Free Fight for Power by Eric Walters

air.
    â€œHow soon will we be over the target?” Herb asked over the intercom.
    â€œA few minutes. I just hope we time it right.”
    â€œSo do I,” Herb said.
    The sun was still below the horizon, but the sky was already much lighter than when we had left the neighborhood.
    Our plan was to arrive when there was just enough light to see our targets but not enough to become one ourselves. Our attack would be the signal for everything that followed.
    I visualized the diagram that Herb had drawn and Quinn had labeled. There were a dozen buildings scattered across the compound. Those on the south and toward the center were used for supplies and storage. Five others were barracks, one hundred men per building. Four of them could be unoccupied, but more likely the remaining soldiers were scattered among the five buildings. If they were working on three shifts, then approximately eighty men would be asleep while forty would be on the perimeter walls. By now they had to know that something had gone terribly wrong with their attack on our neighborhood, but we hoped they wouldn’t suspect just how bad it was. Regardless, Herb figured they’d be on high alert.
    â€œYou’ll have to hold it steady,” Herb said. “Be prepared for concussion waves depending on what the grenades ignite.”
    Herb had a bag on his lap that held a dozen grenades. He was going to drop three or four onto the barracks as we came over. With any luck Herb would be able to drop all of the grenades before we cleared the compound. Then, we’d come back over, stay high and clear as eyes in the sky, radioing down by walkie-talkie to the four squads, helping coordinate as they attacked from all sides.
    We were flying almost due east. On the horizon a thin line of red light was emerging, getting bigger and thicker and glowing more brightly as I watched. I wanted to open the throttle up to get there sooner, but I knew I couldn’t. We were going to come in low enough and slow enough to allow Herb to drop the grenades. I had to just hope there was still enough darkness to hide us, because they’d hear the sound of the engine coming. We were counting on them thinking it was from something on the ground and not the air.
    â€œI see it,” Herb said. He had his night-vision goggles down as well. “Straight ahead.”
    I saw it, too. The chain-link fence and stone wall were now visible. I pictured the compound layout and knew where I had to go. I banked sharply to the right so that we could fly the entire length of the compound. I needed to make a long pass right down the center, directly over the barracks. Inside those buildings were sleeping soldiers, bloodthirsty raiders who, we hoped, would never have a chance to wake up ever again.
    We passed over the fence—and now we were above the compound—and nobody was shooting at us. We’d come in unseen, even if they could hear us. Our invisibility would probably only last a few seconds, but each second was like a golden gift of protection. I couldn’t think about it. I focused on the building that I knew was the first of the barracks, with four more behind it.
    â€œLower,” Herb said.
    I was going to get him so low he could reach out and place the grenades onto the rooftop. I pushed down on the stick. “Here we go,” I said, and felt my stomach rise as the plane dropped—and still no gunfire.
    The first building was coming up fast. Herb pulled the pin and tossed down a grenade, then a second and a third. I swooped over the top of the building and then there was an explosion.
    The ultralight bucked and we were bathed in bright light. Ahhhhhh! The brilliant flash nearly blinded me through the night-vision goggles, and with one hand I pushed them onto my forehead, holding the stick firm with the other. I pulled up on the stick as a second explosion sounded and then a third, each one hitting us with a shock wave.
    Herb kept pulling pins and