13
John found Connie plastered against the perimeter fence like spaghetti thrown against a wall. Or a cartoon cutout. But this was no cartoon.
Her hands were clenched into the wire as if holding on for life. Maybe they were. Her face pressed against the wire. Her breath billowed in cloudy gasps into the cold morning air. Nothing beyond the fence except low hills and trees.
Night Stalkers were as steady on the ground as in the air. They prided themselves on their smooth and steady attitude. Same way they flew.
Let the Rangers brag to each other, pretend whatever battle they were about to para-jump into juiced them up. Maybe it did, or maybe that was a fear reaction. Let the Delta operators crawl aboard a helo dragging the bodies of friends back across the thin line of safety after a mis
