“Gunfire!” Jordan shouts.
We’re under attack. There’s only one person capable of mounting a brazen assault of this kind from a light military aircraft in Swiss airspace. Kurt Ozzi.
I unbuckle myself to get the parachutes. “Boss, we should prepare for a worst-case scenario!”
It’s dead quiet in the cockpit. I look around. A spray of shots has splintered the window. Jordan is sagging over the control panel. We’re spinning. Theodor rushes to the helm and desperately yanks the stick back to stabilize the chopper. It’s working.
Meanwhile, I help Elise into her parachute, telling her as reassuringly as I can that we can handle this situation. It’s going to be all right.
Suddenly, the engine roars and then rattles. The vibrations that had been coursing through the cabin stop. The helicopter tilts sharply to one side. There’s a snap, a loud clang and a cracking sound that shake the entire thing. My chest tightens with the realization that my worst-case scenario is coming true. We’re crashing. Theodor is frantically pushing buttons on the control panel, but nothing changes. He can’t fix this.
“Is Elise secured?” he asks as I slip a parachute onto his back.
“Yes,” I reply.
As I move on to Jordan, I glance down at the peaks and ridges, and warn Theodor that our opening is dangerously low. We need to deploy the parachutes within seconds of the jump. It’s the only way to avoid the helicopter’s crosswinds and survive the landing.
Theodor nods.
Jordan is unconscious. I struggle to get his arms into the loops.
Theodor barks for me to leave Jordan and put on my own chute. I look down at the terrain, too close for comfort. And then there’s the other worry; Kurt’s helicopter is still chasing us. Theodor is doing his best to steer the helicopter upward and out of the attacker’s range.
“There’s no time,” he yells at me. “Do it now!”
He’s right. I put on my harness, reminding myself that I need to make sure that Theodor and Elise get out of this flying coffin and survive the jump. That’s my priority. That’s my raison d’être.
Miraculously, the jagged mountaintops beneath move away as we inch upward.
“It’s the best I can do,” Theodor says, scrambling toward Elise. “See you on the ground!”
They climb out. I make my way to the door and jump out, pulling the cord hard two seconds later. Icy wind rushes past me. Adrenaline is pumping through my veins. The sky is all around me, blue, white, and gray. I try to get my bearings, look around. A few peaks away, higher up, the helicopter is spiraling down once again, smoke trailing behind it. Below me, I spot Theodor and Elise, their parachutes open.
Thank God!
The rocky terrain hurtles up to meet me. I brace myself. When I slam into the ground, it’s at the wrong angle and much too fast.
Shit, it’s a slope!
Tangled in my parachute and unable to anchor myself, I slide, spinning and careening down the steep slope. Bones crunch. I focus on protecting my head but cringe in pain at every jolt that fractures a rib or a bone in my arm or leg. My left arm snaps back on itself like a toy. I groan, gritting my teeth.
Finally, with a thud and an explosion of pain, my body smashes against the bottom of the crevice. In a fittingly sinister accompaniment to my tumble, the sounds of a loud crash echo in the ravine. I smirk through the excruciating pain.The chopper landed about as well as I did.
Jordan is gone. There’s no way he survived that crash.
With effort, I call for help, but the wind and the snow around me swallow up my voice. I try to move, lift myself off the ground, but I can’t. My right leg is twisted and useless. Something’s wrong with the left one, too.
The cold creeps into me while my consciousness retreats. I think about Jordan. I think about Theodor and Elise. If they landed safely, then that’s all that matters right now. I did what I had to do as Theodor’s bodyguard. I can rest easy.
Who knows, maybe they’ll find me.
And maybe it won’t be too late.
STELLA
Iclose the door of the basement room behind me and take a deep breath. I can’t believe I’m doing this. Sneaking back in here a week after what I saw and ran away from feels like a much bigger transgression than my initial visit.
To my shame, I have miserably failed to confront my parents about the bandaged man. I had a whole week to ask them, and I didn’t. Every time I worked up the nerve, a little voice in my head reminded me how mad they’d be that I’d resorted to treachery to discover their secret. “Such disloyalty, such a breach of trust!” Dad would say. “And from you, of all people!” Mom would add. That is, if she talks to me at all.
