A Higher Call

by Adam Makos

Franz’s 109 taxied slowly to a halt along the trees. Its engine shut down, but the canopy did not open. The ground crewmen saw this and ran to the plane. The first to climb the wing popped the canopy open and saw that the windshield’s glass had cracked like a white web. In the center was a hole the diameter of a man’s pinky finger. Grabbing Franz’s shoulders, the crewman pulled his body toward him. Franz fell limply to the canopy rail, his head flopping like a ragdoll. The crewman gasped. Red blood surrounded a black hole of dried blood in Franz’s forehead. A bullet had pierced the windscreen’s supposedly bulletproof glass. The crewman looked at the back of Franz’s head and checked for an exit wound, but there was none. He saw that Franz was still breathing. The crewmen lifted Franz from the fighter. On the ground, Franz slowly regained his senses and opened his eyes.