I jolt awake, the plane jerking under me, or something like that. I’m disoriented and my stomach cramps hard. The acrid scent of smoke fills my senses. “We’ve got to jump!” Peter yells. “See that island?”
Blinking hard, I manage to focus on the space around me. There are flames coming out of the plane’s engine. Plumes of black smoke dance off them. Beyond that is an island—this one still green. Lots of trees are down, though; it got hit by a tsunami but not the ash.
Peter is talking and I turn to him, trying to catch up. Sweat sheens his skin and his brown eyes flash. “I’m pulling back the roof and we are jumping.”
“What?” The word comes out a croak and Peter holds my gaze hard. His eyes are twin anchors, pulling me into this moment. The plane is crashing and I am about to jump the fuck out of it. I nod. Got it.
Peter’s arm raises up and the roof disappears. Wind batters me. “Here,” Peter pushes goggles into my hand. I pull them on then glance back at Blue. His eyes are trained on me, the wind whipping his fur around. I point at Peter, letting Blue know who to listen to, and then stand. “Take good care of my dog,” I say.
“I will,” Peter promises.
Grabbing onto the edge of the windshield, I pull myself up. The smoke burns my nose. Through the flames I see the jewel of an island below, a white crescent beach calling to me. Here the fuck we go.
I step one leg out onto the wing. Blue leaps up into my seat and Peter starts attaching him to his harness. “Go!” he yells at me.
The distance to the ground doesn’t seem real. None of this does. I grab the handle on the outside of the plane that I used to haul myself in and I bring my other leg out. Peter is already up and moving, Blue attached to his chest. He’s got the bag of supplies too. The guy is a beast.
“Jump!” he yells at me again.
Oh fuck it. I let go and swan dive off the fucking wing, keeping my legs and arms wide, just like Peter told me to. A scream rips free from my throat. How could I not bellow into the void as I plummet toward the ocean. I count and when I reach ten the sensation shifts. I’m weightless, still falling fast and yet cushioned by the air. Time slows even as the island grows.
The wind rushing in my ears creates a cocoon of sound so that it feels almost like silence. Peace wraps around me for one brief moment and then I pull the cord. The parachute unfurls behind me, catches the wind, and I’m yanked into a vertical position.
I grip the handles and put all my focus onto the task of guiding myself to the crescent beach. The plane arches in front of me, headed straight for the island too. Where are Peter and Blue? I crane my neck and see them behind me, a periwinkle blue chute ballooning above them. Blue hangs from Peter’s chest, his legs loose.
Returning my attention to the island, I take a deep breath. Pain surges up my spine and wraps around my middle. What the fuck? My breath disappears and it takes all my focus not to curl around my body. As the pain begins to recede, I try to focus on the beach again, my fingers tight on the handles.
The plane goes into a spin, the black smoke twirling behind as it plummets toward the island. It crashes into the jungle, exploding—flames and black smoke leaping into the sky.
Okay, okay, okay. I’m okay. We are okay.
Just focus on the beach. My eyes rivet onto the curl of white sand. Relax. You can do this. I focus my mind on my breath and let my body do what it needs—my arms shift the shape of the parachute, aiming for the beach. I’ve never done this before but I know how to move through space. I’ve spent the last six years training my body, learning to work with it…to trust it.
I let it do what it needs to do. I let it guide me. Then another pain comes, a vise around my stomach. Pressure builds. A popping sound and some of the pressure releases. A gush of water runs down my legs.
What the fuck?
Oh my god.
My fucking water just broke.