He did as he was told, pushing them out into deep water, then climbing in the plane and putting on his headset. Emma turned over the prop. The Cessna sputtered alive and immediately began pulling them through the glassy water of the pond.
Emma took her time taxiing, listening to the engine and watching her gauges. She gave it some throttle and felt the plane pull harshly to the right, the pontoon on that side plowing the water. Damn, she wished this pond was bigger—she’d like to have more room to ease the weight of the plane onto the left pontoon and into the air, not force it up at full power.
But she didn’t have that option.
She turned into the slight breeze and shoved the throttle forward. The plane immediately responded, thrusting them back in their seats as it attempted to rise onto the surface of the pond.
It wasn’t a very comfortable—or graceful—journey skyward. Emma had to fight the controls all the way, praying the repaired hose would allow enough fuel through it to give them the power they needed. Water sprayed against the prop and the engine and Mikey’s window. The Cessna shuddered and shook, and finally came up on the step of the floats.
Mikey let out a whoop as they lifted into the air, at the exact same time the window beside Emma shattered into a million spider veins. She instinctively ducked and banked the plane to the right.
“The trees!” Mikey shouted.
Emma eased back to the left just as the window behind her shattered and a bullet lodged into the ceiling. She pulled back on the yoke until the stall alarm sounded, then she forced the plane into another tight bank to the right, aiming at the narrow valley at the head of the pond.
“Dammit, Nem! We won’t make it!”
She pulled back on the yoke and the big, beautiful Stationair did the impossible as it clipped the tops of the trees in its struggle to fly.
There was another sound at the rear of the plane, which Emma guessed was another bullet hitting the tail.
“Someone’s shooting at us!” Mikey hollered, turning to look at the back of the plane. He twisted around and looked up at the ceiling, then at the window beside her. “We were shot at!”
“Take the yoke. Now,” Emma ordered, lifting her right hand to her left shoulder.
He grabbed the yoke with shaking hands, his expression stark with fear.
“Keep climbing, Mikey. And head for Greenville.”
He looked over at her, and through the haze of tears nearly blocking her vision, Emma saw his eyes widen in horror.
“You’ve been shot!”
“I don’t think bad, but it burns like the devil. Take us to Greenville and set us down as close as you can to the shore.”
“Jeez, Nem. Are you bleeding bad?”
She carefully turned in her seat to open one of their packs. Her shaking hand was slick with blood as she worked the zipper and pulled out a shirt. She balled it up in her fist and put it over her left arm, gritting her teeth to stifle a groan.
“Well?” Mikey asked, trying to divide his attention between flying and looking at her wound. “Can you stop the bleeding?”
“I’m trying, Mikey. Give it a second.”
He patted her knee. “I’m sorry, Nem. I just don’t like seeing you hurt.”
“You never did.” She let go of the shirt long enough to wipe the tears from her eyes. “Remember when I fell on the dock and hit my head?”
“I remember you bled like a stuck pig. Like you’re bleeding now. Maybe you’re a hemophiliac. You could bleed to death before we get to Greenville.”
“Don’t go inventing trouble,” she said as she fashioned the shirt into a bandage, using her teeth to tighten it.
“Is … is the bullet still in your arm?”
“I don’t know.”
He groaned, as if he were in more pain than she was. “Damn, I wish we had filled the woodshed today.”
“Well, we didn’t. And we may still have to pay our dues for being curious. There’s Greenville. I’ll take the yoke. I want you to open your door and look down at the pontoon, Mikey. See if it’s still intact. We hit a few of those trees pretty hard.”
His face went completely white, and Emma watched him uncurl his hands from the yoke as she took control with her right hand. He opened the door, having to force it against the wind, and looked down. When he closed it and looked at her, his face was even whiter than before.
“The tube’s deflated and hanging half out. As soon as we land, that float’s going to drag us over.”
Emma gritted her teeth. “We have two choices. The water or the trees. Which one do you want to land us on?”
“Me!”
“There comes a time when every pilot has to make the decision to sacrifice his plane to save himself,” she told him, looking him straight in the eye. She tried moving her left arm and found it nearly impossible. “Personally, I’d choose the trees. I don’t know if I can swim out of an upside-down plane right now.”
“You’re asking me to crash the plane?”
“An emergency landing, Mikey. There’s a difference.”
“I know. I know.” He stared down at the lake below them. “We’ve practiced the procedure often enough.”
“And now you get to try it for real.”
He turned to her. “I could kill us both.”
“Not if you focus on the principals I taught you. Full flaps, slow speed, and just fly it into the softest trees you can find,” she said, her voice steady and low. “It’s all a matter of deciding to do it, and doing it right. You’ve got the skill, Mikey.”
“But you’ve actually done it before, Nem. Couldn’t you take over long enough to get us down?”
“This is the ultimate chance for you, Michael.”
“This is no time for a lesson!”
“Pick your spot, Mikey. The sun’s setting. And
