Chapter 3 - The Sky Opens
Outside the hotel, the street was a scene of controlled chaos.
Three city ambulances were parked on the cracked asphalt, their red and blue lights flashing against the gray dust hanging in the air. Police officers were attempting to push back a crowd of panicked tourists and hotel guests while municipal search-and-rescue teams unloaded heavy hydraulic jacks from their trucks.
Daniel stood near the secondary medical tent, his hands in his pockets, watching a paramedic wrap Vanessa’s ankle in a elastic bandage.
Vanessa was sitting on the back bumper of an ambulance, sipping water from a plastic cup.
“Does it still hurt?” Daniel asked, leaning down to smooth her hair.
“A little,” Vanessa murmured, looking up at him with wide, grateful eyes. “I don't know what I would have done if you hadn't carried me out, Daniel. Everyone else was running. You were the only one who stayed calm.”
Daniel felt a quiet surge of pride. “That’s what a leader does, Van. Under pressure, you prioritize.”
A paramedic supervisor walked past them, holding a clipboard, his face grim. He paused, looking at Daniel.
“Sir, are you the one who reported two people trapped in the east annex?”
“My wife and son,” Daniel said, his tone casual, almost annoyed by the interruption. “I told your guy earlier, they’re stable. They’re just waiting for the dust to clear.”
The supervisor’s brows furrowed. “The east annex just suffered a secondary collapse two minutes ago. The load-bearing walls are compromised. If there’s anyone inside, they need to be cut out immediately.”
Daniel frowned, brushing a speck of dust off his suit sleeve. “My wife is resilient. She’s overreacting if she’s making a scene. She always panics during storms.”
Before the supervisor could respond, a low, rhythmic thrumming sound began to vibrate through the pavement.
It wasn't the sound of an approaching truck. It was a deep, mechanical beat that vibrated in the teeth of everyone standing on the street.
The crowd went quiet.
From over the tree line at the edge of the hotel district, a massive black-and-silver aircraft swept low over the rooftops.
It was an Sikorsky S-92, a heavy twin-engine helicopter built for extreme weather and tactical extraction. Painted along its sleek black fuselage in bold, reflective silver lettering was a single word and an emblem:
VANCE TACTICAL
The aircraft didn't circle to wait for air traffic clearance. It dropped straight down through the haze, its twin turbines screaming as its massive five-bladed rotor whipped up a hurricane of dust, loose paper, and gravel across the parking lot.
“What the hell is that?” Daniel demanded, raising his arm to block the blinding dust storm. “Is that a military response? Who authorized a helicopter in a civilian LZ?”
The helicopter’s landing gear slammed onto the cracked pavement fifty feet from the ambulance, cutting off the street entirely.
The side door slid open with a heavy mechanical latch.
Four men in dark charcoal tactical gear jumped out before the blades had even slowed. They were equipped with carbon-fiber helmets, hydraulic rescue cutters, and specialized medical packs.
Behind them stepped a tall, broad-shouldered man in a dark flight jacket.
His hair was pure silver, cut short in a military style. His face looked as though it had been carved out of granite, unyielding and weathered. On his chest was a small embroidered patch featuring an eagle holding a lightning bolt above the name: GEN. A. VANCE.
Arthur Vance didn't look at the police officers. He didn't look at the damaged hotel facade.
May you like
He pulled a handheld receiver from his jacket pocket. A green light on the unit was flashing in perfect synchronization with the beacon beneath the rubble.
He lifted his eyes and scanned the crowd until his cold, steel-gray gaze landed directly on Daniel.
