Excerpt:

The helicopter swung left and then right buffeted by cross-currents. Waves of fear made my hands sweat. My stomach lurched and my body strained against the seat belt.

“Here we go,” the pilot hollered and his ‘copter dropped straight down, taking me to my death. I whispered Ave Maria, the words tumbling out after ten years of atheism.

“Get ready to jump!”

I unlatched my belt, grabbed my backpack, while the engine roared, and the blades clattered over my head, filling my ears. Bile rose, burned my throat. I tightened my backpack and leaned forward. A shove forced me out the open door. I tumbled to the hard earth, rocks grinding into my knees, just before two hundred pounds of male landed on top of me. On purpose. I squirmed and managed to throw him off. Next time I was jumping out second. Not that I’d ever do this again. I crouched deep to avoid the clattering blades.

“Move away from the ‘copter,” they had drilled into us during training, so I scurried behind a boulder. My partner for this foolish adventure, Chet, the heavy guy, scrambled behind another boulder. After checking myself to make sure I hadn’t actually broken anything, I caught my breath and surveyed the surrounding terrain. Bleak, dry brown peaks, deep sandy gullies, a blue cold sky. God, what a horrible country.