Chapter 32
“Holy crap.” The copilot and pilot had both turned to look at their guest when she entered the cockpit and apparently the copilot hadn’t believed he was genuinely about to see who he thought he was about to see. “It really is you.” Now, he was jerked back in his seat as far from Camina as he’d been able to move.
“Come on, Earl.” The pilot scolded. “Try to pretend you’re a professional when there are people around to see.” Though his words were weary sounded, there was a twinkle of mirth in the older man’s eyes. His salt and pepper hair was cut high and tight and his profile could have been a generic former military white dude with a chiseled jaw.
“Sorry.” Earl coughed apologetically and settled himself down into his seat properly and he glanced between the pilot and Camina. “It’s just that, it’s her. I mean. It’s you. And you’re her.” Familiar with this phenomenon, Camina merely smiled politely while retaining her grip on her patience.
“It’s alright.” She assured him and turned her focus to the person who was actually focused on his job. “I assume you both had a reason for calling me up here?”
“Yes.” The pilot responded and keyed up the radio. “There’s a call for you.”
“I see.” She wasn’t surprised. Honestly, Camina had been expecting something like this. The military officer on the other end of the transmission gave their credentials and confirmed hers. Then she listened as she was briefed and received her orders. Her stomach sank with every word spoken.
“Communication has been limited. But reports say that it’s Prometheus purple in Manhattan.”
She’d known. Not precisely, but Camina had known something was very wrong in the city. The city where her children and husband were at this very moment. Had Lance ever gotten Anna? Or was she separated from family in the middle of what was happening there? Kyle would be fine; the museum was practically a magic proof bunker when all was said and done. Sam was…Sam. And her husband wasn’t great at emergencies.
No.
Lance surely would have gotten Anna as soon as he was done with whatever patient he’d been dealing with at the time. Surely. Of course, Camina didn’t expect Lance, an untrained civilian, to risk his life through…for their daughter…
“What do we…” Her voice was tight, strained. Tears weren’t in her eyes yet, but they were stinging. She stomped hard on that train of thought before it could take her mind places that she couldn’t afford to let it go right now. Taking a brief moment, Camina cleared her throat and lifted her gaze to the ceiling of the cockpit. Then biting her lip she steeled herself and asked the question again with a shake of her head at herself. “What do we know about the monster manifestations?”
“Hundreds. And those are just the class three and lower ones. There’s at least one class four that we know if because it can be seen across the bay.” Camina froze.
“In the city?” It came out in a breathy whisper.
“On Manhattan Island.” Apparently, her whisper had been loud enough for him to hear and respond. Or maybe she hadn’t been as quiet as she thought.
“What are my orders?” It wasn’t resignation, per se. But both the pilot and copilot glanced up at the woman as her voice changed yet again. While she wanted to go and help her children and her husband, she knew that there were others who needed her help, others who were less gifted, less capable. But she wasn’t the person that got sent in to rescue people. She was the person who got sent in to deal with dangers the rescuers couldn’t. Camina knew she wasn’t a precision tool.
“The class four monster manifested at the airport on the North end of the island.” Gasps came from both pilots at the news. For her part, Camina focused on the sleek black plastic of the instrument panel, her eyes roving over familiar gauges that she knew enough about to not accidentally crash. “It’s just a standard jump into a high magic monster hot zone. Disable or contain the monster. Do not let it leave Manhattan.”
“Understood.” Her face was bleak. All those people. There would be thousands of deaths, if not from the monster, then possibly from collateral damage. “Will I have a team? Or any…” She stopped and swallowed the hard lump of dread. “Is anyone documenting what’s happening?”
“No, you’ll be jumping from the plane you’re on now. It’s just you for now.” She nodded stiffly before realizing that he couldn’t see her. “The pilots already have their orders. You’ll be descending to twenty-five thousand feet for your drop. I’ve been told that’s enough time for you to suit up?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“I’m sorry.” He offered, only halfheartedly. Because he wasn’t really sorry to be ordering her to save lives. Yet he knew what she was risking, how difficult this was emotionally, and how bad things were going to be for her in the future without an embedded journalist to document what she was doing to combat the vitriol of the conspiracy anti-magic nuts. “There just aren’t any other military personnel on the flight with you. The closest thing there is to an embedded journalist is the journalism student, but he – ”
“He’ll go.” Camina gasped quickly. “He’ll absolutely be willing to deploy with me.” Hurrying to add before she could be cut off. “He’s been sitting next to me the whole flight and I’ve been looking over his work. Good solid stuff. I was going to recommend scouting him. If he’s all I have to choose from, I’ll take back up with a Level Four magic license.”
“Fine.” The officer acknowledged. “We vetted him before calling the plane just in case.” She pumped her fist and did a little happy dance in the cockpit without letting any sound escape her lips.
“Yes, Sir. Thank you, Sir.” She was giddy with excitement now when she’d been morose only moments before.
“Right.” He already sounded like he regretted it.