“First Sergeant Dhaval Patel, U.S. Marine Corps, ma’am.”
KC sat in the commander’s seat, pulled down the periscope, flipped off all the lights except one, engaged the parking brake, put the massive gear shift into neutral, and yanked out a knob marked AUX MASTER, turning it on.
Well, then. This was happening. Yardley reached under herseat and found her ear protection. Everyone else followed suit. The engine was cycling, lights on the command board flashing, when KC leaned over and turned the engine to start. The Stryker roared to life.
KC jumped out of the commander’s seat and climbed up a short ladder to the side. “Patel, get on the periscope and set the cannon to the UTM coordinates 10, 5, 25, 270 East.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
KC flipped a series of latches, letting outside air in. She stood on the ladder looking out over the top of the Stryker. “Coordinates?”
“I’ve got a large white tank in sight. Point nine kilometers.”
“Perfect. Looks good from here. Disengage the parking brake and hit the gas. Aim directly at the tank in your sights. The diesel should be warm enough. Let’s hope this beast has been serviced recently and isn’t just for show.”
“Yes, ma’am.” The Stryker lurched forward, and wind, shouting, helicopter rotors, and gunfire rose up from outside the armored vehicle in a cacophony that competed with the Stryker’s engine.
“Yardley.” KC’s voice saying her name made Yardley’s heart wrench in her chest with a burst of pained adoration. “Hand me a helmet?”
She felt around under her seat until she came up with a comically large ballistic helmet. She unbuckled it before holding it out to KC, who took it, her fingers sliding over Yardley’s. They made eye contact for the first time since they’d parted ways before the mission, and, for a long moment, held it.
I love you, she thought. She didn’t care if it was too much to feel, too soon or too late. It was true.
KC smiled her elfin smile.
She put the helmet on. Then, to Yardley’s dismay, she stood up on the top rung of the ladder and waved her arms. She did something Yardley couldn’t see or understand until she heard the rotors.
She was signaling their helicopter to cover them.
By doing semaphore out the hatch of a Stryker under fire.
Yardley put her hand over her mouth, staring at KC’s fishnet-covered legs on the ladder.
This woman. This fierce, talented woman. Yardley would never love anyone else. She would never love anyone more.
“Fire on three, then take a hard left toward the road out, right past the explosion.”
“Shit,” Atlas said. “I hate explosions.”
Yardley laughed, tears streaming from her eyes, the laughter and tears finally melting away every feeling but excitement to see what was going to happen next.
“Yes, ma’am. Ready on your count.”
There was a short burst of fire from the helicopter.
“One, two, three!”
On three, KC crouched down on the top rung, and the Stryker jerked with the release of a thirty-millimeter round from the cannon.
There was an unholy boom from the tank.
Oh. Thetank.
A thousand gallons of liquefied petroleum gas, enough to service the entire complex, had just gone up in flames. KC was blocking their exit. Once the fire got started, the road would become impassable.
“Get us the fuck out of here, Patel!”
“Yes, ma’am!”
