Secrets and saving grace

When I sat down, I believed fate was calling our names that day—that a friendship was being forged as we talked about our lives. I learned that her family had moved to Michigan from Indonesia in hopes of creating a better life for her and her sisters. School had always been challenging for her, but she was determined to be the best she could be for her family. She wanted to make them proud of the woman she would become. She dreamed of becoming a miner, discovering new things and learning from the earth itself.

As we spoke, her soft voice carried over the hum of the plane and the chatter of the other passengers. The world around us seemed to fade away. For a moment, I didn’t fully comprehend what was happening—until the pilot’s voice crackled over the speaker.

“We are beginning our descent into the airspace over the base now. Welcome to the Army, young men and women. Let me be the first to welcome you to hard work. Please buckle up as we land.”

For the second time in my life, I wished time would slow down, just so I could have a few more moments to talk to Michelle.

As we progressed through training, I learned that she was eager to become a pilot. Flying was her second love. The way she spoke about her father—as if he were Superman—left me amazed.

Over the next few months, as we learned to fly, I realized that our lives had been very different, yet strangely alike in so many ways. Then the day came for our first test mission. We were assigned to fly together—she as my copilot, and me as the pilot.

As we soared through the clouds, pushing the limits of speed, I couldn’t help but feel joy rushing through me. Time and space seemed to lose their meaning, fading into something unreal.

Simple times, as we soared through the sky, becoming one with the world below.

When we landed aboard the ship John Paul Jones in the middle of the ocean, the rocking of the deck left us both momentarily seasick. The smell of salt and fish filled the air. In that moment, I felt Michelle’s arms wrap around me. Her hug was soft and warm, and the scent of roses and her shampoo filled my senses.

I snapped back to reality and looked around, realizing I was still standing in the middle of the base. People were watching us. Over the roar of jets taking off from the runway, her sweet voice filled my ears.

“John, we have to go now,” she said.

We grabbed our bags and ran toward the plane, lining up on the runway. It was our first mission. Fear made my hands sweat and my knees feel weak, but somehow Michelle’s voice cut through the noise.

“John, don’t be scared,” she said. “We both need to be strong.”

This is Eagle 10 requesting all-clear for takeoff,” I said, leaning closer to the microphone as the cockpit lights flickered softly around us. For a moment, there was only static in my headphones—sharp, biting, endless. Then a rough, cold voice broke through.

“Eagle 10, you are clear to take off. Your mission is to neutralize the enemy base in the far east. Intelligence places it approximately two clicks south of your current location. Take them down and return to the John Paul Jones.”

The weight of the words settled heavily in my chest. This wasn’t a drill. This wasn’t training. This was real. I swallowed hard before responding. “Copy that. Eagle 10 is on the move, sir.”

I pushed the throttle forward, and the aircraft shuddered as the engines roared to life. The sound was deafening, vibrating through my bones as the plane surged ahead. The wheels rattled violently against the runway, almost as if they were resisting what was coming next. Then, suddenly, we were airborne. The ground dropped away beneath us, swallowed by darkness.

Fear crept into my heart, cold and unrelenting. I tightened my grip on the controls, forcing myself to breathe evenly. Beside me, Michelle sat rigid in her seat. I could hear her teeth clicking together despite the engine noise. She didn’t look at me, but I didn’t need to see her face to know what she was feeling. The fear was written in every tense movement, every shallow breath.

Outside the cockpit window, the night stretched endlessly before us. Somewhere out there was our target—an enemy base waiting in silence. I reminded myself why we were here, why this mission mattered. Turning back wasn’t an option.

As Eagle 10 cut through the dark sky, one thought echoed in my mind: whatever awaited us ahead, we would face it together—or not return at all.

As we flew over the island, the dark shape of land stretching beneath us, my pulse thundered in my ears. We were only a click away from our destination. “Michelle, be ready,” I said, my voice tight. “Prepare to drop the first bomb in half a click.”

She nodded, hands steady despite the fear I knew she felt. The seconds dragged on. “Quarter click,” I called out. “Stand by.”

Then everything moved at once. “Bombs away!”

The first bomb fell cleanly, striking the target dead center. A flash lit up the night sky as the second bomb followed, slamming directly into the bunker before I could even begin my turn back. For a brief moment, I thought we had done it. Mission complete.

Then a sharp crack split the air.

A second shot followed almost immediately, violent and unforgiving. The aircraft lurched hard to the side. Warning lights exploded across the control panel, flooding the cockpit in red. Engine one failure. Engine two failure.

“Oh no,” I thought, my hands tightening until my knuckles turned white around the controls.

“Michelle!” I screamed. “We’re going down—prepare yourself!”

I grabbed the radio. “Eagle Ten to command. Eagle Ten to command—Mayday! We’ve been hit. Both engines are down. We’re behind enemy lines and going to crash land. Send help as soon as you can!”

Static hissed before that same cold voice answered. “Eagle Ten, copy. Be advised—we’ve lost Eagle Nine as well. Set her down softly and destroy the aircraft. You have a chance. Godspeed, son.”

