Getting there

part 6

Jim seemed to be holding up okay, Blair thought as he kept an eye on his Sentinel. Blair had found out so much in the last few days that he wondered if he could cope with Jim actually telling him about what happened in Peru. Well, they were both just going to have to deal with it as the moment was here now.

"Jim, you want to explain what you meant by 'Krasky died first no chance'?"

"Simon asked me about him yesterday. He thought I was working on some case, which was why I'd said it at the hospital."

"If you think it's going to be too much. Just tell me the beginning, and we can talk tomorrow, on the way to Georgia, whatever. Or we can stop now."

"No pressure, huh?" said Jim letting out a breath as Blair handed the photo back to him.

He looked at it carefully again, one finger tracing over the faces looking so formal when he could remember them with so many other expressions…

Laughing madly at some bad or rude joke, teasing the new guy, when someone had done or said something really stupid.

Ecstatic when they won a competition, when they were going on leave, when they came back from leave, back into the fold. Back into the brotherhood.

The indescribable comfort of being a team, meshing together like clockwork. Mad, bad and dangerous to know. Hoo-ah. Nobody messes with us. Wanna live a little, die a little…?

Business like when 'in country'. All focus was on the mission, making sure they knew their job. Looking out for each other especially when it went FUBAR as this one had.

Pain, fear, regret, dying, death- he'd seen those expressions too. And the mess it made.

Time to leap into the darkness. No more running away, he was a soldier for Christ's sake. Jim leaned back on the couch, let out a deep breath and let himself free fall. He knew exactly how far he was going to go. He had back up; Blair was here to pull the emergency rip cord. Red light, green light… GO…

"We're hit, look out!"

"We are so going down! Mayday, mayday! Brace yourselves."

"Captain!"

"Yo."

"Get strapped back in!"

"Can you see a clear space? Beacon! Pilot!"

"Canopy's too dense! I'll do the best I can Cap. Fuck! The beacon's screwed. Don't know if it'll…"

Tortured whining from the engine, black smoke pouring, stench of fuel, and the smell of fear. The chopper was wrenched down, it viciously snapped from side to side.

Lurching, crashing through the trees, hitting, sliding, wrenching, whump thump, screech. The slick, slither of thick foliage. Smell of wood and leaves, damp earth. Flying to one side, down and out.

Blackness. Time passes.

The clink tink tink…slow ticking of a cooling engine, dripping of fuel, smell of blood.

Quiet. Jungle noises creep back in, chirps and whistles, and rustling through the trees.

He came to, he could smell fuel and something else, and slowly sat up. That action made him suddenly turn to the side retching painfully. Finally he finished and spat. He wiped his face and found his hand covered in blood. Where was all the blood coming from? He looked down and found his fatigues had splashes of blood and oil across them.

His ribs hurt, his head hurt, and his left ankle wasn't too happy either.

"Heads up, any body hear me?"

"Captain! "

"Sir!"

Relieved to hear some voices he staggered over to the wreck of the chopper, he must have been thrown clear. For a moment his vision wavered. He knew there was only one chopper not two…

Painfully he pulled himself inside. Evans and Clements were still strapped in their seats.

"How are you doing?"

"Peachy sir. Look I can't hear Mustard or Tet, check em first,"

"Ok, where does it hurt?"

Evans answered first "Belt's digging in too much and my leg hurts bad."

Ellison bent down to see, and was horrified to see a big chunk of metal stuck in his leg there was a big pool of blood on the floor already. He ripped open a pressure bandage from his vest and applied one, opened a second and applied that one the other side of the wound.

"Still there, Evans? Talk to me."

"I'm ok. Cap."

"Clements. keep an eye on him for me will you? You know the drill right?"

"Sir, yes, sir. Looks like something whapped you good, Captain".

"I'll sort myself out in a minute when there's another pair of hands free.

Clem, how are you doing? Talk to me."

"Fine just wedged in real tight here. Not sure if the arm's broke or the shoulder. Frickin painful sir."

"Ok, nothing else? Hang in there. I'll get you something for it soon. I'm going to see what supplies I can muster. And something to get you out. Yell if anything changes. I'll be back in a few."

He checked the cockpit and found Krasky, the pilot very dead. He hadn't stood a chance. He had to ease the crushed and split body so he could get at the first aid kit. He looked at the control panel. The switch for the emergency beacon was damaged. There was blood and …bits everywhere and flies were beginning to feed. He went to the back of the chopper, passing the other two who said "Okay," as he passed.

Sarris was lying on his back with part of a seat crushing him.

"Buddy can you hear me?"

Nope he was out of it. ABC's okay for now. Pupils responsive. No open wounds, possible internal or spinal injuries though. Not looking good. He was going to need help getting him out.

Ellison moved carefully round the chopper to check on the others.

Brown, he found at the very back of the Huey, neck broken. He got his tags and put them in his pocket. As he made his way forwards the chopper slowly slid a bit more. As he grabbed onto something his ankle turned over again with agony, and he clutched at his ribs with his other hand. He closed his eyes and hung on. Come on! Your men need you…

He realised he should get everybody out; she might go up any moment.

"Cap! She's gonna go!" cried a voice, echoing his own thoughts.

"Keep calm I'm coming. It's gonna be ok."

He came forward and began trying to free Clements as he was the next most able bodied. Cutting the seatbelt webbing he helped him up and over the back of the seat. After fitting a sling for his broken collarbone and giving him some pain pills. Together they pulled Sarris out of the chopper on makeshift back board and he set up an IV and neck brace. He wrote details with a marker on Sarris's arm so he'd know when and what his condition was last. He mentally reminded himself to check back on him within the next 15 minutes.

Evans they carried out after packing his leg again. Jim knew he couldn't remove the metal without him bleeding out; chances were he'd do that anyway, if infection didn't get him first. Don't think about it. He fixed up IV's and morphine. Jesus, it was hot here, making his head swim. Dashing his arm across his forehead, he realised then it wasn't sweat but blood. In a minute, he would….but first he had to…

They pulled all the Bergens from the chopper. They got all the ordnance as well. Don't think about what was left of him as he removed Krasky's tags- sticky with blood they joined Brown's in his vest pocket. Just in case the Huey went up before he had a chance to bury them. There was a big gash in the side of the Huey, the other seats were gone. That's where he must have come out nearer the ground. There was hope for the other two. Check Sarris again. Wake up, buddy, I need to talk to you. 15 minutes.

They could all smell fuel; Jim crawled along looking for the breaks and smeared damp and dry earth where he could. He didn't think it was going to go up after all.

Satisfied at last that the survivors were okay for the moment, he patrolled looking for Brodinsky and Coleman. He left Clements keeping an eye on Sarris and Evans. He'd been thrown clear, maybe they had, too. Ten minutes later he found them. They were dead too. Shit, in one stroke he'd lost half of his men. This was not good.