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Authors: Erica Spindler
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to send down the rescue basket or the Med-Evac board?
“Have you seen her yet?” Wilson asked Kesnick for the third time.
“Nothing yet.”
“Where the hell’s that cutter?”
“They said less than an hour,” Tommy Ellis told him.
Wilson shook his head in exaggerated frustration. But Maggie understood. An hour seemed like forever.
To make matters worse, the rain had started. Not a few raindrops or a light shower, but a torrential downpour. The helicopter rocked and jerked despite Wilson’s best efforts. Maggie’s heart thump-thumped against her ribcage with the rhythm of the rotors. Sweat trickled down her back. The helmet threatened to suffocate her. She pushed back the visor. It didn’t help.
Fortunately, she was too concerned about Bailey to pay attention to the churning in her stomach. Each jolt of the helicopter sent new spasms of nausea. She tasted blood before she realized she was biting down on her lower lip.
“Is she still with us?” Wilson wanted to know.
Kesnick pulled on the cable till it was taut. He had slowly let out sections, a little at a time as Bailey moved from the top deck to the bottom and then as she disappeared inside. Now he nodded to Wilson when he seemed convinced that she was still attached.
“Give her a tug.”
“I have already.”
“Visibility is turning to crap,” Tommy Ellis said. “Pretty soon we won’t be able to see her.”
“We can’t be out here much longer,” Wilson told them. “I’m gonna take us down closer. Kesnick, keep an eye out.”
Maggie white-knuckled the straps on the side of the helicopter. Wilson’s attempt to lower the craft met resistance. The wind gusts grabbed them, rocking and swaying every inch. Then suddenly they dropped. A freefall.
“Son of a bitch.” Wilson wrestled them back from a roller coaster plunge.
Maggie’s holstered revolver dug into her side and she realized how totally defenseless she felt. The void of control overwhelmed her. It wasn’t motion sickness. It was the inability to do anything but sit back.
“I see her,” Kesnick yelled as he slid his visor up for a better look. “She’s waving from the lower deck.”
“What does she need?”
Maggie watched Kesnick’s face. Tanned and weathered. Crinkle lines at the eyes. Not an easy read. The man kept his expressions intact but this time she saw his eyes go wide.
“She’s telling us to back away.”
“What the hell?”
Maggie scooted along the side of the cabin as far as her seat belt would allow. She craned her neck and she could see Bailey leaning over the railing. Her right arm was raised with an open palm like she was waving at them but instead she pumped her hand back and forth.
Just as suddenly as the downpour began, it lightened. Even the helicopter steadied to a sway. Bailey could be seen more clearly and there was no mistaking her meticulous, slow but persistent hand signals.
“Do you see anyone else?” Wilson asked.
Kesnick shifted and twisted. So did Maggie.
“Could be someone inside. But I don’t see anybody.”
And Bailey didn’t give anything away. If someone was threatening her and telling her to send her flight crew away, she wasn’t looking to him.
“Maybe there’s something on board,” Kesnick said. “Explosives?”
“Then she needs to get her ass back up here. Now. Pull her up.”
Maggie noticed a new hand signal just as Kesnick grabbed at cable. He noticed, too, and stopped.
“Wait. There’s more.”
Bailey was grasping her clenched fist then pulling and separating.
“She’s disconnecting from the hoist hook,” Kesnick said, and Maggie heard the panic in his voice.
“Son of a bitch!” Wilson yelled. “Don’t let her do it, Kesnick. Pull her ass up. Get her the hell out of there.”
Kesnick scrambled to get his feet set. Then he double-fisted the cable, but Maggie could see it was too late. Bailey had already disconnected and the cable spun free.
Kesnick fell backwards. “Damn it!”
Wilson and
“Have you seen her yet?” Wilson asked Kesnick for the third time.
“Nothing yet.”
“Where the hell’s that cutter?”
“They said less than an hour,” Tommy Ellis told him.
Wilson shook his head in exaggerated frustration. But Maggie understood. An hour seemed like forever.
To make matters worse, the rain had started. Not a few raindrops or a light shower, but a torrential downpour. The helicopter rocked and jerked despite Wilson’s best efforts. Maggie’s heart thump-thumped against her ribcage with the rhythm of the rotors. Sweat trickled down her back. The helmet threatened to suffocate her. She pushed back the visor. It didn’t help.
Fortunately, she was too concerned about Bailey to pay attention to the churning in her stomach. Each jolt of the helicopter sent new spasms of nausea. She tasted blood before she realized she was biting down on her lower lip.
“Is she still with us?” Wilson wanted to know.
Kesnick pulled on the cable till it was taut. He had slowly let out sections, a little at a time as Bailey moved from the top deck to the bottom and then as she disappeared inside. Now he nodded to Wilson when he seemed convinced that she was still attached.
“Give her a tug.”
“I have already.”
“Visibility is turning to crap,” Tommy Ellis said. “Pretty soon we won’t be able to see her.”
“We can’t be out here much longer,” Wilson told them. “I’m gonna take us down closer. Kesnick, keep an eye out.”
Maggie white-knuckled the straps on the side of the helicopter. Wilson’s attempt to lower the craft met resistance. The wind gusts grabbed them, rocking and swaying every inch. Then suddenly they dropped. A freefall.
“Son of a bitch.” Wilson wrestled them back from a roller coaster plunge.
Maggie’s holstered revolver dug into her side and she realized how totally defenseless she felt. The void of control overwhelmed her. It wasn’t motion sickness. It was the inability to do anything but sit back.
“I see her,” Kesnick yelled as he slid his visor up for a better look. “She’s waving from the lower deck.”
“What does she need?”
Maggie watched Kesnick’s face. Tanned and weathered. Crinkle lines at the eyes. Not an easy read. The man kept his expressions intact but this time she saw his eyes go wide.
“She’s telling us to back away.”
“What the hell?”
Maggie scooted along the side of the cabin as far as her seat belt would allow. She craned her neck and she could see Bailey leaning over the railing. Her right arm was raised with an open palm like she was waving at them but instead she pumped her hand back and forth.
Just as suddenly as the downpour began, it lightened. Even the helicopter steadied to a sway. Bailey could be seen more clearly and there was no mistaking her meticulous, slow but persistent hand signals.
“Do you see anyone else?” Wilson asked.
Kesnick shifted and twisted. So did Maggie.
“Could be someone inside. But I don’t see anybody.”
And Bailey didn’t give anything away. If someone was threatening her and telling her to send her flight crew away, she wasn’t looking to him.
“Maybe there’s something on board,” Kesnick said. “Explosives?”
“Then she needs to get her ass back up here. Now. Pull her up.”
Maggie noticed a new hand signal just as Kesnick grabbed at cable. He noticed, too, and stopped.
“Wait. There’s more.”
Bailey was grasping her clenched fist then pulling and separating.
“She’s disconnecting from the hoist hook,” Kesnick said, and Maggie heard the panic in his voice.
“Son of a bitch!” Wilson yelled. “Don’t let her do it, Kesnick. Pull her ass up. Get her the hell out of there.”
Kesnick scrambled to get his feet set. Then he double-fisted the cable, but Maggie could see it was too late. Bailey had already disconnected and the cable spun free.
Kesnick fell backwards. “Damn it!”
Wilson and
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