Page 5 of S.O.S. Mizzay

She heard a sigh.

“Any other survivors?” he questioned.

“None,” Missy replied, trying not to give away how deeply she was affected by that. Winch and the rest of the squad had been good men. All, far too young to die in this greed-ridden, hell-hole of a place.

“Don’t beat yourself up,” Smalley gruffed. “Our jobs aren’t always simple.”

For a moment, Missy wondered exactly what Charles Smalley did for a living, but quickly dismissed her curiosity. When she met up with him, they could trade stories.

“My men, my call,” she clipped back, then let a few of her worries seep through, which she hadn’t done with the team that headquarters had sent to investigate. “There shouldn’t have been any trouble. This assignment had a low risk assessment. Something…”No.She wouldn’t go there. Just because there was a confidence in Smalley’s voice that indicated he was extremely savvy, didn’t mean she should trust him with her doubts.

He must have intuited her indecision.

“We’ll talk when I get there,” Smalley assured her. She heard computer keys clicking. “I’m online right now, and I can get a flight out in two hours. That puts me at Juba International injust over twenty hours. From there, I’m going to get a puddle-jumper to take me to…” He paused, but Missy filled in the information before he could go down that rabbit hole.

“…Gogrial airport,” she supplied. “Which is a small, dirt strip. But even if you can find a plane to get you there, it’ll then take you three hours to get from that very rural spot to here. That’sifyou can arrange ground transportation, which is always difficult,” she told him. He’d have to navigate it all on his own.

“Right. Too long,” he grunted. “I’ll commission a helo from Juba into your city. Do you know if the hospital has a helipad?”

Who was this guy, anyway?

“I’m…not sure. But I can find out,” she offered tentatively.

“Never mind. I’ll manage,” he responded succinctly. “I’ll be there by this time tomorrow.”

He hung up without any additional niceties, and that was fine with Missy. The man was clearly a take-charge type, and she didn’t really feel like answering any more questions. Her brain was too busy going through bits and pieces from the scene of the carnage, earlier.

Maybe if she looked at the pictures on her phone again…

****

Several hours later, with her vision starting to go blurry with fatigue, stirring noises coming from the bed had her on her feet instantly. Her heart leapt as she hovered over Cobble.

His eyes fluttered open.

“Cobble?” She moved closer, speaking his name quietly, and touching his arm.

“Mom?” he asked groggily.

“No,” Missy gently corrected. “It’s Andy.” That’s what everyone in her platoon called her.

“Andy.”

She could see the moment his brain clicked in.

“Where…?” he blinked up at her, unfocused.

“You’re in the hospital. You’ve had surgery, but you’re fine.” Missy hoped she was telling the truth. But what good would it do to tell him otherwise?

“I…can’t remember what happened. Ambush?” he asked, his voice croaking. He had a canula under his nose to keep his oxygen levels up, but it was obviously drying him out.

Andy took a minute to answer, her heart pounding hard. Cobble was actually awake and speaking. The doctor said if he woke up, she could give him water, so she used that as an excuse to get a hold of her emotions, leaning over to grab a cup with a straw from his bedside table, offering it to him.

“Have some of this first.”

He drank a few sips.

“Thanks,” he sighed, his voice clearer.

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