Rotor blades sliced the air ahead. Sophia slowed her sprint as she reached the two Piasecki X-49 Speedhawks. They had thin lifting wings on either side that reminded her of dorsal fins on a fish. The tail sported a vectored-thrust ducted propeller that looked like an oversized fan. Maximum speed: 167 miles per hour. If anyone could hot-rod a helicopter, it would look something like this. And just as well. It was probably the only thing that had a chance of getting them clear in time.

Damien and Jay were nowhere to be seen. She realized they weren’t going to make it.

Lucia was already in the pilot’s seat of the closest Speedhawk, her helmet on. Sophia turned to see Benito farther away than she’d thought. The hangar roof above was already open. She climbed up into the cargo hold.

‘Faster!’ she shouted at Benito.

He slowed to a halt. ‘I’m not going with you.’

‘You don’t have any choice!’ she yelled. ‘Get in!’

He started for one of the other, slower helicopters. ‘I have a pilot’s license. I can fly my—’

‘Those helicopters are too slow. We don’t have time.’ She aimed Renée’s pistol at his face. ‘Get in now.’

‘Or what?’

‘Or I will shoot you.’

Benito swallowed, then began to climb in. She holstered her pistol and offered her working hand to help him, but he ignored it. She yelled for Lucia to go, then held on as the Speedhawk rose sharply towards the hangar roof.

‘Hang on!’ Lucia shouted over the noise of the rotor blades.

The Speedhawk ascended faster than Sophia had expected. Benito was half in, hands clawing for something to hold onto. She leaped forward, sliding on her stomach, and seized his wrist just in time. The Speedhawk was out of the hangar. The humid air hit her, then rushed out of her lungs as she was slammed flat onto her chest.

As the Speedhawk shot skyward, she held onto Benito’s wrist to stop him falling out. His eyes were wide and his hands searched for something to cling to. There was only her arm. He seized it.

She slid herself further forward and snatched whatever she could grab—the back of his collar—and tried to haul him inside. He managed to crawl up to his stomach. She only had one hand as leverage. With her wounded shoulder, she didn’t have the strength to pull him in.

Past his head, she could see Desecheo Island below. She guessed they were about thirty floors high off the island. Something glinted in the sunlight. She watched it disappear into the center of the island with the sound of rumbling thunder.

The bunker-buster bomb.

She held her breath. They were still too goddamn close.

Lucia shouted something, but Sophia couldn’t make out what she was saying.

Again, she tried to pull Benito in. She gripped the back of his blood- and sweat-stained undershirt. It tore from her grasp. She reached further down, her fingers wrapping over his belt. An instant later, he was lying beside her, hands sprawled across the slippery floor.

Below them, the island disappeared into a cloud of iridescent white. Then the Speedhawk shuddered, knocking her right over Benito and out of the helicopter. The white cloud trembled, and a thin white halo spread out below her as she fell. She could see the ocean ripple in its wake.

Frantically, she hooked both arms around Benito’s right leg. Her brain rattled inside her skull as she went from headfirst to upright. Without warning, the Speedhawk lurched sideways, nearly tearing her free. It felt like the helicopter was a lure on a giant fishing line that was being cast out to sea at phenomenal speed.

She hung on. Her shoulder wanted to tear away from her body. About 200 yards below her, through squinted eyes, she saw the shockwave shredding the island apart. An unbearable heat smothered her, forcing her to close her eyes.

In her mind’s eye, she saw Leoncjusz smile as he held up a ruby-colored Christmas ornament. My mother calls these bombka.

She opened her eyes. It felt like her grip around Benito’s leg was slipping. He was hanging off the side of the Speedhawk’s cargo-hold doorway again, and this time his grip looked worse than hers.

The shockwave faded. Their sideways slingshot had ended. Miraculously, the helicopter was still upright. Lucia stabilized it.

Sophia was dangling below Benito, one arm wrapped around his ankle and a fifty-level drop to the Caribbean below. Every muscle in her body was on fire. Light danced across her vision. She no longer had any feeling in her hands, feet or even her face. Everything felt numb. She felt numb.

Benito managed to pull himself further in. Sophia reached out to grip the edge of the doorway. With her weight off him, he was able to drag himself inside. She hauled herself in after him and shut the door. Collapsing on one of the seats, she closed her eyes and clenched her teeth, hoping the tears wouldn’t come. The pain in her shoulder returned with a vengeance, stealing the breath from her. She could barely think, let alone speak.

She opened her eyes to find Benito dressing her shoulder with her field dressings. His hands trembled as he took his belt off. With some more dressing as padding, he tightened the belt around her shoulder to staunch the blood flow between her heart and the wound. Once he was done he checked for something in his pocket. A single vial of iridescent blue liquid. He still had the anti-psychopath Chimera vector. Even if Cecilia failed, they would still succeed. But it didn’t change the fact that Cassandra, Nasira, Damien and Jay were all dead. 

It should’ve been her. Not them.