The aircraft seemed to slow, then with a loud verbal command from their group leader, the first group began to quickly exit the aircraft and disappear silently into the deathly void of space. Or, one could say, they jumped merrily into the clear blue sky. Whatever.
As the aircraft circled back to the drop zone, the second large batch of skydivers jumped to their feet, and the process was repeated until the entire rear two-thirds of the aircraft was empty, except for the loadmaster.
It was kind of weird. I mean, a few minutes ago the plane was full, and now I was looking at empty floor space. Where'd everybody go?
Kate informed me, "There is a cameraman on the ground, and one in each group." She said, "I can't wait to see those jumps on tape."
Neither could the personal injury lawyers.
We remained seated as the aircraft again began to circle back over the drop zone.
A few minutes later, the loadmaster gave us a two-minute warning, and the last group, who were all solo and small-group jumpers, got to their feet, including me and my jumpmaster.
The loadmaster looked at us and held up one finger, and I was glad it wasn't his middle finger.
There were about ten people in front of us lined up to make their two- or three-person jumps, and behind us were four people who were making solo jumps. We all put on our goggles or lowered our face shields and did a final equipment check.
By now, the two big groups of jumpers were on the ground, gathering their chutes, doing high fives and hugs, and climbing into the buses that would take them back to the airport for jump number two. I had a rare moment of empathy as I stood poised to follow my fellow club pals into the void, and I sincerely hoped that they'd set whatever hook-up record they were trying for, and that they had all landed safely. Even Craig. You hear that, God?
The loadmaster shouted, "Ready!" Then he shouted, "Go!"
The skydivers in front of me began to exit in their prearranged groups of two and three with a brief interlude between them.
The couple who'd sat abreast of us on the right side of Row 2 were ahead of Kate and me and were next to jump. I moved closer to the cargo opening, and I could feel the whirling wind and see the green-and-brown field three miles below. What if I got vertigo and fell out of the plane?
The couple ahead of us joined hands and took a step in unison, then literally dove together out of the aircraft--like lovers, I thought, jumping to their... well, jumping into a swimming pool.
I stepped up to the opening, and I could see a few people in free fall, which is a very strange sight. I also saw a few brightly colored chutes deploy, and suddenly I wanted to jump--to fly through the sky at the speed of a diving eagle and then to float gently down to earth.
I was ready to take the plunge, but I felt a hand on my shoulder, and I turned my head to see Kate smiling at me, and I smiled back.
I noticed now that the solo jumper directly behind Kate was crowding her more than he really should. He needed to let her clear the airplane before he jumped. Maybe he was nervous.
The loadmaster said something, and I realized I was holding up the show.
I turned back to the cargo door and without thinking too much about what I was about to do--and without yelling "Geronimo"--I dove face-first, leaving the solid floor of the aircraft behind me. And there I was, falling through the sky.
But my mind was back in the aircraft, and I had two split-second thoughts: one, Kate had yelled something just as my feet left the airplane; two, the guy behind her was the same guy I'd noticed earlier in the black jumpsuit and the full-tinted face shield. He had sat in front of us, so he should have jumped ahead of us. Why was he behind us?
CHAPTER TEN
Even with the helmet covering my ears, the roar from the wind stream sounded like a freight train going through my head.
I forced my body into a medium arch, then extended my arms and legs, and the airstream began to stabilize my fall. I was dropping now at about 110 miles per hour, which was terminal velocity for the position of my body.
I expected to see Kate appear on my right, as we'd planned, but when I didn't see her, I twisted my head to the right and upward but still didn't see her. This move altered the aerodynamics that were steering me, and I began to rotate away from the direction I'd turned. I quickly went back to my fully stabilized position with my body in a medium arch and my arms and legs extended and symmetrical. I began to stabilize again. Where the hell was Kate?
