5
Archie stared down through the plexiglass windshield that wrapped from behind and over his head, around the console, and ended near his feet. He usually appreciated the panoramic view, except when it let him see all the people shooting up at him. Or now.
They’d lifted from Bati, a quiet village of five thousand with a hundred-odd SOF operatives and fifteen helicopters camped in their abandoned soccer stadium. Twenty minutes away by helo, they had done more than pass over fifty miles of arid, rolling landscape of grays and browns. They had crossed into another world.
Jali refugee camp sprawled across miles, and Archie hated it more each time he saw it. He leaned forward as if the extra few inches would let him see more clearly out the windshield.
From above, the camp looked like a gia
