She moved into the sunlight and watched the soldiers actively prepping the helicopter. The old man in the cowboy hat was fussing with them as they loosened ropes and readied equipment. Other people, refugees who came in with the soldiers, were sitting impatiently waiting; some argued with the soldiers and pointed at them accusingly.
The news of their departure to a possible safe area at first caused excitement, but when rumors spread that there wouldn’t be enough room for everyone on the first flight, fights and heated discussions broke out. Everyone became suspicious of how the lucky passengers would be picked. Families of the soldiers, then women and children seemed the obvious choice, but families didn’t want to be separated. And there wouldn’t be seats for everyone.
A soldier with a notepad looked directly at Laura; he’d already stopped to talk to her earlier that morning. “Ma’am, I really think you and the little one should be on the first flight. As Sergeant Anderson’s family, you have priority.” A year ago, Laura would have never thought of speaking to a soldier—or even meeting one for that matter. Growing up in the suburbs of Chicago, the closest she ever got to the military was a local parade, or a patriotic TV commercial. Now, they came to her like she was part of the family, each of the soldiers feeling a responsibility to look after her.
Laura looked past him to the others—the refugees that stared at her suspiciously. They eyeballed her rifle, her backpack, even her boots. She knew they had nothing; they’d left everything behind, and she could easily be in the same position if things played out differently. She looked up at the soldier and shook her head no. “We won’t leave until my husband returns,” she said.
A man she recognized, husky with a bloodied bandage still clinging to his neck, moved past the others and stepped between her and the soldier. He frowned and leaned in close. “Ma’am, please, we heard gunfire down the road.” Jesse paused and lowered his voice so the others couldn’t hear. “There might not be a second flight. I owe it to Jacob to make sure you get on board.”
“Not without my husband.”
Gunshots echoed in the distance, causing them to look off to the east. Jesse dropped his gaze, not making eye contact while he spoke in a hushed tone. “Okay, but I have… well, I feel I have a responsibility to tell you… if they come… Mrs. Anderson, we won’t be able to stop them.”
Laura gave him a reassuring smile and put a hand on his forearm. “It’s okay, Jesse. Let one of them have our spot. We’ll be fine.”
She led Katy away to a quiet spot farther from the helicopters and the soldiers. She set her pack on the ground and sat atop it while Katy kicked at the leaves and tossed small pine cones. Laura watched the soldiers selecting a young woman holding an infant from the group. The woman looked in Laura’s direction and waved as she was led to the waiting helicopter. Katy stood close to her mother’s side and returned the woman’s wave.
“Momma, look, the baby is going on a helicopter,” she said.
Laura pursed her lips and nodded, already feeling a tear form in the corner of her eye, wondering if she was making the wrong decision. She watched the soldiers make a final pass around the helicopter. They gave the old man a thumbs up then stepped away. The man removed his hat and moved into the Blackhawk. The turbine whined and the blades began to rotate.
The spinning of the blades increased; Laura leaned over, pulling Katy in to shield her from the wind. Soldiers moved around her, gathering in a cluster as debris began to blow, the Blackhawk fighting against gravity to leave the ground. The helicopter slowly lifted away, the tree tops swaying away from the blast of its rotors. Shielding the wind away with her hand, Laura looked up. She watched as the aircraft’s nose dipped and, gaining altitude, slowly moved away.
Her stomach dropped, and her muscles constricted. Four thick bolts of blue arced up from nowhere. Time slowed as she watched them drift through the sky. The pilot must have spotted them; the helicopter banked hard to its right, dipping precariously close to the treetops. Three of the bolts arced high, missing it; the Blackhawk’s nose dipped and the aircraft rotated clockwise before thrusting forward in the opposite direction. The third bolt scraped across the tail-rotor, launching the helicopter into a violent spin. The Blackhawk’s turbines screamed for power as the pilot struggled for control.
Laura wanted to look away, but her eyes were glued to the sight. The helicopter tipped back, nearly inverted, before falling to the far end of the grassy field in a ball of orange and yellow flame. The force of the explosion and the heat from the burning fuel pulled her back, Katy still tight in her arms. She tumbled back, landing heavily in the thick grass.
Before she could open her eyes to recover, a soldier with stripes on his helmet was beside her, lifting her back to her feet. Finally her head cleared, and she heard yelling. Men were running among the scattered group, trying to direct the fight. “Get back, get back. Get the civilians to the woods, everyone else form on me,” she heard the man with the stripes order.
The pack was gone. Katy, clinging to Laura’s chest and arms locked
