Last Minute (standard:action, 3689 words)
Author: Chris Michlewicz	Added: Mar 26 2002	Views/Reads: 3398/2199	Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
A middle-age man skydives to prove his youth only to have something go terribly wrong....

Click here to read the first 75 lines of the story

any time.  And awaken it would as soon as the pilot came on to tell us 
everything was a go.  My stomach flopped again. 

I glanced at the altimeter on my wrist.  It looked just like those cheap
wristwatches they sell on the counter of most convenience stores for 
$5.99.  This worried me some.  This device could be a matter between 
life and death when you HALO.  Glitches or bugs were not an option. 

I looked up from my altimeter and back at the door.  It looked eerily
closer.  Was I  hallucinating?  If I even had to question it, it 
probably wouldn't be a good idea to jump.  It was then that I decided 
to back out.  I figured now was as good a time as any. 

I was about to lean over to Peter when I noticed that everyone in the
plane was suddenly standing.  In my involuntary daze I hadn't heard the 
pilot come on the speaker. 

“Come on, Mr. Wallace!!  It's time to go!” Peter yelled. The beast's
mouth opened wide, ready to devour everything that dared pass through 
it.  A sudden rush of wind pulled at my aging body.  I grabbed the seat 
on which I was still sitting, the only one in the plane still doing so. 
I shook my head.  Peter chuckled a little. 

“Cold feet, huh?!  Don't worry, you'll be fine!! We'll be back on the
ground in no time!!” he said confidently.  “Now stand up and turn 
around!!” 

My heart was beating rapidly inside my chest.  My mouth became very dry.
And for some strange reason, I did as I was told. 

I slowly raised up out of my seat, hand still clutching the backrest. 
My legs felt like they were about to give out, about to make me crumble 
into a heap of petrified old man.  A few people were staring now. 

‘Curiosity killed the cat,' I thought. ‘You all should be very careful
right now.' 

I let go of the seat and felt an immediate bump from behind.  It was my
bonehead partner latching his harness to mine.  Everyone else was ready 
to go already.  Screw them.  In situations like this one, there is 
nothing wrong with taking your time. 

I felt the buckles clicking against my back.  It was an odd feeling but
at the same time a secure one.  Peter clapped my shoulder when he had 
finished. 

“Here we go!!  Take a deep breath, Mr. Wallace!” 

Again, I did as I was told.  The air inside the plane was very cold now,
it cooled my lungs as I drew my breath. 

‘One of your last there, buddy boy.  Enjoy,' said the voice inside my
head. 

Peter began to push me, forcing me to take a step toward the line of
people.  We were going to be the last to jump.  The woman who earlier 
was crossing her chest was going just before us. 

I stepped forward with my right foot.  My leg wobbled for a second,
almost giving out but then straightening.  My God, I wasn't even going 
to make it to the door.  They were going to have to slide Peter and I 
out on my stomach like a killer whale at Sea World.  How embarrassing. 

Peter's strength, however, kept both of us upright.  This made me hate
him even more.  But I was going to have to rely on him for the next 
five minutes or so.  He was in charge of pulling the ripcord and the 
reserve chute, too, in case anything should happen.  But in a HALO 
jump, you were lucky if you could even get a hand on the reserve before 
you made yourself one with the ground below.  Peter was to deploy our 
primary at an altitude of 2500 feet -- 2200 at the latest.  And believe 
me, I was going to make sure that happened even if I had to pull it 
myself. 

“How ya feelin'?!” Peter screamed, right in my ear I might add. 

I gave him the thumbs up.  I couldn't really talk.  My mouth was too
dry.  Every muscle in my body had drawn tight, like a noose around a 
rodeo bull's testicles. 

We inched our way just behind the religious lady's partner.  My stomach
did another turn for good measure and my knees began to shake 
uncontrollably. 

The line we were standing in reminded me of my days in grammar school
when everyone would stand single file, waiting for hot lunch to be 
served.  Sometimes it was meatloaf surprise with corn and cherry 
cobbler for dessert.  Other times it would be Salisbury steak served 
with mashed potatoes and gravy and a low quality, but nonetheless 
delicious, brownie for dessert.  That was my favorite. 

My mouth moistened a little bit from this thought and my stomach didn't
feel as queasy as it did before.  For this I was glad.  At least it 
slimmed down the chances of me barfing considerably. 

The jump supervisor was shouting some last minute instructions at us but
the combination of our position inside the plane (almost the very 
rear), the padding inside our helmets, the roar of the engines and the 
rushing wind made it impossible to hear him.  I managed to lip read the 
words ‘good luck' at the end of his speech. 

He walked over to the left side of the door, crouched down, and nodded
at the first pair.  Three fingers shot up from his raised hand.  His 
ring finger was the first to go down, then his middle, and finally his 
index before he gave the first pair a hard push into oblivion. 

The line began to move at a rapid pace.  He wasn't counting everyone
down, just the first tandem.  After that, it was the shove in the back. 
One after another.  Dropping like flies. 

