Page 11 of Knight's Fall

“Stay close. Keep your head on a swivel. Follow my command to the letter.”

Roy nodded once. “Copy that.”

This time, nothing slowed them down, and Wings felt relief flood his body when he spotted the bulge of brush, leaves and limbs that hid the plane. He pointed it out to Roy as they ran up.

“We’ve got to clear it off before the others get here. The gang is going to be hot on our tails.”

“Only the ones who weren’t taken out by those grenades your friend set off.” Roy went to work pulling the brush off the plane. “They were effective in thinning out the targets.”

“We don’t do anything half-assed.”

If he wasn’t focused on preparing their escape, he may have smirked at Roy’s assessment of his team. They managed to surprise people with how much they could pull off with just five of them. Their training as former military special ops — each bringing something from different branches of the armed forces — as well as their training as a team prepared them for the riskiest and most dangerous situations. But it was their common sense and tactical knowledge that gave them the advantage.

When they’d uncovered the side with the door, Wings motioned for Roy to circle around. “Clear the other side while I fire this baby up. Everyone else should be close.”

He pulled open the hatch when he heard the distinctive click of a gun cocking. He whirled around and in a span of only a couple of seconds, his mind processed what he was seeing.Kobrastood at the edge of the landing, his machine gun pointed at Roy’s back. Even from across the landing, Wings could see the hatred darkening the gang leader’s face. Wings didn’t take the time to shout a warning. He half-ran, half-leaped at Roy, his massive frame pushing the older man out of the way. Wings raised his weapon and emptied his rounds, the bullets rivetingKobra’sbody. The man went down with an angry shout, his blood pooling and running in streams away from his body.

His team broke through the clearing, their weapons drawn and their movements measured. Seeing the situation, they brought out the other missionaries. Roy appeared at his elbow, tugging his arm to get his attention.

“Wings. Wings, you’re hit.”

The adrenaline pumped through him, and he stared at Roy as if the man had lost his mind. “I’m fine. We’ve got to get this bird in the air before the targets catch up to us. They’ll lose their shit when they see we took out their leader.”

Wings turned and drew up short to find Panther in his face. They locked eyes as Panther spoke to Roy. “Sir, get inside the airplane. We need to take off ASAP. Make sure all of your friends are settled and secured.”

“Copy that.”

Panther then placed both his hands on Wings upper arms. “Your leg, man. You’re losing a lot of blood. We need to get it stopped so you can fly us out of here.”

Then Wings saw it, the gunshot wound in his thigh and the blood staining his clothes. The bullet must have caught him asKobrawas going down. The adrenaline was better than a pain reliever. He never felt it, but as his high was wearing off, the burning in his skin intensified. The shot went through his thigh, but Panther was right. His head started to swim from the amount of blood gushing from the wound.

“I’m fine. I’ve got to get us out of here.”

Wings swayed on his feet, and suddenly Zane was there. He stood to his right as Panther stepped to his left. Together they made it on the plane and led Wings into the cockpit.

“I can hear the targets approaching the clearing. They aren’t bothering to sneak up on us,” Sam shouted as he closed the hatch.

“We’re not going to get very far if you bleed out.” Panther’s expression was grim, and Wings understood. He needed medical attention, but with the targets closing in, there wasn’t time to tend to his wound when they needed to get the bird in the air.

“I can help.”

Milburn leaned into the cockpit, his unease radiating from his body. He barely looked at Wings with blood coating his clothes and the chair, but he fixed Panther with a tentative stare.

“Name's Pete. I’m a licensed pilot. I’ve never flown anything like this, but if your man can talk me through, I can at least get us up in the air while you patch him up. If it gets us out of here, I’m willing to try.”

“This isn’t like some rinky-dink private plane.” Wings felt compelled to warn him because Milburn looked like he was about to throw up at the idea of flying the military plane.

“I’m well aware. And if there’s a better choice, I’m all for it. I just want to get out of here.”

“Take the pilot’s seat then, Pete.” Panther gave the order while sending a silent message to Wings with a pointed look. Wings gave a curt nod. He didn’t like the plan, but he would never disobey his team leader.

Panther and Sam crowded around him with a medic kit, but Wings ignored them as he proceeded to talk through a complicated take-off with a man he just met. He had a plane full of people counting on them to pull this off, but the sudden gunshots erupting outside the plane made the task harder than he counted on.

“Pete, ignore everything but me. We’ll get through this.”

The man nodded, and soon they were on the move. The plane rumbled against the uneven terrain. Wings hoped none of the gunfire penetrated their gas line, or their flight would be over before it got started. His wound was bound, his teammates moved to the back to calm the others, and Wings settled in the co-pilot’s seat, his fatigue becoming overwhelming.

“Pete, you’re doing good. If you don’t mind, I’m going to let you stay where you are. Keep an even flight line west. If you run into trouble, have the team contact someone over the radio. You’ve got this.”

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