The cargo plane roared off the airstrip precisely on time. In the hold the deafening vibration rattled through Yael's skin like a grenade blast.
Crammed against the webbing that divided the few seats from the riveted wall in the oppressive gloom of the interior, the doctor felt suddenly light years away from anything she had ever known. Alone in a vast, alien expanse.
She let her gaze wander neutrally between the bleak, suspended reality outside the small portholes that dotted the immense cabin, the crates of surgical supplies travelling with her, and the harsh complexity of the tube-lined, tarpaulin-covered walls.
Her head seemed to throb in perfect time with the air that whirled impetuously over the fuselage, giving her the unpleasant sensation that her thoughts were slipping away with each heavy beat of her heart.
She wondered if Johnny felt this way before a mission. As if the world were about to crumble under the pressure of a premonition, time rewinding into the deafening solitude of that dark, deserted cargo plane.
Yael took a breath and the rarefied air, mixed with the metallic scent of aviation fuel, stung her lungs. She was scared.
They flew for three hours before the plane began to slowly descend in a series of air pockets that clenched her stomach in a vice.
It landed with a heavy thud, the screeching of pistons taking her breath away and, finally, accompanied by a soft metallic hiss, the ramp lowered onto a new universe, flooded with a pale, washed-out light that barely blinded her vision.
Through the square, sharp frame of the fuselage, she caught a glimpse of the hazy, heavy outline of a mountain range, its gentle slope enveloped in the deep green of vegetation. It seemed a strangely delicate vision for the military context in which the base must be located, and at the same time, it was reassuring.
She freed her duffel bag from the straps of the steel rack and, her heart in her mouth, stepped onto the ramp.
The earthy smell of moss and dew, mixed with aviation fuel and gunpowder, filled her lungs, still constricted from the rarefied air.
"A whole cargo plane for just one officer. Now that's something I haven't seen before. Welcome, Lieutenant." a female voice chuckled in the still indistinct light spreading across the runway, the firm tone barely overpowering the dull rumble of the engines shutting down.
Yael swallowed hard in the cold air, her amber irises fixed on where her interlocutor must be. It took a few more moments for the outlines to become clear and her sharp gaze to meet hers.
"Yael Williams," the doctor replied, stepping forward, her fingers outstretched towards the slender, mature figure in civilian clothes. A prickly, treacherous unease gripped her stomach; it was clear that the pale blue eyes were studying her, unhurriedly.
The woman accepted her handshake, her face relaxed and inscrutable beneath the blond hair disciplined in a soft bun at the nape of her neck.
"Kate Laswell. Station chief and case officer," she offered a composed smile, however, Yael had not missed the subtle way she had avoided telling her outright that she was from the CIA.
"Ma'am," the doctor corrected herself, her nails digging nervously into the duffel bag strap, waiting.
In the valley, a sparrowhawk cried out in the distance, and once again, Laswell's sharp eyes narrowed mercilessly on her contours, as if weighing her reactions.
"We currently have a special operation underway, so Sergeant Day will accompany you on a brief tour of the base. Settle in and be ready to leave in case of a medical evacuation request," she said finally, rather brusquely, two fingers of her small, well-groomed hand beckoning someone inside the nearest hangar.
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Wait For Me || John "Soap" MacTavish x OC (Call Of Duty)
FanfictionYael Williams, an emergency surgeon at the Royal Infirmary Hospital in Manchester, is haunted by a painful past. Dedicated to her work, Yael is brilliant and tenacious. However, her traumatic past has made her introverted and distrustful. A chance e...
