Page 147 of One Last Shot

Don’t. Panic.

Her own words to Oaken rose, and she closed her eyes. Heard his song from so many weeks ago at the Tenderfoot.

“Through stormy nights and sunny days,

She’s the anchor that keeps me from drifting away.”

Her eyes filled.Okay. She had to figure this out.Breathe.

The water nearly lipped the window, so she put the chute on her back and climbed out. The water spilled inside the car.

She sat on the roof, holding the pack.

Okay, how cold could it be, really? She reached over, put her hand in.

Yanked it out.

But she was a strong swimmer.

She put the pack down. Stood up.

And strangely, her mom appeared in her head. “Could be that the person you’ve been trying to rescue all this time is you, Boo. Maybe it’s time to let someone else do the rescuing.”

Yeah, well, no one’s coming, Mom. Not Oaken, not Air One, not... God.

And then, with that thought, the wordsFear notswept over her. Like a wave. Or a gust of wind.

“Fear not. For I am with you.”

She looked up, around, wrapped her arms around herself. Studied the water. Listened to her mother’s words.“That’s Jesus running after the lost lamb, just because she needs him.”

Yeah, okay. Okay!“I need you. I really need you, God. And I’m sorry I tried to do this on my own, but anytime you want to show up to rescue me”—she closed her eyes, her jaw tight—“I’d be grateful.”

The bore tide’s thunder increased, and she stared at it, weak. Even now, it seemed to pick up speed, louder and?—

Over the trees came the rhythm of chopper blades slicing the air. She waved her arms. “Here! I’m here!” A red bird—Air One Rescue.

She kept waving even as the chopper came close, hovered over her. She crouched, fighting the burn in her knee as the water around her turned to chop, as the wash ripped up droplets onto her face and neck.

Yeah, she wouldn’t have survived five minutes in the soup.

But they’d better hurry, because the bore tide was rolling in fast.

The door opened and a man in a red suit, wearing a helmet, leaned out and waved at her.

Axel. Another rescue tech clipped into a safety line, looking out the door. Probably London, spotting.

Axel stepped out onto the skid, then leaned back and let the winch lower him down. A rescue harness dangled from the winch clamp. He held on to the line, one-handed, a real pro as he descended.

The bore tide rushed toward her, and the car jostled with the wind and churning of the water. The line started to twist, but Axel kept his attention on her, unmoving, and landed neatly on the car.

“Let’s get this harness on you!” he shouted over the roar.

She looked past him to the tide. The water rose, cresting over the roof, wetting her feet.

“No time!” She grabbed the center strap of the chute pack, hooked it across her chest, then stepped up to the winch and clipped it to the carabiner.

Then she wrapped her arms around Axel and held on. “Let’s go!”