“Didn’t break my bird, Slick?” Where she found the bit of humor, she’d never know, because she was fighting against the urge to be sick over how close it had been. It might not be bullets, but the aircraft had definitely been to war. “What the hell was it honestly like up there?”
When she looked up at him, Vern was shaking his head. “I don’t know. I was kinda busy at the time trying to get out of it.”
“If that branch had hit six inches higher, it—”
“Don’t say it!” He cut her off.
It would have gone straight into the main power transfer for the rear rotor. She’d seen the terrain yesterday. There’d be no neat autorotation into a convenient meadow. Instead, Vern would not be standing here beside her. Ever again.
And suddenly, that he was standing mere inches away was terribly important.
