An Honorable Woman

by Lindsay McKenna

  Cursing softly, Cam saw the warning on her HUD screen as a shrill warning went through her headset, indicating that they were being painted by an enemy’s firing array. Where the hell had that rocket come from? Mind whirling, she instantly took evasive maneuvers.

  “Get online. We’re returning fire!” Cam barked at Gus.

  Too late!

  She had wrenched the Apache out of the path of the rocket. The only problem was that the rocket was a heat seeker, and it followed the heat of the Apache’s engine.

  “Look out!” Gus screamed, and he threw his hands outward to brace himself.

  Spinning the helicopter around, Cam tried to avoid the hit. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a yellow flame. It was the rocket—coming directly at their tail rotor assembly. Fear filled her. She groaned as she worked the controls, trying to avoid being hit.

  Seconds flew by, though to Cam they seemed to drag. Tensely, she gripped the controls. Her breath jammed in her chest. No! Oh, no!

  The rocket exploded upon impact as it grazed the tail rotor assembly. Fire arced all around them. Cam felt the Apache shudder. The blades whapped loudly as the helicopter began to slowly turn in a circle, out of control.

  “Hang on!” she yelled at Gus, her nostrils flaring. Cam knew what would happen. The tail rotor was gone. Without it, the Apache would turn in endless circles until it smashed into the ground.

  Darkness cloaked them suddenly as their instrument panels went offline. Panic surged into her throat and sweat popped out on her brow. They were going down! In a hurry!

  Mind whirling, Cam calculated their chances. They had been five hundred feet above the ground when they were hit. She had no idea what kind of terrain lay below them. Feverishly, she worked the pedals with her booted feet and twisted the cyclic and collective to try and stop the Apache from spinning. Vertigo chased her. She shook her head savagely, trying to clear it.

  In the distance, a bolt of lightning flashed. It gave just enough light for Cam to see the vague outline of a canyon coming up. They were falling into it! The walls were steep and narrow. Breathing hard, she gasped. The blades would strike the rock! Hands gripping the controls, she wrestled with the sinking helicopter. She heard Gus gasp as well.

  In the middle of their uncontrolled free fall, Cam dimly registered the fact that the helicopter shadowing the plane had been the craft that had fired at them. It had been a setup! They’d fallen for it. She hadn’t taken adequate precautions. Her mouth flexed grimly. The earth was coming up fast!

  “Prepare for crash!” she cried out.

  Seconds later, the blades of the Apache struck the wall of the canyon, sending a sickening shudder through the bird. Jerked savagely one way and then another, Cam felt their slowing descent. Chunks of rock struck the canopy. The Plexiglas groaned but didn’t shatter.

  The helicopter suddenly groaned and turned on its side, causing Cam’s harness to bite painfully into her shoulders. She let go of the controls and, trying to brace, threw her arms up to protect her face. Simultaneously, she lifted her feet away from the pedals. If she didn’t, the impact would break her legs and possibly crush her feet.

  The Apache’s descent was slowed even more as the flailing rotor blades hit the wall of the canyon again. The blades snapped and sliced like scimitars hurling through the blackness, shrieking as they spun. The bird tipped backward, the tail hitting the ground first.

  The impact was horrific. Cam cried out as she was flung toward the front of her cockpit. Her harness held, but the jolt was savage, straining every muscle in her body. Pain shot through her neck and shoulders. Slammed to one side and then the other, she heard the scream of metal being ripped apart. Helplessly she flung out her arms as the bird keeled over, nose first now, tossing Cam in her harness like a rag doll.

  Every second felt like a separate nightmare. The Apache slammed down on its port side. Cam’s helmet struck the cockpit Plexiglas, shattering it all around her. She felt the final death throes of her bird before it finally lay without moving.

  “Gus! Gus! Can you hear me?” Cam cried, fumbling for her harness release.

  “I hear you!” he gasped. “Get outta here! That helo could have followed us in. They could finish us off! Get out! Hurry!”

  Cam knew the score. Whipping her gaze across the cockpit controls, she saw they had no electricity. No way to call for help. But the bird had a transponder. It would start emitting a signal immediately.

  “Get out!” Gus shouted.