Just as I was about to attempt another look, I saw in my peripheral vision that Kate was catching up to me. This should have happened much sooner, and she should have been much closer to me to do our relative work. I had the feeling that she'd delayed her jump by a second or two. But why?
Kate was about fifty yards off my right shoulder now, and I saw the skydiver in black, who I'd thought was too close to her in the plane, and I realized he was actually hanging on to her. What the hell... ?
He had his right arm wrapped around her body, and he appeared to be holding on to the gripper on the left side of her jumpsuit with his left hand. I saw, too, that he had his legs wrapped around hers.
They were falling faster than I was because of their combined weight and because of how their bodies were positioned in the airstream. Within a few seconds, they were below me and falling farther away.
I couldn't believe what I was seeing, and my heart started to race. What was this? Maybe, I thought, one of them had a problem of some sort and grabbed on to the other. Maybe the guy panicked, or somehow he'd hooked up with the wrong skydiver for relative work, or--I couldn't understand this or make sense of it.
Kate and the guy were now a few hundred yards below me as they continued their joined-up free fall at an accelerating rate. It hit me that this guy might be trying to commit suicide and for some sick reason he was taking Kate with him.
Then I saw the small pilot chute stream out from Kate's pack, and it blossomed into an open position. The pilot chute lifted the main canopy out of its container, and her parachute began to fill with air.
Thank God.
Kate's white canopy with red markings was fully extended, and her rapid free fall ended in a jerk that reduced her drop speed to about a thousand feet per minute. As I continued my free fall, I could see that the hitchhiker was still attached to her, and they both swayed under her canopy.
I shot past them in a blur, then out of training and habit I glanced at the digital altimeter on my wrist: 8,400 feet. Why did she deploy her chute so soon? I grabbed my ripcord, arched my body, and looked around to be sure I was clear of any other chutes--then I pulled the ripcord.
I did the required count--one thousand, two thousand--waiting to see if I needed to go to my reserve chute. I looked over my right shoulder, as trained, and saw my pilot chute streaming upward. I turned back and felt a jerk as the pilot chute filled with air, then another jerk as the pilot chute dragged my main chute out of its container.
I looked up to visually confirm that the rapid deceleration I felt was, indeed, the result of my main chute being fully deployed, and that I had no need for the reserve chute.
I now had full control, and I scanned the space around me to see if Kate and her hook-up guy had caught up.
I spotted Kate and her passenger about two hundred feet above me, and about a hundred feet to my front. She was again descending at a slightly greater rate because of the weight of the guy holding on to her. The noise of the airstream had been reduced considerably now, so I shouted to her, "Kate!"
She seemed to not hear or see me, but the guy with her looked toward me.
"Kate!"
I needed to get closer before Kate's faster rate of descent caused her and the guy to drop too far below me--but canopy relative work is inherently dangerous, and a wrong move would get the two chutes tangled, which results in everyone falling like a rock. They'd shown us a horrifying film of this very thing in Deland, and everyone in the class got the message.
Just as they came abreast of me, I pulled o
n my front risers, which caused me to match their rate of descent and allowed me to maneuver my chute closer to theirs. In less than a minute, only about fifty feet separated our parachutes, which was almost too close.
"Kate!"
She looked at me.
I shouted, "What's wrong?"
She shouted something, but I couldn't hear her.
I carefully maneuvered closer, and now I could see that there was a short cord between them, attached to Kate's gripper and to the guy's gripper, and that explained how he'd stayed with her from the time of the jump, through the free fall, and during the rapid deceleration of her chute deployment. But what was going on? Who was this idiot?
"Kate!"
She called out to me again, but all I could hear was "John," and then something that sounded like "Eel."
I shouted at the guy, slowly, distinctly, and loudly. "What--are--you--doing?"
He seemed to hear me and waved.
I shouted, "Who--are--you?"
He reached up and pulled Kate's left riser, which caused her chute and them to slip toward me on a collision course.
