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Jake Rogers, on his side and in a tremendous amount of pain, looked straight down at the lava lake and heard the hissing of the gas escaping from the glowing cracks. He saw spatters of lava, like glowing pancake batter, thrown up on the sides of the crater.

Jake didn’t think his leg was broken. The cameraman—Glenn something—was in worse shape, moaning in the back seat that his shoulder was dislocated. He rocked in pain, which rocked the helicopter.

Jake swore at him again and told him to stop before he killed them both, but the guy just kept moaning and rocking like a baby.

Over the radio, MacGregor said, “How’s the cameraman?”

“Pau, Mac.” Finished. “Busted shoulder. Acting real funny kine.”

From the back, the cameraman said, “Who’re you talking to?”

“There’s a guy coming down for us.”

“Great!” the cameraman cried; he lurched across the back seat to look out the window, and the sudden shift of weight sent the copter sliding downward again, throwing Jake’s head against the Plexiglas bubble.

The cameraman began to scream.

Only twenty yards away now, MacGregor watched helplessly as the helicopter began a rumbling descent. He heard yelling from inside, and it must have been the cameraman, because Jake Rogers swore at the guy and told him to shut the hell up.

The helicopter slid another twenty feet toward the lava, then miraculously stopped again. The struts were still facing outward; the twisted rotors were buried in the scree. The passenger door was still facing upward.

“Mac?” said Jake. “You still there?”

Cautiously, MacGregor moved forward along the slope. “Yeah, I’m here. Lucky for you I got nowhere else to be.”

“This guy’s a piece of work, Mac.”

“Look who’s talking.” Mac heard the cameraman moaning in pain. “Can you move, Jake?” Mac asked.

He was close enough to the copter that he could see Rogers.

“Yeah, I think so.”

MacGregor gestured with a Spark gas mask, offering it to Jake. Rogers shook his head.

“You need to unlock the passenger door for me,” MacGregor said. “Don’t open it, just unlock it.”

Jake raised himself up and fumbled with the latch. Mac heard a metallic click. Then another. Jake was frowning with effort, struggling.

“Son of a bitch! It’s jammed.”

“I guess we know what’s next,” Mac said.