My chest tightened. “Command, please—send help,” I said, my voice cracking despite my effort to stay calm. “I’m holding her steady, but we’ve got maybe one click left.”

The silence that followed was heavier than any explosion. Even I couldn’t hide the fear anymore—not of failure, but of death itself.

Smoke poured from the engines as the ground rushed up to meet us. The aircraft shuddered violently, barely holding together. “Michelle,” I said through clenched teeth, “it doesn’t look like help is coming. Landing gear isn’t responding, and the speed brakes are locked.”

The trees rose fast. My hands began to shake as I fought the controls, every instinct screaming that this was the end. Then the sound hit us—metal ripping through branches, wood snapping like gunfire. The cockpit filled with the sharp stench of fuel, burning my lungs. The impact threw us forward, and I heard Michelle scream as her head slammed into my seat.

Heat radiated through the floor as the plane finally skidded to a stop deep in the woods. Flames licked at the wreckage. I tore off my harness and jumped out, rushing back to drag Michelle free. Blood streamed down her face, dark against her skin. We couldn’t stay here—not for a second.

“Eagle Ten to command,” I shouted into the radio. “Crash landed. We need assistance now. We’re five clicks from the base we hit.” Only static answered me. “Command, this is Eagle Ten—we have one down with head trauma. Please respond.”

Nothing.

Panic clawed at my chest, but I forced it down. I ran back to the wreckage, grabbed my sidearm and rifle, then returned to Michelle. “We have to move,” I whispered. “Staying here will get us killed.”

I lifted her into my arms. She let out a soft moan, barely conscious. Gunfire and distant explosions echoed behind us, fading as I pushed deeper into the trees. My legs burned, lungs screaming for air, but I didn’t stop.

Then a voice cut through the darkness behind me.

It was Russian—rough, cold, and thick with years of cigar smoke.

Fear locked my body in place.

Hey—you! Stop, or I will shoot!”

My legs felt like lead as I slid to a halt, my body obeying before my mind could catch up. I had no choice. Slowly, carefully, I set Michelle down and raised my hands. Leaves crunched beneath heavy boots as the man approached. I felt cold metal press firmly against the back of my head.

“Well, what do we have here?” he said with a low chuckle. “An American pilot and his little friend. What a shame. You will never go home.”

My heart stuttered in my chest.

Then he said my name.

“John. Your father is a wanted man.”

The world seemed to tilt. My voice came out weaker than I wanted it to. “How… how do you know my name?”

His tone hardened, booming like thunder. “In war, John, we must know our enemy. Your father played both sides, yet you still don’t understand the power behind you—the bloodline you carry, the forefathers you have disrespected for years.”

I swallowed hard, my pulse roaring in my ears.

“I suppose no one ever told you the truth,” he continued. “Follow me, or you will die by my hands.”

I didn’t hesitate.

As we began walking through the trees, another man moved close on my left, shoving into me every few steps to keep me in line. My mind raced, questions piling on top of one another, screaming to be asked. But none of them made it past my lips.

Instead, one thought echoed louder than the rest: Could my father really be someone worth killing me over?

More questions followed. What did he know? Who was he really? And why had we been hiding since day one? Why did we quietly relocation from my childhood home it then hit me suddenly felt it —deliberate.

Secrets don’t last forever.

And whatever my father had been hiding all those years ago was important enough to start a war all over again.

Until that moment, I had never stopped to question the world I lived in. I never asked why we moved to the woods , why my father never spoke about his past, or why danger always seemed to follow us like a shadow. The questions that should have been asked stayed buried—until it was almost too late.

A gunshot cracked through the forest behind us.

Before I could react, the man at my side jerked violently as the bullet tore through him. He collapsed instantly. A second shot rang out, and the other captor dropped moments later, his body hitting the ground with a dull thud. Silence followed—heavy and unreal.

I spun around, heart pounding, weapon half-raised.

Standing between the trees was another American soldier, a handgun steady in his grip. Dirt and blood streaked his uniform, but his eyes were sharp and focused.

“Eagle Ten?” he called out cautiously. “This is Eagle Nine.”

Relief hit me so hard my knees nearly buckled.

“I was shot down a few clicks from where you crashed,” he continued. “Our boat took a missile on approach. No signs of life after that, so I went looking for you. Just so you know—we’re on our own. No backup. No air support. All I’ve got is this handgun.”

I stared at him in shock. “That’s it?”

He nodded. “That’s it.”

I glanced back at Michelle, still unconscious but breathing. “At least only one of us is wounded,” I said quietly. “If we’re getting out of this battlefield alive, we’re going to have to work together. We take down the base, steal two planes, and fly ourselves home.”

A faint grin crossed his face. “Sounds like a plan.”

He extended a hand. “Jason Parker.”

I shook it firmly. “John Edison.”

As we stood there in the ruined forest, surrounded by enemies and unanswered truths, I knew one thing for certain—whatever my father’s secrets were, they had finally caught up to me. And there was no turning back now.