Noah adjusted the flaps, beginning the descent. “We need to hit the water flat. Nose up. No angle, no dip, or we cartwheel and break apart.” Jamie didn’t answer. He just gripped the sides of his seat, jaw clenched.
The ocean below looked deceptively calm, but both pilots knew better. One wrong touch—too early, too sharp—and the seaplane could tear open on impact. Metal would crumple. Fuel lines would snap. There would be no second chance.