“Shh. Please. Help me look.”
And together we scoured the cabin, hunting for more snakes.
Giovanni left Amy Lynn’s body on the helicopter.
He’d warned her to sit still. If she had, the rattler might not have struck the front of her neck, and her throat might not have swollen shut in less than a minute.
Having a hostage would make it easier to lure Agent Bowers into the tunnel, so he decided to let the pilot live for the time being. He made sure he could control the man’s bleeding, and then took him into Bearcroft Mine.
I didn’t find any more snakes in the cabin and I was about to check the cockpit when I heard Cody cry out in pain.
The helicopter dipped toward the mountains, pitching me forward.
“It bit me!” he cried.
“Get the stick!” I hollered, but he wasn’t listening. I scrambled forward and grabbed the control stick but only managed to momentarily stop our descent. “You have to-”
“Cody, get the controls!” Cheyenne cried. She dove toward the cockpit, and I slid to the right as she took the stick, then I scoured the floor for the snake. Saw nothing.
“It got me!” Cody yelled. Thankfully, he’d kept his left hand on the collective pitch lever, but he was holding his right hand against his thigh.
Cheyenne was trying to level us off. Two days ago she’d told me she was taking helicopter flight lessons. I really hoped she knew how to land.
“Where’s the snake?” I yelled. Cody just shook his head.
Based on where he was pressing his hand against his leg, I guessed the rattler had struck him on the inside of his thigh near his femoral artery-a terrible location for a bite.
With every beat of his heart, the venom was pumping through his body, destroying more tissue, causing more bleeding, slowing his respiration.
The more his heart races, the quicker he’ll lose consciousness.
“Relax, Cody.” I was still searching for the snake. “Try to stay calm.” He was shaking. I let my eyes tip toward the window for a moment, and I recognized the surrounding mountains. We were close to Bearcroft Mine, less than a mile away.
I scanned the floor again.
And saw the snake weaving beneath the control pedals.
“Everyone be still.”
But Cody followed my gaze, and then shrieked and yanked his feet off the pedals. The helicopter pivoted sideways through the air and started to drop.
“No!” Cheyenne hollered.
The world was whipping around, spinning. A blur. I saw the snake slide across the floor toward me.
I grabbed for its neck. Missed. Got the body.
Cheyenne shoved Cody against the door to get her feet to the pedals.
Another rotation, another, and then finally, somehow, Cheyenne pulled us out of the tailspin, but we were less than a hundred meters from the ground and falling fast.
“Level us off!” I yelled.
Still holding the snake I reached for the knife but realized I must have dropped it when I rushed to grab the controls.
I felt the snake’s body tense for a strike.
OK. Drastic measures.
Rattlers can strike faster than the human eye, but not faster than a speeding bullet.
109
I drew my SIG.
The chopper was so wobbly and the snake was wavering its head so much that I wasn’t sure I could hit it, but I could definitely shoot something else.
Even though the cockpit wasn’t pressurized, with the downward force of air from the rotors I figured there’d be enough suction.
I fired at the window to my right.
As the glass exploded outward, the air in the cockpit rushed after it, tugging the snake’s body with it.
I let go.
No more snake.
“I’m taking us down!” Cheyenne yelled.
I was cool with that.
A pair of sunglasses and a storm of papers shot out the broken window.
I studied the terrain below us.
The road leading to Bearcroft Mine was just a few hundred meters north of us. A meadow that looked flat enough for Cheyenne to land in lay beside it.
“There!” I pointed.
About half a mile further up the mountain, the other helicopter was already on the ground near the entrance to the mine.
Good enough. I could run from here.
As Cheyenne took us down, I radioed for backup and requested an ambulance for Cody, and then, remembering the mine’s deep, narrow shafts and the killer’s intention to bury someone-me- alive, I told them to call in the Arapaho National Forest’s high angle rescue team. I sometimes climb with the guys on the team, and if we needed a vertical rescue, they were the ones to do it.
We were twenty meters from the ground.
Cheyenne fought to keep us steady.
Cody was drifting into and out of consciousness.
Ten meters.
I swept my eyes across the floor, looking for more snakes.
All clear.
Five meters.
And then we were settling onto the field. A small jostling, but that was all.
“Beautiful landing,” I said. We were alive. We were on the ground. “Perfect.”
A breath.
A small moment.
A chance to think.
Both Cheyenne and I were OK, but Cody appeared to be only partially conscious. I tried rousing him. No response. I felt his pulse. Thready. Gauged his breathing, considered the EMS response time. It didn’t look good. “Cheyenne, I’m not sure he’s going to make it unless we can get him to a hospital.” We still had our headphones on; the rotors were still spinning overhead.
She stared at me. “How?”
“Fly him.”
She shook her head. “I can’t do that.”
“I have to go after John. We can’t leave Cody alone.”
“I know, but I’m not… No. I can’t do it.”
“Yes, you can. You just brought us out of the tailspin and landed with no problem.” I saw my knife on the floor. Retrieved it. “Trust your gut-”
“We’ll get some paramedics up here.”
Arguing about it was getting us nowhere. I carefully sliced Cody’s pants leg to take a closer look at the bite.
The area surrounding the wound was already black and distended. We both stared at it.
He was in bad shape, and she could tell. She laid a gentle hand on his knee and closed her eyes, took a long breath, then let it out slowly. “OK.” She opened her eyes. “But I’m coming back to help you.” A fiery intensity shot through her words.
“I’ll look forward to it.”
We moved Cody to another seat, then she situated herself in the cockpit.
“You’ll do fine!” I yelled. I’d exited the helicopter and was standing just outside her door. I had to shout to be heard over the roar of the motor.
“Find him,” she hollered. “Stop him!”
“I will!”
I reached for the door, but before I could close it, she grazed her hand against mine. She said nothing, but communicated everything.
But in that moment I found myself wishing it was Lien-hua with me instead of her. I felt vaguely guilty and squeezed her hand gently, then let go and waved her off. “Go!”
I closed the door and she repositioned her headphones and tapped at the controls in front of her. Then I ran from the churning whirlwind kicked up by the rotors, and after I’d made it about ten meters I turned and watched her lift off into the purple Colorado dusk.
A little shaky, but not bad.
As she flew away, I bolted up the road toward the mine.
Tessa was having a hard time wrapping her mind around everything that Dora was telling her.
Apparently, it wasn’t Paul’s letter that had changed her mom’s mind about the abortion. “You’re telling me it was a bunch of magazine ads?” she said. “Like that picture of the girl and the jewelry box?”
Dora nodded. “That’s what she wrote in her diary.”
The doorbell rang.
The two officers stared at each other for a moment.
Another ring. Martha stood. “I’ll get it.”
“No,” the shorter of the two cops said. “We’re on it.” Both officers headed to the door.