Radclyffe - Firestorm

“Looks good,” Mallory said.

Jac didn’t figure an answer was required. The view was incredible. If she reached up, she was certain she could touch the clouds that had fluffed up in the heat of the midday sun into pillowy mounds. Mountains ringed the camp, unbroken by power lines or man-made roads, sweeping, majestic, wild, and awe-inspiring. Mallory looked good framed against the dark craggy peaks, her face as daringly sculpted as the line of mountaintops behind her. Her eyes were bright and clear and crystalline as the sky. She was in perfect harmony with the world around her—strong and confident.

“Repeat the jump sequence,” Mallory said.

Jac hesitated for a heartbeat, still lost in Mallory’s aura. Then she came to attention and automatically repeated what she had recited for Sarah a few minutes before.

“Good.” Mallory clipped the pulley rig from which Jac would be suspended in air onto Jac’s harness and then a second one to Sarah’s. “Mount the ready stand.”

Jac stepped onto the foot-wide riser at the edge of the platform, and Sarah climbed up next to her on the parallel pulley line. The slope fell away below her, much like the mountainside below a ski jump. Except there was no groomed surface to land on if the pulley gave way, only treetops.

“On the count of three,” Mallory said.

Jac looked down the hundred-foot slope at the wall of sawdust at the end that formed the landing zone. She’d heard about it—some people called it the slamulator.

“Three, two…” Mallory’s voice intoned.

Jac let Mallory’s voice fill her head and emptied her thoughts of everything else.

“One. Jump.”

Jac stepped off into nothing.

*

Jac watched the door to the mess hall, waiting for Mallory to come in for dinner. She lingered over fried chicken and mashed potatoes as long as she could, making small talk with Anderson and Rubin. Finally, she accepted that Mallory wasn’t coming.

“Okay, guys,” she said. “I’m ready to surrender. I’m gonna get some rack time.”

Anderson stood. “I’m with you. I’ll walk over with you?”

“Uh, I’m actually headed over to the hangar. I’m bunking over there until Sarah’s place off-site is ready.”

Hooker looked up as they passed his table. “Sleeping with the boss already, Russo?”

Jac ignored him. She’d been as surprised as anyone when Mallory stopped her after the afternoon’s workout and said, “Sarah’s taking the bunk in the barracks. Bring your gear over to the loft.” Before Jac could say anything, Mallory had spun on her heel and strode away. She couldn’t tell if Mallory was pissed at having her private space invaded with no warning, or if she was totally indifferent. Jac had been hoping to see her at dinner and maybe get some answers, but no such luck. Since hiding out wasn’t her style, she figured she might as well go find out what the story was.

Anderson looked over his shoulder as they walked out into the yard. When they were alone, he said, “I don’t mind telling you, I’m sore all over. And I thought I was in good shape. I’ve been training hard for this all winter.”

Jac rubbed her right shoulder where she’d banged into the not-so-soft sawdust wall on one of her last practice runs. “I was feeling pretty good after the obstacle course, except for a few blisters. But I felt like my brains were going through a blender after the third time into that wall.”

“Yeah, I think they made their point. There’s no such thing as a soft landing.”

“Well, there’s always landing in a tree,” Jac pointed out.

“Oh yeah, that works. If you don’t fall out and break your ass, you have to rappel down on a skinny little line fully geared up. No thanks. I’ll take the good old ground, anytime.”

“Yeah, me too.” She cut right toward the locker room as he cut left toward the barracks. “See you tomorrow.”

He waved and she went through the empty ready room to collect her gear. The hangar was dark when she let herself in through the side door, but she had a feeling she knew where Mallory would be and plotted a course from memory. After she circled around behind the plane, she saw a small cone of light edging out into the darkness. Mallory was at her desk, going through a six-inch stack of paperwork.

“I didn’t see you at supper,” Jac said.

Mallory glanced up. “Charlie sent over a sandwich for me.”

“Too bad. The chicken was tear-inducing.”

“I know.” Mallory smiled. “Charlie does something to it—injects it with sugar or something. Once you’ve had his chicken, you’re ruined for life.”

Jac laughed. “I might have been ruined before I showed up here, but I’m definitely not salvageable now.”

Mallory scribbled something on the bottom of a form and tossed it on top of the pile on her right. The right-hand stack was the finished pile, presumably. That stack was a lot shorter than the one she was working on. “I cleared out a space upstairs. There’s a cot. It’s rustic.”

“Believe me, after today, I could sleep anywhere.”

“That’s good, because you’re gonna have to.”

“At least I won’t be bedding down with sand and fleas.” Jac hesitated. “Will I?”

“The field training is just like fire call…tents, sleeping bags, water and food rations, the whole nine yards. Enjoy the cot while you can.”

“I appreciate you letting me—”

“Look, Jac,” Mallory said without looking up as she scribbled something on another form, “there’s nothing personal about this arrangement. You needed a place to sleep. That’s all it is. You should go get some. Light switch is on a beam to your left as soon as you get up there.”

“Right.” She’d been dismissed. No reason to be bothered by Mallory’s disinterest. Hell, she knew the offer of a room wasn’t personal—Mallory obviously didn’t even want her here. She shouldered her pack. “Night, then.”

“Night,” Mallory said, reaching for another piece of paper.

Jac climbed up the ladder to the loft and switched on the light. Mallory’s sleeping space was neat and orderly. A tall, narrow, handmade bookcase of plain pine boards stood next to a cot with Mallory’s sleeping bag on top of it. The shelves were filled with what looked like an eclectic selection of books. A familiar-looking dented green army trunk sat at the foot of the cot. For a second, Jac felt like she was back in Iraq. The place looked exactly like every barracks she’d ever slept in. Functional, sterile. A place to crash between duties. Come to think of it, Mallory reminded her of the soldiers who returned for second and third tours, who couldn’t adjust to civilian life and preferred the controlled chaos of the battlefield. For a while, she thought she might be one of them, especially when it became real clear that having her around was a problem for her family. This posting had probably saved her from requesting another go-round over there. No time to think when you’re defusing IEDs.

Another cot was lined up parallel to Mallory’s about fifteen feet away, tucked under the eaves. A small rag rug sat on the rough wood floor next to it. A darker spot the same size marked where the rug had previously sat in front of Mallory’s cot. That small kindness sent an unexpected shiver of heat through Jac’s belly. She dumped the sleeping bag she’d been assigned along with her duffel onto the bottom of the cot and sat down, surveying the space. Despite its barren appearance, the place held a hint of Mallory. Honeysuckle. Smiling, she unrolled the sleeping bag, stretched out on her back, and closed her eyes. As she drew Mallory’s scent deep into her chest, she couldn’t think of any other place she’d rather be.

Chapter Eleven