Craig had been on bumpy flights, but he'd never seen anything as wild as this. As they moved closer, the turbulence increased. The wind howled around the plane as if trying to rip the wings off.
He grabbed his seat when the plane abruptly dropped ten or twelve feet--braced when it jolted to the left, then the right.
A few minutes later, the plane hit the vortex, the brooding eyewall and bucked violently. Craig was in the eye of the storm.
Suddenly, a downdraft, combined with the change in barometric pressure rocked the plane. It plunged, dropping three thousand feet in thirty seconds.
Craig gulped. It was like dropping off the top of a roller-coaster, only a hundred times worse.
The co-pilot grabbed a handful of throttle. Captain Jennings clutched the yoke, trying to control the plane's bank and pitch as it plummeted toward the raging ocean below.
Craig's seat belt was the only thing that kept him from slamming into the ceiling. His feet were over his head, his stomach in his throat when, out of the corner of his eye, he saw Lieutenant Burton's calculator floating in mid-air.
As Lieutenant Burton snatched the calculator, Craig grabbed the seat and pulled his legs down. Then the plane leveled off. The turbulence was gone, the wind in the eye of the storm calm.
Craig looked at the dark, churning funnel of angry clouds, held back as if by an invisible wall. He spotted birds, then did a double take. "Hey, there's a boat down there," he said.
"Probably got caught in the storm," Lieutenant Burton said. "Pepe is a mild one. He'll be all right if he stays in the eye."
The crew began talking again. "Another five left, please," the flight director said. "Keep it there. Okay, roll out. Bring me left a couple. Right two. Keep coming right, keep coming. Okay, let's mark it here."
Craig turned as Ensign Parker pushed a button. The sonde cylinder dropped from the plane with a metallic "Whang."
A chute opened and the cylinder floated toward the ocean below.
)
