She slid past him and shut herself into the small rear compartment and turned out the light. She felt for the emergency lock and swung her weight backward as the damp black air screamed in and tugged at her face—the whirlybird showed its fat thigh with a rackety-rackety-rack groundhog! Tears ran down her cheeks, distorting her first view of darkness.
Beyond the machine's ungainly silhouette she peered and saw flashes of yellow light on water—but nothing, nothing familiar. Thus, squinting desperately toward home, she noticed it, marking the horizon. A glowing mushroom. It must have been gigantic.