Chute Roll

Chapter Eleven

Just after noon, the two big guys came by in their long, black car to get Sabella. She hadn't told them where to find her. They had figured it out. Not that she cared. From what Sabella had told me, she was just trying to prove to them and to her father that she had a right to make her own decisions.

And just after the car drove away in the shimmering desert heat, I had my chance to jump. Spike took me high, circled the valley, and left as soon as I jumped. I didn't even hear the buzzing of his airplane as my body screamed down through the air.

I dove and swooped like a bird. I spun circles. I did somersaults.

Finally, at 2,000 feet, I yanked on the rip cord to open my chute. As always, I held my breath and counted. One, two, three...

Bang!

The chute jerked me as it caught air. I relaxed and let myself dangle for a few moments. I couldn't wait long, though. There was a wind pushing me crossways. I wasn't surprised. As the heat of the day builds, the air gets bumpy. Often it flows over top of the Spring Mountains to the west right across the flat of the valley.

I began to steer the chute. I didn't want to oversteer. It is easy to find ways to get ahead to the target as you land. It is almost impossible to drift back to it when you have gone too far.

At the same time, I allowed myself to enjoy the view. It is a great feeling to hang alone in the sky, miles above the ground. I'm always sad when I have to touch down to earth.

I looked to my left and saw Charleston Peak across the valley. I looked to my right and saw Lake Mead and how it filled the valley of the Colorado River behind the Hoover Dam. I looked down and saw a ribbon of highway across the browns and reds of desert.

Closer and closer I drifted to the ground. When you parachute, there is no wind noise because you are moving with the wind. It was peaceful and beautiful.

Until I heard a zing. Then a loud echoing crack.

I didn't understand at first.

Another zing. Another loud echoing crack.

What was going on?

My chute seemed to spill some air. I had to steer to make up for it.

Zing. Crack.

It sounded...like...a...rifle. The zing was the bullet, outracing the sound of the crack of the rifle.

I looked up. There were three holes in my chute. Holes where the sky was bright against the silky red of the parachute fabric. The holes weren't big enough to wreck the parachute. But the holes were bad news.

Someone was shooting at me!

I looked down. I saw nobody.

Zing. Crack.

Somewhere in the desert bush there was a person hidden. A person with a rifle. A person aiming at me in my parachute. A person who wanted to punch holes into my body with pieces of lead moving faster than the speed of sound.

And all I could do was hang in the sky as a big, fat juicy target.