Page 53 of Ground Truth

The plastic door beside him shattered.

The speedboat’s rear end exploded in yellow flame. The flames grew into a single great conflagration, relentlessly rising.

The Robinson could take no more. It began to rotate, curving to the right, and shook violently.

They were going down.

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Chapter 27

As the helo took hit after hit, the noise was deafening. Flint’s head felt as if it might explode. He whipped his gaze in all directions, which only made the headaches worse.

With less than a hundred feet to fall, Drake had no chance of autorotating to absorb the impact.

“Blades headed toward the tail!” shouted Drake. “Brace!”

The Robinson’s rotors were flexing with the rough handling. They’d reached their limit. The blades flexed so far they pummeled the tail boom, chopping it to pieces.

With a violent lurch, the Robinson began to spin.

Flint glimpsed black clouds rising from the speedboat’s rear end as the helicopter corkscrewed its way down toward the Gulf. Flint grabbed the second flare from under his seat and pulled on his seat belt, cinching himself tighter.

The nose hit first, ramming him forward against his shoulder harness.

The whole machine tumbled over, slapping against the water.

Flint glimpsed sky as the helicopter rolled one last time. Then they were facing the Gulf’s water again.

Cold water poured through his smashed door into the cabin.

The engine stopped.

Water hissed on hot metal. Cracks and pops filled the air.

Flint pulled the release lever and wriggled out of his harness.

Drake struggled to free himself from his seat belt.

Water continued gushing in as the helo continued to sink. The cockpit was half full already.

They would be underwater in twenty seconds. Probably less.

Flint pulled the knife from his ankle and cut the straps of his harness.

The helicopter rolled ninety degrees, forcing Flint’s side into the water. The knife slipped out of his hand as he struggled to hold on to his seat. Drake half slid and half floated into the canopy.

Flint leaned over Drake’s seat and pulled the lever to open the far door, which was now on the upper side as the craft lay in the water.

Air rushed out and water rushed in to fill the space.

The helicopter was never designed to float, and nature rapidly proved the point. It sank in seconds.

Flint angled through the open door and pushed with his legs to propel himself upward. Drake followed a moment later, carrying the deflated orange life raft in his hands.

They reached the surface, coughing and spluttering.

The waves rolled over them. Flint’s faulty equilibrium begged the motion to stop, but his pleading was a waste of energy.

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