Page 89 of Burnin' For You

Not with the gusts threatening to roll the plane, rip it apart.

“She’ll hold together, Rube! Trust me!”

She could taste the smoke in her mouth, her eyes burning as it invaded the cockpit.

“Fine—dump this load, and then let’s get out of here.”

“I need to get lower. If we drop now, it’ll dissipate and do nothing.”

His jaw tightened, but he didn’t argue, so she turned back in the seat, staring down at the smoke. The flames licked up through the treetops. The plane shook with the descent, and if she didn’t pull up, they’d simply arrow down into the blaze, causing another fireball.

She eased back on the yoke, fighting against the pressure of the damaged ailerons from the lower wing.

Next to her, Reuben worked with her, pulling the yoke back in tandem.

The AN2 threatened to shake apart as it surrendered. Her altimeter approached five hundred, and she could have leaned out and spit on the fire. “Ready?”

“Always,” he said.

Ho-kay. She trimmed it level— “Release!”

Again, the slurry fell, this time in thick blobs that dropped on the fire like paste. She could almost hear the blaze sizzling, choking, fighting for life.

Then she pulled back on the yoke once more, heading to the skies. One thousand feet, fifteen hundred.

And that’s when she heard it. The shudder of the lower wing finally losing it. It broke free of its mount and sheered away, dangling from the body of the plane.

Ripped free.

The plane yawed to the right and Reuben was on it, fighting the rudder to straighten it out.

Miraculously, they were still climbing.

But a horrible rush of wind behind Reuben’s seat suggested—No! Gilly looked and confirmed.

The lower wing had taken with it the mounted right wheel, tearing a hole in the fuselage. She could see flames, trees, smoke, and sky from the hole behind Reuben’s seat.

Which meant they weren’t landing.

Heat filled her eyes, but she kept climbing.

Because she didn’t know what else to do.

A hand on her arm—solid, a grip she knew—turned her.

“Get us to three thousand. Then, Gilly, we jump.”

She drew in a breath, shook her head. Turned back to the blue skies.

“Honey—listen. You’ll be fine.”

“I can’t, Rube—I—”

“Yeah, you can. Because you’ll be with me. I’m not going anywhere without you.” He unbuckled and, hooking himself to the overhead bar, made his way to the back. He returned at twenty-seven hundred feet with an empty harness, his own chute already attached.

“Put this on.” He climbed back into his seat, took the yoke.

She stared at it, back to him. “Where’s the chute?”