Siren In The Sky // Bradley Bradshaw

Chapter 10

Iceman had always been a friend. 

Our two families lived near each other growing up. We'd have cookouts in their backyard every July 4th and would go to every annual Christmas party they had. My mom used to joke about how in Top Gun, Iceman and my dad couldn't stand each other. It's weird to imagine. They had been best friends since I've been alive. Throughout high school, I'd babysit his two daughters every Thursday night so he and his wife could have a date night. After my dad left, Mr. and Mrs. Kazansky would send me home with a week's worth of leftovers. I was always invited to spend the holidays with them, but I declined. Even so, they sent me a gift every year. I never wanted to intrude. Now I kind of wish I did.

After getting an earful from the nurse about Bradley sneaking in, Striker and I were discharged. Strolling out of the hospital I saw my dad standing with a grim look on his face. When he told me the news, I couldn't believe it. I didn't even know his cancer had come back. I remembered the first time he had it. I was young, but I understood what was going on. I babysat the girls a lot back then, the adults talking in the other room with hushed whispers. I remember how taken aback I was when I would see him. Skinny, weak, bald. Iceman had always seemed so untouchable to me. When he beat cancer and became healthy again, he seemed even more so. Nothing could break Iceman Kazansky. Until now.

The funeral is nothing short of what a military funeral should be. Iceman was well respected and a multitude of people attended. I stand under the blazing sun in my uniform, the last thing on my mind being the heat. Mrs. Kazansky and her daughters are crying as the soldiers lay a flag over the casket. I wish I could be standing next to them, consoling them. But I can't. I must stand at attention with my eyes forward. This is one of the things that bother me about the military. I'm not a robot. I grieve too. 

When they fold the flag and hand it to his family I allow my eyes to flicker over. Mrs. Kazansky and I make eye contact. She gives me a soft smile, one I can't return, but I try to tell her how sorry I am through my stare. She seems to understand, giving me a little nod. 

After the rifles are shot into the air my dad stands in front of the casket. I may be angry with him, and I may always be. But my heart breaks for him. Two best friends and a wife. He's had to bury them all. Unclipping his wings he lays them on top of the wood. Forming a fist he nails it into the coffin. When he salutes, we all follow. My gaze stays on him. His eyes glisten with unshed tears, and his jaw unclenches and clenches. He's not a robot either.

Afterward, I approach the Kazansky's, telling them how beautiful the service was. It's stupid to say, but that's just what people say at funerals. I remember Iceman saying the same thing at my mom's. Exchanging hugs, the family begins to leave along with everyone else. I'm about to follow until I see that my dad has not moved. Maverick remains staring at the picture hanging up. Approaching I place my hand on his shoulder from behind, surveying the picture as well. He places his hand over mine. I watch the single tear he's been holding slide down his cheek, but remain silent. Eventually, we depart, not exchanging a single word.

The next morning at base it's quieter than usual. Hangman still cracks jokes to lighten the mood, and we all half-heartedly laugh. No one has seen any sign of Mav. Cyclone and Warlock walk into the classroom. "Captain Mitchell is no longer your instructor," Cyclone begins. My eyebrows furrow in confusion. I know what Pete Mitchell does when he grieves, he throws himself into his work. There's no way he'd quit. "And as of today, there are new mission perimeters." Everyone's attention is solely on Cyclone. 

"Time to target is now four minutes. You'll be entering the valley level at a reduced speed. You are not to exceed 420 knots." Every pilot in this room looks around, soundlessly speaking 'is this for real.' "Sir, won't we be giving their planes time to intercept?" Bob says. "Well Lieutenant, you have a fighting chance against enemy aircraft. What are the odds of surviving a head-on collision with a mountain? " For the past two weeks, it has been drilled into our heads. Get in, get out. We won't win against 5th generation fighters. "You'll be attacking your target from a higher altitude, level with the north wall. Gonna be a little harder to keep your laser on target, but you will avoid the high-G climb out." There are discreet scoffs, shaking heads, and rolling eyes. This plan will never work. There's a reason we didn't do this from the beginning. 

All of a sudden the screen begins flashing, making all of us sit up to see better. A single is making its way to the simulation. "Who the hell is that?" Cyclone asks. The person's radio comes on. "Maverick to Range Control. Entering Point Alpha. Confirm Green Range." I shake my head and smile. The son of a bitch is definitely not supposed to be doing this. "Uh, Maverick this is Range Control. Uh, Green Range is confirmed. But I- I don't see an event scheduled for you today sir," someone responds seemingly very confused. "Well, I'm going anyway." I can practically hear the shrug in his voice. 

There are excited and disbelieving smiles as everyone leans in. Even Hondo has one but tries to hide it when Cyclone gives him a glare. "Setting time to target: 2 minutes and 15 seconds." My eyes widen. That's 15 seconds less than our goal. "2:15 that's impossible," Coyote says. No one argues, but no one agrees. "Final attack point. Maverick's inbound."

My hands are gripping each other as he makes it through the Green Zone, the timer beginning the count down. We watch the screen as he turns and weaves through the range. A minute and a half left. He might actually pull this off. 40 seconds left as he approaches the pop-up point. "Popping in 3, 2, 1." He pulls up and inverts, perfectly going above the rocks and back down. The target is in his sights now. Maneuvering to line it up, Mav fires. "Bombs away," he announces. Maverick pulls up, beginning the high G climb as we patiently wait to see if he hit the target. please, please, please. We all begin standing up. 7 seconds left. The monitor shows the G's. 8.5, 9.0, 9.5, 10.0. The bomb lands, hitting the target. 0.16th of a second left. 

"Bullseye! Holly shit!" Amazement courses through every single cell in this room. This mission can be done. "Damn," I breathe. 

Thank you for 20k! Sorry for the long wait, but I'm going to try and update every day until the end of the book.