DropZone Page 8

  He fell…

  … tumbled…

  … tried to stabilize…

  Around him the world spun and flipped. The plane appeared, disappeared.

  Green Earth…

  Blue sky…

  Green again…

  Arch your back, Ethan… he told himself.

  Stable! Air rushing past, blasting away all sense of sound.

  Ethan felt his arms buffeted by the wind as if he’d stuck them out of a car sun roof at eighty.

  Johnny and Sam used hand signals. Ethan recognized them from the intense training of the day before. Understanding burst in his brain and he responded, adjusted his body position, checked his altimeter.

  This feels natural, he thought; like I’m meant to be up here, doing this. But what really grabbed him was the sense of freedom. Even with Johnny and Sam falling with him, he was out there and in control of what was going on. It was up to him to get his positioning right, to pull the ripcord. And it felt brilliant. Nothing could ever touch this.

  More hand signals. Time to deploy the canopy. Ethan looked down to the handle at the end of the ripcord. He knew he had to make sure he had firm contact. He gripped it hard, just as Sam and Johnny had taught him in the hangar, raising his other hand above his head for symmetry, to stop himself from spinning out.

  Everything was in the next movement.

  He pulled the handle hard and downwards. Any other direction and the wire could snag in the steel piping it ran through, the pin wouldn’t pull, and the main canopy wouldn’t deploy.

  As soon as he’d pulled the handle, he pushed both arms out to the side.

  Symmetrical.

  Stable.

  Crack!

  Ethan felt his whole body being pulled upwards as, above him, his canopy burst open, caught air, inflated. Johnny and Sam were nowhere to be seen; they’d spun off to find some clean air to pull their own rigs.

  ‘Ethan. You OK?’

  For a second Ethan had no idea where the voice was coming from. He was breathless, disorientated, buzzing like hell. Then he remembered the radio. It was Johnny on the other end.

  ‘Fine,’ he said. ‘I’m fine.’

  ‘Spotted the DZ?’

  Ethan quickly glanced around. There it was. How small it looked. ‘Got it. Now what?’

  Sam’s voice came over the radio too. ‘Remember what you learned yesterday. Just stay on your current heading,’ he said. ‘You’re doing fine. Remember to use those steering toggles. Try it. Track right.’

  Ethan pulled the right steering toggle. He felt himself turn to the right. He eased off, tried the left toggle, turned left. Wow! He was in control of this thing! Unreal!

  ‘Great,’ came Sam’s voice again. ‘Keep doing that so that you’re on course for the DZ, OK? But remember, you’re not aiming to land on it. You’re aiming for the field just off to the right.’

  Johnny’s voice crackled in. ‘It’s a bigger target than the DZ and it keeps you out of the way of those who know what they’re doing. Like me.’

  Ethan laughed, looked down at the fields below, and started to gradually alter his course.

  The world was getting closer and everything was quiet. The wind pushed him along, and slowly he drifted down, down, down.

  ‘Right,’ came Johnny’s voice. ‘I’m down. Perfect landing, obviously. How are you feeling?’

  ‘Awesome! How am I looking?’

  ‘You’re on a good heading,’ said Johnny. ‘Stay on that line and I’ll meet you in the field, OK?’

  ‘No worries,’ said Ethan.

  ‘OK. Just remember to turn into the wind and flare as you come in, just to slow yourself down. Not too much, though; I don’t want you collapsing your canopy and breaking a leg on your first jump.’

  Ethan looked down. He could see Johnny waving up at him, walking from the DZ to the field. And it was getting closer. He was amazed by how the Earth could seem so far away, and then, in seconds, come racing up to meet him. He let the wind take him. The field was clearly visible, and with the occasional adjustment he was dead on course. Following Johnny’s instructions to the letter, he turned into the wind for his final approach.

  He felt the wind slow him down. Then he pulled the toggles together, felt the canopy buck a little – and he was down.

  His first landing. His first solo landing.

  Bloody hell…

  Johnny strolled over.

  ‘Ready to go again?’

  Ethan didn’t even need to reply.

  12

  ‘Recap,’ said Sam, eyes hard. ‘You’re up to level five now. What have you covered?’

