The decision (revised)

    --rickiT

The twin turbine Otter roars down the runway.

Wheels up and we are flying.

Lake Elsinore fades away into a blue green pool as the Ortega mountains rush down.

The airplane stabs through cumulous clouds and breaks out into a pure blue sky.

1500 feet.

My wife Paula opens the door. Fresh air washes over us.

I look forward to the pilot as he reaches up and adjusts the throttle. The airplane begins its steady climb to altitude.

Just behind the cockpit the tandem students chat in short sentences with their instructors. Their camera fliers film their nervousness.

One of the free fliers jerks a thumb toward the students and flashes a finger to his friend with his other hand.

His friend shakes his head, but laughs anyway.

My group of four is quiet, thinking about the skydive.

I close my eyes.

Exit, star, open accordion, spin pieces, re-dock, zig zag, star… open accordion, spin pieces, re-dock, zig zag, star… 

6000 feet.

The free flier yells, “SHUT THE FUCKING DOOR.”

I open my eyes and stare him down.

An instructor says, “Keep it down Fred.”

Someone closes the door.

12,000 feet.

My gear check… three buckles, three handles, three accessories.

The pilot yells “THREE MINUTES.”

The three minute warning is passed back through the plane.

12,500 feet.

The airplane turns on jump run.

 

The red light comes on at the door.

“DOOR!” yells Paula. The door is flung open. Cold air rushes in.

Her seven teammates stand.

The benches are lifted and Paula’s team pushes toward the door.

Paula spots, looking down for air traffic and to assure that we are over the Drop Zone.

The green light comes on.

Paula continues to spot. Waits for the right moment.

Fred  yells “GET OUT. GET OUT” 

Paula takes one more careful look and climbs out.

Two others from her group climb out holding onto a hang bar on the outside of the plane in the floating position.

The other five of her group, still inside the plane, press themselves into the floaters.

With a shake and a bob Paula yells, “READY. SET. GO!”

All eight were gone in a moment.

I look out the door just in time to see Paula’s group falling away.

Billy and I climb out, floating.

The other two take grips on us.

Billy chants, “READY. SET. GO!” and we were gone.

The roar of the wind in free fall is accented with the dance of skydiving.

…star, open accordion, spin pieces, re-dock, zig zag, star… repeat, repeat.

We turn 15 points.

My grin is large.

At 4,000 feet my audio altimeter beeps, we four turn in free fall and track away.

At 3,000 feet I pull out my pilot chute and throw it into the wind.

My parachute opens.

The sudden quiet is punctuated with my laughter.

I look around for my fellow parachutists.

There they all are.

I look down and see Paula’s group already under canopies.

I spot her bright pink parachute.

That is unmistakably Paula.

Paula makes her turn to final approach of landing.

Brian, a teammate, is to her right, makes a parallel approach.

Fred comes out of nowhere, spiraling on a collision course with Paula.

At the last second he cuts in front of her and swoops down for a fast landing.

Out of the corner of Paula’s left eye is a flash of parachute fabric.

Fred flies in front of her cutting her off.

Paula pulls down hard on her right steering toggle swerving right to avoid a collision. 

She is 300 feet above the ground as I watch Paula fly through Brian’s canopy lines.

The entanglement causes his parachute to collapse.

They begin to spiral toward the ground.

A moment before the entanglement Paula sees Brian, but it is too late.

She flies through his lines.

His lines wrap around her neck.

She cannot breathe.

Instinctively she slips the fingers of both hands between the lines and her neck.

Brian looks up at Paula.

He sees the entanglement.

His parachute is partially collapsed.

Paula’s parachute is also partially collapsed.

He considers cutting away his main canopy and deploying his reserve.

They are too low. No time to cut away.

They continue their violent spiral.

Paula considers removing one hand and cutting away her main.

I can’t breathe, she thinks, and we are too low for that.

The spiral continues.

I see Paula and Brian spiraling toward the ground.

There is a cloud of dust when they hit.

Paula hears a loud BANG!

It is the sound of her body hitting the ground.

I see the DZ truck racing out to them.

Dozens of people are also running out to the scene.

I bury a steering toggle to initiate a hard spiraling decent.

Moments later I land near my wife.

A friend, skydiver and nurse is attending to her.

Her neck is bleeding, but she is awake and talking.

“Are you OK?” I ask her.

“Yes, but my ankle hurts.”

“Don’t move,” says the nurse.

Brian is laying nearby, coherent but in some pain.

Someone is speaking quietly to him.

I hear the sound of an ambulance siren approaching.

The ambulance arrives and puts both Paula and Brian on stretchers, loads them in the ambulance and drives them away.

Later, at the hospital, I learn that Paula has suffered a broken ankle and Brian has a compressed vertebra.

Both of them will recover completely.

Paula has a scar around her neck to this day.

Fast and logical thinking of both skydivers saved their lives.

Had Brian cut away he would have died from impact since there was not enough time to open his reserve.

Had Paula cut away she would have been strangled by Brian’s parachute lines and they would have both died from the impact since they only shared part of Brian’s parachute.

Both of them made the right decision.

Both decided to do nothing.