  Another bolt of lightning illuminated the canyon briefly. Cam managed to unharness herself. She reached to the right and twisted the release mechanism on the canopy, which popped open. Relief swam through her. She wasn’t seriously hurt, just bruised. Wind rushed into the cockpit, and so did the rain. Grunting and groaning, Cam threw herself out of the cockpit headfirst. She struck the fuselage and then bounced off, hitting the ground hard.

  Above, she heard a helicopter approaching. On hands and knees, spitting sand out of her mouth, she yelled, “Gus! Where are you?”

  The night was so black she couldn’t see anything.

  “Here!” he groaned.

  Scrambling to her feet, Cam took off her helmet and dropped it as she headed drunkenly along the bird’s fuselage, leaning against it to steady herself. Rain whipped into her face and she raised her gloved hand to protect her eyes.

  “Where?” she cried. “Where are you?”

  The helicopter that had shot them down was fast approaching. Breathing hard, Cam held out her right hand as she stumbled over rocks.

  “I’m here!” Gus yelled.

  Cam nearly tripped over him. Quickly, she fell to her knees, her hands reaching, searching. “Gus?” Her voice was strident, off-key. “You hurt?”

  “Yeah…dammit. That chopper’s coming, Cam. Help me up! We gotta get away from this bird. They’re gonna take it out!” And he reached out and connected solidly with her hand. Cam was strong, he discovered. Holding his broken left arm close to his body, he gritted his teeth and stood.

  “This way!” Cam yelled. The whapping of the chopper’s blades was puncturing her eardrums. Any second now, Cam knew the helicopter would fire another rocket at them. Gripping Gus and wrapping her arm around his waist, she gasped, “Come on!” as he leaned heavily on her. Slipping on unseen rocks and gravel, she lunged away from the Apache and headed down the canyon.

  Another bolt of lightning flashed. Panting and dizzy, Cam staggered unevenly beneath Gus’s weight. He was groaning, obviously trying not to cry out. In the second’s light, she saw a bend in the canyon. Only fifty feet away! If she could get them around that corner of rock wall, they might be safe from a rocket fired at the Apache.

  “Run!” she begged breathlessly. Gripping Gus hard against her, Cam surged ahead, digging the toes of her boots into the hard, sandy soil.

  Gus gasped. Pain made him dizzy. He tried to run and felt Cam steady him as she aimed for the bend in the canyon. It was their only chance! Breath tearing out of his contorted mouth, he tried to concentrate. Run! He had to force his wobbly, weakened legs to run! Somehow, he had to force his attention to the present.

  Faintness rimmed his vision, and Gus felt himself physically failing. Felt himself leaning more heavily on Cam, until she groaned. No! No! He loved her! This couldn’t be happening! They couldn’t die now!

  Those thoughts cleared his pain-filled senses briefly. Gathering his strength, Gus swung his feet forward, one in front of the other. The rocks and gravel made the surface slippery and dangerous. They ran brokenly, stumbling, almost falling. They had to make it to that bend or they were dead!

  Breath ripping from her burning lungs, Cam swung Gus ahead of her with one, last superhuman effort. She heard the rocket being fired. They had only seconds. As Gus flew off his feet ahead of her, Cam dived headfirst after him.

  Slamming into the earth, the breath knocked out of her, Cam heard a tremendous explosion behind them. The entire canyon lit up like Fourth of July fireworks. With a cry, she
rolled to the right. Safe! She was safe! Fire vomited past them with a roar. The wall protected them! As Cam scrambled to her knees, covered with sand and grit, her eyes widened enormously. The fuel from the leaking tanks on the Apache had exploded. The fireball raced past them and shot high into the night sky. The odor of burning aviation gas permeated her senses. Nostrils flaring, Cam threw herself farther behind the wall and landed squarely on top of Gus.

  He cried out.

  Cam rolled off him, gasping for breath.

  As the fireball began to dissipate, the drug helicopter flew past them and on up the canyon.

  “Gus!” Cam staggered to her knees and twisted toward him. In the light of the fire still crackling and popping from the destroyed Apache, Cam saw his shadowy figure lying on the ground. His teeth were gritted and he was holding his left arm. His face was stretched with pain. Looking down, Cam saw that her hands shook as she reached out to touch his left shoulder. The dark color of blood stained the entire upper arm of his uniform.

  “No!” Cam cried softly. She gently held Gus down when he started to get up. “Don’t move, Gus, don’t move!” she chanted as she reached into her flight suit. She always kept a Swiss Army knife with her; now she needed it. Pulling it out and opening the blade with shaking fingers, she quickly cut away the fabric. It gave with a sickening, ripping sound.

