Continue as planned. Over and out. The radio hissed and screeched as he quickly switched back to the squadron frequency. Let's go to work. Fire etched the sky over Deadwood.
Flak shells burst in ragged puffs of red and black, leaving angry smudges in the air.
Streams of red and yellow tracers stitched through pillars of smoke rising from the burning town. Nesbitt's raiders had hit the town hard, but the Deadwood militia was giving as good as they got. The gun's ammo went up in an orange fireball, incinerating the crew, but as the bomber pulled out of its dive it came under fire from a concealed machine-gun nest. Tracers ate into the plane's left wing, and the Kestrel vanished in a sudden blot of flame as magnesium bullets tore into the bomber's fuel tank. The Red Skulls were in a shallow dive, picking up speed as they hugged the low hills approaching the town from the east.