My Fucking Sri Lankan Bitches 2

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"Thompson, Willets, secure the entrance," Ward ordered. "Bench, Ingram, take the left. Whale, you take the right with me. Maintain sight contact at all times. Secure a perimeter around the cavern floor encompassing the bodies of Squad Alpha."Willets didn't think that was possible. Their team was too small and the terrain too broken. Even the best vantage points would still have too many blind spots, especially in the poor light. He and Thompson took up positions on either side of the entrance into the cavern."We should get the fuck out of here," Thompson said.Willets scanned the floor of the cavern, peering into the shadows for any sign of movement. Right in the centre, where the light was strongest, Steer continued to kneel, frozen in a perpetual pose of worship.To what, was Willets's thought."And I mean right the fuck out of this dimension," Thompson continued. "We don't belong here. We're only here because some old fucks think they can add a couple of extra zeros to their bank. They didn't require much persuading to follow this precaution, so I stepped of as carefully as I could to follow the trail. I have no idea whether I triggered a trip wire or if it was remotely controlled, but whatever it was, there was a tremendous explosion—overkill, if there ever was one. Anyway, it seemed like half the mountain side came down on me, and I was left with my head, my left arm, and part of my torso sticking out of a jumble of rock. Just before I passed out, I heard some rifle fire and some yelling, so I am sure that the rest of my little band of merry men took off for places unknown.When I woke up, I was in an obvious hospital room, but one nothing like I had ever seen before. There were computer monitors all around me with displays of data and graphs on all of them, and some were pinging on a regular basis. My whole body was covered by a white sheet, and only my head was sticking out. A figure dressed like a female nurse was standing beside me, and spoke as soon as I.
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I did. It scared the shit out of me—more than anything that happened in two tours in Vietnam.’ ‘How much altitude does it take?’ ‘It’s not definitive. It depends on the conditions—and the pilot. What we put in the book was, if you’re still spinning at 10,000 feet, pull the curtain. The spin just gets tighter and the centrifugal force jams you to one side of the seat. The Gs build, you probably won’t be able to reach the overhead ring—no titanium face curtain to deflect all the flying plastic. You’ll have to pull the one between your legs. You’ll go through the overhead canopy bent. You won’t have enough forward airspeed to clear the tail. If the triple-tail doesn’t cut you in half, you’re back probably broke when the Martin-Baker seat went off. You might even be blind from plastic shards that got sucked up under your visor. Blind and paralyzed—or dead.’ ‘When did you eject?’ ‘The sink rate was something in excess of 10,000 feet a minute and building. I almost made the decision too.

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