AS THE GROUND rushed up to meet me and the blistering air gushed past my ears, my father’s words echoed in my head: Remember, son, you must always have a backup. It isn’t a weakness to be prepared. It is a strength.
Or, as they say in skydiving circles, “When in doubt, whip the second one out.”
When I passed through two thousand feet, I yanked on the reserve rip cord.
KABOOM!
My backup parachute exploded out of the nylon pack strapped across my chest.
The rainbow-colored fabric deployed in a perfectly ruffled arc over my head and was yanked up into the sky like a wild animal caught in a snare trap. Then I started drifting downward. Slowly.
I could see my old house.
I could see Mikaela waiting for me in the backyard.
And, best of all, I could see the town of Stafford safe in the distance.
When my feet finally touched ground, I used the forward momentum of my landing to trot right over to Mikaela, hoping I would slam into her accidentally, but no such luck.
“You did extremely well, Daniel,” she said serenely.
I chuffed an ugly laugh. “Not really. I would’ve ended up flatter than a Taco Bell tostada if I hadn’t had backup, no thanks to you.” She said nothing as I unhooked my parachute gear. “So, was that some kind of test?”
“Yes,” answered Mikaela.
“Well, not to tell you how to do your job,” I said, as I cut free my chute lines, “but the next time you whip up a little pop quiz, try not to endanger the lives of 1,344 innocent civilians.”
Sunset colors lit up the horizon. There wasn’t a single cloud in the sky, angry or otherwise, just a sparkling display of stars emerging. My time was running out.
“The people of Stafford were never in danger,” Mikaela said gently. “If you had chosen to flee to the storm cellar and hide, I would have terminated the tornado. But, Daniel? This test was nothing compared to what The Prayer will soon put you through.”
“Really? Well, thanks for the practice run. If Number 1 sends a tornado, cyclone, typhoon, or water funnel at me, I guess I’ll know how to handle it.”
“A meteorological catastrophe is nothing compared to the weapons The Prayer has at its disposal.”
Mikaela shook her head. “Something worse.”
“I don’t care,” I said. “That thing, that force of darkness, IT killed my parents. Taking down Number 1 has been my sole purpose on Earth for over a decade.”
“Even though the smart choice would be to walk away, journey to a distant, untroubled planet and live another day?”
“Hey, what good is living if a monster is killing everybody and everything you ever loved?”
“I am impressed, Daniel. Not many would embrace the path you have chosen. In fact, your irrational, emotional choices seem to violate the very essence of what being an ‘intelligent’ life form means.”
“So call me stupid,” I said with a shrug. “It’s who I am. It’s who my mother and father raised me to be. Blame them. Hey, blame yourself. After all, you were my dad’s spiritual advisor. Maybe you planted some of this unintelligent behavior in his head and he just passed it on to me.”
“Perhaps,” Mikaela said with a smile. “And, for the record, we do not think you are stupid. In fact, we find you to be heroic.”
“Well, I guess there’s a fine line between heroism and stupidity, huh?”
“Be that as it may,” said Mikaela, “we are intrigued and impressed with your actions. We will be watching.”
“How many of you are there?”
“Enough, I hope. Continue to live dangerously, Daniel X. It may be your safest course of action.”
And then the angelic girl I knew as Mikaela dissolved into a throbbing ball of orange-red light and shot up into the sky. She soared far beyond the mesosphere, past the thermosphere, out into the infinite reaches of space. She took her place among the twinkling stars in the sprawling constellation of Hercules, just west of Lyra, 27.4 light years away from Earth.
Hercules.
It’s where we get the word “hero.”