Pigeon Blood Prologue Page 13

dumfounded by his greeter, shouted as he claimed aboard, "I’m the last. Let’s get the hell out of here!"

Nodding, then into the microphone, the copilot passed the word. "All aboard Mary."

The bomb bay doors closed. The engines rev-ed, and the bomber leaped down the runway. The increased shelling caused any tentativeness over the condition of the strip to be forgotten. A parting mortar shell exploded under the belly of the plane, sending shrapnel through the Lancaster’s thin hide and pinging around the fuselage. A stray piece struck the copilot just as she was turning back to the flight cabin. A throttled scream, a few staggered steps, and then she fell face down on the deck as the shaken plane lifted off.

Gray Hair, turning from a just dead comrade, saw the copilot stagger. "Andre," the medic shouted over the roar of the engines.

Daudet grunted, rose from his seat and gently picked the girl up off the deck. At Gray Hair’s direction, he placed her face up on the netted seating to one side of the fuselage, then backed out of the way. The copilot was conscious, and attracted to the chanting voice of the Azaethlin as he examined her. Hank Tromp, one hand grasping an overhead hull support, bent over Gray Hair’s shoulder and looked down at the girl.

With a reassuring smile, he said, "Don’t worry, our Navaho friend here is the best medic on the Allied side. You’ll get the old Indian remedy along with the latest white man medicine around."

Strained, but intrigued she asked, "A real red Indian? My mater will never believe it."

The plane shuddered, the vibration was pretty rough.