Page 166 of The Ampersand Effect

She giggled nervously as she brought the chopper into a hover, rising an additional fifty feet. A deep breath steadied her nerves, and then she eased the skids to the earth. Once the rotors stopped, she pushed her aviators on top of her head and turned to Njáll.

They both descended into raucous laughter.

“You really had me thinking we were going for a swim!” Njáll wheezed between fits of laughter.

Tobin matched his energy, one hand pressing against her sternum as she tried to catch her breath. When she finally managed to calm herself, she shot him a cocky grin.

“I was considering giving some of the newbies a crash course in water rescue,” she teased, “but I didn’t want to traumatize your delicate disposition. I know how much you hate being wet!”

“Careful, Tobin,” Njáll admonished amusingly. “It’s not too late to bribe Dag into maiming you with some hideous ink on that precious arm of yours.”

Tobin gasped, playing along. “You may be her brother, butIam still her favorite. I am confident I know where her loyalties lie.”

Their mics crackled with static, cutting through their banter. “You two done playing around up there?” came the dry voice

of the lead instructor, Gunnar. “We’ve got other pilots who actuallywantto practice.”

Gunnar was playfully castigating them, and Tobin could almost hear him shaking his head as he stifled his laughter from his instructional tower further down the volcano.

Tobin and Njáll were the most skilled pilots in the course, as was evidenced by the assistant-instructor patches embroidered on their jumpsuits. They were always the first to attempt each maneuver, tasked with giving the less experienced pilots a preview—of what to avoidorattempt. No one could have anticipated just how much fun they’d have failing a few times before finding their footing. Literally.

“Aye, aye, Captain,” Njáll blurted through the mic between stifled chortles. “I think Gunnar might toss us both of this cliff if we don’t get this bird back,” he said, turning the rotors back on.

When they returned the helicopter to the pad near the instructional tower, Tobin lost her footing climbing out of the cockpit. She caught herself on the door, narrowly avoiding an embarrassing wipeout. Already preparing a snarky counterattack for Njáll’s predictable jab, she glanced over—only to freeze.

He had fallen, too.

She opened her mouth to beat him to the punch, but the look on his face stopped her cold. When he lifted his head to meet her eyes, a river of icicles rushed through her veins.

“Sjitt!” he gasped, voice tight with fear.

Tobin followed his gaze—over her shoulder, up the mountain— volcano—which was currently spewing plumes of churning smoke into the air above them.

The realization hit Tobin just as she spotted Gunnar sprinting toward them, the whites of his eyes stark against the stoic mask he was trying desperately to maintain. Panic clung to him like smoke.

“Get thatfokkingbird back in the air,” he shouted, making frantic gestures at the chopper.

Tobin and Njáll scrambled to their senses, diving back inside the bird. Gunnar yanked open the passenger door and hauled his massive frame in as Njáll started the rotors. He turned to Tobin. “Ready?”

They didn’t have much choice. The ground was already trembling, rumbling with the first pulses of the eruption. Tobin had never experienced a volcanic blast before—but she’d already seen enough to know she didn’t want to see any more.

“Athygli! Attention!” Gunnar’s voice cut through her mic. “All units, this is Captain Magnússon. Redirect to base immediately. Maintain altitude of 10,000 feet until clear of debris—adjust as necessary.”

Tobin followed Njáll’s lead, angling away from the growing plume of smoke and debris, her hands steady despite the adrenaline hammering through her veins.

She wasn’t as synced with Njáll as she was with Eddie, but reading his intentions came easily. She worked the pedals while he controlled the cyclic, maneuvering them out of harm’s way. An active eruption wasn’t part of the planned training, but Tobin monitored Njáll’s every move, determined to apply what she learned to future rescues scenarios.

She squeezed the collective and cyclic uncomfortably as the air reverberated with smaller explosions—molten fire erupting from the volcano’s rim in sharp, successive bursts. Glancing toNjáll, then briefly over her shoulder, she saw Gunnar adjusting his helmet mic, switching to Bluetooth. He was making a call—likely to coordinate with Icelandic officials.

“Take control, Tobin,” Njáll said, redirecting her attention. She looked at him. He was grinning, full of encouragement, and a little conspiratorial goading. With a nod, he added, ”You won’t get many opportunities to navigate an active eruption back home. Take advantage. Get us back to base.”

Tobin swallowed hard, trying to tamp down the thrill bubbling inside her—nearly as reactive as the volcano. She was about to fly through fire!

Not literally, of course—that was exactly the opposite of what she should do. But the thrill was the same. Especially as the volcano sputtered again, and ashy debris from the core of the earth began to rain down in concentric arcs.

She couldn’t help the cocky smile that spread across her lips as she hunkered down, hyperfocusing on the tactical navigation she was about to complete. Njáll sat calmly beside her, occasionally offering suggestions or tweaks to her maneuvers, but otherwise content to let her maintain control.

Tobin was just skimming the edge of the volcano’s proximal hazard zone when the bird rocked violently, spinning them with the force of the latest blast.