  Johnny had just gone to grab a drink and Ethan was alone with Sam in the hangar. It was the third day of his AFF and his feet had, quite literally, hardly touched the ground.

  Ethan felt like his brain had hardwired itself to anything and everything to do with skydiving. He went through all that Sam and Johnny had taught him, demonstrated hand signals, body positions, used correct terminology. Everything he’d learned had stuck. No detail was missing. Ethan felt that skydiving was as much second nature to him now as walking and breathing.

  Sam nodded when he finished. ‘You learn quick,’ he said. ‘But don’t get complacent. Remember, heights don’t kill, the ground does. And that will only kill you if you forget your drills, lose concentration, or try to show off. Remember the seven Ps: Perfect Prior Planning Prevents Piss Poor Performance.’

  Ethan remembered. But then Sam had a habit of repeating everything until whatever he’d taught you became instinctive. Ethan also remembered what had happened to Jake; how close he’d been to bouncing, as skydivers called it – landing at an unsurvivable speed.

  Johnny came back into the hangar, and handed Sam and Ethan a bottle of water each. Then Sam let Johnny kick off with what they were doing next.

  ‘The three-sixty-degree turns were excellent, Eth; nicely done,’ Johnny said. ‘Level six is more fun though – it’s front-loop time!’

  Ethan looked at him. ‘Front loop?’

  ‘Mid-air somersault,’ explained Johnny. ‘You flip yourself over while you’re in freefall, then stabilize.’

  ‘You’ll be doing some tracking too,’ said Sam. ‘That’s what we call it when we zip forward through the air, rather than just freefalling. You use it if you’re trying to put distance between yourself and other skydivers. Or if you just like going fast.’

  ‘What’s after that, then?’ asked Ethan. ‘If this is level six, what’s left?’

  ‘Level seven is where you’ll put the whole lot together,’ said Sam. ‘You’ll do your damnedest to pull off a decent exit from the aircraft, follow our hand signals, do a front loop, stabilize, turn three hundred and sixty degrees left and right, then track away and deploy your canopy.’

  ‘And level eight,’ said Johnny with a big smile, ‘is hop ’n’ pop. You’re on your own from exit to landing.’

  ‘And that’s it?’ said Ethan. ‘Qualified?’

  ‘Ten more consolidation jumps, and you’re certified,’ Sam told him.

  Ethan felt even more excited now that he was so close to finishing. Was his life really becoming this cool? Apparently it was, and he was loving it!

  Sam raised an eyebrow at him. ‘You keeping on top of it all? You seem to be.’

  Ethan stared back. What could he say? That for the first time in his life he felt like he was doing something really worthwhile, something he was good at, perhaps even better than good? That he loved the sensation of freedom you got when jumping, of being right out there at the very edge of what life was about?

  Say any of that and I’ll sound like a total prick, he thought. So, ‘It’s great,’ he said. ‘I’m loving it. You think I’m doing OK?’

  Sam nodded. ‘Yes.’ Then he pointed at Johnny. ‘You check we’re on for another jump.’ He turned back to Ethan. ‘You go wait outside. I’ll join you in a minute. I just need to make a phone call. When I come out, I’ll be asking questions, and I won’t be impre
ssed by anything other than the correct answers. Got it?’

  Johnny was out the door sharpish. Ethan followed.

  ‘Who’s that?’ asked Ethan as he and Johnny headed for the plane for his level seven jump that afternoon. He’d completed his level six just before lunch. The weather was still holding out. If it stayed this good, he’d be able to do his level eight tomorrow. Fantastic!

  He pointed over to the car park, where a man in a suit was standing beside a nondescript black saloon car. Ethan instantly recognized him as the guy he’d seen shaking hands with Sam the day he’d done his tandem. Today he was holding a pair of binos in his left hand.

  Johnny glanced over, following Ethan’s gaze. ‘That’s Gabe, Sam’s friend,’ he said. ‘Though he’s not very sociable. Why?’

  Ethan wasn’t sure, but he had a feeling that the man was watching them. ‘I’ve seen him before,’ he said. ‘He was here when I did my tandem. And I think he’s watching us.’ The words sounded so stupid once they were out that he immediately wished he’d kept his mouth shut.

  ‘That explains it,’ said Johnny, a smirk sliding effortlessly onto his face.

