Chapter 2 A rush of sound surrounds us as the blades of the single prop engine get going at the front of the banana-colored plane that reads Hot Drop Buns on the side, and I slam the door hatch and lock it into place once Avery and I settle inside. Mario, our pilot, a grizzled, no-nonsense guy with an unlit cigar clenched between his teeth, waves a finger at the side of his head in a tight circle, signaling that we're about to get moving. I nod, lifting a hand in acknowledgment. Mario isn't my usual pilot, but what he's communicating isn't exactly rocket science either. I've only used this aviation company a couple of times-my regular drop service doesn't fly as far off the coast as we needed for this trip. The flight to our private island is just over two hours, meaning a four-hour round trip after we bail. This company runs bigger planes with the fuel capacity and space we needed when we booked for our original group, and at the end of the day, it all functions the same. The whole point, after all, is that you're leaving the plane behind. Avery scurries into the back corner of the mostly bare cargo interior, her movements jittery, her breathing a little shallow. Her fanny pack bounces against her hip as she adjusts the chest buckle of our tandem harness, yanking at it like it's trying to strangle her. She lets out a deep, heaving breath-one of those first-jump, holy-shit-I'm-really-doing-this breaths-and I can't help but glance over at her. For someone so clearly on edge, she looks infuriatingly beautiful. Her dark hair is pulled back into a sleek ponytail, cheekbones high, lips full, eyes sharp even as they dart around the cabin. I pretend to focus on the window instead. The engine climbs to a roar as Mario floors it down the runway, and I hold on to the handle at the side of the door to steady myself as our wheels leave the ground and we ascend into the air. Clouds trail by and fog rolls water beads over the glass of the windows as we make our way into the sky, and I climb forward on my knees to watch out the windshield as we float out over the ocean. Boats make white lines of wake in the water below us, and colored flags fly in the wind of the beach as umbrellas and chairs take shape in the sand. I take a seat behind Mario and watch with avid interest as he flips switches on and off and messes with the whole panel of controls. In the center, I notice the radar screen that marks where other planes are around us, but beyond that, the whole instrumentation panel is pretty much beyond my comprehension. Back in my early twenties, I considered going to flight school and getting my pilot's license a couple of times, but in the end, it seemed counterintuitive to my ultimate desire to be the one doing the skydiving. I still find it interesting, but watching Mario now, I'd be lying if I didn't admit how complicated and stressful it all looks. He tries to talk to me a little, but with English being his second language and my only having four years of Spanish in high school, I still struggle to keep up. I have a feeling a lot of it has to do with the Spanish translation of airplane terminology not being at the top of my classes' priority list. In the end, we settle for companionable silence and, occasionally, pantomiming with our hands. I glance back at Avery a couple of times during the first thirty minutes of airtime and then again about fifteen minutes later. She's fidgeting even more now, and I smirk lightly at the way she mumbles to herself and fusses with her pretty hair. It's been over a decade since I made my first jump out of a plane, but I can still remember the tingle in my chest and the flapping in my stomach. Hell, I can even remember the taste of bile as it teased the back of my throat and feel the pinch of my nerves firing in the tips of my fingers. It goes against nearly all basic human instinct to hurl yourself out of a perfectly good aircraft, but a millisecond into the free fall when you first hit the air, you understand why you did. It's cathartic and cosmic and out-of-body in a way I've made my living selling to people all over the world. To be untouchable, if even for just a moment, is a feeling that changes you. Avery isn't exactly my target audience, but with her relatively narrow worldview and silver-spoon upbringing at the forefront of her every action, I can't wait to see how the experience changes her when it's over. It's an intrinsic lesson in just how small we are in the scale of the world. Still, I understand completely why she's nervous, so I move toward her to try to help her settle. "You doing okay?" I ask, squatting down in front of her and checking the fit of her harness straps myself. They're tight, but I give another yank on both sides for good measure. Her body jerks, and her already-big hazel eyes widen. "I cannot freaking believe I'm doing this," Avery admits, the wild wind and noise of the prop making her voice sound corrugated. "All those injectables in my face, and for what? Plunging toward the earth is going to ruin my structure completely! And the wrinkles! My God." I laugh. "Your face will look funny during the free fall, but it's hardly permanent." I wink, posing in something akin to Zoolander's expression. "Look at me. Fresh as a fucking newborn, and I've jumped thousands of times." She rolls her