AAAAAAGGGGGGHHHHH” I dived out of the little plane we had hired along with the parachutes that were supposed to be in those blasted bags we had over our backs.
Supposed to be but were not.
We had hired these two things for checking out how skydiving felt. However, this little venture had turned into a nightmare. We were not on a mission tracking down bad guys but I guess they came to us. I say that because our ‘chutes wouldn’t have left our Para bags (that’s what these parachute-containing bags are called here) on their own. So it means someone sabotaged our Para bags.
Anyway, these bags had gotten us into some serious trouble after not opening. We thought they contained parachutes but found out that they were empty. We needed parachutes – now!
We were hurtling towards the earth at 100 miles an hour! Moreover, if we did not get hold of something quickly – something that was flying or at least with wings or a parachute – then we would be crushed to marshmallows as soon as we hit the ground. In this case, the Grand Canyon. Yeah, you heard it right! We were skydiving over that steep – sided canyon carved out by the Colorado River in Arizona, USA.
Correction – skydiving over the Grand Canyon, without parachutes, only some dumb Para bags.
I had almost resorted to watching the view up from here as my last memories, when I suddenly caught a glimpse of a human figure falling through the air a few yards away from Nick and me. He was our pilot. Well, if he was our pilot then who was flying the plane? I did not have to wait for my answer.
As soon as a thought about the, who is – flying – the – plane thought, our minuscule – plane went burning below me. It was bursting in flames. The fire within had caused the paintwork to melt away, exposing the metal framework to tan itself in the hot sun. Did I mention that it was the hottest day of summer?