Page 2
Story: Raven's Watch
Sean chuckled, the raspy sound fading into that eerie gurgling noise as his head lolled back and he slumped against the window.
“Sean! Damn it, Chase, I think he’s coding.”
Chase popped into view, his hands covered in blood. “I need a minute, Foster.”
“Sean doesn’t have a minute.”
“Neither do Zain or Kash. I can only spread myself so thin.”
“We’re not dead yet, dumbass.” Zain Everett — their SAR specialist, sniper and all ‘round badass. Though it sounded as if he was even worse than Chase had hinted at. “Take care of Sean.”
Chase pursed his lips, fisting his hands for a moment before vanishing then reappearing with an armful of supplies. He checked Sean’s neck, looking back at Foster before applying more bandages and giving the guy a shot of something.
Chase turned to face him, mouth pinched tight. Eyes shadowed. Blood oozed from a gash on his forehead, more soaking the hem of his shirt. What looked like multiple hits to his vest.
Chase had been with Foster from the start. Had been the one constant throughout his career — until they’d met Sean, Rhett, Zain and Kash a dozen years ago. The six of them had fallen into sync on their very first mission, and they’d fought hard to stay together since.
Chase tugged on the tape holding Foster’s shoulder together, muttering obscenities under his breath. “Your damn shoulder’s a mess. I’m not sure how you’re even moving that arm. Everything’s shattered.”
Foster would have shoved him off if he’d had the strength. Instead, he merely nodded toward Sean. “How is he?”
Chase glanced away, making it look as if he was getting more supplies out of his bag. “He’s lost at least two liters of blood, and I’m out of saline and plasma.”
“But if I get him back…”
“You just focus on staying conscious as long as possible. Try to get us as close as you can to the base. Okay?”
“Chase…”
“I’m just a medic, buddy. I can’t raise the dead.”
Foster looked over at Sean. He hadn’t moved in the past few minutes, his skin so damn white he swore it was see-through. “No. It can’t end like this. You have to do something. That should have been me. My blood. My sacrifice. He’s got a wife. Kids. I have to…”
To what? Save him? Because Foster knew if Chase couldn’t save Sean, no one could.
Chase packed more gauze around Foster’s wounds, adding another layer of tape. “Let me check on the others, then I’ll be back. Do what I can to help keep you awake.”
“You worry about Zain, Kash and Rhett. I’ll be okay.”
“No, you won’t.” Chase cut him off. “You’re bleeding through the clotting powder. Your face is nearly as white as Sean’s and your good hand is shaking so bad, I’m surprised the damn chopper isn’t vibrating through the air.”
“My hand’s shaking because I’ve lost hydraulics. Go. I’ll shout if I’m gonna pass out.”
“Right, because self-preservation has always been first on your list. Just, don’t fucking die on me.”
“Says the man who’s bleeding worse than me. And yeah, I noticed. How bad are you hit?”
“Enough I’m extremely pissed.”
Chase disappeared, Zain’s groan sounding above the engines a moment later. The fact Foster hadn’t heard their flight engineer, Rhett Oliver, utter so much as a sigh since his team had finally overpowered Stein and Adams meant the guy was either dead or unconscious. Just like their dog handler, Kash Sinclair.
The engine chugged, dropping the bird several feet before it stabilized. They couldn’t afford to land. Not while they were fifty miles from safety with Foster’s entire team struggling to hold on.
Which meant, milking every ounce of speed out of the aircraft. Taking it as close to the edge as possible without actually blowing the engines or killing the transmission. That fine line between all-out and too far. One he’d skirted on more occasions than he should be proud of. But the mission and his team always came first.
Not team. Family. That’s what they were to him. Brothers. Men he’d kill for. Or die to protect. The only reason he’d made it through twenty years without losing his sanity.
His soul.
“Sean! Damn it, Chase, I think he’s coding.”
Chase popped into view, his hands covered in blood. “I need a minute, Foster.”
“Sean doesn’t have a minute.”
“Neither do Zain or Kash. I can only spread myself so thin.”
“We’re not dead yet, dumbass.” Zain Everett — their SAR specialist, sniper and all ‘round badass. Though it sounded as if he was even worse than Chase had hinted at. “Take care of Sean.”
Chase pursed his lips, fisting his hands for a moment before vanishing then reappearing with an armful of supplies. He checked Sean’s neck, looking back at Foster before applying more bandages and giving the guy a shot of something.
Chase turned to face him, mouth pinched tight. Eyes shadowed. Blood oozed from a gash on his forehead, more soaking the hem of his shirt. What looked like multiple hits to his vest.
Chase had been with Foster from the start. Had been the one constant throughout his career — until they’d met Sean, Rhett, Zain and Kash a dozen years ago. The six of them had fallen into sync on their very first mission, and they’d fought hard to stay together since.
Chase tugged on the tape holding Foster’s shoulder together, muttering obscenities under his breath. “Your damn shoulder’s a mess. I’m not sure how you’re even moving that arm. Everything’s shattered.”
Foster would have shoved him off if he’d had the strength. Instead, he merely nodded toward Sean. “How is he?”
Chase glanced away, making it look as if he was getting more supplies out of his bag. “He’s lost at least two liters of blood, and I’m out of saline and plasma.”
“But if I get him back…”
“You just focus on staying conscious as long as possible. Try to get us as close as you can to the base. Okay?”
“Chase…”
“I’m just a medic, buddy. I can’t raise the dead.”
Foster looked over at Sean. He hadn’t moved in the past few minutes, his skin so damn white he swore it was see-through. “No. It can’t end like this. You have to do something. That should have been me. My blood. My sacrifice. He’s got a wife. Kids. I have to…”
To what? Save him? Because Foster knew if Chase couldn’t save Sean, no one could.
Chase packed more gauze around Foster’s wounds, adding another layer of tape. “Let me check on the others, then I’ll be back. Do what I can to help keep you awake.”
“You worry about Zain, Kash and Rhett. I’ll be okay.”
“No, you won’t.” Chase cut him off. “You’re bleeding through the clotting powder. Your face is nearly as white as Sean’s and your good hand is shaking so bad, I’m surprised the damn chopper isn’t vibrating through the air.”
“My hand’s shaking because I’ve lost hydraulics. Go. I’ll shout if I’m gonna pass out.”
“Right, because self-preservation has always been first on your list. Just, don’t fucking die on me.”
“Says the man who’s bleeding worse than me. And yeah, I noticed. How bad are you hit?”
“Enough I’m extremely pissed.”
Chase disappeared, Zain’s groan sounding above the engines a moment later. The fact Foster hadn’t heard their flight engineer, Rhett Oliver, utter so much as a sigh since his team had finally overpowered Stein and Adams meant the guy was either dead or unconscious. Just like their dog handler, Kash Sinclair.
The engine chugged, dropping the bird several feet before it stabilized. They couldn’t afford to land. Not while they were fifty miles from safety with Foster’s entire team struggling to hold on.
Which meant, milking every ounce of speed out of the aircraft. Taking it as close to the edge as possible without actually blowing the engines or killing the transmission. That fine line between all-out and too far. One he’d skirted on more occasions than he should be proud of. But the mission and his team always came first.
Not team. Family. That’s what they were to him. Brothers. Men he’d kill for. Or die to protect. The only reason he’d made it through twenty years without losing his sanity.
His soul.
Table of Contents
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