Ford noticed how different the wingsuit was in cutting across the earth, only because he was able to pass relatively close to some clouds. The FAA rules in civilian jumps did not allow him to parachute close to clouds, but today under the military rules, he could enjoy the ride a bit. He wondered that if he was closer to the ground, say from a free-fall base jump off of a tower or a mountainside, if he would be able to see the terrain and trees go by his eyes. He also kept an eye on his instructor, Tosca.
Ford looked down at his GPS moving map display on his wrist and saw he had already flown laterally 8.3 miles, with another 1.2 miles to go. He double checked his height on the altimeter at 4,600 feet. Looking good, he thought.
Just another few moments and he would pull his rip cord. The wind was howling around his ears, continuing to be piercingly loud with the rush of air going by despite his ear plugs and helmet. Ford looked down again at his altimeter, and counted down silently. Three seconds. Two seconds. One second. Pull.
The parachute came out of the packed compartment on his back, with the top of the chute filling up with a bit of air. Ford waited to feel the jerk. Waiting….waiting. He glanced upward, and saw that the chute was not as full as he was used to seeing. The risers went up into the air vertically, as the chute jerked his shoulders with only a small degree of tug, but nowhere near what he was expecting. Ford placed his hands on the risers, but he could tell something was off. He didn’t feel the tightness on the material like he had so many times in the past. Ford bent his head back to look up again, only to see his worst nightmare. His chute was not fully inflating with air.
An awful feeling came across Ford instantaneously. Normally the chute would fill up with air and reduce the rapid descent toward the ground by now. Ford would be able to steer with the risers towards his landing spot in the drop zone. Instead, he continued to fall as the chute malfunction continued to get worse. Ford struggled as he passed through 2,100 feet. He was rolling now in the air, struggling with straps and material and the bewilderment of the situation.
Passing through 1,800 feet.
Ford twisted and turned his body, attempting to unravel his main chute.
Passing through 1,200 feet.
Ford wasn’t calculating his time, but he sure knew he was only moments away from hitting the earth. Depending on the Virginia air density, and his body weight with his wingsuit and parachute on, his rate of descent was about 22–24 feet per second. Only moments left.
Passing 900 feet.
He struggled and struggled, and just could not unravel his main chute. Emergency, Ford said to himself. Ford only had seconds to go until impact. Shit. Shit. Shit. In his mind, Ford thought only one thing, right frickin now….need to fix this right now.
Rapidly passing through 700 feet. This was it.
Mark wanted to get Robert, Emily and Mr. Calvin Burns on a conference call prior to getting Wu on the phone. He dialed Jason to inquire about the Deputy’s availability, and the Deputy was available in an hour. Mark then dialed Robert.
“Robert, Mark here. Before we start talking, verify your Peanut is up and you have a green light,” Mark asked.
“I’m green. Verified,” Robert answered. Some machinery and cutting was heard in the background noise on the floor at Gulfstream.
“Good to go on my end. What do you have going on with her?” Mark asked, careful not to describe too much, just in case the call’s encryption was penetrated. It has never happened to the Peanut software, but you couldn’t be too careful with an op like this, he figured.
“Going well. She’s inside, which is where I am now. Can you hear them working? All cut out, pistons inserted, and fully mobile,” Robert reported.
“Already? Those guys are fast.” Mark said.
“Yeah, the interior guys are working a solution so one of the guys up front doesn’t have to get up out of the seat after the package is dropped off,” Robert said, referring to one of the pilots not having to get up to move the seats back to their original positions. The package term was Ford jumping out the back.
“Understand. Ahh, Ford is out right now with our mutual friends, practicing. We’ll see him in a few minutes. Emily is here with me, too,” Mark passed. He glanced down at some notes he had been writing down. “I’m going to text you a number. Call into the number in about 40 minutes. That’s our conference call number. Got it?”
“Yeah, got it,” Robert replied.
“I’m off. Talk soon,” Mark said, then pressed the red icon to hang up the call.
Mark was thinking of Wu, in that he had not contacted him in a while. He had hoped he could make the call, considering he had not even asked him yet.
“Yo. Yo, Emily,” Mark yelled over to her, standing inside the foyer of the Suffolk Executive Airport fixed base operations building, the FBO. An FBO was a commercial business located at an airport to provide aeronautical services to airport customers, such as fuel, tie-down and parking, aircraft rental and maintenance, and flight instruction. The Suffolk building was not larger than a convenience store in size, and had more of a mom and pop storefront feel than a large aviation corporation.
“Yeah, Mark?’ Emily answered coming over to the old maroon chairs he was sitting in by the window.
“Could you text Wu, ensuring your Peanut is the green, and see if he can dial in to a conference call with us in about 40 minutes? I’ll text you the number now,” Mark asked.
“Certainly. Ford should be done with his jump then, too.”
Emily held her smart phone in her right hand, and was able to tap the icons and letters without clicking her red colored nails on the screen. Her tips were all that were required.
She started typing.
Emily: Wu, this is Ford’s friend, Emily. Can you make a conference call with us? He will be on the call, too. We are also aware of your latest development. If so, I can send you the number. Thanks.
Emily put the phone back in her pocket, and looked out the window at the chutes opening in the distance. She knew Ford would be landing very shortly. Then, a vibration from her phone.
Wu: Hello Emily. Yes, I am in my hotel room. I can talk then. Will call. Send me number. Wu
Emily smiled.
Sending now. Talk to you soon. Emily.
“Mark, we’re on. Wu confirmed from his hotel room.”
Ford had no time to waste. Not even bothering to check his altimeter because he already knew how close to death he was, Ford made a split second decision to ditch the first parachute and separated it from his body. He did his best to roll over face down, and moved his hand to pull the rip cord for his reserve chute.
Passing 600 feet.
The risers were fully extended as Ford looked up to see his parachute canopy fully inflated with air. The risers felt tight in his hands.
Passing 450 feet.
Ford was just moments away from hitting the ground. He calmed down, maintained his bearing, and was able to glance out at the horizon to see where he was. Off in the distance, Ford saw Tosca, and reassured himself he was close to the proper drop zone. He quickly looked at his GPS and triple checked.
Passing 300 feet.
Ford said to himself that he was not quitting… no way….it’s not my turn to die… this better open.