180 miles per hour.  And if you straighten yourself out it is close to
200. 

My legs felt like jelly.  I almost lost my balance again, but grabbed
onto the packaged chute in front of me to regain.  The instructor to 
whom it belonged looked over his shoulder and scowled at me. 

“Sorry,” I mouthed. 

We were now only ten feet from the opening—four pairs away.  I got dizzy
again but maintained my composure with the help of the monkey on my 
back.  Our feet shuffled ever closer to nothingness.  My knees shook 
viciously. 

Three pairs now. 

My bladder let me know it was still there, ready to let loose whenever
it pleased.  I reached up, put my goggles over my eyes and adjusted my 
helmet. 

Two pairs. 

I was no longer under my own power.  Peter was carrying all 205 pounds
of me.  Dead weight. 

My heart was beating faster than it ever had before.  My breathing
became erratic.  Short breath after short breath.  My knees were numb 
but still shook like a loose window does after a loud clap of thunder. 

One pair. 

It was the religious lady's turn.  She crossed herself once more for
good measure then folded her arms across her chest as we had learned in 
our class.  She looked down and must have put into perspective what it 
was that she was about to do.  Her face twisted into something that can 
only be described as pure horror. 

The lead instructor smiled and put a hand on her partner's back.  But as
soon as he started to shove, her right arm bolted out from her body and 
clung to a metal handle used to steady jumpers so as not to fall out of 
the plane before they were good and ready. 

Her action was so fast, I was barely able to see it.  But I'll tell you,
as soon as she grabbed it, she had a grip on it like you wouldn't 
believe. 

Her partner, who had shown his disdain for me just seconds ago, was
swung out into the open air, attached to the plane by just this woman's 
arm.  He, too, had a look of horror on his face.  His body flailed 
uncontrollably in the fierce wind. 

It took a few seconds to register what was happening in front of me.  At
first, I thought it was just another hallucination.  A scene my mind 
had come up with just to mess with me. 

Finally realizing it was real when my partner grabbed the woman's hand
and unlatched it, my mind went into sensory overload. 

oh God oh jeez please no oh shoot oh no oh jeez God no 

The woman was trying to scream but couldn't even muster a sound as she
fell down and backward, disappearing into a group of cream-colored 
clouds. 

My eyes were bulging from their sockets.  I was in a state of shock when
Peter wrapped his arms around mine just to make sure I didn't get any 
ideas from the religious lady. 

The lead instructor grinned at me and pushed. Everything went black. 

I had passed out.  But I could still feel the freefall.  Our bodies spun
and flipped every which way.  We were halfway between Heaven and earth, 
tumbling toward the hard, unforgiving latter of the two. 

When I came to seconds later, I opened my eyes to see the ground through
the yellow tint of my goggles about 23,000 feet below us. My mouth 
gaped open in shock.  The wind took the air from my lungs.  Just sucked 
it straight out.  I couldn't breathe.  A panicking feeling came over me 
as we shot past wisps of clouds.  We were gaining speed at an alarming 
rate—the wind rushing against my face was a perfect indicator of that. 

I gasped for breath but none came.  My heart pounded in protest from
lack of oxygen.  I had to breathe or I was going to pass out again.  I 
thrust my body weight as hard as possible to flip us over.  It worked.  
I drew in a huge breath as I watched the plane we had leapt from get 
smaller and smaller.  It left two white puffy trails behind it, making 
a temporary mark like a boat leaving its wake in the water, both left 
to perish in natures mysterious ways of disposal. 

A euphoric feeling swept over my body as the oxygen spread through it
like wild fire.  It was as if I was taking my first breath all over 
again.  I was gaining new life.  Reborn. 

We flew past the red and white canopy belonging to the religious woman
and her partner.  There was no doubt that he was livid about the stupid 
stunt she had just pulled—he must have pulled their ripcord right away, 
just to make sure she wouldn't further their chances of death anymore. 

I raised my right arm to my face and tried to steady it so I could read
my altimeter.  My left arm, in the meantime, was flying wildly at my 
side when Peter reached around my body and grabbed both, spreading them 
apart in the typical diving fashion while at the same time flipping us 
back over. 

The ground was much closer now.  Much closer than I had expected at this
point in our jump.  I noticed a small farmhouse with a white fence 
surrounding the land on which it stood directly below us.  The house 
was at one end of the property with a large barn just behind it.  At 
the other end, nothing but open space.  Green pastures.  That was about 
it.  A perfect landing spot, should we get to that point. 

Peter lifted my right arm up so he could read the altimeter.  I stole a
glance at the face.  15,000 feet and plummeting. 

The feeling of nothing around you is one that is hard to describe.  If
you've ever had dreams about falling, you may have some sense of what 
I'm talking about.  It is the most helpless feeling a person can have 
in this world.  This coupled with the mind-bending speed is.......too 
much. My whole body quivered with fear. 

