Ashes in the Darkness

Eyes

I had packed the few belongings I knew I needed into my pack, only to look down and see the giant sweatshirt laying on the floor next to my feet. I didn't want to touch it, but I looked away from it and stuffed it into the pack along with I other clothes, making sure to breathe through my mouth so I wouldn't smell it.

When I finally exited the house, there was no talking the entire bumpy car ride all the way to the Missoula airport, then I remembered David. I wouldn't be returning to work anytime soon, "I need to text my boss," I said.

"David's been told the situation, I can't believe you got a federal job with your military status." I smirked. That had been one of my greatest achievements after I fled Oklahoma.

"Stay as a contractor, they ask less questions, you make more money under the table," I remembered what Laswell had said to me in my little cabin only hours before, that's good housekeeping.

"You're smart," she said, pulling a pen from her ear and writing something in that folder again. "Did David know?"

I recoiled, yes, he did. "David is not a part of this," I said straightly. Laswell didn't push the subject. The three SUV's drove directly onto the airport tarmac, dropping us off at the plane's staircase up. I heard the zip ties and looked at Kate confused, "it's just a precaution. They come off as soon as we get to D.C."

My heart raced the entire time. From Missoula to Washington D.C. was a seven-hour jet ride, most of which I sat looking out the window, weighing my options. If I went to prison, I would serve a few years and then get the court martial. I would never be able to work again. I could help Laswell, even though I doubted I would ever be able to live up to the pedestal that she seemed to put me on. I could run, I had done it once before and I wasn't caught for three years. I could probably get away with it again, but they would find me much easier this time.

There was a small possibility, deep in my soul, that I would enjoy the idea of flying a helicopter again. She was right of course, I had thrived during my time in the Air Force, there were good people that I had become close with, seen the world, the few times I had been dispatched I felt like I was making a difference to people. I couldn't deny that I missed the adrenaline rush of having the cyclic between my palms again. For three years I had hidden away those feelings of missing my teammates, my purpose, that adrenaline. I tried not to think about the rumors that went around after I fled, the kinds of things my friends must have thought about me. Craning my neck on the back of the jet seat, I remembered the memories I had taken and put them into a metaphorical box in my mind.

"30 seconds!" I shouted back to the medical team in the back of my helo. It was my first dispatch on my first tour in Afghanistan. The four years of basic training, technical school, pilots' school, and then helicopter special training had paid off. I heard the boys in the back shout at each other. My co-pilot was new but talented, and another woman, something I had never had the privilege of having since I started in the air force. I smiled over at her, "Jackie, you ready?"

"Always," she said through the headset.

I saw the red smoke from far away, the crew on the ground was in a circular formation, surrounding two bloodied men in the center. There was a medic in the middle tending to the two of them. Adrenaline sparked in my circulatory system, the sound of years of my superiors screaming at me to "go, go, go!"

I hovered in the middle of the circular formation; a full touch down would have been too dangerous in the hostile territory. I needed to get in, get the men, and get out. "Delta team, clear!" I heard Jackie shout over the comms. They worked quickly as I held onto the cyclic between my thighs, keeping an eye on the surrounding area. My head was always on a swivel. Jackie was recording the time on her watch.