short bark of a laugh—and John thought,Wait a second…

But then Mac, the CIA guy, said. “Look, Captain…Keller, is it? Captain, if it makes you feel better, I’ll put in a nice word with your command.”

“A niceword?” Roni’s eyes blazed. “I don’t give two sh?—”

Mac spoke over her. “But this isn’t our concern. Those people are notourconcern. Really, it’s very simple. No one will be able to hang on. Once the transport’s airborne, the altitude will take care of any lingering problems.”

“That’s pretty cold,” John said as Roni seethed, “You heartless son of a?—”

Driver cut in. “Yeah, he kinda is an SOB. BeingCIA, he comes by it naturally.” He favored Roni with another long look then said, “AK or M4?”

“Driver,” Mac warned. “We shouldn’t?—”

“M4. Better sights.” Roni looked at John, who nodded. “Make that two. And it’s Roni. He’s John.”

“Okay.” Driver motioned to another jock, one with a sandy beard and sunburn, who jogged into the hangar. He and returned ten seconds later with weapons and the last two men who’d flown with them from Germany in tow.

“Wait.” Mac put both hands out like a traffic cop. “You men work for me!”

“Oh, stow it, Mac.” Driver turned to Roni. “You and me, we’re together. Meeks.” He tossed keys to the guy with the sunburn, who caught them in a one-handed grab. “You’re driving us. Harris, you and John are together. Flowers, you’re driving.”

“Ah,man.” With his sea-blue eyes and that beach-bum hair, Flowers seemed a bit of a stoner. “I’malwaysdriving.” Flowers hooked a thumb at John. “Why can’thedrive?”

“Because Roni says he’s a better shot,” Driver said

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