Page 102 of The Ampersand Effect

“Probably saved the guy’s life,” Tobin said, thinking out loud.

Eddie opened the hangar door, and the wind snarled its way inside, raging through the open space. They moved toward the exit as Eddie’s voice crackled through the mic, “No kidding. But these winds are gonna be a bit of a bitch.”

Most rescues seemed to preclude kind skies or otherwise ideal flight conditions. This morning was clear and sunny, but the wind was vicious—like it had a debt to settle against Aetheridge. Sustained at twenty-seven miles per hour, withgusts reaching thirty-six, it made flying—and hovering—damn near impossible.

They fought the wind the entire flight, short though it was, to the mudslide site. The fisherman had been right: the victim’s bright yellow rain jacket was a beacon, guiding them directly to his location. They arrived to find him clinging precariously to a tree root jutting from the cliff face.

Getting into position, however, was proving harder than anticipated.

“Handle the fucking pedals!” Eddie roared at her over the comms. She wasn’t angry—the wind was just that loud, thundering even through their headsets.

“I’m trying!” Tobin shouted back. “These gusts aren’t exactly cooperative.”

“You’re kidding,” Eddie drawled sardonically, fighting to maintain their hover above the cliff face.

As if to emphasize their frustration, a straight-line gust pummeled the helicopter, shoving them twenty yards inland and spinning the nose until they faced west, between the forest and the lake. Tobin’s adrenaline spiked. She coached herself to breathe—inhale, exhale— as she helped Eddie maneuver them back toward the lake.

It was one of the first clear days in weeks, following a stretch of light spring rains and severe seasonal storms. Beneath the cover of the forest canopy, it could’ve been a perfect morning for a hike.

Until the mudslide.

Tobin had seen them before. The unyielding wind over Lake Aether created a wave-action on the coastal cliffs, steadily chipping away at the rock above the water. As erosion progresses, the cliff grows unstable: when one small section loses its hold, the keystone supporting the structure gives way and larger sections begin to collapse. The resulting tremorsdislodge the water-logged soil, and then the mud flows—first like molasses, then like a liquid beast, devouring everything in its path until it spills over the cliff and into the water below.

“Hey, Caps?” Mike called from the cabin. “We gotta drop soon. That guy’s been hanging for the better part of an hour—his grip isn’t gonna hold much longer.”

If they could just get to him before his strength gave out.

Eddie growled ferociously beside Tobin. She knew she shouldn’t laugh—it was rare to see Eddie this flustered. She managed to stifle it, burying the sound like a cough.

“Shut up, Blur. I’ll fire you.” Or, you know. Maybe not.

Tobin’s smirk vanished as another gust slammed into them, swinging the nose until they were once again positioned between the forest and the lake.

“Shit,” she muttered, swallowing her pride.

This was not going well. They were already flying in winds that most experienced pilots would flat-out refuse to navigate. Dropping a basket alongside a cliff to extract a precariously dangling victim was a maneuver only the most adept would attempt. Tobin had every confidence in her and Eddie’s abilities—but the winch system unnerved her. Once airborne, that basket would be a pendulum in a hurricane.Ifthey even felt safe dropping it in the first place.

“Working on it, Mike,” Eddie replied curtly.

Tobin watched as Eddie worked the cyclic, adjusting their position to face perpendicular to the wind, then inched them forward toward the cliff ’s edge.

“You know I’m not one to question our skill. If anyone can pull this off, it’s us. We’ve got this, Eddie,” Tobin cheered, steady on the pedals as she worked to stabilize their progress.

“Smooth recovery,” Eddie shot back, her sarcasm laced with less venom than was warranted.

“Captain Parrish,” Mike cut in, his voice crackling through the comms, “I know you like perfection—but we don’t need it here. Jada and I got this. You just get us close enough to drop, and I’ll make sure that basket gets her down and both of them back up.”

Tobin had to give him credit—Mike had impeccable timing. “I’m gonna get her down, Mike. Hang on,” Eddie replied, her

voice edged with renewed conviction.

Then, to Tobin: “I’m going to try to get us some cover.” “Cover? From what? There’s literally nothing but the cliff and

open sky, Eddie.”

Eddie risked a glance at her, and Tobin couldfeelthe brazen confidence emanating from her friend’s roguish grin.

“Vacuum,” she said.