144
4:35 P.M.
The Bell helicopter fought its way through the storm. Holdstone didn’t speak. Gwen could see the pilot was fully focused. Gwen recognized her skill, the single-mindedness that meant, most likely, they wouldn’t die today. It would be ironic, she thought, to survive her battle with Sieber and the sea only to die in a crash.
Her shoulder hurt like hell, but slowly the warmth was returning to her body. She still felt beyond weak. It was all she could do to sit upright in her seat.
“How you doing?” Dan’s voice came through Gwen’s headphones.
“Warming up. And before you ask, I do not want to go to a hospital.”
“That’s where you should be. You need an intravenous. You’re in shock.”
Gwen shook her head violently, swore volubly as the motion wracked up the pain in her shoulder.
“I’m not in shock. Not now. I want to go to the ARk Ops Room,” she added. “We’ll be safe there and we can watch it all.”
“We don’t have many options. I’m getting warnings,” said Holdstone. “Get out of the air. This ARk Storm is right on our tail. The atmospheric river is scheduled to make landfall in approximately eighty minutes, and it’s steaming in at one hundred and twenty k’s per hour. We’ve got to get down and we’ve got to hole up somewhere safe once we do.”
“Stanford,” declared Gwen. “Their secure Ops Room. If that works for you?”
Holdstone nodded. “That works. Don’t fancy my chances on the street.”
Gwen nodded then abruptly fell asleep. Dan watched over her, twisting in his seat, noting the rhythmic rise and fall of her chest under the metal foil blanket he’d dug out from the chopper’s emergency supplies. Holdstone ran a good ship.
Gwen slept through the entire flight, exhaustion trumping terror. She awoke just as they were descending to Stanford. It was 5:50.
“The ARk Storm is due to make landfall any minute now,” said Holdstone. “We’re two miles inshore. I have two minutes to get us down, then we’re going to have to run like hell.”
Gwen nodded. Dan looked around. The trees were blown double, like old men hunkering down from the storm. Branches were scything through the air. He’d been on enough helicopter sorties to know this landing would be at the far end of marginal.
He watched Holdstone, saw her eyes flicker over the controls, then out to the weather, tangible as an enemy force. It wasn’t just the speed of the wind, though that was problematic. It was the gusts slamming in from the ocean; unpredictable, deadly. Add to that, the poor visibility. Darkness was falling early, and the sheet rain was an almost impenetrable gray veil.
They were coming down fast. Dan saw the landing spot rushing up toward them. If Holdstone got it wrong, one gust would slam them down and the last thing they would know would be the ball of flame on impact. A gust came then, hit them, knocked them sideways forty feet. Holdstone gripped the joystick with both hands, yanked it right and down. With a crunch they landed. Holdstone kept the chopper going, kept the downward thrust on high.
“Get out!” she yelled. “Get out and run. I’ll follow.”
Dan knew what that might mean. He squeezed Holdstone’s arm, nodded, unstrapped himself. Gwen was already unstrapped and moving out of her seat. Dan muscled open the door, held it firm against the winds trying to slam it back in his face. He jumped out, crouched against the door, keeping it open for Gwen. She bent over, ran past. Dan let the door slam. He ran beyond the thrashing rotors, kept running, turned and saw the copter picked up by a gust, then slam down again. Then the scream of the blades slowed. The door opened, and the crouching figure of Holdstone appeared. She ran hard after them. The door was five meters away. Dan got to it, wrestled it open. Gwen staggered up and through. Holdstone sprinted closer. When she was ten meters away, a gust lifted the chopper straight into the air and propelled it toward them. Holdstone didn’t look back, just barreled toward Dan and the open door. He reached out a hand, grabbed her, yanked her in, slammed the door, sprinted for the stairs down to the underground rooms.