Panic burst in Ethan’s skull. He forced himself to ignore it. He could hear the windrush getting faster – he was picking up speed.
But the increased speed still wasn’t enough: he still wasn’t stable.
Shit…
He ran through everything he’d done, from clipping the rig on, to jumping far enough from the cliff, to throwing out the chute. He’d done it to the letter. No detail missed. Not a goddamned thing.
I’m dead…
Then the canopy blasted open above him. He looked up, checked everything, steered himself away from the cliff. For a split second he forgot what he was doing and pulled a steering toggle too hard. He nearly turned himself back into the cliff. But his reactions were so sharp now that he pulled away in time. Moments later, he had the canopy under control and was zipping through the dark, the cold sea air clammy on his skin, leaving salt on his lips.
Above him, Ethan heard Sam’s canopy grab air. It was soon followed by the sound of gunfire from the clifftop. But there was nothing he could do about that now; he just had to get into the ocean and hope the sub found them all.
Ahead he spotted the rest of the team. The night was dying now and light was spilling over the horizon, making the sea visible below.
Another sound chugged into the air, and Ethan spotted the tiny dot of a boat heading out from the island. It was still a fair distance away, but the men were shooting anyway. They had obviously seen the team jump from the clifftop and were now heading directly for them.
More gunfire cracked through the air. Ethan could see that the boat was zigzagging across the water, and he guessed it was searching for them. He realized they couldn’t be seen – not yet anyway. But that didn’t stop him feeling helpless. Like the rest of the team, he had no choice but to keep on gliding until he touched down in the sea. Then he had to hope that the x-rays in the boat wouldn’t be able to find them before the sub arrived – and that the ones on the cliff couldn’t see them well enough to pick them off like fat geese.
Ethan heard a splash, quickly followed by three more. That meant that the only ones left in the air were him and Sam.
The boat was clearer now, no longer a dot, and he could make out two men in it. They had stopped zigzagging and were heading straight for the point where Ethan had heard the team drop into the water; they must have heard them too. They were on a collision course.
Without hesitation, Ethan pulled hard on his steering lines, altered course. He knew there was no point just piling into the water with the rest of the team. The men in the boat would be on them in a moment, and then they’d all be dead. He had to intercept the boat before it reached them. If he could get to it first and put it out of action, they’d have a chance of surviving till the sub arrived. It would be a gamble; he’d have to time it just right, come in fast enough to slam into the two x-rays and take them out of the equation. Perhaps it wouldn’t work. Perhaps they’d see him coming in and shoot him, but he figured it was better to die trying than to wait in the sea like a sitting duck. His friends were depending on him. That was all that mattered.
He gritted his teeth, focused on the boat, increased his speed, and felt the acceleration push him down into his rig. He could see that one man was armed and firing ahead, but the bouncing of the boat on the waves was sending his aim all over the place, and in spite of the crazy thing Ethan was about to do – or perhaps because of it – this brought a smile to his face.
Besides, flying at night across open water made him feel like he was a part of the wind itself. The slightest change and he could react to it immediately, feeling everything through the canopy and steering lines. He was flying instinctively now, everything was second nature, the canopy as much a part of him as his own body. That was enough to make anyone smile.
The boat was just ahead of him. He was coming in from the side – and he was low, real low. Swooping. He could see the waves below him. The x-rays hadn’t spotted him, not yet. One was driving, one firing, his rounds spraying across the water.
Ethan drew closer, lower, the sea only metres away. Then the man with the gun turned to reload his weapon – and spotted Ethan. Their eyes locked. They both knew one of them was going to come out of this badly. It was all a matter of timing.
Ethan pulled his feet up, played with the steering lines to pick up any extra speed he could from the wind. He had a split second to adjust his course and get himself on target. He realized he was too low; the sea was so close now he could practically tiptoe across the waves.
The man in the boat pulled out his magazine, snapped a new one into place.
Ethan sensed the wind through the steering lines, pulled the tiniest bit, and flicked himself up just enough to skim over the edge of the boat.
The man raised the gun, but Ethan’s boots slammed into his head just as he pulled the trigger. Ethan heard the bullets zip past him and felt the man’s head give way under his feet. There was a sickening crunch and the guy was thrown backwards off the boat and into the sea.
Ethan didn’t have time to think about what he’d done; the sea rose up and he was in it, the cold of the water pulling the air from his lungs. Then the lifesaver exploded, and his head popped up above the waves. As quickly as he could, he ripped off his rig.
‘Ethan!’
He looked up, salt stinging his eyes, and saw Johnny swimming over.
‘You OK?’
Ethan nodded.
‘That was unbelievable!’ said Johnny. ‘How the hell did you ride in so accurately? Swoop of the fucking century, mate! Unreal!’
Ethan said nothing, still unable to speak after the shock of hitting the cold water.
More shots rang out. Ethan turned to see Sam coming in. The one remaining man on the boat looked up, but Sam already had him in his sights. He opened fire and sent the guy tumbling over his seat to hang over the side of the boat like a marionette with its strings cut.
Then Sam was in the water.
‘What about the bloke I hit?’ said Ethan. ‘Where is he?’
Johnny pointed out to sea. ‘Fish food,’ he said. ‘With the speed you were doing, you probably broke his neck. Are you sure you’re OK?’
Ethan nodded, unable to find his voice, then saw Sam pull himself out of the water and into the boat. Sam tipped the body into the sea. ‘May as well make use of the boat and get out of the water till the sub arrives,’ he shouted.
Ethan and Johnny swam over, and Sam helped them out of the water – then picked up Luke, Kat and Natalya.
‘Well done, Ethan,’ said Sam, sitting down in the boat. ‘You probably just saved all our lives. That was quite something.’
Ethan didn’t say anything; couldn’t. All he could think about was the bloke he’d smashed into.
The bloke he’d killed.
He hadn’t intended to kill him. He’d just acted instinctively to save the lives of his friends. But the sobering fact of the man’s death chilled him more than the sea. Ethan didn’t know what to feel except cold and numb.
A hand fell on his shoulder. ‘Sam’s right. You saved everyone’s lives,’ said Johnny. ‘If you hadn’t done what you did, we’d all be dead. Even you. Remember that. It was him or everyone else.’
‘But I killed him,’ said Ethan, the thought making him feel sick. He put his head over the side of the boat and threw up.
Sam came up behind him. ‘You had no choice – you know that, don’t you?’
Ethan nodded.
‘There’s no such thing as a good death, but sometimes, when your hand is forced, tough decisions have to be made. And you made the right one.’
‘If I’d known I was going to end up killing someone…’ said Ethan, but his voice drifted away. He didn’t know what to say.