Crossing The Line. Candace Irvin

within the opening in the canopy above. The greenish glow of flailing chemical light sticks whirled toward the earth as the Black Hawk dumped its package and bugged out. Rick nudged Eve down and tucked her amid the sheltering trees.

      “Wait here.”

      A flick of his thumb and the M-16’s safety was off—and so was he. He snagged the bundle in record time and beat an equally low, hasty retreat back into the trees.

      Back to Eve.

      Rick reset the safety on his M-16 and propped it against a tree trunk before ripping into the bundle. He snagged the Prick-112 and fired up the radio as Eve retrieved her survival strobe with its infrared lens. “Black Hawk, this is Captain Bishop. I have you at sixty degrees, two hundred yards. Over.”

      A burst of static filled the air as the pilot keyed his own mic. “Roger, Bishop. This is Romeo Six. What’s your status? Over.”

      Status?

      Try three soldiers dead and not a blessed body recovered.

      Remorse slammed into him for the countless time.

      Rick ordered it aside, determined to concentrate on the soldier kneeling beside him. At least Eve was alive. He had every intention of making sure she stayed that way. He keyed his mic, knowing full well the man on the other end was not going to like what he was about to suggest. “I have one ambulatory wounded. Multiple fractured ribs, possible internal bleeding. Request immediate extraction. Over.”