Page 58 of One Last Shot

He hauled her back inside as Moose righted the chopper, evened it out.

She rolled inside, lay for a moment, breathing hard, the juice still hot in her veins.

Then she scrambled around, still prone, and looked out.

The cable still spun, but somehow Oaken had gotten his knees into the basket, his arms around the edge of the egg, cocooning it and its cargo in his embrace.

Now he and Riley rode the carnival ride around and around.

It was too dangerous to put down. But the longer they stayed up here, the more likely they’d be hit again.

“Axel, can you grab the egg as it comes down? Without getting swept off the cliff?”

She spotted Axel and London on the cliffside, backing away from the spinning egg.

London came on the line. “Tell Oaken to drop his secondary line. We can steady him as he comes down.”

“Oaken?”

“Yep, I got it.” He was already digging into the pouch at his hip, the one that held the coiled rope attached to his harness. As she watched, he dropped it down, then unclipped the rope from himself and reclipped it onto the egg.

Smart. Because the last thing they wanted was for him to get wrapped up in the rope.

Axel grabbed the rope’s end.

London had affixed a piece of webbing to the ATV hitch, attached a carabiner to it, and now ran therope through it. Not tied down, they could let the rope go and the chopper would be free. Now Axel simply held it taut as Moose lowered them to the ground.

“Easy.”

The basket stopped spinning.

Oaken eased off it and stepped back, unhooked Riley, who tumbled out.

London helped their victim over to the ATV and began to assess him.

Axel unclipped the rope, and Oaken wound it up even as Shep brought him up. He’d tucked the length into his pouch by the time he reached the skids. Boo grabbed the cable and brought him in, onto the deck. Clipped him into the safety line and off the cable.

“All clear, Moose,” she said.

Below, Huxley and Beto filmed London and Axel helping Riley into the Polaris.

Moose angled them away from the river and she closed the door.

Sat back.

“Let me look at that arm,” said Shep into the mic, but she held up her hand.

“I’m fine.”

“You hit the strut pretty hard.”

“I’m okay.” She lifted her visor. Smiled at Oaken.

He wasn’t smiling. “How hurt are you?”

She shook her head. Because yes, she hurt, but the last thing she wanted was Huxley hearing their discourse.

They rode in silence back to Anchorage, some thirty minutes away. She watched the storm clouds pour over the mountains, turn the sky dark.