Page 39 of Booker's Mission

Callie tightened the straps around her shoulders, looking remarkably calm considering the helicopter could quit on them at any moment. Send them headlong into the trees. Assuming he didn’t plow it into the water.

Not happening. No way he’d ditch, again. This time, he was going to find a way to win.

He looked behind him, trying to get a bead on the other chopper when more muzzle flashes lit up the sky. Sweeping across his ass end. Narrowly missing any vital systems when he yanked the machine over — had her screaming over the treetops, again.

Not easy with the controls fighting him. All those imperfections in the blades returning to bite him in the ass. He’d just have to man up. Find a way to push through because he wasn’t failing Callie.

The thought had him settling in. Using the terrain to his advantage. His machine was small, nimble. Could get in and out of tighter spots than the beast chasing them. What might be their one salvation.

He tipped the nose forward, gaining speed, ignoring the alarm that sounded around them. Sent a loud shrill echoing through the cockpit.

Callie pursed her lips, leaning a bit closer to him. “Booker?”

“I know, sweetheart. Just hang in there. She’ll make it.” He sighed when a second alarm burst to life. “Come on, baby, you can make it.”

“I really wish you were talking to me, right now. Is there anything I can do to help?”

“Keep an eye on our friend, back there. Let me know if he disappears.”

She snorted. “I can’t see him until he fires. It’s just a big, black mess, otherwise.”

“Then, let me know if he’s firing at us.”

“Pretty sure the bullets flying through the cockpit will give that away, but sure. Anything for you, baby.”

Damn, he loved her.

“Booker…”

That’s all he needed to change directions, again. Avoid the next round of shots as they went wide, sending ripples along the water. He did his best to zigzag along the surface, the downwash leaving twin waves behind him. The other machine followed, getting level with him as he neared a bend. What he hoped might give them an escape.

He hit the turn going flat out, a low-lying bridge coming up fast. He didn’t ease up, everything blurring past them until the last moment. A shift of the controls and they were climbing — barely missing the structure before he banked her over. Hard. Had the machine screaming along some two-bit dirt road. Skids only a few feet off the ground. The rotors just missing the trees. Headlights punched through the darkness ahead of him, and he pulled back, knocking a light off the truck’s roof as he soared overtop before sliding back down. Picking up more speed.

Calliope held tight, scanning the area behind them. Shaking her head before looking over at him. “Pretty sure they’re still back there. Somewhere.”

“No way that machine’s fitting inside these trees. They’ll be paralleling us. Bastard probably thinks he can catch us.”

“And can he?”

Booker snorted. “Not tonight.”

“So, the alarms still blaring?”

“Mood music. Get ready, sweetheart. We’re running out of real estate, and we aren’t slowing down.”

If Callie was nervous, she wasn’t showing it. No increased breath, or white knuckles. Just that ever-present gleam in her eyes as she nodded, then settled. Her faith in him more than humbling.

All the more reason not to fail. To up his game. Not that it was easy with the controls shaking within his grip, the entire cockpit vibrating from the damage they’d sustained. And without the use of the instruments, he could only guess which systems were close to shutting down. Those alarms he’d brushed off because they didn’t have any options. Couldn’t land and investigate — wait for backup. Booker was milking the chopper for all she had, aware he’d likely lose the engine or the tail rotor before this was done.

Having the engine chug a few seconds later had him cursing. Gaining a bit of altitude in case it packed it in. Left him with only a moment to react. He was ready. Had a variety of scenarios mapped out. Not that he had many options with them cruising down the dirt road, forest on both sides, but he’d do his best. Hope it was enough.

Spotting the other chopper overhead, heading for an open section in the trail had Booker rethinking his strategy. Making up another plan, when the radio squawked, a blast of static filling the cockpit.

“If you both want to live, Booker, you’ll pull your bird into a hover while we have a chat.”

Keith. Though, how the radio was even transmitting was a mystery. Booker had checked it after they’d landed and it hadn’t been working.

He yanked back on the controls, fighting the increase in vibrations as the other helicopter swooped in front, filling that open section just as he’d suspected. They faced each other, nothing more than fifty feet and a whole lot of air between them.

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