“Can I call my wife, my folks? I don’t want to scare them too badly. But if…I want you to make the call.” He rested his forearm across his forehead.
“I promise. But you won’t need me to,” Wes assured him.
He grabbed Wes’s wrist. “Marx and Conway took point.”
Wes looked him in the eyes. “They’re both gone. I’m sorry.” His voice cracked.
Tobey gulped, “Don’t knock me out until I call their families. Please.”
“I’ll ask the doc. Your helmet seems to have protected your head and airway. But your chest took a big hit. We will try to control the pain.” Wes started a second IV.
“Who else?” Tobey fought with his breath.
“Four more from the entry team with some fractures, burns and other potential injuries. I also have a level-three supervisor and two additional operators down.”
Wind pelted the Navigator. Sheets of lightning exploded around them. A white beam of light flashed by the window. Percussive blasts were followed by pops and the whine of the rotors. He resisted turning up his radio; instead, he focused on O’Mara. His gut churned, waiting for the sound of the crash.
