This snippet is a combination of prompts. The THEME for #1LineWed today is **WHSITLING**. The prompt for last week’s Thursday Threads flash fiction challenge was “How tough would that be?” And sometimes, a plan just comes together and this scene fell into place for CROSSFIRE.
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“What is it you want us to do?” Tank asked.
The man presumably in charge didn’t hesitate. “Blow up the bridge.”
Silence followed before Dalton asked, “How tough would that be?”
The big explosives expert checked the small amount of available C4 then studied the structure with a knowing eye. “We might be whistling in the dark but there’s a chance.”
Dalton glanced back at the group of Ukrainians he now secretly called the Irregulars. These men and women were part of a civilian defense force. They’d stayed behind to help refugees, like the ones huddled in the woods higher up the mountain, and to defend their beloved country. Most of them were young and he couldn’t help but think about Red Dawn, the movie about America getting invaded and a group of high school kids turning into guerrilla fighters up in the Rocky Mountains. He liked the original version with Patrick Swayze. He grinned. “Then lets get this done.”
Two hours. Kin heard them first—the muffled diesel engires and the squeaking treads of the tanks. Everyone hunkered down to finish waiting.
As the first tank in the column neared the end of the bridge, Tank pressed the little box in his massive hand. At first, nothing happened and then… It started with a rumble. The lead tank stopped. Heads popped out of turret and driver hatches. In slow motion, the bridge shuddered. Swayed. Crumbled. Tanks plummeted into the gorge.
The Ukrainians cheered and Dalton raised a triumphant fist, yelling, “Wolverines!”
Tank gave him the side-eye. “Seriously? You went there?”
Grinning broadly, Dalton punched the big man on his massive biceps. “Tell me you didn’t think the same thing.”
Both men were grinning now, fists raised and punching into the cold, mountain air, yelling in unison, “WOLVERINES!”
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There you have it. A slight spoiler maybe but y’all know that my guys are always blowing up something because that’s what they do. Writers, any whistles you want to share? Readers? Can you whistle? I can’t actually. It’s frustrating but whatever.
[EDIT] FYI: This blog was set up last week so I’m basically still “off blog duty” and probably will be tomorrow too. That said, Friday’s Sinema is also “preset” and ready to go. Sometimes I get ahead of myself. 😉
Silver James 
Yay for scheduled posts! I hope you’re enjoying your days off. Awesome snippet, by the way.
Here’s a whistling bit from SONG…
“We need to get on the road,” he said, half to himself. Then he repeated it louder. When he still didn’t catch the attentions of his group, he placed two fingers in his mouth and whistled like he was calling old Hammer back on the homestead. “Gather yourselves. We head farther into the mountains. Now. We need to get to the next safe stop before night falls.”
He half-expected Vere to argue against the suggestion, but she merely nodded. “There is a huntsman’s lodging on this road. We should be able to reach it before dark.”
“Hylani? Do you sense any other weather approaching?”
She shook her head. “But I didn’t sense this before it hit.”
“It’s a risk we’ll have to take. I think we need to be gone from here as soon as possible. If they seek to take us unawares here, they’ll have to be disappointed.”
“Aryl?” Frola said.
“Just a second,” he said, hoping whatever news she had of their mounts wouldn’t ruin their plans. “Do you sense any flaws in the ground ahead, Galin? I need to know if the road will hold us after this storm.”
The large boy was silent for a moment, humming with power. When it died down again, he nodded. “Everything feels sturdy for as far as my magic will let me sense.”
“Aryl?”
“Not now, Frola…”
“It’s important.”
Nope can’t whistle.
I figure our club isn’t exactly exclusive. LOL 😉