When it hit, it felt as if they were lifted by some giant, omnipotent hand that picked them up, gently at first, then with an awesome strength, and shot them up toward the sky. Just as suddenly, they were free, the machine was released from this violent, swirling force. The cloud was falling away beneath them. To their right, he could see the distant line of the sea, still and blue and placid. In this rush upward, the flimsy, forced engine of the helicopter and the sudden blast of air that came out of the valley had taken them over the peak, and they were now limping erratically out toward safety.
Lieberman watched the pilot fighting the machine, with his hands, with his feet. There were strange noises coming from above them. The helicopter seemed incapable of taking a straight line down toward the scrub in front, down toward land. He pushed his arm behind his seat, felt their hands grip him.
'We'll be okay,' Lieberman said. 'Don't worry. We'll be okay.'
The pilot looked at him and Lieberman felt cold. He was scared too. 'This thing's buggered, mate,' Davis said. 'If I don't put her down straightaway, it's going to come apart on us in the air.'
The engine coughed. Something metallic flew down in front of the glass. 'Shit,' Davis said, and pushed the stick forward, falling, hunting, turning the craft around, looking for somewhere flat enough to land. Lieberman watched the earth rise up to meet them. They were descending at something close to forty-five degrees now, he reckoned, and still there was nothing but sheer rock on either side. Annie started crying in the back. Or it may have been Mo. He didn't want to find out.
They veered to one side, and Davis was pointing. 'See the ridge?'
He couldn't even make it out at first. Off in the distance was a tiny spur of flat rock ending abruptly in nothing. It seemed incredible that they could even dream of landing there. Lieberman clung to the door handle, looked across the cabin. 'Okay,' he said. The man's eyes said it all. And in a long, halting swoop, the helicopter half-flew, half-fell out of the sky, skimming the steeply inclined rock face, catching strands of scrub as the life died in its airframe.
The pilot took his right hand off the stick and grabbed Lieberman's arm. 'We come in running. As soon as you can open the door, get these people out of the back. Take your belt off now.'
Lieberman shook his head. 'You want the belt off?'
'Please.' His eyes were begging. 'We have one chance with this. If it goes over, a belt's going to do you no good. If we manage to stay on the straight and level, I want you out ASAP, and clear of this bloody machine. Understand?'
Lieberman nodded and looked at Mo and Annie. 'You heard?' It was Mo who was crying. She seemed more scared than Annie in some way he couldn't quite understand. Something snagged the machine, bounced them briefly out of their seats. Lieberman looked at the pilot, fighting the controls, all arms and legs, and thought: This is one way to go, so wrapped up in the mechanics around you that the idea of moving from life to non-existence never really enters your head. Then the world turned upside down, there was screaming again, and something louder, the constant, ear-piercing screech of metal meeting rock, blood on the glass in front of him, pain shrieking in his head. And, in a moment, stillness.
He opened his eyes and looked across the cabin. Davis was breathless, holding the stick; above them the rotor was slowly winding down. They were on an incline. Not a gentle one.
Davis still looked scared. 'You're bleeding,' he said.
Lieberman felt his head. The scalp was damp and sticky.
'It's okay.'
'Good. Now get out of your side, mine's too close to the edge. Go carefully. Keep your heads down, that blade is still alive. Get well clear of the machine once you're out. I'll follow you. Now move!'
He didn't need to be told twice. Lieberman kicked open the door, saw the thin line of flat rock of the tiny plateau between them and the edge: no more than eight feet. He grabbed Mo by the arm, took the strain as she eased down onto the ground, then did the same with Annie. He looked again at the pilot. It was hard to tell. Even if he was hurt he wouldn't want to show it. 'Let me give you a hand.'
'For God's sake, man, get out!' The metal skeleton of the machine grumbled. Lieberman kicked and pushed and was out the door, let go of the frame, and heard it groan.
'Michael!' Mo yelled.
He registered the noise and knew, in an instant, what it was. The helicopter was shifting, off the plateau, off the edge. Their weight had changed the balance. It was slipping away from them, the pilot locked inside. He wheeled around and saw just how bad it was. The ridge was less than twenty feet wide, and the machine had moved so far to the left that half the frame now hung over the precipice. Davis was struggling to get out of his belt, and every time he moved, the machine tilted gently farther toward the edge.
'Stay still,' Lieberman shouted, and grabbed hold of the land-side leg, now rocking gently toward the sky. The pilot looked at him, afraid.
'Easy for you — '
'Shut up and stay still. I'm thinking.'
The helicopter rocked once more on the cliff ledge, Davis instinctively leaned inward, and Lieberman knew he couldn't hold this thing, all of them couldn't stop it from tipping over when it decided to go. One hand on the strut, the other working feverishly, he undid the cord on the videophone. 'Mo, help me. Please.'
She took the strap, unthreaded it from its fastenings, and pulled it clear. Extended, it ran to almost three feet, all solid nylon, strong too, he guessed. He threw it inside the cabin. 'Are you free of the harness yet?'
Davis nodded. 'I think so.'
'Good. When you're ready, take the strap by both hands and come toward me. This thing is going to fall away from under you pretty quickly. Know that now. But I can pull you free if you do your part. Understand?' Davis nodded.
'Your knee is trapped behind the stick thing,' Annie screamed.
'Yeah.'
Davis struggled. So much stuff inside this thing, Lieberman thought. It was hard to believe he could avoid every wheel and pulley and projectile as it fell past him.
'On my three,' the pilot said.
'You're still behind the stick.'
He nodded at Annie. 'I know… One.'
Lieberman took up the slack. The helicopter groaned.
'Two…'
Mo and Annie weren't watching this. He knew that, without having to see it.
'Three!'
And Lieberman thought his arms would be pulled from their sockets. Davis leaped up in the cabin, banging his head on the roof panel, yelling wordlessly, fighting with his legs. The machine began to topple over, creaking, sighing.
'Kick your leg free,' Lieberman shouted. 'Your leg, man.'
It was like a fight, a brawl. Davis was battling every piece of metal in the cockpit, and each stood in his way. Suddenly the aircraft pitched violently upward, the strut catching Lieberman in the face, the sky went dark for a moment, the strap fell free from his hand. He clutched at his eyes, wanting to scream, listening to the groaning metal, the rush of air, the sound of this huge contraption tipping itself into space.
'Michael,' Mo said, something in her voice bringing him back down to earth. He looked down. Mo was flat on the rock, the strap in her hands, Annie holding her ankles, being dragged gently toward the edge of the precipice. He leaped down to the ground, added his hands to the strap, held firm, dug in his toes, felt the movement slowly come to a halt.
'You're heavier than you look, Bob,' Lieberman yelled. 'I don't know how long we can hold this.' Something grunted from beyond the ledge. It was too hot. The sweat was running from every pore, making the harsh plastic weave of the strap cut into their hands. A dead weight tugged on the line, like a giant fish, then Davis's angular face appeared, inch by inch, at the cliff edge, then one arm, pushing upward, then a second.