Page 167 of The Ampersand Effect

Mid-spin, she gasped and nearly dropped the cyclic in an effort to cover her mouth. A barrage of lava bombs pelted the area they’d just cleared. Two other helicopters, slower in their retreat, hadn’t been as lucky.

Tobin watched in horror as flaming projectiles pelted both aircrafts’ windshields. Her breath caught when one bird began leaking fluid —thick, inky smoke quickly joining the plume from the volcano.

The maydays crackled over her mic. The chopper was going down.

She turned sharply to Njáll, then Gunnar, awaiting instruction— heart pounding.

This escape had just become a rescue.

“Fokk!” all three of them said in unison.

The next few moments blurred as Gunnar barked orders into his mic, instructing the rest of the pilots to return to base. Tobin and Njáll watched with bated breath as the crew aboard the compromised chopper skillfully guided it to the earth, finding a clear patch of ground not yet encumbered with flowing lava.

Then Gunnar hissed in irritation.

The heat from the eruption was warping the terrain. The ground beneath the chopper had begun to melt and slick over, transforming it into a sheet of black ice. The helicopter was sliding—fast—toward a river of lava.

This wasn’t practice anymore. They couldn’t just pull up the bird and reset.

“If that bird hits the lava, it’ll only have seconds before the fuel system ignites,” Njáll said, far calmer than Tobin felt.

She looked over her shoulder at Gunnar. He was frantically wiping anxious sweat from his brow, his eyes locked on the unfolding disaster, calculating.

“An explosion will damage our helo… at best,” Gunnar said hoarsely.

The implication of what would happen at worst lingered unsaid in the air between them.

“Well?” Njáll asked, looking between the two of them.

Tobin turned to Gunnar first. He stared into her eyes, answering silently with a raise of his scruffy brow.

She rotated her neck to meet Njáll’s gaze. The corner of her lips already curled into a determined smile.

“That’s what I thought,” Njáll said, matching her smile before turning forward.

“Have you ever landed in high-heat conditions?” Gunnar shouted into the mic. Tobin instinctively knew the question was for her.

“No, but I think I’m about to get more than I paid for with this course,” she said. “Why don’t you give me the crash course?”

She risked a brief glance over her shoulder and winked at him.

Then she laughed at herself.

He could scold her later.

Gunnar snorted, obviously less than humored by her pun. “The heat from the ground will alter air density and create updrafts. That means you’ll be coming in fast and heavy—while managing pockets of turbulence. Otherwise, we risk settling with power.”

“Is that all?” Tobin quipped, leaning into overconfidence—false bravado helped steady her nerves and racing heart. She was terrified—but there wasn’t time for that. Right now, she needed the confidence of a surgeon.

She laughed, almost maniacally, picturing her least favorite surgeon, Victor Vanders. She welcomed the surge of rage that hit her veins at the thought of his name, letting it drive her ambition and settle her hands.

“No,” Gunnar said stoically, startling Tobin from her faux arrogance and bringing her back to reality. “You’ll also have to fight visual disturbances from the heat haze. It’ll distort your depth

perception the closer you get to the ground.” “Oh,” she said, chastened.

“It’s okay, Tobin. We’ve got this. Besides…” Njáll stalled as he skillfully shifted the helicopter out of the path of another wave of lava bombs. He exhaled when the bombs dissipated, then continued, “… landing is the easy part. After that, we actually have to get out and rescue our friends.”

Tobin could hear the smile in his voice—he was trying to lighten the mood. But the humor didn’t land. It hit her all at once: she didn’t have a crew to send out once they landed.