My stomach lurched into my throat as, without warning, the chopper suddenly dropped several metres. Steve’s eyes flitted back up from where my hands rigidly gripped my harness and I caught the last hints of his mirth before he could smooth his features.
He leaned in close so the barely dulled whamp-whamp-whamp of blades wouldn’t drown out his retort. “I’m sorry, but how can this still get to you?”
“If man was meant to fly…”
This time his head tilted back and even the pilot turned at Steve’s deep, booming roar of laughter. “It’ll be fine Mam. You’ll do fine.”
I wished I could channel his confidence, but he wasn’t the one forced to stand and face them. They would be wanting more than just the platitudes of sympathy Steve had prepared. They would be screaming for answers, explanations, blood. They would view me with the same ire as the perpetrators and be justified in doing so.
“We could have stopped this Steve. We could have saved them all.”
Steve’s ear-to-ear grin vanished like the smoke it was and he turned to stare down at the waiting crowd. There was nothing he could say.
There was nothing any of us could say.