“Three targets on the nearest rooftop,” said Marnie.

Alex didn’t respond. The M249 buzzed for a few seconds, and all three shooters dropped to the roof in contorted positions. Marnie made no adjustments to the helicopter’s flight, sliding directly over the building for a few seconds. She put them in a hover, glancing downward at the chin window below her feet.

“Perfect alignment,” said Rich. “Grenade away.”

Marnie spun the helicopter in place until the rest of the compound came into view. A bullet thunked inside, somewhere near the cockpit. She slid left over the adjacent building.

“Grenade away! Next!” said Rich.

Several bullets peppered the fuselage, one puncturing the copilot’s door window and putting a hole in the top of the cockpit. Her night vision flared from the first grenade but didn’t white out for more than a fraction of a second. The grenade had exploded fifty feet below on the other side of the helicopter, scattering white-hot chunks across the rooftop.

“I have no targets,” said Alex. “We’re facing the wrong way.”

“I’m aware of that,” she said, flying forward for a few seconds before going into a hover again.

She spun the helicopter 180 degrees, pointing Alex and Devin in the direction of the incoming ground fire. A torrent of gunfire erupted from the cabin the moment she stopped the spin. The second grenade detonated, momentarily blinding her. She popped her night vision goggles, determining that she had enough light from the fires below to pull this off with the naked eye.

“Give me about twenty feet directly to the right,” said Rich.

“Tell me when,” said Marnie, putting the helicopter into a slow drift in the direction Rich had requested.

“Grenade out!” he said. “One more! Let’s go for the big one on the western side.”

Devin yelled as a string of bullets hit the pilot’s side of the helicopter. The door window next to her shattered, a sharp pain creasing her forearm. Alex’s machine gun responded with burst after burst. The third grenade exploded, illuminating the trees around them.

“Devin?” she said, getting no answer.

She looked over her shoulder in time to see Rich sidearm his last grenade out the starboard-side door. Fuck this. We’re out of here. She pulled up on the collective lever and took them higher, until they’d risen about three hundred feet above the buildings, where she pushed the cyclic forward. The helicopter angled down several degrees and sped away from the camp.

“Is Devin okay?” she asked.

“I’m fine. Just got a little preoccupied there for a moment,” said Devin. “Nice flying, by the way.”

“Thank you. It’s been a little while.”

“Just like riding a bike,” said Rich. “But about a thousand times more complicated.”

“Something like that,” she said.

The treetops below lit up for a moment, the last grenade hopefully spreading its flammable contents over the roof of the biggest building in the camp.