Page 42 of Not Faking it with the Colonel

“You’ve been saying that for a year, and the best you got was trying to incorporate Nishiyama into ‘Mama Mia.’”

“That was bad,” Bryson admitted.

Nishiyama nodded in agreement. “Cindy and I could use a date night. We can never come up with a restaurant because we don’t like the same foods. Put us down.”

“Great.” She input his information while two others promised to check with their wives.

Bryson requested Gabler’s night vision goggles before he headed to the parking lot. “Put in whatever you want,” he said when the phone reached Erin.

“What do I owe you for lunch?” she asked.

“You just arranged to feed half my teamandscore us points with our ladies. I got you.” He handed her the ENVGs. “We’re gonna let”—he snuck a glance at her left hand—“Miz Downey here do a run-through or two in the shooting house until Gabler gets back with the food.” He removed his handgun from the holster, emptied the magazine, and checked the chamber before handing it to her. “We’re not using live ammo today, but we don’t need you firing blanks at close range either.”

“Understood.” Even without the magazine, the weapon was heavy in her hand. Checking the side confirmed her guess that Bryson carried a Sig Sauer.

“I am going to want that back.” Bryson motioned for three men to head into the shooting house before giving orders to the rest of the team and putting Erin third in the line for breaching the residence. He showed her the settings on the ENVGs and helped her situate them over her head and face.

When she turned them on, instead of the eerie green glow she’d seen on videos, much clearer images outlined in a glowing white light allowed her to distinguish the men in front of her and their weapons.

Nishiyama signaled and led the team through the house. She didn’t know what the hand signals meant but followed on Cruz’s heels. After the team located the men acting as tangos, they invaded the room, spreading to the perimeter with weapons aimed. Before she could process what was happening, it was over. She would have been shot dead three times over since all three “tangoes” in the room aimed at her.

“Wow. Thanks for the indoctrination, guys.” She laughed.

“Let’s run through it again and not target our guest this time,” Bryson ordered.

Erin felt more prepared on the second run. The men performed flawlessly as a unit, sweeping through the house to locate the “targets” dispersed in different rooms this time including a mock hostage—a life-sized female doll wearing a brightly colored dress and head scarf.

“A blow-up doll?” Erin raised an eyebrow at the men.

Bryson shrugged. “She appeared one day. No one took credit. Each team blames the others. It’s good training. More dimension than a flat cutout. The first time I saw her, it threw me. That’s the point. Expect the unexpected. With what we do, you never know what you’ll face. Gabler will be back any minute, so let’s break for lunch.” Bryson moved them to the shooting house’s kitchen and passed everyone water bottles from the fridge.

“Tell us about this writing project,” Cruz requested.

All eyes turned to Erin. “I originally pitched this story as a movie that was inspired byTop Gun: Maverick. The main character is a third-generation Army helicopter pilot. Her grandfather flew in Vietnam—”

“A female pilot?” Cruz contemplated that with a narrow-eyed expression.

“Now she’s selected as one of the best to test a top-secret aircraft her grandfather helped design. The heroine’s fiancé is a Special Forces soldier—”

“Is this a love story?” Cruz interrupted, his interest clearly waning.

“There’s a romance subplot, but it was about the aircraft and the missions. The operator thinks it’s all too risky since he lost a leg in combat and is trying to figure out his future. The movie version was about her going anyway and them being reunited on a mission using the aircraft to rescue girls kidnapped by a group like Boko Haram.”

Several men nodded and appeared interested now, so she continued. “However, the studios are interested in making it a television series focusing on the Special Ops team over the aircraft. That means I have to develop the entire cast of characters, not just the two leads. Their back stories, their goals, and motivations to make them real so viewers connect with them. I’ve been plotting more mission ideas and an overarching storyline that carries through a season. Start the series with the mission where the hero loses his leg, the pair at Walter Reed doing his recovery, then work in the movie storyline and end the first season with the mission that brings them back together.”

“Are you expecting to get mission stories from us?” Bryson asked.

Erin noted his reserved tone. “If you have any you can share, I’d be very interested in hearing them—after you revive me.”

“Revive you?” he repeated.

“If you agreed to tell me any, I’d likely faint or expect you to BS me with some storyline from a movie.”

Bryson laughed. “Glad you understand we won’t talk about missions.”

“I adopted an aviation unit after I began writing years ago. The only stories I got from them were things like saving the chips and salsa, and Hooch crunching away while hiding under the bunks when they were being mortared. Or the time a pigeon crashed through the Kiowa’s chin bubble and sat bleeding on the pilot’s boot until they tossed it. Fortunately, I have an overactive imagination. But if you have any fictitious story ideas, I’m open to your input.”

“For the most part, fly boys aren’t gonna have great stories. They fly around way up in the sky, looking for things to shoot. You know those guys are required to get at least eight hours of sleep a night?” Cruz quipped.

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