SOAR: A Black Ops Novel

The interior lights went out, plunging the cabin into darkness. From his position in the aisle, Curtis Hansen produced two pairs of chem-lights. He twisted them, then shoved them between seat backs and cushions, providing the aisle with a path of glowing red light.

Doc Masland, who stood just forward of Umarov, snared the door handle and secured it with a long Velcro strap to the closest seat arm. He stepped in front of the Kazakh and, leaning into the darkness, peered out to make sure that the rear stairway had extended properly.

Masland shouted something, but his voice was lost in the roar of wind and turbine scream inside the plane. The vibration increased now, keeping them all off balance, as if the plane were driving on cobblestones. Masland reached back, waved at his comrade, then reached for the leading edge of the metal sluice and pulled it aft. As Masland pulled, Curtis Hansen pushed. The pair of them muscled the sluice onto the top end of the extended folding stairway. Then, with the Kazakh’s help, they forced the concave sheet into the blackness, covering the treads of the descending stairway with a smooth slide. Only the wide flanged end of the slide prevented the whole apparatus from slipping past the top banister of the stairway railing and falling.

The Yak shuddered once more as Shingis banked the plane ninety degrees to the left, turning from south to east.

The unsecured metal slide shifted by twenty-five degrees and rolled in the same direction as the plane. Doc Masland lurched aft and grabbed the top-end flange. For a few seconds he seemed to have lost his grip, but he finally managed to regain control of the unwieldy slide. Without waiting for the aircraft to recover, the American ripped a Velcro strap from his coveralls, slid it through a handle welded just below the flange, turned the slide straight, wrapped the strap twice around the top banister of the stairway, and attached it to itself. Then he stepped across the aisle, knelt, and repeated the action on the opposite side.

Masland crossed back to the plane’s starboard side. He tapped Talgat’s chest with a gloved index finger, as if to say, You …

The Kazakh tapped him back, then pointed at himself.

“Iye—yes.” Masland mimed ripping the Velcro off.

Umarov gave him an “okay.”

Then Masland showed the Kazakh how to twist the slide so the flange wasn’t restrained by the banisters, and when Umarov indicated he’d got what the medic was trying to show him, Masland aimed a mock kick at the upper end of the slide and pantomimed the slide tumbling down.

The Kazakh indicated he understood.

Masland pointed at the exit door, swung his arm as if he were pushing it closed, and mimed securing the lock.

Umarov’s hand made a fist. His thumb stuck straight up.

Doc returned the gesture, steadying himself as Shingis deployed the flaps to slow the aircraft down.

Rowdy Yates made his way up to the rearmost row of seats. His right arm extended fully straight out from the shoulder, then bent smartly, his fingers touching his helmet as if he were saluting — the silent signal for “Move to the rear.”

The medic unhooked his safety strap, swiveled, and faced forward. Curtis Hansen waddled up directly behind him and squeezed Masland’s right shoulder. Gene Shepard followed, squeezing Hansen’s right shoulder when he’d reached his position. He was followed by Mickey D, Ty Weaver, Goose Guzman, and Bill Sandman. Ritzik and Wei-Liu came next. Ritzik nudged Wei-Liu, bent down, and crushed the chem-sticks on her legs. Then he stood, reached around her, and squeezed Sandman’s shoulder. Wei-Liu squirmed out of Ritzik’s grasp and craned her neck. Joey Tuzzolino stood in back of them; Barber Sweeney brought up the rear. Tuzz grinned behind his O₂ mask and wriggled his eyebrows at Wei-Liu. She tried to smile back.

From his position, Rowdy Yates exaggeratedly tapped his ears. One by one the Soldiers mimicked him, then turned thumbs up, signing that their comms were tuned to the insertion element’s secure net and signaling to confirm they were working.

2024. “Stand by.” Rowdy Yates held his right arm high above his head. Wei-Liu peered forward and stretched onto her toes so she could see what was happening. She watched as Doc Masland quickly lowered his legs over the edge of the slide and grabbed the exit-stairway banisters. Then she was shoved against Bill Sandman’s parachute as the jumpers scrunched together as tightly as they could, and she lost sight of Masland altogether.