eyes, worrying her full bottom lip with her teeth. She's panicking, not that she'd ever admit it. "You're going to be okay. I promise. I'll take care of you." I squeeze her knee. "We'll strap in together, and you won't even have to do anything but hold on. I'll handle everything." "That's a hell of a lot of trust to put in you. You know that, right?" "Of course." I nod, locking my eyes with hers. "Belief in your jump partner is absolutely crucial. Now, I believe in you, but do you believe in me?" She snorts. "Do I have a choice?" "You always have a choice while you're still planeside. We can fly right back where we came from if you want to." She sighs heavily before shaking her head. "No. That won't be necessary. I..." Her lip nearly curls. "Trust you." I laugh. "Good. I'm looking forward-" A violent jolt sends the plane plummeting, the sudden drop like an elevator free-falling with no brakes. Avery and I slam into the cabin floor, the impact rattling my bones. Her scream is sharp, panicked, a perfect match for the piercing whine of the wind as the plane tilts sharply downward. "Shit," I mutter, trying to make sense of what's happening. The sound of the wind increases to a loud, high-pitched shriek as the plane takes on an increasingly scary angle, forcing both Avery and me to grab on to any available surface for purchase. Turning quickly to address the pilot or ask for guidance, I find the reason for the change in altitude and pitch, and a pit of panic takes root in my abdomen, gnawing at the lining of my stomach. Mario isn't moving. He's just slumped over in his seat, and I fight against the g-force to get to my feet. "Oh my God! What is happening?" Avery screams, scratching the wall behind her as she starts to slide forward. She finally finds the handle above her head at the backside of the jump door, and I scramble to the front to check on Mario, all control of my movement getting harder and harder with every small step. He's folded over, and his now-gray face is lifeless. I shake his shoulder brusquely, but he doesn't stir, and all I can see out the windshield now is the sputter of the propeller and the ocean down below. Fuck. Rubbing vigorously at his chest with my knuckles, I try to get a response, but he slumps even farther forward and onto the controls, sending the plane careening at an ear-piercing descent. Avery's breathing turns to panicked sobs. "Henry-fix it!" I check for Mario's pulse-nothing. I rub at his sternum again with vigorous knuckles-nothing. "I think Mario's gone," I say, the words tasting like lead in my mouth. "What?!" Avery shakes her head frantically, tears streaking down her face. "No, no, no-do something!" I check Mario's pulse one last time. Nothing. No second chances. No miracles. Just a dead man at the controls and a plane in free fall. "Avery, get ready to jump!" I yell harshly, pulling Mario to the side to try to get control of the plane, but the lift is totally gone, and with my very limited-nonexistent-experience operating an aircraft, I'm afraid this fall is unrecoverable. The world narrows to one brutal, terrifying fact-I have seconds to get us out or we die here too. I move as quickly and efficiently as possible to get back to Avery. It's not easy, given the angle of the plane and the smooth surface I have to climb, but somehow, I do it. Avery is the definition of terrified, her eyes as wide as her face and her chest heaving with each shaky pant of air. She's in shock, clearly, and when her gaze refuses to meet mine, I grab her face between my hands and force her to look at me. "Avery," I bark. "We have to jump. Right now." She shakes her head wildly, gripping my wrists like they're her only lifeline. "I can't! Henry, I can't! What if-what if-" I cut her off, my voice steady and firm. "You can. I'm going to get you out of this, but you have to listen to me. Right now." She nods frantically, tears dripping off her chin. "O-okay. Okay." I yank us toward the jump door, fighting the sharp incline of the plane. Avery's body is shaking so hard it's making it harder, but I don't let go. She's wide-eyed and scared, and I don't blame her, but with the rate we're headed for the ocean, I don't have time to coddle her about it. I'm rough and jerky as I maneuver her body in front of mine and secure us together, and she cries audibly while I'm doing it. Compartmentalizing, I ignore the fact that we're very much leaving Mario to a certain death-though I'm pretty sure he's well and truly gone already-and turn a blind eye to how understandably upset Avery is as she screams and cries into the noise around us. I wrench the door open with a roar, adrenaline giving me the strength I need. The wind rips through the cabin and makes Avery scream louder. I pull her flush against me, my arm like iron around her waist. One last squeeze to her thigh, and we're gone. The free fall is immediate and brutal, and the jagged edge of rapidly approaching air steals the breath from Avery's screams for a short moment in time. The yellow plane plummets from the sky just a short distance to our south, and I use our aerodynamics to gain as much space between us and it as possible. The quickly approaching ground below is a frighteningly vast view of ocean and desolation, as I know for a fact that we haven't been flying long enough to be anywhere near