Resurrection: Shadows of Omega
The chopper takes a sharp right turn, and then we are turning back across the island, toward the eastern side. I peer out the window, retracing our flight pattern in my head, glancing sideways at the three men beside me. They are unfazed by the sudden change in direction. I glance up toward the cockpit. Something uneasy stirs inside me, but I push the feeling away.
I am safe with these men. If the pilot is altering course, it’s purely because there is a change in the weather pattern. He will get me to where I need to go.
There are a lot of people who would like to see you dead.
I curse myself, and then I shout,
“Hey, why are we turning?” The man beside me replies, “The pilot knows what he’s doing, ma’am.”
“That wasn’t my question!” “I’m not the pilot, ma’am. I don’t know.”
“Our flight pattern was very clear. We shouldn’t be altering course.”
“Ma’am, I don’t know—”
I reach toward the earpiece in my ear, intending to key into the pilot’s headset and inquire directly about our change in course. The man beside me places his hand on my wrist.
“Ma’am,” he says, firmly. “Don’t.”
I glance at his face. It’s hard to read his expression—stony, direct. I push his hand away.
“Stand down, soldier,” I say.
I raise my hand again, and this time, he grabs my wrist and shoves my arm behind my back. It happens in the span of a single breath—fast, fluid, and efficient. Unfortunately for him, I am equally as fast. One year on the road as president has not even slightly dulled my reflexes or instincts. I immediately take in three things about him: One, his patch reads Douglas. Two, he’s at least two hundred and fifty pounds. Three, he’s trying to break my arm.
I use my right hand to grab the knife in my boot and swing it around. I slash the right side of his cheek open and he screams. Hot blood gushes from his face. I realize in this moment that the other two men in the chopper have risen from their seats. At first, I think they are coming to my assistance.
One has his handgun drawn. I unbuckle my harness.
Adrenaline. Here it comes. The supercharged rush, the inhuman strength. It flashes through my body, giving me speed and finesse I have not experienced since I took on the mantle of the presidency.