In The End Box Set by Stevens, GJ (read 50 shades of grey .TXT) 📗

wide tree. Cassidy’s arm went around my shoulder and I leaned in.

Another firework raced from the ground, its launch closer than before. The chopper rocked to the side as the red explosion gave a direct hit at the rear of the fuselage. The darkness wouldn't tell if he'd done any damage, but it didn't seem to have mattered.

The line of tracers cut off and the chopper raced forward, turning to re-zero its guns. As it turned, another rocket raced, then another at its back. One after the other, five or six salvos bursting from the ground.

Andrew was giving all he had as I silently urged him on. I hoped by now he’d turned and fled, running to find somewhere to hide.

The air popped as each glitter ball exploded without harm, the chopper out of range, out of danger as it tracked back, guns silent towards the source.

I pictured the gunner looking through his visor, one eye closed, taking time to centre his aim. A prolonged blast exploded from the muzzle. The chopper hung still for a moment before turning, tracing the route to its last hunting ground.

I turned to Cassidy and took her embrace. Not able to hold back the tears, I sunk to my knees.

23

A crackle of electricity cut through the air. Through tears, I turned up to the hazy sky, dismissing the sound as an echo of my imagination until shockwaves rattled through our bodies with a furious explosion of light erupting from inside the helicopter and out into the half-light.

Clambering to my feet I ran, vision fixed as the aircraft became unsteady. Smoke circled out, whisked away by the speeding rotors.

Stumbling, my face turned to the ground. I leapt to recover, looking skyward as quick as I could, watching the body of the chopper spin. My feet took me right, veering as the path of the rotating fuselage sped through its turn.

My gaze fixed forward, seeking any sign of my friend. Or what was left.

The grass grew thicker and I slowed to raise my legs high over the uneven ground. It was hard going and not just because my attention was elsewhere.

Out of the corner of my eye I saw the helicopter falling to the ground a few hundred metres away, a second explosion coursing outward. The tail caught and the spin changed direction in an instant, sending the fuselage over on its side, the rotors crushing down and splintering, debris pinging off in all directions.

Falling to my hands and knees, I interlaced my fingers over my buried head. Tucking into a foetal position, shrapnel fell to the grass. The burn of oil and hot metal fell all around.

With the last of the debris I stood, giving only a casual glance over to the wreckage as it rocked to a halt and ended its final barrel roll.

“Andrew,” I screamed and paced forward again. My gaze scoured the dense grass.

I soon saw the road and its surface mottled to shreds, fractured with lead still steaming from the small craters.

“Andrew,” I repeated, my voice breaking at the last. Crunching loose tarmac on the road, I stopped, pivoting and letting my crackling voice sing out into the surrounding nothing.

I saw him over the verge, climbing to his feet. Rising from the tall grass, I ran toward the wide smile on his smoke-blackened face. His hands were out, red and charred, his near empty pack hanging in the crook of his arm.

I ran, bounding over the verge, skidding down the side, jumping the shallow ditch and grabbed him as he sucked through his teeth at my embrace.

He pressed his elbows at my side; it was all he could manage as he winced at my grip.

“You suckered them in,” I said through laughter. “You sneaky bastard.”

“Saved the biggest for last. The Brimstone. You should have seen the size of the fucker,” he said.

I could hear the grin in his voice, but it turned to a wince as I hugged tighter.

Drawing back, I took first notice of the sun above the horizon. I watched the sky free of cloud, the blue softening with every moment.

Brushing the loose dirt from my fingers against my jacket, my hands came away with blood. I looked down to find the fabric of my jacket unbroken.

Pain opened inside my stomach, but I knew it wasn't mine when I caught sight of the hole in the side of Andrew's dark woollen coat.

“Shit,” I said, showing Andrew my hands and pointing down to the hole not part of the design.

His eyes grew wide and, with his hands still out in front, I caught the smell of charred flesh in my throat.

With great care I pulled the bag from his arm as I tried to keep it from the rawness of his hands. Unbuttoning his jacket, he winced with every movement.

Peeling the coat back over his shoulders, I held my breath as I saw the thin brown jumper soaked red underneath. I tried to keep my expression straight. I knew, despite not looking, that Andrew's gaze was fixed on mine, keen for my reaction.

Pulling up the jumper, the t-shirt too, I folded up the layers dripping with fresh coppery blood, drawing a sigh of relief as I saw the line traced down the side of his skin.

“It didn't go in,” I said, the words breathless.

He relaxed, tensing again, air sucking through his teeth with every movement.

I took a second look; the bleeding had already slowed. We were safe. A calm air settled.

We'd survived another moment of terrible history, but the elation was short-lived when a high, animal-like scream cut through the air.

A young woman’s desperate voice, calling for help.

24

I turned, looking toward Andrew. His gaze was already urging me away, his hands shooing me off despite his visible pain.

Shrugging the weight