Whack. My co-pilot Fred’s body flops, flinching at my touch.
Crack. The door yawns open.
Thump. We tumble out. Fred groans.
Creak. The fuselage fractures. Fuel gurgles forth.
Shock. Broken bodies scattered.
Gag. Blood, guts, gun smoke, avgas.
Ratatat. Enemy fire. We duck.
Zing. Bullets zip past like mosquitoes. One bites.
Zap. We scramble for cover.
Blast. Our mission’s in tatters. Fallback?
Boom. Missiles obliterate the gunfire.
Silence.
Whup-whup. Choppers evacuate both living and dead.
Pain. A medic digs a bullet from me.
Quiet. Fred lies concussed. Exhausted, I drowse.
Peace?