Blue Skies (11 page)

For three years he’d tried to replace her in his heart, but her lips had soured the taste of other women. His enslaved body was never able to experience the rapture her curves and feminine softness gave. Though their paths failed to cross again, he’d fooled himself into believing that some day they would but now...

“Charlie Two-seven, you are cleared for take off.”

The sharp voice from traffic control crackled inside the headset and successfully wrenched Jett back to grim reality.

“Roger, that.” Jett turned up his engine to full power, but then his hand felt cold and sweaty as he wrapped it around the throttle. He drew a deep breath, steadied his racing heart, and forced himself to remain in the present. He needed to be at the top of his game when flying into enemy territory. He had to be better than he had ever been if he was going to survive and rescue the woman he should have never let go.

Every inch of Sydney’s body hurt-and
not
in a good way. If it weren’t for the questionable species slithering in the vicinity of her open thighs she would have been content to lie still and bake in the sun for eternity. However, rectifying the situation meant moving and moving meant more pain.

Who, what, why, and where she was raced like a train through her mind, but no ready answer was forthcoming. She just wanted and needed to survive the pain. Whatever was taking great liberty of gliding all over her body now had a firm hold of her leg and was squeezing painfully hard. So much so that she finally managed the impossible task of opening her eyes. A carpet of rich green stretched out before her, which only confused her more.

The pressure on her leg intensified and she tried to flail her hands up—down. Was she upside down? Wait. That didn’t make sense.
Pain. Stop the pain.

She jammed her hand into her vest, fumbled for moment, but then finally wrapped her hand around the semi-automatic Beretta. The pain robbed her logic. It must have. It was the only explanation of why she would purposely shoot blindly toward her own leg.

Instantly her slippery assailant released its hold on her—as did gravity—and she found herself plunging head first toward the ground. Shortly before she hit the bottom, it occurred to her that she was sliding down a tree—a massive tree.

The inevitable crash came and flipped her body forward and landed her unceremoniously against sharp rocks embedded in the cold earth. Sydney lingered at the edge of darkness for a moment, but then oxygen seeped back into her lungs.

Somehow, she managed to roll herself over and open her eyes once again. This time, she stared at nothing but blue sky. The beauty of it didn’t escape her. In fact, it gave her a sudden strength while it cleared the clouds from her mind.

“My name is...” She coughed, gasped, and then licked her lips as a way to stall for answers. “I’m Major Sydney Garrett of the U.S Air Force.” A proud smile cracked her dry lips as she then rambled off her serial number. When she tried to answer the question to why she was lying on the ground when the last thing she remember was coasting on a routine soiree near the DMZ.

She searched her memory for what seemed like eternity but kept hitting a brick wall. With prayer and fledging strength, Sydney pulled herself up into a sitting position. Half of a snake’s corps still clung to her left leg, while its blood or her blood was splatter across her rip and singed G-suit.

Singed—fire.

A brief image of a jet’s cockpit ablaze flashed through her mind. Her hand trembled as she lifted it and gently pressed her fingers against her face. A surged of renewed pain ripped through Sydney and she quickly removed her hand.

Just like that—she remembered everything. She closed her eyes and forbid her burning tears to fall.
Pull yourself together. Soldiers don’t cry.

She repeated her lifelong mantra until her courage trickled back into her veins and she pulled herself back into a sitting position. True, every inch of her body throbbed with pain; everything seemed to be in working condition. That is—until she tried to stand up.

Her left ankle was shattered. Every time she moved it, the pain overwhelmed her. Sydney took in her surroundings, this time, straining her ears for any nuance of sound.

Silence greeted and terrified her.

Best that she could tell she was in some type woods or forest. At least it could help to aide in hiding from enemy. Yet, it would also make it harder for a search and rescue team.

After what seemed like hours, Sydney managed to drag herself behind a thicket of trees and hunker down. She unclipped the kit attached to her hips and then removed the radio from her survival vest. She switched on the channel and made a desperate attempt to reach her wingman.

“Puck, this is Serious. Come in.” She kept to their call signs as a way to camouflage their true identity in case enemy forces were listening.

No response.

She tried again, but the radio remained dead in her hand.

Emotionally, she stood at a crossroad. One path would lead her to despair and depression. The other meant she would have to fight like hell to survive. She had to survive. There was something that she still had to do. There was something that she still had to say—to confess.

Again, a pair of twinkling gold eyes flashed from her memory along with a brilliant smile that warmed her like the sun.

I should have told him I loved him when I had the chance.

