She held her gun out steadily with one hand and lunged forward for what looked like a steering wheel with the other. "No!" the far pilot screamed and pulled his pistol out, but she pushed forward with all her might and the plane lurched downwards. She heard something explode, and a blinding pain in her side knocked her to the floor. She lay there in a daze, unable to rise, and vaguely wondered what was so warm and wet that crept across her shirt.

The pilots' faces lost all color as they desperately tried to regain control of the plane, but it was too late. They were locked into the nosedive and gaining enormous speed. They looked at her, then at each other, furious and confused. One grabbed the photograph of the sea, barely catching it in all the shaking, and clutched it in a white-knuckled fist. "I'm sorry," said Ava between labored gasps, but her voice was far too small for them to hear.