“There!” Gray exclaimed, and pointed down and to the right. “At your two o’clock! South of the island.”
The pilot turned to him, his face deathly pale under his helmet. “What…?”
“A boat.” It had to be Captain Huld’s fishing trawler. “Crash this bird as close to it as you can.”
The pilot canted the helicopter on its side and searched below. “I see it. Don’t know if I even have enough lift to clear the island, let alone get that far out to sea.”
Still, the pilot knew they had no other choice. Adjusting the cyclic stick and collective pitch, he angled their plunge to the south. Even this small maneuver caused them to lose altitude. Hobbled with only one set of working rotors, the large craft dropped precipitously. The island filled the world below. Gray lost sight of the boat beyond the rocky cliffs.
“Not going to make it…” the pilot said, fighting stick and throttle.
An explosion of boiling water and steam blasted out of a crack ahead, shooting high into the sky. The craft crashed through it, blinding them all for a frightening breath. Then they were past it. The water blew clear of the glass, revealing a deadly plunge toward a scalloped curve of volcanic cone. It rose like a rocky wave ahead of them, blocking the way to the open water.
“Not enough power!” the pilot hollered above the strained wail of the rotors.
“Give it everything you can!” Gray hollered back.
The ground grew closer. Gray spotted the sprawled bodies of cattle in the open field, killed by either the extreme heat or toxic gases — or maybe simply from sheer fright.
Then suddenly the island began to fall away. The meadow receded beneath them.
We’re climbing again.
The pilot saw it, too. “That’s not me!” He pointed to the altimeter. “We’re still falling!”
Gray shifted closer to the window and stared below. He realized his error. The helicopter wasn’t climbing—the ground was falling under them.
As he watched, a chunk of cone broke away, split off by the boiling crack behind them. A quarter of the island slowly tipped and slid toward the sea, upending like a drunk falling off a bar stool.
Ahead, the wall of the volcanic rock lowered, tilting and dropping away, clearing a path to the open sea. But they weren’t out of the woods.
“It’ll be close!” the pilot said.
Below, boulders bounced and rolled across the meadow. One rock sailed past the cockpit window.
The pilot swore, bobbling the craft to avoid a collision.
Still, they continued to hurtle toward the lip of the cone. It was dropping away too slowly. The pilot groaned, fighting the stick with everything he had. Gray activated the copilot seat’s controls. He didn’t have any skill with this particular craft, but he could lend some muscle. He hauled on the collective. It fought him, felt like he was trying to crowbar the craft higher.
“No good!” the pilot bellowed. “Hold tight! We’re going to cr—”
Then they hit.
The wheels and lower skids slammed into the rocky lip of the cone, tearing away beneath the craft with a screech of metal. The helicopter was tossed up on its nose. Through the windshield, Gray got a dizzying look at the dark sea below as the craft flipped clear of the crumbling island.
The helicopter flew farther out, toppling on its side, spinning the world into a kaleidoscope.
3:22 P.M
Seichan caught glimpses of the dark sea as the helicopter spun wildly. She clutched a handle overhead, her legs pinned against a spar to hold her in place. Monk bellowed from the back, accompanied by a sharper cry from the old caretaker. Closer at hand, Gray was tossed from the copilot’s seat and struck the windshield hard, cracking his head against the frame.
Beside him, strapped in place, the pilot continued to wrestle with his controls, trying every trick he knew to stabilize the craft, to slow their dive. With a final yank on the stick, the chopper’s nose lifted slightly, slowing the spin.
Gray crashed crookedly back to his seat, kneeing the pilot in the helmet. Blood ran from Gray’s scalp, drenching half his face.
The pilot pushed him away. “Clear out of here! Brace yourselves.”
Seichan reached with her free arm, knotted a fist in the collar of Gray’s jacket, and pulled him back with her. They tumbled together into the rear cabin. Monk fought to strap Ollie into a seat.
The side door slammed open and closed wildly, offering a juddering view of the island’s ruins. The broken ridge of cone struck the water, welling up a massive wave and sending it seaward. Beyond it, smoke hid most of the landmass, rising from several chutes. At the heart of the darkness, a flaming fountain glowed, bubbling mostly near the surface, occasionally splashing higher.
But more frightening was the sea as it rushed upward.
With only seconds to spare, Seichan shouldered the dazed Gray into a wall covered in cargo netting. He understood enough to tangle his arms into the material. She moved to do the same, turning in time to see the giant wave cast off by the broken island rise underneath the helicopter, reaching up to meet the plummeting craft.
They hit the wave hard. Her body slammed to the floor. She heard metal scream — then nothing, as icy water swamped the cabin. The flood tossed her body like a rag doll. Her leg hit something sharp, tearing through her jeans, ripping a hot line of fire across her thigh. Then she was shoved violently into Gray, his head still in a pocket of air. He tried to grab her with one arm. She tried to snatch at the netting.
Both efforts failed.
The current tore her away as the helicopter rolled deeper, flushing her out the open door amid a rush of bubbles. She tumbled end over end, choking on seawater, trailing blood. Below, the broken helicopter sank into the dark depths amid a spreading cloud of oil. She saw no one else swim clear as the craft vanished into the blackness.
Gray…
But there was nothing she could do. Even if she could swim down, the helicopter was already too deep. No one could make it back to the surface before drowning.
Hopeless and despairing, she fought her heavy heart and twisted away. She craned up toward the wan sunlight. She had not realized how far she’d been pulled down herself. Desperate for air, unsure if she could make it, she kicked for the surface, the cold cutting through her like a flurry of knife blades.
Then something dark swept past overhead, blocking the sun: a black, sleek shadow. She froze, hovering in the icy depths. Other shadows appeared around her, circling, fins cutting through the waters. One swept close, rolling a large eye toward her as it passed. She read the intelligence in that gleam, the cunning, along with a raw hunger.
Orcas…
Drawn by her seeping blood.
Though the waters chilled her down to her bones, a prickling heat swept through her. She stared below, sensing the danger.
A black shape swept up out of the depths toward her, the mouth splitting wide, revealing a maw of sharp teeth.
She screamed, swallowing seawater, kicking frantically.
It was no use.
Teeth cut through her pant leg, into her flesh.
3:24 P.M
Holding his breath, nearly out of air in the sinking helicopter, Gray yanked loose the cargo straps with numb, icy fingers. Pressure pounded his head, staking needles into his skull. He freed the two-foot rubber cube from its webbing and kicked free.