A Soldier's Reunion. Cheryl Wyatt

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СКАЧАТЬ Brock Drake and Vince Reardon, who stopped rigging parachutes and looked up. The airmen grew sniper-still and spotter-alert as did the other PJs in Refuge, Illinois’s skydiving Drop Zone facility.

      Nolan grabbed the DZ phone from teammate Chance Garrison. “Briggs speaking.”

      “Nolan, I’m tasking your team to a major bridge collapse.”

      Nolan pressed the phone tighter against his ear and processed Petrowski’s words wafting across the line. “Major bridge collapse? Where?” Adrenaline pumping, Nolan eyed his teammates.

      They stood at his words and marched close in listen-mode.

      “Reunion Bridge over Refuge River—hold on,” Petrowski said.

      “Refuge.” Nolan hiked his chin to his team while on hold.

      The room erupted in activity as airmen grabbed gear.

      Nolan had been placed in temporary command while PJ team leader Joel Montgomery traveled abroad with his wife to meet children they were adopting. Second-in-command, Manny Péna, was in surgery to remove pins, following a two-year-old injury incurred during a skydiving accident.

      Nolan yanked a notebook from PJ Ben Dillinger’s pocket. As Petrowski, back on the line, talked about the rescue mission, Nolan scribbled information.

      Stiffening beside Nolan, Ben straightened. “Hey, babe,” he called for his fiancée, Amelia, near the round tables across the room. She approached, Ben’s brother Hutton following, his Mosaic Down Syndrome causing his eager feet to shuffle.

      “Didn’t Reece have a field trip today, across the bridge at the museum?” Ben said of his stepdaughter-to-be as he grabbed Amelia’s hand.

      “Yes.” She scanned the note. Her face turned pasty. “Th-they would have been on the way back. P-probably on the bridge.”

      Arms numbing, Nolan tightened his grip on the phone as he observed Ben and Amelia. Dread pounded through his body, incinerating the lining of his gut.

      The room stilled as implications of Amelia’s words sank in. Ben’s arms steadied her. “Don’t panic. We don’t know for sure she was on the bridge when it went.”

      “What if she was?” Amelia, trembling, slid to a chair.

      Nolan squeezed Amelia’s shoulder with his free hand. “We’ll handle it. Okay? I guarantee Refuge divers are already there.”

      Amelia managed a catatonic nod. Ben searched Nolan’s face. The only other time Nolan had seen Ben look this rattled was when his father passed away last year.

      Nolan leaned close to Ben. “Stay with her ’til you hear from me.”

      Blinking rapidly, Ben looked torn. “We’re already two men short. If I don’t go, that puts you at only four.”

      “We’ll make do. I can use you here for now. Run the command post. Once we see Reece is okay, you can join us on the bridge.”

      Ben gave a short nod. “I’ll call the church. Tell folks to pray. Refuge hasn’t experienced anything like this in its history that I’m aware of. And we don’t know who all was on that bridge…” Ben’s composure faltered.

      Nolan knew Ben loved little Reece as though she were his.

      “Don’t buckle, Dillinger. Keep your head. Make sure our airmen’s families are accounted for. Have everyone wait here at the DZ or Refuge B and B. Cell and landlines will be jammed from mass calls going in and out.”

      Nodding, Ben slipped a bronze arm around his wife-to-be.

      Shoulders hunched, Hutton chewed his tongue and blinked close-set eyes while shuffling near. “I praying too, Benny.”

      “Thanks, buddy.” Ben hugged his brother, then faced Nolan. “Can we load? I’ll help with that at least.”

      Nolan covered the phone and nodded.

      Two minutes later, gear in arms and courage in their steps, the PJs were out the door.

      The harrowing look in Ben’s eyes echoed the sentiment screaming through Nolan’s mind: had Reece been on that bridge when it collapsed?

      “How bad is it?” Nolan asked Petrowski as they sprinted to the waiting chopper minutes later.

      “Pretty bad.” Aaron Petrowski, commanding officer of their team plus two others, answered above rotor noise. “Bridge collapsed in a V.” Aaron heaved an extraction basket hoist into the craft. “Expecting mass casualties if we can’t get those people off.”

      Nolan paced his breathing as he tossed heavy medical packs into the belly of the bird. Diving gear and rescue equipment loaded, Nolan climbed in, followed by his other three teammates.

      Petrowski hunkered in and faced the opening. “Where’s Ben?”

      “Tell you in a minute. What else?” Nolan signaled the pilot to take them up.

      Petrowski studied him. “There’s a flammable tanker about to boil from flaming cars. If heat expands it, she’ll blow.”

      “Cars near enough to ignite it should something spark?” Nolan asked above howling wind as the chopper lifted.

      “Yes. Unfortunately, so is an elementary school bus.”

      Vince swore softly.

      Pulse kicking, Nolan’s gut clenched. “Full of little kids?”

      Petrowski nodded. “On their way back from a field trip.”

      Nolan’s stomach hollowed. “The reason I had Ben stay behind for now is because his stepdaughter-to-be might be on that bus.”

      Petrowski’s head jerked around. “You serious? Little Reece?”

      Anxiety for Ben and Amelia fought for rabid hold but Nolan steadied himself. “Yeah.”

      As if their team hadn’t already been under enough pressure with the possibility of Nolan being plucked from it. No one voiced it, but everyone felt it. Any mission, starting with this one, could be Nolan’s last with the team, thanks to superiors wanting to use him elsewhere.

      Sighing, Petrowski slid a hand over his silvery-blond buzz. “News air surveillance report a dozen children are on it.”

      “Can we have the news chopper megaphone them off the bus?”

      Petrowski stretched out his legs. “Problem with that is there’s no place safe for them to go should the tanker blow. Unless all the cars burn themselves out, that’s a mammoth possibility.”

      Brock’s head tilted toward Nolan and Petrowski. “Plan?”

      Paper spread over the floor, Nolan diagrammed. “Lift kids in rescue baskets here. Two pararescuemen per litter. Work fast.”

      “So, what exactly happened? Any word on that?” Brock shifted closer to hear over the chopper blades whipping air. The СКАЧАТЬ