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Now let's dive into the story.

Talk to nice sleep. The rotor noise story. Talk to Nays Sleep.

The rotor noise makes it impossible to hear each other.

Despite the fact I was promised we'd be traveling in one of those stealth helicopters.

Hell knows I paid a fortune for the damn perk.

Oh yes, Mr. Lawson. This is stealth.

The pilot had assured me in my group before we took off from the rundown airport just outside the containment zone.

They will not hear us coming.

I have serious doubts about that, as I watched two of my colleagues struggle to hold a conversation.

We weren't even offered headphones so we could talk over the radio or comms or whatever they call it.

We've spent maybe two hours in the air when the pilot shouts something and gives us all a thumbs up.

What did he say?

Torsten Collins asks as he leans across the bench seat to shout close to my ear.

I don't know.

I shout back, then Pat Torsten's arm and lean across the small gap between the two bench seats

that make up the passenger hold of the helicopter.

Our guide, Mikhail Goransky, has his eyes closed, and I go to tap him on the knee.

His hand shoots out and grips my wrist

just as my fingertips are about to touch his fatigues.

...