Andrea hooks her fingers around the bottom of a share. Her injured shoulder aches as she clings on for her dear life. Something whacks her in the side of the head and little black dots appear in her version. She turns her head and sees the transmitter swinging on the end of its cord.
“Andrea, are you okay?” Lance’s voice asks.
The helicopter creaks as it tilts in the air, and then she hears a harsh metallic grinding. One of the champagne bottles slides across the floor and whacks her painfully in the arm. She reaches for the next seat and just manages to grab the base. Slowly, she pulls herself toward the center of the helicopter. As her weight shifts, the helicopter begins to straighten out, but the grinding continues.
She lies on the floor panting and exhausted. Before she can catch h
