New Wounds

Chapter 17

Good God this chapter is long.

Chapter 17

“Sloane!” James peered around the corner, freshly shaved and hair finally cut. “Wanna go flying?”

It had already been a long morning. They’d let me sleep until eight, thankfully, but I felt bad for Gunner. The drive had almost lasted for an hour, and he’d never gone back to sleep. My head felt groggy. “Sure,” I said, grabbing my half-eaten granola bar and following him out the door.

The training area was packed with people; newbies that Tyson had sent over and oldies that were preparing for battle. With the knowledge we gained from Fray, everybody was staying alert. A helicopter flew over head, quickly turning towards the airstrip. HumVees passed through the camp, heading for the exit.

          I spotted Aaron getting inside one. Even he seemed tired as we walked by his truck. “Hey,” He yelled, motioning me over. “Paulsen and I are headed to the NATO base. Look after things, okay?”

          “Me?” I asked, confused. Aaron nodded. “What if—“

          “Don’t what if me. You can do it. I trust you.” When I didn’t reply, he turned to the driver and motioned forward. The truck nearly disappeared in an instant.

          James nudged me gently. “You okay?”

          “Why am I in charge?” I asked as we started walking again. James grinned and continued onwards, walking towards the nearest Black Hawk he could find. “Where are we going?”

          He glanced back at me. “Around.” He said in that witty voice of his. Rolling my eyes, I caught up with him and hit him in the shoulder. “Hey now.” He laughed. The chuckle made me grin uncontrollably.

          James undid the hatch to the back, stepping inside like it was just another room. I took more caution, though. I didn’t want a repeat of last time. He handed me a headset once I’d gained enough courage to make it to the cockpit. “It’s okay,” He said with a wink, and my stomach untied itself. “You remember what I taught Blake?” He asked. Quickly, I shook my head. “Okay. This is the air pressure gage,”  He pointed to the round dial in the middle. “It’s one of the most important things, because if it’s too high or too low, then you can’t take off.”

          He pointed to another gage closer to the handle. “This is the airspeed indicator. It’s like a speedometer on the car. Pretty much just shows the speed.” He pointed a switch above my head. “Flick that, will you?” He asked. I did, and suddenly, the microphone on my head set began echoing.

          “Air Traffic Control, what is your status, BH-141?” A rough voiced man asked. Frowning, I glanced at James.

          “Take off on routine flying mission over the city. Permission to be granted.” He said. I leaned back slowly into my seat, glancing at the terrain. Snow had fallen early, covering the ground lightly. September was close to an end, and Russia was already having snow.

          “Permission granted. Be careful.” Nova suddenly said. I glanced up at the Air Tower, looming over the runway. James flicked a switch on the engine, and the helicopter lurched slowly. The air around us began to move in swirls, and then the ground was beneath us, five, ten, fifty feet.

          “See this?” James asked, pointing to a larger dial closer to me. “This is the radar. This monitor scans the ground looking for people or ships or HumVees. It also locates missiles on the backs of trucks by using a very minor technique by using thermocolor.”