Tailspin Read Online Free Page B

thought of his mother again. That was all she would have needed, too. He’d long begun to suspect her plane hadn’t crashed where they could find debris, but had gone down and sunk to the bottom of the ocean, a channel somewhere, just waiting to be discovered like a shipwreck full of treasure.
    The thought sickened him. His stomach pitched with the plane. Sylvie hunched over her knees, covered her head as if she was prepared to crash. As if her efforts would save her.
    Will couldn’t be sure they would land on the water or that he could keep his word. Rain pelted the windshield, and as comfortable with flying as any bush pilot could be, he had to admit—but only to himself—this had been the ride of his life.
    He piloted the plane forward and tried again to radio for help, but they were still in no-man’s-land.
    â€œSylvie?”
    She mumbled. Groaned. Kept her head down.
    â€œPromise me something.”
    Another groan.
    â€œPromise me you will fly again.”
    â€œAre you crazy?”
    At least he’d gotten a coherent response from her. “Promise me.”
    â€œYou mean if we survive?”
    â€œYes. I mean if I land this broken hull of a plane and we climb out of it in one piece.”
    â€œIf I say yes will you try harder to land?”
    The crack in her desperate voice sent him tumbling.
    â€œSylvie, I couldn’t try any harder, but I thought I’d take the opportunity to extract a promise from you. I wouldn’t want you to miss out on seeing the world the way I see it.”
    Sylvie stared at him, wide-eyed. “Why would you care how I see the world?”
    Will couldn’t say why it was important to him, but in that instant, facing a one-of-a-kind death, he knew it was. He opened his mouth to reply but the plane shuddered and plummeted. Water swallowed them, then everything went black.

FOUR
    W ater rushed into the plane that had hit too hard. Sylvie fought the panic. Sucked in air hard and fast. Must. Slow. Breathing. Hyperventilating would do her no good. Passing out wasn’t an option. One of them had to get the two of them out.
    With Will unconscious that would leave Sylvie.
    Forget what she’d already been through. Survive. She had to survive—to reach down and find strength she didn’t know she had.
    Water poured in.
    The plane was sinking.
    Sinking?
    Sylvie had always thought floatplanes were, well, supposed to float. But then she remembered Jacques Cousteau’s son, also a diver, who died in a floatplane that crashed and sank.
    Surely the pontoons would prevent it from completely submerging. Wasn’t that the whole purpose of pontoons on a floatplane? But that didn’t mean that Will wouldn’t drown in the meantime.
    A small gash in his forehead bled. She unbuckled the strap, bracing herself for the rush forward into water that had quickly covered the controls.
    Sylvie pressed a finger against Will’s neck, confirming he was still alive. She couldn’t accept anything less. Then she worked to unbuckle him from the shoulder harness, but it wouldn’t budge.
    â€œCome on!” she yelled at the buckle.
    What she wouldn’t give for her diver’s knife. It had to be in here somewhere. They were both fortunate her tanks hadn’t flown forward and cracked their heads during the impact.
    â€œWill, come on, you need to wake up.”
    The plane creaked and groaned. It would pitch completely over and upside down soon, and then Will’s head would be fully under water. They would both be. Sylvie searched his pockets.
    There.
    She found a pocketknife.
    But before she set him free, she opened his door, left it hanging forward before the water pressure could seal it shut. More water rushed in at the bottom.
    She was running out of time.
    Quickly she sawed through his shoulder strap. Though she prepared to catch Will, his dead weight fell forward on her and smashed her against the dashboard, the yoke gouging