Back to Eden

The copilot came back to the area where Cole and Doc sat. He snapped a hook attached to his harness to a safety line, then opened the side door.

Wind and the smell of smoke—both wood and fuel—rushed into the cabin as the copilot began prepping the equipment needed to drop someone out of the airplane.

Cole unbuckled his seat belt and stood, grabbing a hand loop for balance and stepping toward the door.

“Sit down,” the copilot commanded with a stern look, yelling over the din.

“I’m going down there.” There was no way anybody was going to keep him from being a part of Rachel’s rescue.

“Of course, you are,” the copilot agreed, still shouting. “But you’ll fall out if you aren’t strapped in. The air up here is choppy. Ever see a man fall eighty feet to the ground?”

Doc looked up at Cole and swore.

“Now, sit back down so you’ll get your chance at being a hero.”

As if emphasizing his point, the helicopter pitched Cole in the direction of the open door.

“I think I’m gonna puke,” Doc moaned as he yanked Cole back.

The copilot laughed. “I always knew you Hot Shots were a bunch of wusses.”

Buckling in next to Doc, Cole glared at his friend. “Hang in there. I need you.”

“You could have taken the camp medic.” Doc closed his eyes. His skin had become a sickly shade of white.

“I chose a doctor instead. Now, quit your griping.”

“Have you rappelled out of a helicopter before?” The copilot shouted at Cole. Who didn’t even blink as he nodded.

Despite his nausea, Doc managed to raise his eyebrows at Cole.

Cole scowled back at him. So what if he’d only rappelled once? So what if he’d rappelled onto solid ground? Rachel was down there hurt, perhaps dying.

Cole recoiled at the thought, leaning back into his seat. The little girl he’d once rescued from a flash flood couldn’t die. She was too stubborn, too full of life.

“Get into this.” The copilot tossed a four-point body harness at Cole’s feet.

When Cole had the harness strapped on tight around him, the copilot hooked a nylon rope to it, fit him with a helmet containing a built-in headset and positioned Cole near the door.

“I’m going to let you down slowly until you get to the wreck. Try not to put your weight on the plane because we don’t know how stable it is. You will not be going inside, copy?”

Cole nodded.

“Once you’re there, let us know if the pilots are salvageable or not.”

“Salvageable?” Damn him. “There will be survivors,” Cole growled.

The copilot looked down on the fuselage. “I hope so, although we’ll have a hell of a time extracting them in anything more than a basic harness. We won’t be able to get a cage down there.”

Cole nodded. He knew what the copilot was saying. If Rachel or her copilot had neck or spine injuries, it would be next to impossible to get them out without increasing their injuries or killing them.

Cole glanced down at the crumpled metal shell that had flown through the sky less than an hour ago. No matter what, he was getting Rachel out of there.

“Ready?” the copilot asked.

Cole gave a tight nod and went to rescue Rachel.

When Cole neared the plane, he found purchase on the roof as he sought to steady his descent. Mistake. The branches beneath the fuselage cracked in protest, the sound nearly stopping Cole’s heart. The plane swayed in the trees, and Cole looked to the forest floor with a start.

It was a long way down. No one would survive that kind of fall.

Cole worked up enough saliva to swallow. He would not send the plane plummeting to the forest floor. He would not be the cause of Rachel’s death.

“Don’t put your weight on it until you absolutely have to,” the copilot chastised him through the radio.

Sweating, Cole tucked his legs in and continued down. With the help of the helicopter, Cole pulled himself forward until he was straddling the nose of the plane, hating to look inside, knowing that he had to look inside. Bearing Cole’s weight, the plane swayed as if it were a playground swing.

Not dead. Not dead. He couldn’t lose both Rachel and Missy.

Cole stared past the debris and shattered remains of the windshield and saw Rachel’s face, looking fragile and white as a sheet. Her sunglasses hung awkwardly off one ear. Blood oozed from her temple, and little cuts crisscrossed the rest of her face, probably from the windshield breaking.

“Rachel, wake up.”

Her eyelids fluttered and she gasped as if in pain.

“She’s alive.” Cole extended one arm through the windshield, but he couldn’t reach her. Too many branches were in the way, one of which—a thick, splintered shaft about eight inches in diameter—seemed to have pinned Rachel to her seat.

“There are supposed to be two,” the helicopter copilot reminded him.

“Can’t see anyone else. The cockpit is covered with branches.” Maybe the other pilot had been thrown out the window. Damn. Not the most pleasant way to go.

“We’re sending down a second harness.”

Cole inched to the edge of the cockpit, but his lifeline prevented him from reaching Rachel. He couldn’t unbuckle her safety restraints from outside the plane.

“Come on, honey. Help me out here. Can you release your harness and scoot forward?”

Rachel didn’t move a muscle. In fact, she seemed to have stopped breathing. Hell! If she needed CPR, he needed to be in there. Now!

Cole unsnapped his lifeline and slid into the cockpit headfirst. The plane groaned as Cole struggled to get his feet beneath him through a thick mess of branches.

“What the hell are you doing? That plane could drop at any moment. Is he crazy?” The helicopter copilot was as shocked as Cole was.

Cole wouldn’t be surprised if Doc did puke this time.

The plane continued to sway and something snapped beneath him. Crap, bad idea. His feet finally found something solid to stand on. He stood between the two seats, knee-high in branches.

“Rachel.” Cole put his gloved hands on her cheeks. “Don’t give up now. We’ve got to get out.”