Page 46 of The Best Wild Idea
Grant.
For just a moment, in the thrill of it all, he’s here. In the wind, whipping past my face, in that heavenly view outside with no glass cover between us.
I open my eyes again to see a string of mountain peaks sitting at eye level. The world, peaceful and calm outside this frigid airstream crashing all around me. I want to be out there with them. Withhim. Spiraling out among the clouds.
Just live, sweetheart.His words echo in my mind.
“Ready!” I shout back as the adrenaline coursing through me wins, taking over what’s left of my better judgment.
I place my hands against the cold metal doorframe.
“Divers up!” Trek says into his mouthpiece.
“Prepare for departure,” the pilot answers calmly through the speakers. “Divers are clear.”
“Go!” Trek yells to us, pointing out the door.
Jett pushes my chin back so my head is nestled tightly under his jaw.
This is it.
I take it in, knowing I will never forget what it feels like to sit on the edge of this doorway, straddled between safety and survival, that beautiful world at my toes.
It’s time to join it.
I force myself to let go of the plane; then, following one deep breath, we slowly fall forward.
Spiraling out into that breathtaking tundra below.
I force my eyes to stay open, to see every nanosecond of our sixty-second freefall, our bodies racing down together at one hundred and twenty miles per hour toward the ground.
I’m whooping and screaming with whatever breath I have left in my lungs, but the wind is carrying it away so fiercely that my voice doesn’t have time to reach my ears.
Falling.
Floating.
Spinning above the most incredible view.
It feels better than all that — a wind tunnel that takes my breath away. We pick up speed as Mother Earth wraps her fingers around us so swiftly, so tightly, reclaiming our bodies into hers as we careen toward solid ground, while the clouds gently beckon us to stay.
And that view.
I don’t know whether to study the way the jagged mountain peaks and valleys are racing past me, closer than any land traveler will ever see them, or to settle my eyes on the lakes. Theygrow bigger and less serene as we race straight toward them too. Waiting to swallow us up if our chute doesn’t unfold like Jett promised me it would.
And just as I’m about to question when — and if — the parachute will explode to catch us, Jett tilts my chin back toward his neck again, and taps my shoulder — the signal to spread my arms and legs out to the sides, preparing me for the jolt we’re hopefully about to have from the backpack unfurling.
I hold my breath until—
Whoosh.
I hear it before I can feel it. The chute explodes from the pack. A snap of thin vinyl uncurling from its careful placement, finding a pillow of air to land us safely back on earth.
Relief crashes through me when we’re suddenly shot upright, no longer falling parallel to the ground, but perpendicular, with our bodies hanging down from the straps.
Safe.
“We did it!” I scream out into the beauty around us, flinging my arms out to the sides. I’m suddenly filled with a new rush of powerful adrenaline, the hit of dopamine awakening a part of me that’s been left dead and dormant for too long. My face already feels sore from the way it stretched — screaming and smiling my way through the ride.