  ‘It does?’

  ‘Absolutely! My fans come in all shapes and sizes.’

  Laughing, they climbed into the plane. Ethan glanced back at the man. His binoculars were raised now and trained on the aircraft. Joking aside, thought Ethan, it was odd. But he soon forgot about the stranger, not least because of who was waiting for him in the plane. Along one side sat the rest of Johnny’s team, all rigged up in matching kit: Luke, Natalya and Kat.

  Kat looked up at Johnny, then shot Ethan an electrifying smile. ‘We’ve been hearing so much about Sam’s new golden boy that we figured we should come and check out his progress.’ She leaned back against the inside of the plane, checked her ponytail. ‘Apparently you’re on your level seven – and ahead of schedule too. Perhaps all the good things we’ve been hearing are true?’

  Ethan didn’t quite know how to take Kat’s words. He hadn’t seen her since Sam had bollocked Jake, and she hadn’t seemed too happy with him then. Now she was smiling, beaming almost, but he couldn’t help noticing an edge – not so much to her voice, but to her words. Golden boy? What the hell was that about? He was in no way Sam’s golden boy – doubted anyone was. Kat’s probably still pissed at me about Jake, he thought.

  Johnny rested a hand on Ethan’s shoulder as they sat down. ‘He’s a natural, aren’t you, mate?’ he said. ‘Born to it, I reckon. Like me.’

  Kat laughed. ‘The only thing you’re born to is self-appreciation.’

  Again that edge, Ethan noticed. What was her problem? Was this really about Jake? Ethan wondered if he was just imagining things, reading something into what Kat was saying that just wasn’t there. He decided to ignore it, and focused on Natalya and Luke instead.

  Luke was staring at his altimeter. He looked like he was convinced it wasn’t working; or that if he stopped looking at it, it would stop working, just to piss him off.

  Natalya, though, gazed right back at Ethan.

  Ethan nodded and gave her a smile.

  Natalya nodded back, but said nothing. She didn’t need to, he thought. It was her eyes that did all the talking. They seemed to stare right through him, like she was sizing him up, looking for flaws. He looked away, but found himself glancing back at her a few times. And each time, he found her still staring at – no, into – him. It unnerved him. What the hell was she thinking? If I were Johnny, thought Ethan, I’d be convinced she fancied me. The thought brought a smile to his face that finally made Natalya turn and look elsewhere.

  Luke was still busy going over his kit. He checked every buckle and clip once, then did so again in exactly the same order. Then again. He looked up. ‘Hey, Eth,’ he said. ‘Want me to check your kit?’

  ‘We’ve got it covered,’ said Johnny. ‘But I’ll let you know if his lapels need doing. You did bring the steam iron, didn’t you?’

  Everyone laughed.

  ‘There’s nothing wrong with making sure everything’s right,’ said Luke. ‘But I’m afraid I left the iron in the hangar.’

  ‘That is a shame.’

  ‘Indeed. But I’m sure we’ll survive. We always do.’

  ‘Crumpled lapels and all! We really are something, aren’t we?’

  Ethan liked the way the team ribbed each other. It was one of the things that made them work so well together.

  Sam pulled himself into the plane and sat down next to Ethan. He looked over at Luke. ‘At least one of you is bothered about the seven Ps,’ he said. ‘So, are you all up here for a reason or just to piss around?’

  ‘To support Ethan,’ said Kat, then slowly turned and rested her eyes on him. ‘Isn’t that right?’

  Ethan smiled back, but he knew that his eyes weren’t joining in. Yeah, there was definitely an edge to Kat. But so what? It was her problem, not his. ‘Yeah, that’s right,’ he said. ‘Kat’s really trying to make me feel part of the team – aren’t you, Kat?’

  Kat gave him a sweeter-than-sweet smile as the pilot called through, and then the plane was taxiing for takeoff.

  A few minutes later, they were airborne, and Ethan spent the rest of the flight totally focused on his next jump. He ran through the exit procedure, flicked through the hand signals, mentally rehearsed the forward roll, the 360-degree turns, deploying his canopy, and when the time came, he didn’t hesitate to jump…

  The level-seven jump went well. Sam told him so, and so did everyone else – even Kat. Only one jump remained. And for that, Ethan would be totally on his own.

