Free Storm Season by Erica Spindler

Ellis both twisted around in their seats, but they wouldn’t be able to see out the cabin window or door from their seats at the controls. Still, Maggie saw the stunned looks on their faces.
    Kesnick scooted back into position.
    “She’s pushing us off again,” he told the others.
    Then Maggie saw Bailey raise her arm straight up, open palm facing forward.
    “She’s signaling that she’s alright,” Kesnick translated.
    Bailey’s arm stayed up.
    “Maybe she just wants us to get out of the weather,” Tommy Ellis said.
    Maggie didn’t think he sounded convincing though the storm was beginning to intensify again.
    The wind gusted and sent the helicopter rocking. Another layer of dark clouds rolled in over them, this time flickering with streaks of lightning. Thunder rumbled and Maggie could feel its vibration against her back
    “Yeah, we’ve got to head back before we get knocked out of the sky.”
    “You can’t just leave her,” Maggie said.
    The men went quiet. It was her first sentence since they had left the beach. Kesnick concentrated on Bailey, whose arm was still raised.
    “You know the rules, O’Dell. None of us are allowed to deploy except the rescue swimmer.”
    Yes, she did remember Wilson telling her that the last time.
    “My job is to make sure the family on that houseboat returns safely to shore,” she told them.
    “A cutter’s on its way,” Ellis repeated.
    “Something’s wrong.” It was Kesnick.
    Maggie turned to look back down at Bailey. Her right arm was still raised but now she was waving it from side to side, a brisk, forceful wave.
    “What is she telling us?” Maggie demanded when Kesnick failed to relay the message. “What does that mean?”
    “Emergency,” Kesnick said. “Needs assistance.” He turned to Wilson. “She’s in trouble.”
    “I’m going down.” Maggie had already unhooked her seat belt and was sliding over to Kesnick.
    “Like hell you are.” But Wilson was struggling to keep the helicopter steady. Rain lashed at the sides.
    Kesnick started preparing the cable. Maggie had done this before but somehow that didn’t make it easier. She relied on adrenaline to push her toward the cabin door.
    “You have no authority, O’Dell. This is my aircraft.”
    “You have no authority over me, Commander Wilson. That boat down there is the only reason I’m here. And something’s going on whether we can see it or not.”
    “No one deploys except the rescue swimmer. Those are the rules, O’Dell.”
    “I’ve never been very good at following rules.”
    Maggie yanked off her helmet to end any further discussion. Without the helmet and ICS, she wouldn’t be able to hear Wilson. It didn’t stop him from yelling at her. But Kesnick was already helping her. He handed her a Seda lightweight helmet, just like the one Bailey wore. Maggie pulled it on and didn’t bother to tuck her hair up into it.
    Kesnick reached around her, looping and securing the harness. He positioned the quick strop over her shoulders, showing her – reminding her – how to work it and where to hold on. She snapped the goggles into place. Then she tested her gloved hands on the cable and realized she must be completely out of her mind.
    She looked directly into Kesnick’s eyes and saw his intensity. He leaned into her and yelled, “Let me do all the heavy lifting. You just hang on. I’ll get you down.”
    But they both knew she wouldn’t be coming back up.
    He tapped her on the chest, two fingers right below her collarbone, just like he had with Bailey. The universal signal for “ready.” She gave him a thumbs-up and slid herself out of the helicopter door.
    Almost immediately Maggie went into a spin, a dizzy, wild ride. She tucked her chin and dug her heels together so the cable wouldn’t wrap around her neck. The wind was heartless and only accelerated the spinning. Rain pelted her. The thump-thump of the rotors continued to compete with her heart. Thunder roared above. Or at least she