Damnation Code (William Massa) - William Massa Page 0,3

dead soldiers shot out at him and clawed his leg, mouth gurgling blood.

A scream exploded from Talon’s lips…

***

Talon’s eyes snapped open and he was hit with a flash of blinding light. Blinking away his confusion, he realized that the passenger sitting next to him had leaned over and raised the shade of the airplane window. Judging from the flashing signs and the airport jumping into view outside the window, the plane had begun its descent to San Francisco International Airport.

Clearly, the kid didn’t want to miss one second of the spectacle. “Sorry,” he muttered sheepishly.

“No worries,” Talon said. He was relieved to be awake after the nightmare. Swallowing hard, Talon wiped the beads of perspiration from his face and wished the flight attendants were still serving drinks.

The image of his lifeless team members still tormented him during the plane’s descent. The ambush they’d walked into two years ago had unfolded a bit differently in real life. There were no casualties from friendly fire, but the encounter had cost three good men their lives.

Ironically enough, the attack had also brought him and Michelle closer, paving the way for their eventual romance. She was the reason why he’d taken a two-week vacation from his military duties. He was here to pay her a surprise visit in her hometown of San Francisco.

Heavy landing gears crunched against the runway and their vibrations rattled the plane, jolting Talon from his thoughts.

As the jet taxied to its terminal, he turned on his phone. Five text messages were waiting for him. Michelle didn’t know about his visit but his old superior officer, Erik Garrison, did.

Erik lived in Oakland now; he resigned from active duty exactly a month after the ambush. It was Erik who’d made the call to trust the guerilla leader and lead his men into a kill-zone. He blamed himself for the three casualties involved and remained unwilling to forgive himself. There was no way Erik could’ve known what was coming, but it didn’t change the man’s feelings. He began a downward spiral fueled by alcohol and drugs. Since taking early retirement he’d been living on a meager disability pension and thus far had failed to put the broken pieces of his life back together.

Talon knew his friend was in a dark place and worried about him. It was hard enough to adjust to civilian life without being haunted by guilt. Suicide rates were at an all-time high among veterans, and Erik had indicated on numerous occasions that he was thinking of eating a bullet. Talon planned to drop by Erik’s place in the coming days. Hopefully, seeing a familiar face might help a little.

With that plan in mind, he snatched his duffle bag from the overhead compartment. Next to him, an elderly lady struggled with her bag. “Let me help you with that,” Talon said.

His strong hand closed around the handle of the monstrous suitcase. Holy shit, how did Granny manage to drag this beast onto the plane? “Here you go, ma’am.”

The lady’s eyes lit up with gratitude and she smiled at her rescuer. “Thank you so much, so kind of you.”

Talon offered to carry the suitcase until they located a cart in the terminal. The airport was abuzz with activity. A number of flights had landed within minutes of each other and tired, frustrated travelers oozed stress as they fought through rings of people to claim their luggage.

“Is someone picking you up, or will you be hailing a cab?” Talon asked his new friend, who had introduced herself as Mrs. Cane.

“My daughter is supposed to be waiting for me—”

“Mom!”

An attractive blonde in her mid-twenties rapidly approached Mrs. Cane. The elderly lady winked at Talon in a conspiratorial manner.

Someone is trying to play matchmaker, Talon thought.

There was immediate interest in the daughter’s eyes. Talon’s gray shirt and faded brown leather jacket did little to hide his lean but muscular frame. As a member of 1st Special Forces Operational Detachment-Delta, Sgt. Talon was in peak physical condition. His swarthy good looks and easy smile didn’t hurt either. Most people wouldn’t have taken him for an elite soldier, with his longish hair and beard, but special-ops soldiers followed more relaxed grooming standards than rank-and-file military personnel.

While Mrs. Cane’s daughter was quite lovely, Talon only had eyes for the reporter who’d stolen his heart two year earlier, in Afghanistan. “I see you found your ride. You two have a great day now.”

Waving goodbye, he merged with the crowd of travelers surging toward the nearest exit. His years