“Stop,” Tripp shouted.
Erin paused their forward motion. “Of course, right smack in the middle of the . . . Damn crosswinds. It won’t be a smooth ride, guys. Hold on.”
The chopper was buffeted from side to side as Tripp pointed. Erin fought to keep them level in the changing wind currents rushing around the pillars of rock.
“There’s a bag on the edge of the scrag pile there. See it?”
Devon had found nothing on the right, so he rose to peer over Alisha’s shoulder. The chopper rocked and he caught hold of her to steady himself as they both eyed the ground.
“I see it,” Alisha said excitedly. “Backpack. Only . . . that’s old school. It’s got an exterior frame.”
“Makes sense.” Anders’s disdain was clear. “Hunters use exterior frames for carrying out kills. I bet our wonder guide used the same gear for all of his upmarket adventure experiences.”
“Can you get in closer?” Devon asked Erin. He glanced behind them as best he could, but the water remained unsearchable, with too many rocks and blocked lines of sight. “We can’t see if there’s anyone in the river from here.”
“You’ll have to go on foot. Sorry, guys. Anders can lower you to the shoreline, but there’s no place for me to land soft-bodied people. The winds alone will play havoc with your descent.”
Anders stepped back to his position. “Prep for action. Alisha, we’ll put you down first. If you spot anything unusual on your descent, radio your recommendations for a change of drop site.”
“Got it.” She was out of her seat and hooking up her harness in a flash. Devon and the rest followed suit, the chopper leveling. Even with headsets on, the props were a constant buzz in his ears, the rush and pump of the massive blades creating a throb as if the chopper had a heartbeat.
“I lifted a bit so you can get ready in relative calm,” Erin commented. “Let me know when you’re ready.”
Ropes, climbing cams, first-aid supplies. Everything they needed for a rescue was pushed into bags or attached to their harnesses. Alisha moved into position next to Anders. “Ready.”
He double-checked all her attachments, fingers flying in the familiar safety check pattern they’d done hundreds of times in both training and real-life situations. “You’re good.”
He glanced at the others. Tripp and Xavier were clearing each other’s gear.
Alisha stepped up to Devon. She tugged straps and adjusted gear, her touch skilled and professional. Then her gaze rose to meet his, and her serious expression made something inside him tighten.
She flipped his radio to a private station. “I’m fine, and ready to roll. You be careful, okay?”
It was more than the gesture of a concerned teammate. Devon nodded. “I’ve got your back.”
The doors opened and the wind blasted into the chopper bay. The violent gust lifted everything that wasn’t strapped in place and attempted to rip free everything that was. Alisha clutched the safety hooks by the door tighter, waiting for the go-ahead.
“Erin, I can’t send anyone out in this,” Anders complained.
Cursing carried over the line before Erin got it under control. “This is what you’ve got unless I take you a kilometer upstream, and even then there’re no guarantees it’ll calm down.”
Alisha glanced outside, judging the drop. The wind was stupidly high, but there was a wide landing spot to make for, and it wasn’t that far below them. “I can do this.”
Anders stood beside her, staring out and judging as well. “It’s crazy, Alisha.”
“If I get a line set you can slide the gear and crew in less time than it’ll take to hike from wherever Erin thinks is an alternative. I’m sure of it. Let me try.”
He examined her face and the ground once more before nodding firmly. “Fine, if you’re up for it, we’ll give it a shot. Erin, Alisha’s dropping. Five minutes of your best flying ever, got it?”
“Got it. Alisha, have fun, girl.”
Anders caught her by the chest harness and attached a secondary cable. “If you get into trouble, call it off and Erin will lift straight up. We can have you on solid ground in less than two minutes after bugging out. Deal?”
“Deal, but we’re good.” She couldn’t stop herself from glancing over Anders’s shoulder at Devon. There was concern in his eyes, yes, but his smile was back. The cocky one that said he was having fun.
The adrenaline rushing through her veins proved she was enjoying herself far too much. Other worries faded away. Family demands. Ultimatums. Vincent’s bizarre behavior, even the panic she’d felt days earlier—she knew all those issues were there, that they were real, but here and now was more real. More vivid and making her come alive.
She dropped from the doorway into the open air.
Icy fingers clutched her as the wind personified into an evil demon intent on tearing her from her safe connection to the helicopter. Anders managed her cable, slowly lowering her to the ground. She spun uncontrollably in the wind, twisting her head to catch glimpses of the waterfalls downstream. The wind actually decreased as she got closer to the uneven surface, and on the third rotation she slowed enough to spot something.
There, jackpot.
“We got a hit, guys. There’s a paddle in the scrag pile to the right, and clothing and a black garbage bag stuck to branches on the edge of the cliffs.”
“Affirmative. Ten feet. Prep for landing.”
Alisha got ready to hit the ground, well aware that with the high winds Erin was doing her best, but that at any moment the chopper could change levels. While she was being lowered on the cable it wasn’t as scary a thought. The worst time was at landing, when the ground could come up or down far too fast.
She kept her hand by the safety buckles, and the instant she touched land she dropped to one knee and detached the main cable. Now there was only her extended safety line connecting her to the sky. “I’m down. Hang on, Erin, ten seconds.”
Even as she spoke, Alisha snapped into motion and got the gear in place. She set an anchor into the ground, looped a spare length of rope through it, and attached it to the main cable. The emergency setup she used basically created the equivalent of a giant elastic band. If Erin needed to adjust and rise slightly higher there wouldn’t be any disastrous results—the ropes would expand or contract to use the slack provided.
She stepped back. “Ready for gear.”
One after another, bags slipped off the edge of the chopper deck and careened down the line. Alisha was impressed all over again with Erin’s ability to keep the chopper in one spot, hovering in spite of the wind current striving to push her off course. If the pressure were like a river current it would have been hard enough—a steady force that the pilot would have to fight against. But wind was even more erratic, gusting and lessening without warning. Throughout it all Erin managed to do the damn near impossible.
The bags slowed as they reached the ground, the secondary ropes Anders controlled applying the brakes so she could detach the carabiners and jerk the heavy bags off the rope and to the side. After the fourth bag, her arms were screaming for a time-out.
“Devon’s in place. Prep for his arrival,” Anders warned.
If looking up into the sky and seeing gear racing downward was thrilling, there was something even more exhilarating when the moving target was human. The steep cable incline meant Devon dropped rapidly but smoothly, the wind bowing out his coat before Anders hit the safety and slowed him not more than ten feet before Devon’s feet hit the ground.
His grin said it all. “Holy shit, that was a blast.”
Alisha agreed even as she prepped for Tripp’s arrival.