Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 70368 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 352(@200wpm)___ 281(@250wpm)___ 235(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 70368 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 352(@200wpm)___ 281(@250wpm)___ 235(@300wpm)
Ping. Ping. A few more chat messages rolled in.
Where there’s a will, there’s a way.
Hey, dude, back to the game? I wanna see you conquer this level before I sleep.
“Yeah, yeah, back to the game,” I said to my audience as I set aside the ornament, placing it near my monitor so I could see it even as I played. Wait. The game. Maybe that was it. When it came to gaming, I was legendary for thinking outside the box. I was a freaking master of last-ditch efforts and high-risk plays. And yet, when it came to my own life, I’d played it far too safe for years now.
Maybe, just maybe, there was a winning strategy out there for Atlas and me if I was bold enough.
Twenty-Nine
ATLAS
“Good work.” The SEAL lieutenant I’d worked closely with the past few days strode over to me as I finished my satellite phone call to mission ops. All around us, hot and dusty SEAL team members lounged on large boulders and the ground, exhaustion rolling off each of them. They’d been awake far more hours than me and without food or water for a good chunk of that. Now that they’d reached the relative safety of the extraction point, the SEALs were slugging back electrolyte drinks and polishing off MRE packets as we awaited the chopper I’d arranged for.
“Thank you, sir.” Getting this team out had been a relatively short mission, but despite the brevity, it had also been one of my most challenging. Our SEAL support division had been pushed to its limit as much as the SEALs themselves. But in a major victory, everyone was present and accounted for with only a few minor injuries.
“What’s the ETA on that bird?” The lieutenant scanned the sky, wind whipping through his blond hair as yet more dust and dirt swirled around our feet. The cloudless sky was gray as temperatures dropped. “Weather’s kicking up.”
Cooler weather was good news for the sweaty SEALs but alarming for everyone else, especially this time of year at this elevation.
“Should be any minute now.” As soon as I said that, my phone beeped with an incoming message. “Make that three minutes.”
“Knew we could count on you, Orion.” He gave me a sharp nod before clapping his hands and raising his voice to the rest of his team. “Look alive! Bird coming in. I need everyone to listen to Orion here. We need to load up fast and smart, get the hell out of these mountains before the wind worsens.”
The helicopter arrived as the sky darkened further, giving an ominous, chilly edge to the increasing wind. We loaded up quickly, but I didn’t like the concerned looks from the flight crew or their murmurings as they, too, kept glancing at the sky.
On board, we were packed in tightly, and I found myself next to the team’s newest member, who groaned with every lurch of the chopper. “Why is turbulence so much worse on helicopters?”
“Not sure.” I grit my teeth as my own stomach rolled. It wouldn’t do to puke in front of all these SEALs, but this was one of the bumpiest rides I’d had.
“We’ll be all right.” The SEAL on the other side of the newbie, a bomb specialist nicknamed Rooster, whom I’d worked with several times before, had a far more reassuring voice than me. After my month in Kringle’s Crossing, I also really liked Rooster’s Philly accent. Made me miss Gabe, Nix, and most especially, Zeb, whose accent only really showed up when he was excited or super stressed. I suppressed a sigh as Rooster dug in his pocket. “Here. Have a piece of gum.”
He offered squares to the newbie as well as me, and the dry, minty flavor was a welcome distraction from the turbulence.
“This is the same type of weather that caught that other chopper a few weeks back.” One of the SEALs across from us was less than helpful with his observation, and I shot him a harsh look.
“Why aren’t we landing?” Predictably, the newbie continued to fret as we approached the base, flight conditions about as rough as I’d been in, and I went from trying not to hurl to quietly praying. Damn. I did hate choppers.
Chief Big Deal. Even as he’d teased, Zeb had understood the way he understood so much about me. Hadn’t judged me for my dislike of helicopters or found me lacking valor. God, I missed him so much. I’d been careful not to think about him much the last few days. The heightened danger made any stray emotions or lack of focus potentially deadly. But now I was here on this bird, nothing to do but picture Zeb’s face right before I’d walked away.
There were so many things I wished I’d said. I could offer… His voice rang in my ears, louder than the drone of the chopper. We’d both done an A-plus job of dodging hard conversations the last couple of weeks. First, Zeb had been reluctant, then me, and then we were simply out of time.