“Not if I’m giving tours or flying beneath controlled air space, but since we’re flying into an airport, they have to know. I’m able to turn off the main mic, so you won’t hear me unless I’m talking directly to you. But I’ll hear you, so if you need anything, speak up.”
“Okay.”
It’s strange hearing him through the headset. It’s like he’s talking to me inside a tunnel. This whole thing is surreal. I’ve seen helicopters before, mostly in movies. And I’ve flown on plenty of planes, but it’s kind of strange knowing the person flying. If I’m being honest, it’s hot. The power he has in his hands right now is astounding.
We start to rise off the ground. I can barely even feel us moving. Out the window, the lodge comes into view. It’s so much smaller from up here.
“Look down,” Quinn says. “I was going to give you a tour of the whole ranch, but there’s no time. However, you can’t leave without seeing this. See those ridges down there?”
I study the landscape. “They look like… oh, yeah, devil’s horns.”
“It’s how they got the name of the place.”
“Wow. Now I’m bummed I overslept. I’d love to see all of it.”
“Some other time.”
I don’t tell him there’s no reason for me to return. I’m quiet as I gaze out the window. The view is mesmerizing—green as far as the eye can see. Fields and pastures are broken up by tree lines and dirt roads. Every once in a while, a house seems to sit in the middle of nowhere. Scores of cattle graze in one area. We fly over what looks to be a rodeo. I want to ask Quinn about it but figure what’s the point?
It’s a perfect day. A few wispy clouds lurk above, but the sun is shining. When we turn a certain way, the shadow of the helicopter appears on the ground. I’m surprised because it seems like we’re pretty high up here. It’s incredibly serene. It almost makes me want to stay. Life seems so simple here. There’s no rat race. No hurry to get anywhere. No business lunches or deadlines. I sigh and stare out the window. No birth moms trying to walk the line. No sick fathers who can’t even remember me.
Suddenly, the helicopter jerks violently to one side, and everything goes quiet. Too quiet.
“Quinn, what’s happening?”
He doesn’t speak. I stare at the back of his head. It seems like we’re gliding, but something is definitely wrong. I can’t hear the engine. I take off the headset, and it’s dead silent.
“Quinn!” I yell.
He doesn’t turn. My heart races. Outside, the houses aren’t so small anymore, but I don’t see an airport anywhere in sight.
“Quinn! Tell me what the hell is happening.”
He rips off his headset. I think he throws it on the seat next to him. “It’s okay. We’re going to be okay.”
“I don’t hear the engine. That can’t be good.”
“We’ve lost power. Don’t panic. Look out the window and up. The rotors are still spinning. I can get us down.”
“Don’t panic? Are you fucking kidding me? We’re going to crash!”
“We’re not going to crash. I’m autorotating us down.”
“I don’t know what that means. I’m freaking out here. Will you say something I can understand, please?”
“Listen to my voice, Amber. I know how to do this. I learned in flight school. There’s a lot of kinetic energy stored in the rotating blades. I lowered the collective, and that flattened out the pitch, which gets rid of the drag and allows the rotors to continue to spin. We’re not just going to fall out of the sky. We’re going to glide down. The air is coming up from underneath like a pinwheel and will keep the rotors spinning. As long as I maintain rotor RPM, we’ll be okay.”
I somehow get the idea he’s talking to himself as much as he is to me, because I don’t comprehend a word of what he’s saying, but just hearing him speak is comforting. He wouldn’t be talking if we were really going to crash. Would he? My whole body is tense. “Quinn…”
“I’ve been trained for this,” he says without so much as a quiver in his voice. “And so far, everything I’ve learned is working. It’s much better to be in a helicopter than an airplane during an engine failure. It’s easier to land. Like cars, helicopters are flown by feel and visual reference. Make no mistake, I still have control here.”
An alarm sounds, scaring the shit out of me.
“Don’t worry about that,” he says. “It’s the low rotor RPM horn.”
“But you said you had to keep up RPMs or something.”
“Amber, trust me. I’m doing everything by the book. We’re going to be okay.”
I look out the window. There are telephone poles and electrical wires and green grass. Lots and lots of green grass as far as my eyes can see. We’re going down quickly, even though I can’t feel it.
“How… how will we land? Will we hit hard? Do I need to put my head between my legs?”
“We’re landing in that field down there. I’m not gonna lie, the landing could be rough. I’ll try my best, but I’ve only done this in simulation, never a full down autorotation. At the last second, I’ll pull the nose up, which should cushion the landing. It won’t be long now. I’ll tell you when.”
“Oh my god, Quinn.”
“Amber, I’ve got you.”
I think about Dad and all the things I would say to him if I could. About Piper—how I should tell her I appreciate everything she does trying to make me feel like part of a family again. About my best friend, Tag, and how I should force him to finally give up his cigarette habit. Then I think about the man up front, who may be the last person I ever see.
“Here we go. Hold on to something.”
I jam my right foot against the side of the frame, and shooting pain sears up my leg. The helicopter jerks up and then down, and I feel momentarily weightless before we thud to the ground. Other than my screaming nerves and painful leg, it was almost a nonevent. Not exactly the crash landing I was expecting.
I open my eyes and scan outside. He’s landed us between two trees and a telephone pole. I breathe in and out, in and out—through the pain in my leg. The door opens and Quinn jumps up. “Jesus, are you okay? I heard you scream.”
“It’s my foot. I jammed it hard when I braced myself. I think I might have broken it.”
He unbuckles me, sits on the floor in front of me, and puts my leg on his lap. “Damn.”
“What happened up there?”
“Complete engine failure. Communications. Everything.”
“How can that happen?”
“It doesn’t. Like, there’s a one-in-a-million chance of it.”
I belt out a sarcastic laugh. “Just my luck.” I glance outside. “How did you land without hitting those trees?”
“I told you I was still in control.”
“I’m… amazed. I mean, I’m officially terrified, I feel like puking, and I’ll probably never fly again, but I’m amazed.”
He blows out a long breath. “I’ll let you in on a secret. So am I.”
“Amazed or terrified?”