racing back from the rendevous with the rose at the river, I speed through the back gates of JBLM, slide to a stop and park in some general's spot... -- (edited)
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hanging my Handicapped placard so they fucking can't tow it away. slip into the back entrance to the 'contractor's prep room, not much happening anymore since we don't give a damn about the midde east as much.
blacken my face, pull on some frogman's suit, perfect for a HALO drop, look around trying to think of all I'll need for tonights mission. I hear some C5 is heading back east to bring a load of crabs and smoked salmon for shindig on the islands. Yeah, that's my ride.
I sneak on board and hide in the cargo netting smug in plans when we take off, I remember an import detail, a part of the plan. fevorishly I work out some alternatives, struggling to not move and give away my position.
Hours later, after a fitful journey, the gps on my cell phone shows our location way over Boston in the Jet stream high above the commerical liner altitudes. The time is now or never, having considered all the angles, go with what you got, sacrafice for the team is the special forces creed.
I leap from under the netting, startling the passengers from their stupor and boredom, but they're all belted down, I'm too fast, I fit the ramp button and lower it enough to fling myself out into the dark, freezing near supersonic air, dropping rapidly near the speed of sound, I use my arms to direct me according to my gps.
my mind flashes back to my alternate ideas, there's only ONE chance this works out well, land on Mel cause without that fucking parachute I forgot.... its gonna be a quickie for sure
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Responses:
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LOL!!
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Epiphany
Jan 16, 21:30
1
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