Page 49 of Soaring and Steadfast

“Where’s the dye?”someone yelled.

“Did we get a chute?”

“No, you dipwad—he was taking off!”

“He should have pulled up and taken off again…”

“He went over the edge sideways…”

“Did anyone see the canopy blow?”

“The canopy was in place…”

Louis’s heartpounded painfullyas realityslammed into him—Ohio had gone overwith his canopy still intact.

His jet had sunk like astone.

A hand clamped on Louis’s shoulder, but he barely felt it. His mind was moving a mile a minute,desperation clawing at his insides.

He could hear officersbarking orders, hear the deep, rumbling whir of the search-and-rescue helicopters lifting off. This wasn’t a drill. This wasn’t a simulation. They weren’t pulling into port tonight.

They weren’t going home.

“Trophy,” Louis gasped suddenly, his throat dry, his mind catching up with the implications. His hands curled into fists as he turned, his stomach churning. “You gotta call Laura.”

Trophy’s expression twisted, a mix of denial and terror flashing across his face. He jerked back as though Louis had slapped him.

“He’s not dead,”Trophy spat, shaking his head violently.“Why would I call my sister?”

Louis grabbed him, gripping his arm hard.“Trophy, make the call.”

“I’m not calling my sister…”Trophy’s voice wavered, breaking under the weight of what was happening.

“They’re gonna put us on lockdown, and it’s gonna be all over the news?—”

Trophy’s jaw clenched. “Then I’ll call my wife.Not my sister.”

Louis exhaled sharply, his chestaching.“Ohio would be lucky to have Laura in his life…”

The words hung in the air like a death sentence.

“If he’s alive,” someone muttered nearby.

Trophy snapped.

A raw, wordless roar tore from his throat, the single four-letter expletive reverberating through the heavy air. His body surged forward, fists slamming against the metal railing as his frantic gaze scoured the churning waves. But there was nothing—only the merciless, endless sea swallowing the last traces of Ohio. Two sailors lunged, gripping Trophy’s arms and hauling him back before he could throw himself overboard.

Louis didn’t move.

He couldn’t. His limbs felt like dead weight, his pulse a deafening roar in his ears. Orders were being shouted, boots pounded against the deck, but the world was closing in, narrowing to the gaping void in front of him—the place where Ohio should be, where he needed to be.

A terrible, slithering thought curled in his chest, coiling tighter with every second that passed.

Ohio was gone.

Louis dropped to his knees, his hands pressing against the unforgiving deck as if grounding himself could keep him from shattering. His breath came in ragged gasps, his throat burning with the force of unshed tears. He couldn’t look away from the water, couldn’t stop the helpless prayers tumbling from his lips.

Please, God. Please.

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