Good God... I let go of my risers and my rate of descent slowed as theirs continued faster, and Kate's chute passed under my feet with only about ten feet separating us. This guy was crazy. Suicidal. My heart thumped and my mouth went dry.
Using my risers again, I increased my rate of descent, and within a minute we were again within fifty feet of each other.
I let go of my risers, pulled off my right glove, and unzipped the pocket that held my Glock. I had no idea who this guy was or what he was up to, but he'd done a very dangerous thing, and he was strapped to my wife; if I could get a shot off safely, I was going to kill him.
Kate, too, had her Glock in her jumpsuit, though I didn't think she could get to it with that guy all over her.
I was now just about where I was before that turd brain made a kamikaze run at me. I shouted at him, "Get--away--from--her! Now! Unhook! Unhook!"
The guy turned toward me, then lifted his face shield. He was grinning at me. He shouted, "Hello, Mr. Corey!"
I stared at him.
Asad Khalil.
My heart started to race again.
I heard Kate shout, "John! It's Khalil! Khalil! He's got a--"
Khalil punched her in the face and her head snapped back.
I drew my Glock and took aim, but I was swaying under the canopy, and Khalil had twisted himself and Kate so that she was between me and him. I could not fire safely, but I could fire, and I squeezed off two rounds, wide to the right.
That got Khalil's attention and he positioned himself closer to Kate.
I pocketed the Glock and worked the risers until I was again abreast of them with about fifty feet separating us.
Asad Khalil.
Libyan terrorist. Known in international anti-terrorist circles as The Lion. Known to me as pure evil.
It had been my misfortune to cross paths with him three years ago, when I was new with the Anti-Terrorist Task Force. I never actually met him, though Kate and I did have some interesting cell phone conversations with him while we spent a bad week following the trail of blood and death he was leaving from New York to California.
Khalil pulled on Kate's risers, and again they drifted toward me. He called out, "I promised you I would return, Mr. Corey!"
I looked at Khalil and we stared at each other. Seeing him hanging there, floating in the clear blue sky, I recalled that Asad Khalil had demonstrated a high degree of showmanship and originality in committing his murders--in fact, he'd pushed it in our faces--and I was not surprised that he'd chosen this method of reappearing. Did I sense his presence today?
He shouted, "Your wife seems unhappy to see me!"
Come on, Kate.Get on this. But I could see she'd been stunned by the blow to her face.
Khalil shouted, "I want you to witness this!"
I now noticed a glint of reflected sunlight coming from Khalil's right hand. A gun.
I pulled my Glock again as they got closer.
I could see Khalil's face peeking over Kate's left shoulder, and that's all I could see of him. I had no shot, but he had an easy shot at me dangling from my parachute.
Our chutes were now less than ten feet apart and on a collision course again. I had to do something; I could have pulled the emergency release on my main chute, and gone into free fall, then deployed my reserve chute, and that would get me away from him and his gun. But that wouldn't do Kate any good, so I let Khalil drift closer, hoping I'd get a shot before he fired.
Our chutes were almost touching and we were staring at each other. I remembered those dark, deep-set eyes from a dozen photos I'd looked at for too long. I kept my gun trained on his face, wondering why he didn't fire at me.
Khalil flashed me another smile and answered my question. "Today she dies! And you live to see it! Tomorrow, you die!"
I steadied my aim at his face, but before I could squeeze off a round, he ducked his head behind hers. Then I saw his right hand go up, and I realized that the metallic object in his hand was not a gun. It was a knife. His hook knife or hers.
I saw the flash of the blade as Khalil brought it down in a slashing motion. Kate made a quick movement, and I could see her left hand go toward Khalil's face, then she screamed, and almost immediately I saw blood shooting into the airstream.
Oh, God... I had no shot, but I fired over their heads.
Khalil made a sudden movement, and I saw that he'd cut the cord that attached them, and in a second he'd released his hold on her and was in a head-down free fall.
