The Deadly Curse of Toco-Rey (16 page)

“I've got to get the blaster!” she yelled over the rumble and the wind. “And the drill, and all those sensors—”

“What about the
airplane?
” Dr. Cooper yelled back. “If it gets damaged, we'll never get down!”

The Stone lurched like a bucking horse. The airplane actually skipped backward several feet, and the Coopers tumbled to the ground. The wind began to whip at them angrily.

Dr. Henderson didn't need any more convincing. With a cry of fear, she struggled to her feet, jerked the door open, and clambered inside.

Jay and Lila jumped in the back, Dr. Cooper in the front. The plane was still dancing and sidestepping along the quivering ground as Dr. Cooper rattled off the checklist, his hands flying from lever to button to gauge to switch. “Fuel tanks both, electrical off, breakers in, prop on maximum, carb heat cold . . .”

He twisted the starter switch and the engine came to life, the prop spinning into a blurred disk in front of the windshield.

A blast of wind, snow, and ice hit them broadside from the right. The plane weather-vaned into it, the tail spinning wildly to the left.

“Okay, we're nose into the wind,” said Dr. Cooper, jamming the throttle wide open.

The airplane lunged forward, the white swirls of snow and ice blowing past them like sheets in the wind. The old Cessna bucked, skidded, swerved, and tilted as the wind tossed it about, slapping against it this way, then that way. It gained speed, began to tiptoe, then skip along the surface. Dr. Cooper eased the control yoke back, and it took to the air.

“Are we safe?” Dr. Henderson pleaded.

An angry burst of wind came up under one wing and almost flipped the plane over. “Not yet,” said Dr. Cooper, trying to hold the plane steady.

Below them, the sharp edge of the Stone appeared to rotate, tilt, rise, and fall as the airplane was tossed about like a leaf in the wind. The Cessna roared, climbed, struggled, clawed for altitude. Another blast of wind carried it sideways.

“Dad, what is it?” Jay asked. “What's happening?”

“Heat-generated updrafts,” he yelled over the roar of the engine. “Convergence, convection, wind shear, I don't know—the Stone's affecting the weather.”

The plane lurched sideways, twisting, banking, creaking in every joint. A cloud of snow and ice boiled beneath them like an angry white ocean. Dr. Cooper turned the plane eastward, trying to climb above the storm. Below them, the east edge of the Stone came no closer. The wind was so strong they were standing still!

Then the edge of the Stone began to retreat from them. The wind was blowing them backward!

“Oh, brother,” said Dr. Cooper.

“What?” Dr. Henderson cried.

“We're in for a ride. Hang on.”

“Can't you do something?”

“If I try to fight against this turbulence, the plane will break apart! We just have to ride it out!”

He eased the throttle back to slow the airplane down, then turned it westward to fly with the wind and get clear of the Stone. The Stone was hidden now beneath an angry mantle of storm clouds, but they could see the clouds breaking over its western edge like water flowing over a waterfall.

“Wind shear,” said Dr. Cooper.

“Oh, no,” whined Dr. Henderson.

Suddenly, the clouds seemed to suck them down, and they dropped into a nether world of pure white cotton on all sides with no up, no down, no sense of direction.

The altimeter was spinning backward, and they could feel the pressure of the atmosphere building against their ears. Eleven thousand, said the altimeter. Ten thousand. Nine.

They were helpless in a violent downdraft, tossed, twisted, thrown about in the clouds.

Eight thousand. Seven. Six.

And there was nothing they could do, except pray.