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Beale's Hawk Down: The Night Stalkers Short Stories, #4
Beale's Hawk Down: The Night Stalkers Short Stories, #4
Beale's Hawk Down: The Night Stalkers Short Stories, #4
Ebook45 pages28 minutes

Beale's Hawk Down: The Night Stalkers Short Stories, #4

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-a Night Stalkers origin story-

Before The Night Is Mine...

Lieutenant Emily Beale flew for the 101st Airborne, the Screaming Eagles.

Shot down in a Thai jungle, Emily must fight for her crew, her career as a pilot, and her very life.

She discovers both her past and her true vocation when forced to send out the worst call imaginable: Beale’s Hawk Down!

LanguageEnglish
Release dateMar 12, 2015
ISBN9781507048092
Beale's Hawk Down: The Night Stalkers Short Stories, #4
Author

M. L. Buchman

USA Today and Amazon #1 Bestseller M. L. "Matt" Buchman has 70+ action-adventure thriller and military romance novels, 100 short stories, and lotsa audiobooks. PW says: “Tom Clancy fans open to a strong female lead will clamor for more.” Booklist declared: “3X Top 10 of the Year.” A project manager with a geophysics degree, he’s designed and built houses, flown and jumped out of planes, solo-sailed a 50’ sailboat, and bicycled solo around the world…and he quilts.

Read more from M. L. Buchman

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    Book preview

    Beale's Hawk Down - M. L. Buchman

    Beale’s Hawk Down

    a Night Stalker story

    by M. L. Buchman

    Seven Years Ago

    1

    The Black Hawk helicopter shredded around her. The spin and fall fast enough that only the harness kept her in her seat.

    The star-cracked glass-laminate windshield—each star centered around the hole where an armor-piercing round had punched into the cockpit—fragmented Lieutenant Emily Beale’s view of the outside world into a thousand tiny refracted images. The veering Thai jungle hacked into crystalline shards of green in a thousand hues.

    Hydraulic fluid sprayed over the outside of the windshield. Altered the colors of the world around them to a dark, alien-realm red. Even the yellow sunlight bled vermillion.

    Emily flicked off the primary hydraulic system. The secondary didn’t take over, but the emergency backup hung on.

    Beale! Larry shouted at her from the pilot’s seat. I can’t see!

    Emily glanced over and saw blood dribbling down over his forehead. One of the rounds had punched him high in the helmet, hopefully just a scalp wound.

    She stopped attempting to recover systems and clamped her hands onto the controls. They were heavy, sluggish. The intercom sounded dead, Larry’s shout had traveled across the cockpit, not into the headphones built into her helmet.

    She clicked the mic switch a few times—with no result.

    There wasn’t time to look down, but the acrid stench of scorched electronics told her what had happened to their radios.

    Can’t see much myself, she shouted back.

    Emily watched out the only clear section of her copilot’s side window, an intact area little bigger than her hand. She had to wait only two seconds for the helicopter to spin through a full three-sixty and reveal her options of where to crash.

    South and east, a broad spread of poppy fields. They’d been flying east to west when they stumbled on the fields and been fired upon immediately. Even shot up, they’d managed to overfly most of the fields. She spotted several vehicles racing across it in their direction, they’d be in range in three minutes; up close and personal within five. The rugged terrain of the foothills to the Luang Prabang Range was in her favor, or would be until the Black Hawk hit the rolling fields.

    Poppies! the Wicked Witch of the West seemed to cackle in her ears. They hadn’t known about the poppy fields. Their flight had been racing northwest on a flood-relief mission. But some Thai opium lord hadn’t liked the pair of U.S. Army helicopters flying low

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