Page 91 of Rescuing Ally: Part 2
Our eyes lock across the shuddering cabin. Eight years of missions. Eight years of shared battles, shared beers, shared women. Two men who know each other better than brothers. No words needed.
Find Ally. Eliminate Malfor.
“Charlie team.” Ethan’s voice rises above the screaming alarms. “Brace for water evacuation. Buddy system. Secure your weapons, gear check now.”
The team springs into action. Rigel and Blake double-check each other’s equipment with the efficiency of men who’ve trained for this scenario countless times. Walt secures his medical kit, wiping blood from his eyes with one sleeve. Jeb checks his waterproof pack, ensuring his demolition supplies remain intact. Carter verifies his communication gear, establishing backup frequencies in case primary channels are compromised.
“Pilots.” Ethan turns toward the cockpit. “Evacuation plan?”
“We’ll ditch with you.” The co-pilot half-turns in his seat. “No rebreathers up here. Standard vests only.”
“Rigel, Blake—assist the pilots once we’re in the water.” Ethan’s orders come without hesitation. “Share air if needed.”
I verify my equipment. Rebreather secure. Folding fins attached to my calf straps. Waterproof tactical pack containing essential survival gear. Sidearm secured in its specialized holster.
“Thirty seconds!” The pilot’s voice rises in pitch as our descent rate increases.
Through the windows, the ocean rushes toward us. Moonlight breaks across black water, turning the surface into a rippling mirror that reflects our approaching doom. Theworld outside blurs as we drop faster, the damaged helicopter surrendering to gravity one system at a time.
“Charlie team actual to all units.” Ethan activates his comm unit. “We are going down. Repeat, Charlie team is going down.”
“Acknowledged.” The response crackles through static. “Engaging hostile aircraft to cover your descent.”
“Negative.” Ethan’s eyes narrow, visibly calculating odds and opportunities. “Break off engagement. Let them think we’re neutralized.”
A heartbeat of silence on the line. “Understood, Charlie Actual. Disengaging. Good hunting.”
“Brace! Brace! Brace!” The pilot’s warning comes a second before impact.
We hit the water like slamming into concrete. The impact throws me forward against my restraints, pain exploding across my chest. The helicopter bounces once, twice, then settles with a sickening lurch. My teeth clack together from the force, copper taste of blood filling my mouth where I’ve bitten my tongue.
Metal tears as the rotors shear off on impact, the sound like some prehistoric beast being dismembered. The cabin fills with saltwater. Sweat and adrenaline mix with the metallic tang of blood and the chemical odor of burning electronics.
Water surges through shattered windows, a shocking assault that steals breath and clarity.
The cabin tilts sharply as water pours in—ankle-deep, then knee-deep in seconds. The aircraft groans around us, metal under stress, the death sound of a machine beginning its descent to the ocean floor.
“Move!” I hit my harness release, the buckle giving way with a satisfying click.
Water pours in. The helicopter shudders beneath us, listing further to port as the cabin floods.
“Out!” Ethan’s voice rises above the chaos of rushing water and creaking metal. “Water egress! Sound off as you clear!”
“Rigel clear!” His voice comes first, professional even in crisis.
“Blake clear!” Second out, moving to secure the perimeter.
“Walt clear!” Our medic exits, medical kit secured to his tactical vest.
“Jeb clear!” Fourth man out.
“Carter clear!” Fifth voice confirming exit.
No word from Gabe. My pulse spikes.
“Status!” Ethan’s command cuts through the rising water.
“Comms sealed. Rebreathers functional. Sidearms secured.” I work my way toward Gabe’s position, water now at chest level. “Gabe?”
