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’veactually 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 I’m bleeding.”

He gritted his teeth as he leaned forward to look out the window. “I don’t know why I’m worried. If we make it down okay, Dad’s going to kill us anyway when he gets back.” He banked the plane down to the right. “There, Nem. How about those trees?”

“Maybe we should buzz the seaplane base and flash our lights, to let them know we’re in trouble.”

He all but dove for the base in the cove.

Emma watched out Mikey’s window. She couldn’t see out of her own; it was too shattered, with one neat little hole at shoulder height. They dove low over the seaplane base, and Emma saw several men look up at them.

“They saw us. Bring it down now, Mikey.”

“You’re sure the water wouldn’t be better? There’s help right there, Nem. They can get to us quickly.”

She shook her head, closing her eyes as a wave of pain shot down her arm. “The water’s unpredictable.”

“Here goes!”

He lined them up for an approach to a planting of young fir growth, as though he were lining up to a runway. Then he pulled down full flaps, causing the plane to feel as if he had put on the brakes. Their packs shifted in the backseat, and Emma’s arm throbbed as it banged against the door, making her bite back a moan.

“Just fly it down, Mikey.” She kept her voice calm and coaxing. “Bring back the throttle. That’s it. Easy, now. This is just like a glassy water landing. Let the plane fly into the trees. Flair, Mikey. Nearly stall it. That’s right, you’ve got it.”

At first it felt as if they were landing on a huge ball of cotton when the pontoons lightly brushed over the treetops. As they slowed even further and settled deeper, the soft cushion of fir got denser. And harder. Tops snapped below them in a sudden rush, just before the plane itself started shuddering.

“Flair out, Mikey. Flair!”

The plane squealed in protest. The stall alarm blared. The pontoons caught on the thicker trunks, violently jerking the Cessna as metal gave way to wood, the noise of ripping aluminum and snapping trees deafening. A branch finished shattering the window beside her and the thrust of her body against her harness was nearly unbearable.

It lasted only seconds.

And in the end, they ended up upside down anyway.

Michael was out of his seat belt first, hitting his head as he fell to the ceiling. He righted himself and carefully unbuckled Emma’s belt, catching her in his arms and easing her down. Then he kicked open his door and pulled her out with all the care of a father handling his infant for the first time.

Emma was laughing and praising him and bawling like a baby the whole time. He pulled her a safe distance away from the plane, propping her up against one of the lifesaving fir trees to examine her, all but counting her fingers and toes. He pulled off his shirt and held it up to her shoulder.