Shattered (Anderson Special Ops #4) - Melody Anne Page 0,36

finished, it was apparent the team was completely on the same page. They were so in sync, they were on the same word in a simple sentence: Success.

The team arrived at the hangar at 2100 hours to gear up for Operation: Jungle Trophy. Each person packed their bag, then applied the pack containing a parachute. Once they finished, they each found two people to check their attachments. One person checking might be more than enough, but these men never took chances when it came to safety and checking gear in a calm and safe environment was essential.

Osborne was average height but had a body built like a gorilla and could carry a fully loaded rucksack up and down the mountains all day long without breaking a sweat. He was the first to complete gearing up. Without needing to be asked, he went about assisting all seven of his team members.

Smoke followed Osborne down the line as the second set of eyes, checking packs, straps and appropriate gear for each individual. Smoke gave James an extra tug on the belt attached to his crotch, making the man jump in pain when the heavy strap pinched at the sensitive skin of his upper thigh. The team lead raised his hand and pointed his middle finger only inches from Smoke’s face. They both smirked, neither regretting their actions.

“Okay, boys, let’s load up,” James called.

All eight of them climbed into their seats, secured themselves, then sat in silence as the plane departed the tarmac. As the wheels lifted, the mission was officially underway. It would be approximately forty minutes until they reached their jumping point.

Sitting in the plane’s passenger section, the only pronounced light blanketing the men’s faces was from the small sliver of the moon. Even at dark at twenty thousand plus feet in the air, the night sky was far from cold. When the time came to open the airplane’s side door, the jolt of rushing air was comfortable.

“Thirty seconds to jump,” James called out to the team via their headsets. As was practiced repeatedly, the men lined up accordingly, stood in a tight line, and then jumped on cue. Each man forcefully pushed out, diving head-first toward the earth. Gravity pulled hard at them; each second they were in the air, the speed at which they raced toward the ground increased exponentially.

A tight-fitting suit was wrapped around each team member and their gear. The suit increased their aerodynamic shape, which added to the velocity they were able to fall. With their arms tight at their sides, their legs straight out behind them, and their heads tucked in, the men soon would be falling faster than a plane’s flying speed.

Smoke and Myer were in the lead, side by side, only separated by a few feet. Brulenski and Osborne followed tight behind, catching up to the first two members to jump, and pulling into their slipstream. Approximately thirty yards back Beecher, Jones, Wells, and McPherson made a foursome that mirrored the first half of the team.

Taking a glance at his wrist, Smoke noted they’d passed fifteen thousand feet. The amount of pressure on their bodies as they quickly passed one hundred fifty miles per hour was intense. Any lack of attention could be disastrous. As they passed the ten-thousand-foot indicator, they were traveling at a speed of almost two hundred miles per hour. The muscles used to keep themselves tight started to vibrate. When they reached five thousand feet, a simple twitch of the foot could veer them off into a tumbling mass, head and feet spinning and twirling about as if it was a shoe in a dryer.

At two thousand feet, the two foursomes put their brakes on by opening their bodies wide like starfish and quickly separated from each other. Within only a few seconds, they’d slowed down enough, and were far enough away from one another, that they were able to deploy their parachutes. As quickly as they departed, they came back in line with each other, keeping their profiles as small as possible. It wasn’t likely anyone would see them with it being so dark, but they didn’t want to attract any attention from possible onlookers.

The most dangerous part of any parachute operation was the landing. This jump was no exception. They had to make sure they landed in the Sai River, and didn’t fall into anything that could wound or kill one of their team members.

Thankfully, each person hit their mark in the water and was able to