Chapter 3
For one insane second, Dayne’s anger was stronger than his fear.
“You?” he snapped.
Riley did not react.
“Confirm marking smoke.”
Dayne looked over the wall.
Green smoke drifted near the east gate.
Red smoke bled near the broken southern berm.
His breath caught.
Friendlies were too close.
The enemy was almost on top of them.
“This is too close,” the sergeant said.
Dayne shoved him away from the radio.
“Tusker Zero-Four, hold pattern. I repeat, hold pattern.”
Another burst of fire shredded the dirt inches above his head.
A soldier screamed.
Dayne ducked so hard his helmet hit the wall.
Riley’s voice returned.
“Vindicator Six, your southern position is collapsing. I have eyes on hostile movement inside fifty meters.”
Dayne’s face went pale.
“How do you know that?”
“Because I’m already overhead.”
Then he heard it.
Far away at first.
Low.
Heavy.
A deep growl rolling across the desert.
Not the clean scream of a fast jet.
Not something passing too high to care.
This sound was different.
Meaner.
Closer.
The sound of an A-10 coming down through dust like judgment.
Several soldiers looked up.
One whispered, “Warthog.”
Dayne’s stomach dropped.
He saw it through the smoke.
Gray wings.
Straight and ugly.
Nose low.
Coming in far closer than he thought any pilot would dare.
“Abort!” Dayne screamed into the radio. “That’s danger close!”
But Riley had already seen everything.
The broken wall.
The trapped soldiers.
The enemy fighters moving through the riverbed.
The green smoke.
The red smoke.
May you like
And the arrogant colonel hiding in the same dirt he had refused to reinforce.
Read Part 4 to see what happened when Riley ignored his panic and went in hot.