Despite her best efforts, tears seeped from her eyes. However, her survivor instincts and courage were rising by leaps and bounds.
I will get another chance.

The birthday gift...

Chapter 14

Friday September 19, 2003 Osan Air Base 0900 hours

Jett and Sydney went out of their way to ignore each other. However, the competition between them remained fierce—in and out of the sky. Their 5:30 a.m. physical training class had them competing in everything from the five-mile run to scaling walls in Olympic time.

The runs were nearly always ended in a tie but Jett practically gloated when beating her over the wall. Yet, once they were in the sky, no one beat Sydney Garrett.

“All right, everyone, listen up,” Maj. Maxwell commanded and then paced before the hanger. “Today we’re going to be working in the simulator where each of you will tested against surface to air missile launches.”

Sydney’s stomach lurched but she made certain she kept her sudden case of anxiety hidden.

“Captain Garrett. You’re up first.”

“Yes, Major.” She saluted and stepped out of ranks to follow her instructors to today’s simulator. Gearing up remained the same as if she was climbing into a F-16. Everything was replicated to give the exact feel of take off and flying.

When her threat warning system lit up, Sydney’s hands were suddenly sweaty and her stomach had transformed into a jumble of nerves. “Missiles in the air,” she informed tower control as protocol demanded. Next she rattled off her coordinates.

With an arsenal of tricks up her sleeves, Sydney remained confident that she could out maneuver the attack. A scant minute later that confidence had waned. No matter what she did, the missile remained locked onto her.

Think, Syd. Think.

For the first time, she drew a blank and when she tried to pull a desperate hotdog attempt, the planes throttle became uncontrollable.

She tried to read her center console, but everything was shaking uncontrollably. Then she felt rather than read when her engine shut down. The next second, she was spinning out of control.

Then everything stopped.

“All right, Captain Garrett. Climb on out. You’re dead.”

The declaration crushed her, but she said nothing as she unhooked everything and climbed out. When she descended the metal steps from the simulator, a wall of stunned faces greeted her.

Outside the simulator, the rest of the squadron could see the same simulation as the pilot on a wall screen. Sydney, however, was still reviewing her mind on what she’d done wrong when she caught a few whispered questions buzzing around her.

“What is he doing?” Lt. Johnson asked.

Sydney glanced up at the screen and saw Jett is a near nosedive toward the missile. Words eluded her as she watched the scene unfold. Her breath even hitched as though Jett had placed himself in real danger.

Then, when a collision was all but guaranteed, Jett performed a perfect glide and roll in the opposite direction. The hanger erupted in cheers while Sydney found herself thoroughly impressed.

When Jett emerged from the simulator he received another around of cheers and applauds. For the first time in two weeks, Jett and Sydney’s eyes met and held. Finally, she gave him a small smile and a slight nod of congratulations.

“Steven, what do you mean you’re not coming? It’s my birthday.” Sydney moaned into her cell phone as she collapsed onto her rock hard bed. “I was looking forward to seeing you.”

“I was too, Syd. But Corrine’s parents are flying in this weekend. Her father already doesn’t like me so I have to be on my best behavior.”

“And you didn’t tell me?” She bounced up off the bed, wishing he were there for her to hug. “I can’t believe it.
You
are getting married!”

Sydney nodded though she wanted to laugh.
What friends?
“I will, momma. In fact I better go. I’m going out with a few of them tonight,” she lied.

“That’s nice, dear. You have fun.”

Sydney disconnected and then wallowed in a pool of guilt even though, in this case, it was better to lie than let her mother fret about her daughter’s nonexistent social life. Tossing her cell phone onto the bed, Sydney glanced around the tiny room in despair.

“Now what?” She thought for a moment and then answered herself. “Well, you can either sit here and sing happy birthday to yourself
or
you can go down to the strip and have your own celebration.”

Sydney’s hand flew to her hair, which was a tumbled mess about her shoulders. “Err...uh, just a minute.” She pivoted around and darted to the bathroom where she quickly ran a brush through her hair. While she was at, she dug through her makeup bag for her lip-gloss so she would have some kind of color on her face.

“Look, I know that you don’t want to let me in,” Jett shouted through the door.

“No, no. It’s not that.” She ran from the bathroom and tripped over her bag she’d left by one of the chairs. She hit the floor with a loud, “Ooof!”

“Hey, are you all right in there?” Jett asked.

“Fine. I’m fine. I’m coming.” Sydney peeled herself off the floor and finished her dash to the door-unaware that her fall had unraveled her violent brush strokes.