The chopper passed by the farmhouse along the same line it had followed only a minute or two before, but again Sam was struck by how much lower it was—nowhere near fifty feet up, this time. Maybe thirty. The engine noise was different, too. The pitch was higher, and it sounded like it was revving over and over. Straining, working hard. That was the impression it gave him. It sped past and continued north, toward downtown and the subdivision beyond.

Dani turned to Pierce. “Try calling someone else.”

“I called the only numbers I know.”

“Then try again—”

Before she could say any more, the sound of the retreating chopper suddenly changed. The scream of its turbines rose in a matter of seconds, like a teakettle hitting the boiling point.

All three of them spun in place and stared after it. At a glance Sam could see that something was wrong: the aircraft had whipped around ninety degrees, its movements erratic, jerky. A second later it spun to face forward again, its nose dipping and then coming right back up—manic, rapid moves, as if something in the machine had failed catastrophically, and the pilot was fighting to keep it airborne.

For maybe ten seconds the aircraft appeared to level out and regain control, still heading north, probably beyond downtown Ashland by now, somewhere near the subdivision.

Then it pivoted again, spinning like a top in slow motion, and descended out of view beyond the low shapes of the storefronts downtown, a mile or more away.

For a long, long moment—time enough for Sam to take a deep breath—nothing happened.

Then a fireball bloomed where the helicopter had disappeared, silent as distant lightning.

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

Sam heard a sharp little breath from Dani, like she’d been elbowed in the stomach. It was the only sound she made, but after a few seconds he could tell she was crying; he could see her shoulders hitching, at the edge of his vision.

Farther off to the side, Pierce stood with his hands atop his head, muttering something Sam couldn’t make out.

Finally the sound of the explosion came—a bass-heavy whump like a massive firework, far away in the night. The windows of the farmhouse rattled faintly for a second or two, and then everything was silent again.

The sound seemed to break the trance of the moment; Pierce turned where he stood and sprinted into the house through the open door.

“Stay here!” he yelled.

Sam looked at Dani. She wiped at her eyes, looking awful. She held his gaze for a second and then shook her head, turned and ran after Pierce.

“Where are you going?” she asked, her voice cracking.