“Structural fire, south of highway, just off the beach,” I shout in a panic.
There’s a lot that I remember about Mel’s parents’ beach house—it’s uniquely shaped square deck that juts out from the main structure at an angle, its third-floor master suite with the panorama windows, and its position to Montauk’s only chain coffee shop. Mel had said that Chris thought the commercialization of the neighborhood brought down property values, but my girl is practical right down to her bones—she said it was a perk because getting her coffee in the morning was now easier than ever.
“Is that—” Hennessey’s voice falls as we all come to the realization that the burning structure is the beach house.
“Need you to turn around,” I say to the pilot. “Can you land on the beach?”
“I don’t have clearance to land on the beach,” he says and eyes the sandy coastline below. “Don’t have the space for it, either.”
My heart sinks, but I force myself to keep my work hat on. The fire appears to be contained to one side of the building, with the other possibly left untouched.
“So don’t land,” I say. “Just get low enough to the water for me to jump.”
“Are you crazy?” Capriotti says. I stare at the pilot in warning and don’t let up until he redirects the chopper to the shoreline.
“I’m getting to my girl one way or another.”
The pilot tries to lower the chopper as close as he can, but the motor and wings make sounds of protest. He has to bring her up another twenty or so feet to keep the thing from failing. Something about space and something technical that I don’t understand.
“Sorry, guys. I can’t get her low enough for you to jump safely.”
I can’t tell how high up we are from the water right now, but it’s close enough. I can make it. The chopper slowly gets higher and higher in the air, and if I don’t take my chance now, I won’t have one. The water should be deep enough this far out, I reason. If it’s not, I’ll find out the hard way.
Before anybody can stop me, I throw off my headphones and unsnap my harness. The blades are loud and the wind is fierce up this high, so I can’t really hear the panicked screams from the other guys. I sense movement behind me and don’t want to be physically pulled back into the chopper. I grab hold of the side and move to sit on the floor with my feet on the foot rails. I focus on my training and the brief bit of water rescue we covered at the academy. Jump straight down, no curling into a ball like I want to. With a deep breath, I push myself out of the helicopter and try to keep my body straight as I sail toward the water and plug my nose.
It’s an incredible feeling, flying through the air. I plunge into the depths of the Atlantic. It’s shallow enough water out here, but not shallow enough to hurt. I don’t even hit the ocean floor. It takes a second for the shock to wear off before I aggressively swim to shore.
I’m barely on the sand when I hear the first scream behind me. I turn in time to see that somebody’s followed my lead. I can’t make out who it is, but another man is sitting where I was just a minute ago, waiting for a clear landing. The man in the water swims toward shore, and when he’s close enough to stand and push through the water, I see it’s Hennessey.
Dad would be proud.
Mom would kill us all.
I turn back to the beach and run up the cool sand. I’m so focused on the burning house that I almost miss them. Lying on their backs in the sand and facing opposite directions, looking peaceful as ever, are the girls. Monica and Royal flank the sides, with Claire and Mel in the middle.