Kurt swam to the tail, shoved the air hose beneath the fuselage and opened the valve to full. He fed it in, trying to build up an air bubble that would spread across the underside of the plane and break the effect of the suction.
When he’d pushed the hose in as far as possible, he left it there and swam to the left wing.
Diving beneath it, he began digging out the black silt with his arms and shoveling it away. Reaching deeper and deeper, he was soon beneath the craft—where he’d be trapped and crushed if it rose and then settled.
The sound of the rotors torquing up to full power came again. The cables strained. Kurt stretched deeper and deeper beneath the plane, pulling at the muck with his long arms.
Suddenly, a wave of bubbles surged across the underside of the aircraft. It rose with surprising abruptness and Kurt heard a sucking sound, like the last of the water going down a drain.
He and Emma were pulled in beneath the Nighthawk along with the tons of water that were rushing into the space the aircraft had suddenly vacated.
In the swirl of bubbles and sediment, it was impossible to make out anything aside from the light on Emma’s shoulder.
Kurt grabbed her arm and pulled.
They kicked hard, swimming together through a storm of swirling black water. After the initial surge, the Nighthawk was settling back. Kurt felt his flippers hitting against the underside of the plane as he kicked out from under it. By the time he turned around, the aircraft was rising again, traveling upward through the water, moving slowly but surely. A fountain of bubbles pouring from the air hose chased it toward the surface.
“Let’s get topside,” Emma said. “I want to be there when it lands.”
Kurt nodded and the two of them swam toward the Zodiac’s anchor line and then began moving slowly upward.
By the time they emerged into the bright sunshine, the black tail of the Nighthawk had broken the surface. It looked like the dorsal fin of an oversized shark or killer whale.
The yellow air bags appeared next, breaching and flopping over on their sides, deflating slowly as the trapped air came out through the open collars.
Above it all, the Air-Crane howled as it began the next stage of the epic lift, hauling the space plane from the grasp of the water and up into the air.
The nose came up first, and then the rest of the craft. Sheets of water poured off the Nighthawk’s wings and mud sloughed from the extended landing gear in heavy, dripping globs.
Floating beside the Zodiac, Kurt and Emma watched in awe as the Air-Crane began a slow pivot and moved off toward the firm section of higher ground that Urco had picked to land it on.
Emma pointed to the center of the lake. Silt and foam swirled in an effervescent circle where the Nighthawk had been lifted free. The air bags were left behind, sagging on the surface as they slowly deflated.
“We’ll clean up later,” Kurt said. “Let’s get to shore and see this thing land.”
Emma removed her fins, tossed them into the boat and grabbed the cargo net they’d set out as a makeshift ladder. She pulled herself upward and flipped up over the edge with surprising speed.
Kurt heard a shout of surprise as she entered the boat and the distinct sound of a struggle. He pulled himself up and spotted a man in the boat wrestling with Emma.
Lunging forward, half in the boat, Kurt got a hand on the assailant, but before he could do any more, a powerful set of arms wrapped around his legs and pulled him back down into the water.
40
Joe felt a strange oscillation through his hands. The Air-Crane was swaying one way and then the other as they headed for the landing area.
“Is that thing moving?” he called out.
“It’s trying to,” Paul said. “It’s torquing to the right and then swinging back to the left. Each time, it moves a little more.”
Joe understood instantly. The downwash created by the six-bladed rotor overhead was a minor tornado. That airflow was catching the Nighthawk’s vertical stabilizer. It pushed the tail to the left and that swung the nose of the aircraft to the right. When it could twist no more due to the tension on the lines, it swung back in the other direction. A movement that was slowly becoming circular.
The Nighthawk continued to sway as they crossed the shallows and then the muddy, barren shoreline. A hundred yards ahead, on higher, firmer ground, Joe saw Urco waving a makeshift flag.
Outlined by tall grasses, the spot Urco had found was flat, rocky and almost circular. It looked like a natural landing pad.
Joe continued toward it, ignoring the yellow temperature light that had come on once again and working the rudder pedals to keep the Air-Crane stable.
Finally over the clearing, he turned the nose into the wind and hovered.