  Cam winced. “Oh, God…”

  Gus lay there gasping for air. Sweat rolled into his tightly shut eyes and he clenched his teeth. Hearing Cam’s soft cry sent fear through him. He felt her hands on his arm as she carefully pulled the sleeve away. “I—broke it on impact,” he rasped.

  Swallowing hard, Cam could see blood spurting from beneath his arm. Worse, she could see the whiteness of bone sticking out of his torn flesh. It was a compound fracture, the worst kind.

  “Just hold still,” Cam said in a shaky voice. Digging into the left pocket on her thigh, where she kept all her emergency medical items, she found several dressings. Tearing them open, the paper fluttering away, Cam placed them where she saw blood spurting out. Gus was losing a lot of blood. Fast.

  “This is going to hurt,” she sobbed near his ear, “but I gotta do it. You’re bleeding, Gus…. Just hold still….” And Cam pressed the dressing up beneath his arm and then applied downward pressure on top of his biceps, hoping to stop the bleeding. If she couldn’t, Cam knew, he’d lie here dying before her eyes. Swallowing hard, she shut her eyes and concentrated. Gus couldn’t die! She loved him. It had taken this crash for her to admit that to herself. What a fool she’d been to dodge the truth of how she felt toward him.

  Gus groaned, his body arching upward. Closing his right fist, his hissed out a string of oaths in Spanish.

  “I’m sorry…I’m sorry…” Cam sobbed. “I’ve got to stop the bleeding. This is the only way….” And she bent protectively over him, tears stinging her eyes.

  Heart pounding with dread, Cam tried to get ahold of her emotions. The crash had ripped away any pretenses. As she knelt over Gus, in an unknown canyon, without any prayer of rescue, Cam knew she loved this man, heart and soul. But was it too late?

  Chapter 14

  Cam shuddered inwardly as the dawn appeared, turning the sky over the canyon a dirty red color. She sat huddled against Gus, who was sleeping intermittantly, his head resting against her shoulder, his left arm in a makeshift sling. The coolness in the canyon depths made her shiver.

  It had rained off and on for the rest of the night. Soaked, they had clung to one another, striving for warmth. Shaken and bruised, Cam studied the yellow and ochre walls of the canyon, sandstone cliffs that rose nearly a thousand feet straight up. They were lucky to have survived at all.

  Gus stirred. Cam gently eased him into a sitting position. She saw him grimace, his right hand moving immediately to his left one in its sling.

  Anxiety threaded through Cam. She saw how leached out he appeared, and she didn’t miss the pain in his expression as he slowly opened his eyes. He studied her in silence.

  “Are you okay?” he asked finally, his voice thick and rough.

  Nodding, Cam whispered, “Yeah. Cold. Bruised. But okay. How’s the arm?” She gestured toward it.

  The bleeding had finally stopped with direct pressure, and Cam had never been so grateful. Looking at Gus in the grayish morning light, she could see the dark stain of blood all the way down his flight uniform to his waist. It was a grim reminder that he could have died last night.

  “It hurts like hell,” he muttered.

  “What I’d give for some pain meds for you,” Cam exclaimed, sympathy in her voice.

  “I’d settle for a glass of water.” He rubbed his face, trying to get alert.

  “Oh, yeah,” Cam said, as she slowly got to her knees. Her entire body ached. She felt as if she’d been in a multicar crash at high speed. There was a tightness along her shoulders and into her neck. Whiplash.

  “Stay here,” she said as she got to her feet. Dusting off her uniform, she ran her fingers distractedly through her hair. When she flew, she kept her hair tied up in a rubber band at the base of her neck. During the crash, the band had broken. Now her loose hair was littered with ash and sand.

  “I’m going to check out what’s left of the Apache,” she told Gus, and rounded the corner of rock wall that had protected them from the explosion. The gravel crunched beneath her booted feet. Down in the narrow canyon lay the blackened, charred remains of the once proud Apache. Wisps of grayish smoke still rose from it as Cam approached it. The air reeked of spilled fuel and melted metal.

  They had carried ammunition, but no missiles, and Cam was glad. The missiles could have detonated upon impact and she and Gus would have died in the cockpits. Running her hand through her hair again, Cam stood looking at the wreckage. There was nothing left to retrieve, she realized, now that the rain had doused the fire. No iridium phone call for help. No state-of-the-art computer equipment linking them with the outside world. Nothing.

