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
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
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