What little wind that snuck its way into my helmet was howling past my
ears like a coyote.  The lower half of my face was growing numb from 
the bitter cold while my goggles began to gather little droplets of 
moisture, suddenly making it harder to see.  Another wave of panic took 
my brain over.  I decided to take my chances and pressed against the 
fierce resistance of the wind, pawing at my goggles to raise them up, 
but they were too tight.  I wiped the droplets to the side, smearing my 
vision a bit but able to see slightly better. 

Peter tried to yell something to me but I couldn't hear him.  The hard
thumping of my heart inside my ear, mixed with the wind was probably 
enough to drown out any sound. 

Although I thought it impossible—a figment of my imagination—it seemed
like we were gaining speed.  The ground rushed closer into view. 

More dew was forming on my goggles so I methodically wiped them away
again. 

I looked at my altimeter.  11,000 feet.  We had been in our freefall for
twenty-eight seconds. 

Peter angled us to a more vertical position.  We were now diving
headfirst, a situation in which I was not very comfortable.  I spread 
my arms to divert us into a more logical, more horizontal place. Again 
he attempted to yell something into my ear.  He spat a muffled mixture 
of sharp words with the intention of getting his point across. 

Below us, the colorful canopies of the other jumpers were systematically
opening, filling with a more calming air.  The small farmhouse was also 
getting closer.  I could make out what I thought to be a cow standing 
on the side of the barn.  But it might have been a tractor for all I 
knew.  My goggles still had droplets on them and were showing signs of 
a light coat of fog. 

We were at 8,000 feet. 

My mind was still racing.  Clear thoughts came and went from my head in
a matter of seconds.  I was disoriented and likely still in shock from 
being shoved from a plane soon after witnessing a near catastrophe.  
That is enough to scar any sane person for darn near the rest of their 
life. 

We dipped and swayed our way through the air, under the mercy of wind
sheers and gusts.  It was a lulling rock back and forth, as if trying 
to put us to sleep-- 

Permanent sleep. 

I cleared my goggles once again.  A nervous lump made its way into my
throat, growing more prominent as we made our way closer to the ground. 


5,000 feet. 

My altimeter was wildly spitting out numbers on the right side of the
face while the numbers on the left ticked away in a slower, but more 
ominous fashion.  Peter took my wrist in his hand to steady it while he 
checked, holding his gloved fingers into the OK sign when he was done. 

At this point, my mind was threatening to lose all control.   Its
unrestrained power was sending horrifying images through my brain, 
showing vivid visuals of Peter and myself colliding with the earth into 
a significant crimson burst. 

Disintegration.  Hard, but not impossible. 

I tried to push these things out of my mind, tried turning my thoughts
to things more pleasant.  Our kids in Colorado.  The dog back at home.  
My wedding.  Memories of us siblings playing a pick up game of baseball 
in the back alley with the neighborhood boys, before all of the worry 
about drugs and violence. 

We raced toward our deployment altitude.  Both mine and Peter's eyes
were fixated on the altimeter which hung suspended in front of my face. 
 We spun in a circle with both of our right arms brought into our 
bodies but our left ones still flapping in the rushing air, plotting 
our mid-air course. 

An arm quickly went over my shoulder and was pointing to an open field,
just to the north of the farmhouse property.  I nodded and prepared for 
the jolt of our parachute gathering air under its wide expanse of dyed 
cloth. 

2500 feet. 

The jolt never came. 

The numbers on the left were getting smaller. 

2442 2429 

“Come on!” I screamed.  But the wind carried it off unheard. I could
feel Peter's powerful tugs at the ripcord. 

Nothing. 

My heart began to pound madly.  I reached back to search for the reserve
chute cord.  My hand swung around the pack, seeking any loose line.  It 
came across something.  I yanked at it with all of my strength. 

We were still falling.  My altimeter read 2100 feet. 

I looked back under my arm to see what I had a hold of.  My right hand
was simply clutching a useless strap from the parachute.  No more. The 
lump that rested in my throat now made it impossible to swallow.  I 
wiped the water away from my goggles. 

The objects on the ground grew to impossible sizes. 

An ear piercing, blood-curdling scream rose up next to my helmet.  It
was filled with unimaginable terror.  It paused only to regain the 
oxygen it had just expelled. 

It was Peter.  And he was screaming for his mother. 

1482 1270 

I looked off into the distance and was able to see the slight curvature
of the earth.  A dark green forest was being splashed with the sun's 
bright light.  The blue sky was clearer over there, making the contrast 
between it and the trees that much greater.  It was the most beautiful 
scene I ever laid eyes on.  Very fitting for the last thing I would see 
with open eyes. 

I calmed myself.  I did not want to die in a fit of screams.  Or in
gut-wrenching fear.  I wanted a peaceful death on my own emotional 
terms. I took one last breath and calmly shut myself out from the rest 
of the world. 

I closed my eyes and pictured a face.  The face was that of my wife,
Anne, who was waiting patiently for me on the ground. 


Tweet