Chapter 10 - 10

« Jacob † Willow »

P O V

Six Osprey helicopters flew into view, their rotors tilting upward as they came out of their plane-modes. They were flying in a Delta Formation as two broke off and the remaining four landed in the open parking lot, their left side to us. The beating of their propellers overpowered the distant fighting as an osprey circled overhead. Even at a glance, I could tell that it wasn't an MV-22B Transport variant. It was a SAGS-22B, the Gunship variant our little operation had.

SAGS models were a heavily modified version of an MV-22B. Outfitted with M230E1 Chain Gun, 38 Hellfire-70 missiles, and a rear .50 Caliber M2 machine gun. It was a Close Combat Attack heli on steroids. A normal Osprey didn't have the capacity to operate as a gunship, mainly because it was designed for transport in mind. However, when a nation really wants people dead, money isn't an issue. Unfortunately, each gunship had the cost of three Ospreys. Which was already a pretty penny compared to the conventional birds already in use, but they couldn't keep up with an osprey.

And the only two in existence was owned by our unit.

The SAGS began to circle the area, their state of the art detection systems were already scanning the streets for targets. The transports weren't normal either, yet, not as modified as a SAG. They placed emphasis on survivability rather than transport. Better engines, better armor, and better systems. Hell, we could probably take a few AA Missiles in those if needed.

The ramps of the ospreys were already down and their ramp gunners eyeing the area as they waited for us.

["Hurry up."] I heard my old man's voice on the comms.

"C'mon, Kian." I called over my shoulder as I stepped out of our spot. I climbed up and over the short concrete rise onto the lot. I turned around only to see Kian hadn't actually followed and knelt there, gawking at the SAGS as they circled. Fortunately, Preacher brought him along and I pulled him up. I could already feel the fatigue of today setting in. With gear pushing close to a hundred pounds and the loss of several friends, I needed this day to end. I was just hoping the universe wouldn't make it happen with a bullet, though.

The powerful gusts the helicopters made was cool on my face. The fresh polluted suburban air mixed with exhaust never felt so good as we walked towards the birds. I was about to ask which one we'd go on, that was until four marines burst out of the far front osprey and began to charge like mad beasts towards us. Medbags in hand. The closest front osprey also came to life as more of them came out of there... Along with our Dad...

I already knew what was up when I looked back at Kian who was being shepherded by Preacher behind me. He looked conflicted, unconfident, and... Well... He was covered in blood. I stopped and so did Preacher, but Kian walked until he was next to me again. His hand found my forearm and gripped it for assurance. His face was pale to the point that I began to wonder if he was wounded. He wasn't, but the amount of blood that had soaked into his carrier and pants looked like he was wearing all his blood.

I didn't stop the medics as they began to comb over him, no hair left unchecked. They didn't try to strip him, probably on the man's orders too. He didn't like seeing Kian without his clothes on, despite the few times the old man and I had been n.a.k.e.d in a few saunas in the past months discussing missions. The joy in the situation was the medics had to play charades with Kian over to the roar of the ospreys. It got to the point that he just stared at them blankly. Defeated over his inability to understand the medics.

A few seconds later, the old General joined us. He stood in front of us, looked to me with a scowl before he looked to Kian. He still held the bloodied HK416 by the handguard as he held his arms up as the Medics felt him down, and boy, Dad did not look happy about that. He reached out and gingerly took the rifle from Kian. The kid looked confused before he took one of the medic's rifles and switched them; handing the clean rifle to Kian.

He leaned in and said something. It was loud enough for Kian to hear from what I could see. Our dad pointed to the rear osprey on the closest row. Once he was done, Kian bolted away like a scared rabbit and quickly boarded it. Dad only looked at me and gestured to follow like you would to a dog. His callused demeanor sucked whatever joy had been festering from being able to get out of this newly opened shit hole.

He turned and walked back to his bird as Kian's osprey took off and left with one of the SAGS escorting it. I watched it go for a moment then entered to see an almost loaded osprey. On the right-hand side, there were enough open seats for all of my team, not just the ones that had survived. When we sat, he only filled half of them. An even shittier situation was that I had to sit next to ole' grumpy. I felt the cabin shudder and the familiar gut sinking motion of lift-off.

I took my helmet off and rested it on my lap. The cool air that assaulted my matted head was godly, and again, Dad couldn't give me a moment of bliss.

"Private channel!" He yelled by my ear. I held back the urge to frown and simply put my helmet back on. My headset was apart of my kevlar helmet. It was a new design to limit the number of things that had to be thrown on in a rush. At this moment, I wished that they had been separate pieces.

I brought up my OTAD, flicked through a few menus and found the channel my dad was on. It wasn't hard. Our family only had one private channel that him and I used exclusively with the hardest, and expensive, encryptions.

["What?"] I said coldly into the microphone.

["What happened to Kian?"] He asked just as coldly.

["My guy died, fell on him, and bled on him. Why didn't you bring Kian with us?"] I asked back.