77.
Jamie
Jamie was miles past mere panic when the helicopter showed up. She was striding across Staten Island on giant gravity channels, mind whirling, trying to figure out what to do next, where to go next, how to search for Kyra to make sure she was safe. If she wasn’t at the house, and she wasn’t at school …
Melanie’s house, she thought, turning to her left as a chopper swept in front of her, halting her forward progress. The chopper was all black, swooping low, as though it meant to block her forward motion. She could see men with guns in the open back doors, and the loudspeaker shouted to her:
“Jamie Barton, stop! Lower yourself to the ground with your hands behind your head and—”
She didn’t wait for them to get any farther. She dropped, freefalling, and attached an anchor to the bottom of the helicopter. She used it as a swing, reeling herself to within a few feet of the bottom of the copter as it rocked from her momentum. The pilot swore loudly through the speaker, and Jamie cringed. She hadn’t meant to make it rock like that, especially since she was now hanging on for dear life to it. But at least they can’t get a clear shot at me now …
She hung, suspended over a neighborhood in Stapleton, her back against the chopper’s cool metal belly. The sound of the rotors was deafening, and she closed her eyes for a moment, trying to figure out her next move. How was she supposed to get to Melanie’s house from here, with a chopper following behind her? Sure, she could bolt it to a city street to keep it from pursuing, but the men with rifles in the back would probably shoot her down as she tried to get away.
The helicopter started to circle lower, but the pilot had turned off the speaker, so she couldn’t hear what was being said inside, at least not over the rotor wash. She hung there, trying to plan, when she suddenly saw something sparkling in the distance, a couple blocks away.
She peered toward it, staring, as it came closer and closer, leaving a trail behind it, sparkling like diamonds in the summer sun. It was only a block away and a hundred feet down when she finally realized what it was.
Captain Frost.
He rode his trail of ice, angling upward toward her. She could see his grin from here, and felt her heart drop. Of course he’d come now, to revel in her fall, to aid in it if he could, probably. She closed her eyes for a second and composed herself, then shouted, “What do you want, Frost?” praying she was wrong.
He zoomed toward her on his trail of frozen water, making a slalom pattern from it as he circled up toward the helicopter. “I just want you to give up to the cops, Jamie,” he said, and he sounded oh-so-pleased.
“I didn’t have anything to do with what happened,” she said. “Please. My daughter is missing. I have to find her before I can surrender.”
“Oh, I don’t think that’s gonna happen,” he said, grinning. He was actually enjoying this. He stopped about twenty feet away from her. “You know, it’s funny … after what you said to me, I had people telling me you were gonna get yours. Karma was gonna come around—”
“I criticized you for not stepping up and saving a person you had the power to help,” Jamie said, sick of being horizontal against the bottom of the chopper. “Don’t play like I’ve ruined your whole life, killed your family or something.”
“You humiliated me,” he said, the luster fading briefly from his smile.
“Yeah, well, I’m wanted by the cops for a crime I didn’t commit, my life is in the toilet, and my daughter is missing,” Jamie said. “You want my comeuppance? You win. I’m screwed. I’m going to be arrested, and I’m willing to be—once I make sure my daughter is safe.”
“That’s not the way this works,” he shouted over the sound of the turning blades. “You don’t get to dictate the terms. You surrender now, and I’ll maybe see what I can do about your daughter. Otherwise …” He held up a glistening hand in menace, an icy blue glow surrounding it. “I’ll give you a three count to give up and then I’m taking you in.” He smirked a little, and somehow she knew he was imagining the picture of her being led along into custody by him proliferating across the internet like a virus.
“I can’t come with you,” she said, “until I can guarantee my daughter is safe.”
“I was kinda hoping you’d say that,” he said, “because now, suddenly it’s all right to hit a girl—” And he wound up like a pitcher and threw a blue, frosty blast at her.
She watched his throw go wide, wide of the mark, wide of her, and right into the tail rotor of the police helicopter. There was a sound like mechanical failure, harsh and grinding, and suddenly something broke, very loudly, metal rending and a crunch! that was followed by the helicopter spinning wildly in a fixed circle, the ground below Jamie blurring like she was stuck in a high speed washing machine watching the world outside as the agitator ran her in high-speed circles.
The ground came closer and closer as Jamie watched, still tethered to the belly of the chopper, altitude falling and her head spinning. She felt sicker than she already was, and the rooftops of the houses below were getting closer and closer.
This is not my day, she thought, as the helicopter came crashing down.