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Foster darted over to Atticus’ truck, shaking out his hand in an effort to ease the ache. Though, he had a feeling nothing short of a couple beers and a hot shower would work. “Are we good to go or have you found someone else who needs to be rescued?”
Atticus snorted. “Don’t tempt me, son.”
Foster pursed his lips. While he knew Atticus was more bark than bite, it didn’t stop him from wanting to smack the old coot. “Just get in the damn truck.”
He opened the passenger door when a low whop echoed through the fog. He paused, staring toward the ocean when a chopper materialized out of the fog and rain, screaming toward them. Fifty feet off the deck with twin vortices trailing behind it. It banked hard to the right, making a tight turn before coming into a high hover over the cliff.
Atticus palmed his CB radio, clicking the mic as he all but growled into the phone. “What the hell are you doing, Mac? You’re timed out, and it’s pissing like the apocalypse out here.”
There was a blast of static, then a scratchy voice. “Did you seriously think I’d just sit it out? When you had multiple victims?”
“Yes, I did because that was a direct order. Besides, we’re done. Everyone’s en route?—”
“Not done. There’s someone near the bottom of the cliff about fifty feet to your starboard. Probably just out of sight from where you are. I can’t tell if they’re alive or not, but they won’t be unless we get to them. Now.”
Foster cursed then took off, scanning the rocks as he made his way along the edge. He was just about to question the pilot’s sanity when he spotted a flash of yellow amidst the frothy spray.
He darted back to the truck, shaking his head as he looked at Atticus. “I’ve got our vic. But the winch cable isn’t going to reach that far.”
The voice snorted, the sound higher than he’d expected. Softer. “Then, it’s a good thing I came along. I’ve got Charlie with me but he’s only qualified to work the hoist. Which means I need someone to harness up and get our vic into the basket I send down.”
Foster froze. Actually froze because… he was their only option. And that meant facing the real possibility that he’d end up inside the helicopter.
Chapter Two
“Dad? Do you still copy?”
Mackenzie “Mac” Parker stared down at the guy standing beside her father’s truck, wondering what the hell was going on. If maybe the storm had crapped out their radios because there was nothing but an eerie silence over the comms.
A few more moments of absolute silence, then her dad’s gruff voice. “Send down the basket. Just do me a favor and land both back on the road if possible.”
Mac glanced at Charlie, wondering if she’d imagined her father saying to land everyone back on the road instead of hoisting them up and heading straight to the clinic, but the man merely shrugged. “Say, again?”
“You heard me. Drop them back off if it’s safe.”
“Roger.”
She wasn’t sure what that was about — if there was some form of danger she was unaware of — but she’d do her best. “Okay, Charlie. Mission’s a go.”
The gusting wind buffeted the chopper as she moved into position, holding it steady as Charlie opened the doors then lowered the basket. Rain blew in through the open space, chilling the cabin as the temperature dropped. She clenched her jaw, adjusting the controls as the guy hooked himself up to the harness then gave her a twirl of his finger.
She moved, lifting him several feet above ground level before easing the helicopter sideways. Battling the fierce drafts cutting across the embankment until she was over the person lying motionless on the rocks.
The basket swung, the mixture of the rotors’ downwash and the wind spinning it dangerously close to the shoreline. She countered, moving with it until the whole unit finally settled, staying just right of their patient.
The guy glanced up then reached for the cliff side, grabbing ahold when she shuffled over enough for him to wrap his hands around a large rock. The weight beneath her shifted, then eased as he put some slack in the line, climbing along the slippery surface before going to his knees.
She kept the bird steady, working her hands and feet in an effort not to yank him over or drag him across the shoreline. Rain pummeled the bubble, a flash of lightning rattling the cabin as it shot across the sky, far too close for her liking. She looked down, mentally willing the guy to move his ass when Charlie’s voice sounded in her helmet.
“Um, Mac. Please tell me that’s not what I think it is?”
She frowned, focusing out the left window. A twisting funnel of frothy white water zigzagged across the surface, gaining speed and volume as it headed their way. “Crap.”
Mac keyed up her mic. “Hey, buddy.”
An exasperated huff rasped over the comms. “Kinda busy here.”
“Yeah, well, you might want to speed things along. We’ve got a bit of a situation forming and time isn’t on our side.”