“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.
He bumped into Monk, who had liberated his own package. He hugged Ollie under one arm. The old man lolled loosely, unconscious, possibly drowned. Gray had checked on the pilot shortly after the crash. He was dead, still strapped in place, a large chunk of metal pierced through his throat.
No hope there.
With everything they needed, Monk and Gray kicked out of the open hatch and into the twilight waters. Sun and air were far overhead. They’d never make it to the surface on their own, especially not in time for any hope of resuscitating Ollie. But Gray owed the old man his life. He intended to return the favor.