DropZone

‘The lifejackets will inflate on impact with the water,’ said Sam. ‘Each one has a beacon. When you hit the water, get out of your rig, locate the rest of the team and get into a circle. Luke, contact the sub and tell them what’s happening. They need to know we’re coming from the cliff, not the beach.’ He turned back to the others. ‘Ready?’

Ethan pulled on his rig and lifejacket. He double-checked every clip, holding the drogue chute in his hand. The last time he’d worn a canopy this small was when he’d flown a Raider. He remembered then how Joh

‘Let me,’ said Kat, and checked him over. ‘It’s not as difficult as it looks,’ she told him. ‘And these cliffs are way higher than the ante

‘That makes me feel so much better,’ said Ethan with a nod, face deadly serious. He didn’t know whether to believe her or not. But it didn’t matter; he had no choice. If he didn’t jump from the cliff, he was dead. It was a no-brainer.

He turned, saw Sam looking at him.

‘So, Ethan, you ready for your first BASE jump?’

Ethan was about to answer when shots rang out, cutting him off. He turned, spotted a group of men charging towards them from the castle.

‘Move it!’ yelled Sam.

Joh

Kat went next, quickly followed by Luke and Natalya. Ethan heard each canopy grab air as they threw out their drogue chutes.

‘It’s a piece of piss,’ said Sam, looking at him. ‘Just run like hell, jump as far as you can, and throw out your drogue chute. Now go!’

Ethan remembered what Joh

Then he was at the cliff edge and jumping into the darkness, chucking his drogue chute out as hard as he could. He expected to feel it grab air instantly, pull out his main canopy.

It didn’t.

It threw him head over arse. And now he was piling towards whatever rocks lay below him, head-first. This was nothing like a skydive.

He tumbled, tried to stabilize, but it didn’t feel right. He was falling too slowly. It felt like he’d fallen off a diving board. When the hell was he going to pick up enough speed to allow his drogue to grab air and pull out his main canopy?

Panic burst in Ethan’s skull. He forced himself to ignore it. He could hear the windrush getting faster – he was picking up speed.

But the increased speed still wasn’t enough: he still wasn’t stable.

Shit…

He ran through everything he’d done, from clipping the rig on, to jumping far enough from the cliff, to throwing out the chute. He’d done it to the letter. No detail missed. Not a goddamned thing.

I’m dead…

Then the canopy blasted open above him. He looked up, checked everything, steered himself away from the cliff. For a split second he forgot what he was doing and pulled a steering toggle too hard. He nearly turned himself back into the cliff. But his reactions were so sharp now that he pulled away in time. Moments later, he had the canopy under control and was zipping through the dark, the cold sea air clammy on his skin, leaving salt on his lips.

Above him, Ethan heard Sam’s canopy grab air. It was soon followed by the sound of gunfire from the clifftop. But there was nothing he could do about that now; he just had to get into the ocean and hope the sub found them all.

Ahead he spotted the rest of the team. The night was dying now and light was spilling over the horizon, making the sea visible below.

Another sound chugged into the air, and Ethan spotted the tiny dot of a boat heading out from the island. It was still a fair distance away, but the men were shooting anyway. They had obviously seen the team jump from the clifftop and were now heading directly for them.

More gunfire cracked through the air. Ethan could see that the boat was zigzagging across the water, and he guessed it was searching for them. He realized they couldn’t be seen – not yet anyway. But that didn’t stop him feeling helpless. Like the rest of the team, he had no choice but to keep on gliding until he touched down in the sea. Then he had to hope that the x-rays in the boat wouldn’t be able to find them before the sub arrived – and that the ones on the cliff couldn’t see them well enough to pick them off like fat geese.

Ethan heard a splash, quickly followed by three more. That meant that the only ones left in the air were him and Sam.

The boat was clearer now, no longer a dot, and he could make out two men in it. They had stopped zigzagging and were heading straight for the point where Ethan had heard the team drop into the water; they must have heard them too. They were on a collision course.

Without hesitation, Ethan pulled hard on his steering lines, altered course. He knew there was no point just piling into the water with the rest of the team. The men in the boat would be on them in a moment, and then they’d all be dead. He had to intercept the boat before it reached them. If he could get to it first and put it out of action, they’d have a chance of surviving till the sub arrived. It would be a gamble; he’d have to time it just right, come in fast enough to slam into the two x-rays and take them out of the equation. Perhaps it wouldn’t work. Perhaps they’d see him coming in and shoot him, but he figured it was better to die trying than to wait in the sea like a sitting duck. His friends were depending on him. That was all that mattered.

He gritted his teeth, focused on the boat, increased his speed, and felt the acceleration push him down into his rig. He could see that one man was armed and firing ahead, but the bouncing of the boat on the waves was sending his aim all over the place, and in spite of the crazy thing Ethan was about to do – or perhaps because of it – this brought a smile to his face.

Besides, flying at night across open water made him feel like he was a part of the wind itself. The slightest change and he could react to it immediately, feeling everything through the canopy and steering lines. He was flying instinctively now, everything was second nature, the canopy as much a part of him as his own body. That was enough to make anyone smile.

The boat was just ahead of him. He was coming in from the side – and he was low, real low. Swooping. He could see the waves below him. The x-rays hadn’t spotted him, not yet. One was driving, one firing, his rounds spraying across the water.

Ethan drew closer, lower, the sea only metres away. Then the man with the gun turned to reload his weapon – and spotted Ethan. Their eyes locked. They both knew one of them was going to come out of this badly. It was all a matter of timing.

Ethan pulled his feet up, played with the steering lines to pick up any extra speed he could from the wind. He had a split second to adjust his course and get himself on target. He realized he was too low; the sea was so close now he could practically tiptoe across the waves.

The man in the boat pulled out his magazine, snapped a new one into place.

Ethan sensed the wind through the steering lines, pulled the tiniest bit, and flicked himself up just enough to skim over the edge of the boat.

The man raised the gun, but Ethan’s boots slammed into his head just as he pulled the trigger. Ethan heard the bullets zip past him and felt the man’s head give way under his feet. There was a sickening crunch and the guy was thrown backwards off the boat and into the sea.