They transferred me to the helicopter within minutes, rough hands lifting me up through the side door. The emergency blanket fell away, lost to the wind and water below, and the cold hit me like a fist. I was still in the clothes I'd fled in jeans, a thin sweater, both soaked through from spray and fear sweat.
I didn’t have Ennis’s jacket anymore…
One of the men, tactical gear, no insignia, face hard and professional, tossed another blanket at me. Not kindness. Just pragmatism. They needed me alive and functional.
I wrapped it around myself with shaking hands, trying to stay alert, trying to catalog everything. Four men in the helicopter besides the pilot. All armed. All watching me with the detached focus of people who did this for a living. No one spoke. The rotors were too loud anywa
