Black wind

craft. The Sikorsky hung suspended for a moment in the air before gravity caught up and the cabin dropped to the water, slapping the surface with a smack. The main rotor spun into the surf, attempting to whip through the sea, but the sudden impact with the water cracked the main spindle and the entire rotor cartwheeled off to the side fifty feet before sinking in a spray of foam.
    The cabin of the Sikorsky remarkably held together during the crash and bobbed on the surface for a second before being sucked under the waves. Through the smashed windshield, Dirk caught a glimpse of a wave breaking over a sandy beach before the icy water filled the cockpit and stung his body. Dahlgren was trying to kick out a side-panel door as the green water enveloped them rapidly, rising to the cockpit ceiling. In unison, each man raised his head and took a last gasp of air before the murky cold water rose over them. Then the turquoise helicopter disappeared completely from the surface in a swirl of bubbles, sinking swiftly to the rocky seafloor.
    Captain Burch immediately launched a search-and-rescue mission after he lost radio contact with Dirk and Dahlgren. He brought the Deep Endeavor to Dirk’s last reported position, then began a visual search for the two men, sailing west in a zigzag pattern from Yunaska to Amukta. Every available crewman was called to the deck to scan the horizon for signs of the men or helicopter, while in the ship’s radio shack the radioman continued a tireless call for the missing aircraft.
    After three hours of searching, no trace was found of the helicopter and an apprehensive dread fell over the ship’s crew. The Deep Endeavor had worked its way close to Amukta Island, which was little more than a steep volcanic cone popping out of the sea. Dusk was approaching and the sky turned a purplish red on the western horizon as the day’s light slowly diminished. Executive Officer Leo Delgado was studying the steep shape of the mountainous island when a faint blur caught his eye.
    “Captain, there’s smoke on the shoreline,” he reported, pointing a finger toward the hazy spot on the island.
    Burch held a pair of binoculars to his eyes and looked intently at the spot for several moments.
    “Burning debris, sir?” Delgado asked, fearful of the answer.
    “Perhaps. Or it could be a signal fire. Can’t tell from here. Delgado, take two men in the Zodiac and see what you can find on shore. I’ll bring the ship in behind you as close as I can get.”
    “Yes, sir,” Delgado responded, already crossing the bridge before the captain had finished speaking.
    A gusty breeze had kicked up, making the evening seas choppy by the time the Zodiac was lowered into the water. Delgado and the two crewmen got doused with cold sea spray repeatedly as the rubber boat bounced over the swells in their anxious drive to the shore. The skies were nearly dark and the helmsmen had a difficult time tracking the wisps of smoke against the black backdrop of the peaked island. The island appeared to be surrounded by a steep and rocky shoreline and Delgado wondered whether they would even be able to get ashore. Finally, he spotted a quick glimpse of the fire’s flame and directed the Zodiac toward it. A small channel through the rocks opened up, leading to a pebble-strewn patch of beach. Gunning the motor to ride the crest of a wave in, the twelve-foot rubber boat bounded through the channel and ground to the shore with a crunch as the hull plate scraped some small rocks before sliding to a stop.
    Delgado jumped out of the inflatable boat and ran apprehensively toward the smoky fire. Two shadowy figures could be seen hunched over the smoldering driftwood fire trying to keep warm, their backs turned to Delgado.
    “Pitt? Dahlgren? Are you guys okay?” Delgado shouted out hesitantly before approaching too close.
    The two soggy-looking derelicts slowly turned toward Delgado as if rudely interrupted from an important meeting. Dahlgren was holding a half-eaten crab claw in one hand, while the head of a white
    mouse peeked out of his chest pocket sniffing the night air. Dirk stood holding a sharp stick, the end of which pierced the shell of a huge Alaskan king crab whose spiny legs Dirk dangled over the open flame.
    “Well,” Dirk said, tearing a steaming leg off the big crustacean, “we could use some lemon and butter.”
    After briefing Burch on their encounter with the fishing trawler, Dirk and Dahlgren limped to the ship’s