Reign of Evil

The plane rumbled down the runway and took to the sky. Holmes and the witch were set up for a tandem, just as YaYa and Hoover were. They’d had to work on the straps for the team dog, but they’d managed finally. The rest of them wore regular commercial chutes, which would get them to the ground, albeit more slowly than their military counterparts.

Yank glanced out the window. They were in a Super Twin Otter de Havilland. He’d jumped out of this model before, so knew how to exit, but it didn’t mean he liked it. He remembered his first mission with Triple Six when they’d HALOed into the Sea of Cortez. Laws and Walker had given him no end of shit for supposedly being afraid of heights. Not that he’d let on, but someone must have let the secret slip.

Truth be told, he was terrified of heights and spent most of the time while he was in the air with his eyes closed in some form or fashion, even if it was only to pretend to sleep.

They were heading to Bratton Castle. He’d had the pilot program the coordinates into the navigation system. He glanced at them to make sure they hadn’t been changed. 51° 15’ 49.32" N, 2° 8’ 36.6" W. Check.

Laws had checked the wind and weather and had plotted for them to jump from an altitude of 4,000 feet north and west of their target. It would be a cold jump, but they wouldn’t be in the air for long. The two tandem jumper pairs were going out first, separated by ten seconds. Then the rest of them would pile out together. What the pilot did after that didn’t really matter. Either there’d be an entirely different England within a few hours or Triple Six would have accomplished their mission.

And what was that mission?

To kill the mythical King Arthur or at least stop him from becoming king once more, all while trying to not get killed by supernatural hounds and whatever else might be thrown at them. A hard-core terrorist looked easy by comparison. He fought the urge to rub at the bruises the hounds had caused when they’d taken him.

He glanced out the window, then averted his gaze back to the controls. He heard Laws laugh behind him but wouldn’t give him the chance to bring the phobia up again.

It wasn’t long before the pilot announced they were ten minutes out.

The SEALs set their watches.

They’d expected to hear from Ian and his Marines, but there had been radio silence. Several times during the short flight, Holmes had tried to establish contact but with zero luck. Everyone tried to keep their thoughts positive, but the mind could very easily spin lemonade into citric acid.

Laws posted by the open door hatch and got everyone in line.

Yank kept his eye on the pilot.

At five minutes, the pilot slowed the airspeed.

The SEALs did a radio check on their MBITR.

Laws counted down the last thirty seconds and sent YaYa and Hoover out first. After a ten-second gap, Holmes and the witch went next. Then it was Walker and Laws.

Yank patted the pilot on the back of his head, then slid out the door into the air. He let three seconds pass, then pulled his ripcord. He saw the line before him, with YaYa far to the front and lower in altitude. He searched for his landmarks. Keevil Airfield was northeast. He found the town of Bratton, then spied the white horse drawn on the side of the mound. He didn’t know where it came from, but it was made from something white and seemed as large as a football field. The plan was to land west of this landmark, then climb the mound together.

He watched as YaYa landed and rolled.

Holmes did better, standing up, using the witch’s weight as ballast.

Then Walker, then Laws, then it was his turn.

Just as he was about to hit the ground fear surged through him as he realized he’d just leaped from an airplane. He’d been so focused on the mission that he’d forgotten to be scared. He closed his eyes and winced as he landed. Still, with the extralarge commercial parachute, he was able to stand and walk it down.

They recovered their parachutes and placed them in a pile.

The witch looked like a freshly bathed cat.

“If there ever comes a time when you want me to jump out of another plane, don’t bother coming around. I won’t do it. England or no.”

“Wasn’t so bad,” Laws said. “Yank here is terrified of heights and he jumps all the time.”

“Of course we sometimes have to kick him out the door,” Walker added, “but he’s getting better.”

Yank rolled his eyes. He’d known the jibe was coming. Laws couldn’t help himself. Always the fucking merry prankster. Mr. Joker boy.

Laws patted Yank on the back. “What? No comment?”

“I’ll reserve my comment for the next time we’re sparring.”

Laws shut up at this, probably because he knew that Yank had forgotten more about fighting than Laws had ever learned.

Holmes checked his HK416. “Let’s remember this is a military mission.”

Yank watched as Laws almost came back with a smart-assed reply, then thought better of it when Holmes gave him a firm glare.