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“What about west?” Colston asks.
Des studies the radar for another second before shaking his head. “Too much building over there.”
“North?”
“Worse,” Des says.
Colston leans closer to his display while Des keeps working through the other options.
Every time I move the rudder pedals, the vibration comes through my boots again. It hasn’t eased at all, and the longer I feel it, the more I want us out of this airplane and back on the ground where maintenance can figure out what the fuck is causing it.
“Come on, Des,” I say.
“I’m working on it.”
Finally, he points toward the southeast side of the eye. “There. That section’s starting to open up.”
Colston and I both study the radar.
It’s still going to be a rough ride, but there’s less building there than anywhere else around us.
Colston looks over at me. “That’s the one.”
“Yeah.” I turn us toward it. “Let’s get the fuck out of here.”
Brian comes back over the intercom. “Vibration’s holding steady while we’re in smooth air.”
“Anything new showing?” I ask.
“No. Maintenance is going to have a hell of a time with this one when we get back,” Brian says.
“As long as we get back safely, they can take as long as they need to,” I tell him.
Behind us, everyone gets strapped in again while we close in on the southeast side of the eyewall.
My whole body is starting to feel the last crossing now, every muscle tight and tired from staying braced while Ruth threw us around.
But as the eyewall fills more of the windshield, another wave of adrenaline hits me hard enough that the exhaustion gets shoved to the back of my mind.
My mouth goes dry.
I know exactly what’s waiting for us in there this time.
There’s no grin trying to break loose. No part of me wondering how bad Ruth can get or what kind of ride we’re in for.
I just want to get through that wall one more time, point the nose toward Florida, and go the hell home.
Des gives me our heading, and Colston works through the instruments beside me before looking over. He looks about as wrecked as I feel.
“You good?”
I roll one shoulder against the ache and flex my hands on the yoke. “Good enough.”
He holds my gaze for another second, nods, then turns back to his display.
The edge of the eyewall gets closer with every mile.
The first hit comes before we’re fully back inside the eyewall.