our jump point, but I focus on taking on one problem before considering another, and I time the opening of our chute to when I know we're completely clear of getting hung up with the plane or anything else. Our bodies jerk to a hard stop in the air, our momentum cut off by the beautiful security of our parachute opening like it's supposed to, and I take the first deep breath I have in a full five minutes. My heart races, and my mind mirrors it as I try to figure out a plan for how to land us somewhere survivable in the next five or so minutes of our canopy ride. There's no way we're making it all the way to the only land in sight-a lone island what I'd guess is a mile east of us-but I think if I concentrate, I can get us close enough to land in the water current that's headed that way just shy of it. It'll be another fucking nightmare to disengage us in the water while Avery's panicking, but it's the safest, best option, knowing we can float our way there somewhere in the neighborhood of ten minutes. If I try to hold off our landing until we get closer, we'll end up on the side of the island where the current is leaving, and I don't think either of us is a strong enough swimmer to fight our way upstream for the amount of time it would take to reach land. "Avery," I call, realizing only at the weird mix of our voices that she's screaming again, and try to get her attention. Explaining the plan ahead of time is going to be my best bet at keeping her from panicking when we hit the water. "Avery, listen!" I snap. It's meant to be a slap, a shock-a catalyst to make the screaming stop, if only briefly. "I need you to listen to me." "Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God," she repeats over and over and over, the trauma of the nose dive, the pilot's unresponsive body, and the sudden and very necessary jump making her manic. Changing tactics, I try to calm my voice while still being loud enough to be heard in the open-air environment, knowing I need to do everything I can to soothe her so she's ready to fight when I need her to. "Avery. Honey. Take a breath. I need you to breathe for me, and then I need you to listen because the next ninety seconds are extremely important, okay? Can you do that for me?" "I...I...I can't believe I'm going to die a virgin!" she sputters, the words harsher than normal as she tries to catch her breath. "Aver-what?" My comprehension is slowed by the impending events and by the sudden switch to complete, cohesive sentences rather than screeches. She keeps going, though, which allows my brain to catch up. "All these years of slutting it up, and I could never find it in me to take it all the way, and now I'm doing to die. Perish. Expire! Be eaten alive by sharks instead of a muscular, suave hero with a dimpled cheek and freakishly large thighs! I can't believe it! I can't!" It's big news. Cataclysmic, even. Avery Banks is a virgin? Maybe if we weren't plummeting toward the surface of the earth without an ideal location for landing, it'd be at the forefront of my mind. But we are, and I really, really need Avery to focus right now like she's never focused before. "Avery, I need you to concentrate!" I yell, returning to my initial discourse since the soothing tones clearly haven't worked. "We can talk about all this baggage later because I promise, I'm going to keep us alive. Do you hear me?" She nods quickly, the sound of sobs racking her chest taking over again. I have a feeling it's the calmest version of my best friend's flagrantly spoiled, fashionista little sister I'm going to get, given the circumstances, so I start into my spiel. "We're going to land in the water, and because of that, I need you to be ready," I instruct as swiftly and concisely as possible. "As soon as we hit, I'm going to pull the quick release on your harness and free you from my chest. While I'm detaching the chute from my back, I need you to tread water and wait for me. Can you do that?" She nods. "I...I think so." "Good. The water's warm, so you won't have to worry about it being a shock that way, but our clothes are going to make us feel much heavier than we'd like to, very quickly. Do not panic." Her head moves up and down again jerkily, so I continue. "If it gets to be too much, just float on your back, okay? Once I'm free, I'll work on making sure we're in the right spot to ride the current into the island down there to the right. Do you see it?" "Yes," she manages, her voice much steadier than before. Immediate pride swells my chest over her composure. It takes character to find a way to fight the instinct for raw panic, especially if the only normal day-to-day stressors on your nervous system are making sure the barista at Starbucks gets your order right. "Good girl. Fifteen seconds until we land, now, okay? Remember. Tread water, don't panic." "Tread water, don't panic," she repeats, making me smile. "Good. Good job, Avery. We'll be on land soon, okay? You're doing great." I just have to get us to land, and then, I can make a new plan from there, I tell myself. I knew this experience would change Avery, but it's become really fucking obvious in the last ten minutes or so that it's going to change me too. Quite possibly-most probably-in ways I can't even imagine. I grit my teeth, tightening my hold. Three, two, one-impact.