  Turning on her heel, she looked at the wall behind her. It was scorched and blackened from the original blast. Compressing her lips, she realized once more how narrowly they had escaped from death. By getting around that wall they had saved their lives.

  Sighing, Cam frowned and walked around the crash site, looking for anything they could use. Right now, they were in high desert—outside the box where the search planes would start looking for them—and without water. The prospects were daunting. She knew that Gus hadn’t had time to radio back their position; everything had happened too quickly.

  Still, they were alive, and as Cam retraced her steps to see how Gus was doing, hope clung stubbornly within her heart. Unshaven, his hair tousled, he was sitting there, back against the wall, cradling his broken arm, his right hand resting beneath his left elbow. Pain was etched in his face, darkening his eyes. Cam’s heart lurched as she knelt down on one knee near his left side. Reaching out, she gently grazed his bearded cheek. “At least,” she said, “we’re alive.”

  “That’s a big one,” Gus agreed, lifting his head and holding her narrowed gaze. “Anything left of our bird?”

  Shaking her head, Cam said, “No…nothing.”

  “I didn’t get a radio message off to base.”

  “It’s okay. We didn’t have time.”

  Gus hung his head and scowled. “I should have seen that coming. I should have been monitoring that damned helo. I’m sorry I let you down.”

  “No,” Cam sighed, “that was my call. I knew better, Gus. This is an old trick that the drug dealers used to play on us down in Peru. They would have two helos about two miles apart trying to sucker us in and shoot us down. We almost lost a couple of our Apaches to them before we caught on to their change of game tactics.” Grimacing, she looked up. “I did lose one. I was commander on this flight. It’s my fault. I knew better. I had that feeling, and I was ignoring it. Dammit…” She rubbed her dirty face with her hands.

  “Hey,” Gus rasped, reaching out with his right hand to touch he
r leg as she stood near him, “don’t do the blame game. Neither of us knew that helo was armed with rockets.”

  “I’d just gotten a report yesterday,” Cam said, regret in her voice as she held Gus’s gaze, “from BJS. It came from Akiva and Joe. They said that Luis Rios, Javier’s son, who runs four or five helicopters to shadow their coke shipments in fixed-wing aircraft, had been using that tactic with them as of late, and to be on top of it.”

  “That was a day ago,” Gus said.

  “Doesn’t matter, Gus. As commander, it’s my job to take these reports seriously and to change our interdiction approach as a result. I didn’t.” Her mouth flattened. Cam knew it would be a horrible black mark in her personnel jacket. More than likely she’d get yanked from her position as C.O., and someone a lot wiser and sharper would replace her. Cam shut her mind to that possibility. Right now, they had to survive this ordeal and get Gus medical help.

  “They’ll understand, querida.”

  The endearment brought tears to Cam’s eyes. Kneeling down, she touched his thigh, then reached out and slid her fingers across his hair before she allowed them to come to rest on his cheeks again. “You know what? When all this was happening, the only thing I was praying for was for us to survive.” She felt the warmth of tears running down her cheeks.

  Gus lifted his uninjured hand to take hers and kiss it gently. “We’re going to be okay, querida. And we’re going to make it out of here.” Her hand was dirty, smudged from greasy black smoke. Her face was streaked with a fine layer of gray dust that her tears had made tracks through. Whispering her name, Gus cupped Cam’s cheek, wiping away the tears with his thumb.

  “We’re going to get out of this.”

  Sniffing, Cam sat back on her heels and self-consciously wiped her face with trembling fingers. “D-do you remember anything about the map of this area, Gus?”

  He nodded. “Yeah, I do. That’s what I was searching for in my brain while you were gone.” He pointed down the canyon toward the opening, which wasn’t far away. “I remember last night seeing a Yaqui village about twenty miles to the south of us, from our last location before the rocket was fired. Now—” he gave her a lopsided smile filled with pain “—it might be closer or farther away, because we were dancing around in the sky so much, trying to shake that rocket. But I know it’s south of this canyon. I saw the canyon marked on my HUDs, and for whatever reason, I remember thinking that it was a Yaqui village probably a lot like the one my mom was born in. So I know it’s there and I know the approximate location.”