  The next day, when he headed out to the plane for his level-eight jump, Ethan found himself sitting in the back of the minibus with Sam and one other skydiver. Sam was there to supervise his safe exit from the plane, but he wouldn’t be jumping this time. The thought didn’t scare Ethan as much as he would have expected a few days ago. He knew what he was doing now, and any fear he felt just kept his mind on the job. It was a useful emotion to have and he never wanted to get to the stage where he wasn’t at least a little nervous. Johnny was staying on the ground to film him landing his level eight.

  Ethan looked at the other skydiver. Whereas he himself was dressed in borrowed kit from FreeFall, none of which was all that flattering, the other skydiver was in black, head to toe, with a black helmet, mirrored visor down. When Ethan looked over, he caught his own reflection in the visor. The man nodded; Ethan nodded back. Then the minibus arrived at the plane and soon they were taxiing down the runway.

  The flight was smooth: no bumps – not that Ethan cared. He was jumping at 5,000 feet, opening at 3,500. Sam quizzed Ethan with a few questions, checked his kit, made sure everything was good. Ethan knew it took about ten seconds to fall the first 1,000 feet, then another five seconds for every 1,000 from then on. That gave him about fifteen seconds of freefall time. It wasn’t much, but it was more than enough. All the other stuff he’d been doing during his previous jumps, such as 360s and front rolls and tracking, was about improving his confidence in the air. But jumping at 5,000 feet didn’t allow time to do any of that. This time he’d be totally focused on what the level-eight jump was all about: executing a clean exit, getting stable, deploying the canopy, then making a good landing in the field by the DZ.

  That was all there was to it.

  Simple.

  The call came from the pilot. They were now on the jump run – five minutes to exit. Ethan felt adrenaline rip through him, and started the countdown in his head.

  Five…

  He began to run through everything he’d been taught by Sam and Johnny: how to exit, how to arch his back to flip over and stabilize in flight.

  Four…

  He rehearsed how to deploy his canopy, and what to do if he had to cut away.

  Three…

  His dad’s face flickered momentarily in his mind, telling him he was a waster, a mistake. But Ethan knew better now; knew just how wrong his dad was, had always been. He pushed the
image away.

  Two…

  He focused on the sense of self-belief and purpose that Johnny and Sam had given him. Skydiving was fast taking over his life. He was determined to be the best.

  One…

  He knew he could do it. He wasn’t backing out now. Time to focus…

  Zero…

  Ethan jumped…

  … and his exit was smooth. He fell from the plane, saw it above him, arched his back to flip himself over and stabilize. The view was more vivid than on any other dive he’d done, like he was even more aware of what was around him because he was up there alone.

  Shit, I’m alone… Ethan felt his face break into a smile. He beamed. And then he laughed.

  This is it! I’m really skydiving! YES!

  He checked his altimeter, eye-balled the DZ, kept himself stable. The air rushing past felt like it was trying to rip his head off: 4,000 feet; 3,900… 3,800… 3,700… 3,600… 3,500…

  Ethan pulled the ripcord.

  No sound had ever made him feel so relieved as this one – his canopy bursting into life above him, pulling him from 120 mph to 10 mph in a matter of seconds.

  He checked everything, made sure the toggles were working OK, banked left, right, pulled himself round to head towards the DZ.

  Something caught his eye, far off and above him. It was the other skydiver.

  Must’ve left soon after me, he thought as he saw the final moments of the diver’s canopy opening. But that wasn’t important. All that mattered was this moment.

  He’d just jumped from a plane. On his own.

  Ethan was on top of the world.

  13

  Ethan landed smoothly as Sam jogged over, Johnny in tow.

  ‘Well?’ Sam asked.

  Ethan grinned, pulled his canopy in, and rolled it up to take it back to the hangar.

  ‘Reckon he enjoyed it,’ said Johnny.

  ‘Then we consolidate,’ said Sam. ‘We can get a couple of jumps in today if you’re interested.’

  ‘Oh, I’m interested,’ Ethan replied.

  ‘Good,’ said Sam. ‘I’ll go sort out a fresh rig for you.’ And he turned to walk back to the hangar.