Major Thomas J. Forge stood at the edge of the airstrip, the engines of the Hercules C-130 roaring in the background. The morning sun was already up, casting bright light and long shadows on the tarmac. He glanced around, taking in the last moments of relative calm before the storm.
The cargo door of the massive aircraft lowered as Forge approached, his boots crunching on the gravel. Inside, the plane was a hive of activity, crew members making last-minute checks and securing equipment. Forge nodded to the loadmaster, who gave him a thumbs-up. He took a deep breath and climbed aboard.
Looking out the window as the Hercules C-130 taxied down the runway and into the air, Forge's mind drifted back to the first time he had ever met General Bellaby. He was serving in Iraq near Baghdad when he received a message to report to Bellaby's office. Upon receiving the message, he reported right away.
It was in March of 2014. Back then he was only a Lieutenant and Bellaby was a Colonel. When he got to Bellaby's office, his secretary led him inside. Inside, he was surprised to see his old friend from SERE, then acting Captain Shirley Baxter, there as well.
Leading Forge into Bellaby's office, the secretary announced, "Lieutenant Forge is here to see you, sir."
Bellaby stood up from behind his desk and warmly greeted him, "Come in... come in, Forge."
Shirley, who was seated to his right, also stood up with a smile, acknowledging Forge.
Bellaby held his hand out and the two shook hands. Forge also shook hands with Captain Baxter, saying, "Good to see you again, Captain."
As Forge glanced around the office, his eyes landed on a framed photograph of John F. Kennedy hanging prominently on the wall. It struck him as an unusual choice for a military officer, but he made a mental note to inquire about it later.
After the pleasantries were dismissed, Bellaby got down to business. "You come highly recommended by Captain Baxter," the Colonel began.
"Thank you, sir," Forge replied.
"This entire conversation is classified top-secret, Lieutenant. Is that understood?" he continued.
"Yes, sir."
"If you accept the mission, everything about it is also classified top-secret."
"Yes, sir."
"Sit down, Forge, sit down," the Colonel invited.
As Bellaby sat down behind his desk, he reached for a cigar box and offered, "Would you like a cigar and a brandy?" he asked.
Forge glanced at Shirley who nodded, and Forge knew it was a good idea to accept.
Bellaby lit his cigar, took a puff, and continued, "About one mile southeast of the Baghdad Natural Museum of History is a structure heavily fortified by rogue mercenaries funded by some of the richest billionaires on the planet. Inside the structure is a Stargate. Our mission is to exterminate said mercenaries and capture the Stargate. Are you in?"
Forge's eyes widened in surprise. "A Stargate, sir? Like in the movies?"
"Yes, Forge," Bellaby replied with a steely expression. "This is real, and it's dangerous. The information you get is strictly on a need-to-know basis, but if you stay with my team, you are going to see and learn a lot of things you never could have imagined."
Forge took a deep breath, the weight of the mission sinking in. "I'm in, sir."
The C-130 taxied down the runway and lifted into the clear sky. The brief flight gave Forge just enough time to go over the mission details in his mind. He seared the brief about Natasha and the case into his memory, and the contents of his backpack were meticulously arranged for easy access. He double-checked the list, ensuring everything was in order. Beside him lay the recommended automatic shotgun, its cold metal a reminder of the danger ahead.
Minutes later, the plane reached the drop zone. Colonel Jameson, a man of steely expression, received word through his headphones that the C-130 would approach the drop zone in one minute. From his seat near the door where Forge would deploy, he called out to Forge over the hum of the engines, "One minute until deployment, Major!"
"Yes, sir," Forge replied.
Forge quickly gave his gear a final inspection. The door opened and an icy air rushed in. Colonel Jameson stood at the side of the door. Forge approached. Finally, Jameson held up his hand in a fist and began extending one finger at a time. Five, four, the countdown began, three, two, one!
With a final nod, Forge leaped into the void, executing a single flip with effortless grace, the rush of the wind filling his ears. As he somersaulted through the clear morning sky, adrenaline surged through his veins, his heart pounding with exhilaration.
The world spun around him, a blur of blue and white, as he descended towards the earth below. With a glance downward, he saw the ground rushing up to meet him. Moments later, he pulled the rip cord and felt the tug of the parachute. Suspended in mid-air, he surveyed the rugged terrain, scanning for a suitable landing spot amidst the sprawling landscape.
In that fleeting moment between freefall and safety, Forge's instincts kicked in, guiding him towards solid ground. With skill honed through years of training and experience, he maneuvered his parachute with expert precision, aiming for a patch of open ground amidst the jagged rocks and prickly vegetation. He braced for impact.
Touching down smoothly, Forge quickly gathered his parachute and stashed it. He took a moment to orient himself, the morning sun casting long shadows. The hunt to find Natasha had begun.
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The Hunt: A Werewolf Story
WerewolfChapter 1 of 'The Hunt: A Werewolf Story' immerses readers in a gritty world of danger and intrigue as a criminal biker gang, led by the imposing figure of Clyde Yanker, crosses paths with a mysterious and alluring woman named Natasha. Set against t...