Robert Doherty - Section 8

The black man abruptly stood up and headed for the door.

"Were the hell you think you're going?" the Australian demanded.

"I'm going to get some sleep."

The black man paused and stared at the Australian.

"You got a problem with that?"

"Oh, fuck off," the Australian muttered.

Tai had a navigation board strapped on top of her reserve parachute, just in front of her oxygen cylinder. Built into the board was a compass, a GPS unit, an altimeter, and a small scale copy of the map of their target area. Through her night vision goggles she could see all them, although not at the greatest resolution. Enough to get the job done, though.

She never looked up. She had to trust that Vaughn was tracking her. Her entire focus was on the nav board. Every once in a while she would glance beyond to try to see the island far below them, a reflex that was impossible to resist. Ahead, far ahead, she could spot a dark mass: Jolo Island. They were on track for it, visually confirming what her instruments were telling her.

According to the altimeter, she was passing through 20,000 feet. The chutes were like large wings that they could fly, and were practically undetectable to radar. The C-130 was long gone, traveling along on the same track it had been on, as if nothing unusual had occurred.

She wasn't so focused that she didn't register the slight hitch in her gear, a tug on the right side. She looked up, tracing her riser up to where it connected to nylon cords that spread out to the chute itself. One of the cords had broken. As she was watching, another one popped. She'd never seen anything like that happen. Another let loose. Then another. The right side of her canopy began to flap loosely.

Above Tai, Vaughn could see that something was wrong, since she was now making a slow turn to the right. Even without the nav board, he could see Jolo Island, and she was turning away from it. Vaughn pulled in on both toggles, dumping air so he could get closer to her.

The rest of the nylon cords on the right side of Tai's parachute let go all at once, and the parachute went from a flying wing to a streamer of material wrapped into itself. Her descent practically unchecked, she plummeted toward the earth.

Vaughn cursed as he saw the chute collapse. He dumped as much air as he safely could without causing his own parachute to collapse and chased after her, losing ground.

"Cut away," Vaughn urged, not using the radio yet. He knew she had to know what to do next.

Tai was already in the process of doing that. She couldn't deploy her reserve with the main still attached because the reserve would get caught up in the main, so she had to get rid of the malfunctioning canopy before she could deploy the reserve. She flipped open the metal covers on her shoulder that protected the cutaways, the loops of metal cable attached to pins that locked the attaching point for the canopy to her harness. She put her thumbs through the metal loops and pulled both at the same time.

She was rewarded with two metal cable loops dangling over her thumbs but no released main. It was still firmly attached to the rig. Shocked at this second and most unexpected event, Tai lost her concentration and began to tumble, held partly upright by the streamer.

She was a good two hundred feet below Vaughn and moving farther away with each second. He couldn't understand why she hadn't cut away yet. The only possibility was that she was unconscious. But he could see her arms moving purposefully, pulling at her shoulders.

Tai was trying to dig into the cutaway, to pull the small pins out with the tip of her fingers, but she couldn't get leverage on them. She did a quick check at the nav board. The altimeter read 10,000 feet and indicated she was descending at almost terminal velocity.

Realizing there was no more time to mess around, she stopped trying to pull the pins and reached for the shoto tucked under her vest. She slid the blade out. With a quick slash, she cut through her right riser, the razor-sharp edge easily slicing through the nylon. Then the left. The main parachute fluttered away and she tumbled into full free fall. She slid the shoto back into its sheath, then arched her back, spreading her arms and legs to get stable before she pulled the reserve. If she pulled it while tumbling, there was a good chance it would just wrap around her body.

Vaughn flew past Tai's fluttering cutaway main canopy, his eyes focused on her. He watched her stop her tumbling and get stable, all the while mentally urging her to pull her reserve. They were getting low and running out of altitude.

Tai reached for the handle for her reserve and pulled it, tensing her body for the rapid opening shock that would follow its explosive opening.

Nothing.

Three malfunctions in a row. There was no training for this. She had run through all the emergency procedures correctly and was still plummeting toward earth at almost terminal velocity. The only thing slowing her down now was her own body spread as wide as she could make it.

Above her, Vaughn decided it was time to ignore security.

"What are you doing? Over."

He transmitted over the short-range FM.

Tai was struggling to maintain a stable position, her training pushing her to do it even as her mind realized it was worthless. She was going to die. At this speed, hitting the water would be like hitting concrete. She faintly heard Vaughn's voice in her earpiece.

"Reserve malfunction!" she screamed.

Reserves weren't supposed to malfunction, Vaughn thought as he glanced at his altimeter. Five thousand feet. She was at least four hundred feet below him, and the gap was growing wider.

There was only one option. It was stupid, it was insane, but he didn't hesitate.

He reached up, grabbed the metal covers over his cutaways, flipped them open, put his thumbs in the loops and pulled. The pins popped and his main separated from his harness. He was now in free fall.

Vaughn briefly went into the free-fall stable position, then tucked his head down, moved his arms back tight against his sides, legs together, and became an arrow, shooting down toward Tai.

"I'm coming for you," he yelled, the mike picking it up and transmitting.

"Stay stable."

"What?" Tai was confused. How could he be coming for her? Then she realized what he had to have done. She wanted to yell at him, to curse him out for being so foolish, but she also knew it was too late. Still, there was a spark of hope in her chest. She didn't know what he planned to do, but whatever it was, it was her only chance at living.

Four thousand feet.

Vaughn looked past the black spread-eagle form that was Tai. Jolo Island was off in the distance, at least a mile or two offset from them. They were over open water and there was no way they would make landfall. That was the least of their problems right now. Vaughn could tell he was closing on Tai, but he wasn't sure if it would be enough.

Three thousand feet.

Tai was only fifty feet below him now, and he was inching closer. It was going to be close, very close.

Two thousand feet.

She was ten feet below him…five feet. Vaughn moved out of the dive position to stable as he came alongside her. He knew that grabbing her and pulling his reserve wouldn't work – the opening shock would be stronger than his ability to hold onto her. He had to make sure there was a secure connection. With one hand, he reached out and grabbed her harness.

"Stay stable," he ordered over the radio. She was staring at him, the night vision goggles making her seem more like a flying machine than a flesh and blood human being.

One thousand feet.

With the other hand, Vaughn reached underneath his reserve, fingers ripping at the nylon casing around the eighteen-foot lowering line attached to his rucksack. A nail ripped away, but he ignored the pain and managed to hook his finger around a piece of the nylon strap. With all his strength, he pulled, extracting a length about two feet long.