I could have gotten off one shot, but there were people on the ground, and Khalil was not the problem now.
I looked quickly at Kate, who was dangling from her chute, her blood flying up into the airstream.
I shoved my gun into my pocket and pulled on my risers to get closer to her. Khalil's push-off had caused her to rotate so she was facing me now, and I could see the blood gushing from her throat. I shouted, "Kate! Pressure! Pressure!"
She seemed to hear me and her hands went to her throat, but her blood kept flying into the air. My God...
I glanced at my wrist altimeter: 6,500 feet. Seven more minutes until we reached the ground. She'd be dead by then.
I needed to do something, and there was only one thing that might save her.
I steered my parachute directly toward hers, then, just as the two chutes were about to touch, I swung my body in an arc, and as the chutes collided I reached for her gripper with my left hand and got hold of it. I caught a glimpse of her face, and saw that her nose and mouth were bleeding where he'd hit her, and I saw the blood gushing through her fingers from the right side of her throat where he'd sliced into her jugular vein or her carotid artery. Bastard!
"Kate!" She opened her eyes, then closed them again, and her hands dropped from her throat.
The tangled chutes were collapsing, and we were starting to fall rapidly, so I did the only thing I could do; I yanked the emergency release on her main chute and it immediately flew away, pulling me and my entangled chute with it, and putting Kate into a free fall. I yanked my own main chute release and both entangled chutes were gone. We were both now in a feet-first free fall.
I looked down and saw her dropping a few hundred feet below me, with her arms above her head. She was either unconscious or close to it, and she was unable to stem the bleeding or control her free fall. She was accelerating toward absolute top speed of close to 200 miles per hour. I did a forward roll so that my head was pointed straight down, and I tucked my arms and legs in so that I, too, could accelerate to maximum speed. We were both rocketing at terminal velocity toward the ground, which was rushing up at me at a rate I'd never experienced before at this low altitude. The features and details on the earth were doubling in size with each passing second, and there was nothing I could do now except wait.
The barometric devices on our chutes were supposed to pop the reserve chute if the skydiver fell through
a thousand feet at a high rate of descent and didn't pull the ripcord because of panic, malfunction, or unconsciousness. Kate, I thought, was unconscious by now, and the damned barometric device should have deployed her reserve chute, and mine too, but so far nothing was happening except a fatal, high-speed fall to the ground.
I could have manually pulled my ripcord and deployed my reserve chute, but I wasn't going to do that until I saw Kate's chute open.
My altimeter read two thousand feet, and I knew that these chutes had to open now. I stared at Kate falling a few hundred feet below me, and just when I gave up all hope, I saw her reserve chute stream out of its pack and begin to fill with air. Yes!
I grabbed my ripcord, but before I could pull it my barometric device kicked in, and I felt my reserve chute pop. In a few seconds the small chute was fully deployed, and it jerked my body from terminal velocity to a fast but survivable rate of descent.
I kept watching Kate as she fell. Her arms were hanging at her sides now and her head was slumped against her chest. She was definitely unconscious... not dead... unconscious.
Her chute drifted toward a thick woods, and I steered toward her. She had about thirty seconds before touchdown, and I prayed that she'd land in the open field before she hit the trees. In either case, her touchdown would be uncontrolled and she might break some bones--or worse if she fell into the trees.
I took my eyes off her for a second and scanned the field below. Everyone had realized that something was very wrong, and the people on the ground were running toward Kate's drifting parachute. I saw, too, that the standby ambulance was racing across the field. Where was Khalil?
Kate hit the ground about twenty yards from the tree line, and before her chute collapsed around her, I could see that she'd hit hard, without any movement to make a controlled landing. Damn it!
I hit the ground hard, collapsed my legs, shoulder-rolled, then jumped to my feet and released my reserve chute as I sprinted toward Kate. I barreled through the crowd that was gathering around her, shouting, "Let me through! Get back!"