Page 17

Up at the rim, Jenny Kimura, looking through her binoculars, saw Mac suddenly step back and then begin moving around to the front of the copter.

She said, “Mac, what are you doing?”

“Just trying to get the toolbox.”

“That’s crazy!”

“I need it.”

Jenny turned to Tim. “Where’s the toolbox on those things?”

“Port side.” He shook his head. “Or in this case, the lava side.”

“I knew it!” Jenny said. “Mac’s going underneath the goddamn helicopter!”

Mac eased himself beneath the helicopter, just forty yards above the lava lake. He could see the red glow reflected in the metal over his head. He carefully pulled the ring on the panel, not wanting to jar the helicopter further, and it opened.

The metal toolbox was strapped firmly inside.

He released the canvas buckles and yanked the box toward him, but it had shifted slightly in the crash and was stuck in there. He tried to dislodge it without disturbing the helicopter.

“Come… on,”he said, pulling harder.

He was running out of time, but he needed this box.

“Come on, you piece of—”

The box came loose.

Jenny turned to Tim, covered her microphone, and said, “How long has he been down there?”

“Eighteen minutes.”

“He’s not wearing his mask. That may help him communicate clearly, but it’s going to get to him soon. We both know that.”

She meant the sulfur dioxide gas, which was concentrated near the lake. Sulfur dioxide combined with the layer of water on the surface of the lungs to form sulfuric acid. It was a hazard for anyone working around volcanoes.

“Mac?” she said. “Did you put your mask on?”

He didn’t answer.

“Mac. Talk to me.”

“Kind of busy at the moment,” he answered finally.

She looked through the binoculars, saw that Mac was moving again. He was above the helicopter now, about to lean down on the bubble. She couldn’t see his face but saw straps across the back of his head, so at least he was wearing the mask.

She saw him drop to his knees and crawl gingerly onto the bubble.

Crouched down, he opened the box, took out what looked to be a forged pry bar, and began to work on the door. He managed to open the metal lip six inches on either side of the lock.

Through the plastic, Jake looked up at him, a very tough guy unable to hide the fear and pain he was clearly feeling. The bubble was beginning to cloud over as the sulfuric acid in the air etched the plastic.

Mac picked up a short crowbar and started trying to pry open the door. He saw Jake pushing up on the Plexiglas from inside. He heard the cameraman whimpering. MacGregor strained against the crowbar, using all the leverage he had, until, with a metallic whang, the door sprang open wide and clanged hard against the side panel. MacGregor held his breath, praying that the helicopter wouldn’t begin to slide again.

It didn’t.

Jake Rogers stuck his head up through the open door. “I owe you, brah.”

“Yeah, brah, you do.” MacGregor reached out a hand, and the pilot grabbed it and clambered onto the bubble. Once he was out, MacGregor saw that his left pants leg was soaked in blood; it was smeared all over the Plexiglas dome.

MacGregor asked, “Can you walk?”

“Up there?” Jake pointed to the rim above. “Bet your ass.”

Mac unclipped one of the ropes and handed it to him. Jake clipped it to the belt at his waist. Mac bent over the door and looked inside.

In the back, the photographer was huddled in a ball at the far side of the helicopter. Still whimpering. A haole guy, late twenties, skinny, his face the color of paste.

“He got a name?” Mac asked Jake.

“Glenn.” Jake was already starting up the slope.

“Glenn,” MacGregor said. “Look at me.”

The cameraman looked up at him with vacant eyes.

“I want you to stand up,” MacGregor said, “and take my hand.”

The cameraman started to stand, but as he did, the lava lake below began to burble, and a small fountain spit upward with a hiss. The cameraman collapsed back down and started to cry.

Over the headset, Mac heard Jenny say, “Mac? You’ve now been down twenty-six minutes. You know better than anyone what that means. Glenn and Jake already have pulmonary restriction. You’ve got to get out of there before you do.”

“I got this,” MacGregor said, looking at the lake through the bubble. Everything he’d learned from everywhere he’d been in the world of volcanoes told him he wasn’t fine at all.

“We’re gonna die here!”Glenn yelled, tears streaming down his cheeks.

“Just hang on,” Mac barked.

Then he climbed down into the helicopter.