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He could do this.
You never should have been out that night.
All he needed to do was focus. Everything was fine.
You’re the reason I’m dead.
Foster huffed out a series of rough pants, his chest squeezing so tight he could barely breathe. He tugged at his collar, Mac’s blood glaring up at him as he eased back on the controls, that voice taking on a life of its own.
An alarm sounded in the cockpit, some of the instruments edging into the yellow.
His comms buzzed as Chase clicked his mic. “Foster? Everything okay?”
He tried to answer, but he couldn’t form any words. A gurgled rasp sounded behind him, the familiar sound only ratcheting up the tension.
Sean was right. It was too risky. Too severe.
Another buzz followed by Zain’s hand on his shoulder, again, as he stood beside Foster.
“Beckett?” Zain motioned to the airspeed. “Buddy we’re slowing down and losing altitude.”
Foster blinked, scanning the instruments before shaking his head. “He’s right. I’m doing it again. Pushing too hard. Playing with your lives…”
“Whoa, slow down. Who’s right?”
Foster shook his head, banging on it with his other hand. “I never should have flown that night. I’m the reason he’s dead. Why you all nearly died. I… I can’t…”
Zain tightened his hold. “Easy, brother. Just breathe. Okay? Chase! I need you.”
Foster swallowed as a flash of lightning lit up the darkness somewhere out on the horizon, the accompanying thunder sounding louder. Closer.
The cockpit started closing in, all that blood and noise swirling in on him. He gripped the cyclic, looking for some sort of anchor when his comms chirped.
“Foster.”
He whipped his head around, his gaze clashing with Mac’s as her voice sounded softly in his ear.
She reached her hand toward him, giving him a slight nod. “It’s… okay.” She paused to lick her lips, every breath sounding as if it might be her last. “Everything’s going… to be okay. I’m right… I’m right here…”
Her hand dropped as she passed out, Chase cushioning her head when she went limp on the stretcher. The echo of her words hanging in the air.
He stared at her pale skin, all the fear and doubt burning into untamed rage. He wasn’t losing her. Not like this, and not because he was too damn broken to be the man she needed him to be. She’d already saved his soul. The least he could do was save hers.
He rolled his shoulder one more time, focusing on the map before shoving the cyclic forward, and picking up speed.
The aircraft shook, then it was screaming through the air, the rain streaking off the bubble. He adjusted the controls, scrolling through the nav as he looked for any slight change in course that would save him even a second of time. What could be the difference between Mackenzie coming back to him or fading for good. He found a small pocket of less turbulent air and banked the chopper over, skimming past trees and towers as he dropped the bird even lower, avoiding the worst of the clouds.
Chase muttered in the back, a few of the words spurring Foster on. Another alarm sprung to life, the chilling sound cutting off the din behind him. He scoured the instruments, tapping the fuel gauge as the needle slowly inched down.
He punched in the hospital’s location, mentally gauging how far they could fly if their gas tank had been compromised as badly as he feared, and the answer wasn’t encouraging.
Chase buzzed the comms, glancing at Foster when he chanced a quick peek over his shoulder. “Buddy? While I’m thrilled you’re in the zone, should we be worried about that siren?”
Foster shrugged. “What do you always tell me? You worry about the patient, and I’ll worry about the aircraft?”
“Shit, it’s that bad?”
Foster cocked his head, lifting the bird up and over the rising landscape before dropping her back to tree height. “It looks like a couple of those bullets punctured the gas tank.”