Riders (Riders, #1)(5)

It offered no lift capability at all so I was still in a dead free fall. I shot past Cory, then saw him above me, suspended by his canopy and looking the way I was supposed to be looking. In the rush of the wind, I thought I heard him yell my name.

Then time went into slow motion and my training kicked in.

I ripped at the handle on the reserve chute and watched in disbelief as the reserve went straight up into the main, still streaming above me, then as the two wrapped and twisted together.

At this point, I knew I had a real mess on my hands but I stayed right with my training. It’d been drilled into me that the proper reaction to a reserve that failed to inflate was to reel it back in hand-over-hand and throw it back out, away from the main. As many times as it took. For the rest of my life. So I did that. I pulled and reeled in my reserve like I was in a tug-of-war for the ages.

I hadn’t missed a beat in my reactions, everything felt like instinct, but some part of me was stunned that I was suffering a double malfunction, every jumper’s worst nightmare. They were incredibly rare—but not rare enough for me right then. The drop zone was coming up fast. Really fast. I finally bunched my reserve into a ball in front of me. With a heave, I threw the reserve down and away as hard as I could and wham! My harness yanked against me, digging into my groin.

My reserve had finally opened. The main flapped next to it, still in a twist but no longer causing problems.

This should’ve been great news but as I looked down at the earth, coming at me like a planet-sized bullet, I knew it was too late. My velocity wouldn’t allow for a safe landing. Or even a survivable one.

I had moment’s thought about my father and the coincidence that was happening, the two of us falling to our deaths on the same day, then I reminded myself of the correct parachute landing fall position.

Feet and knees together. Tuck chin and elbows. Land on balls of feet, then roll to calf, thigh, arc body—

I hit so fast it felt like I landed everywhere at once—feet, ass, head.

The last thing I remember was hearing the crunch of bones in my arm and my legs breaking. And that was it.

I was done.





CHAPTER 4

“What happened after you fell?” Cordero asks.

There’s a new intensity in her eyes. Same with the guys guarding the door. They’ve been indifferent so far. Almost bored. Not anymore.

“After I fell?” I say, buying myself a second to shake off that fall and get my heart to settle back down. Did I just say everything I think I said? Did I tell her about my dad?

Stay on topic, Blake. Answer the question. Only what she asks. But even that’s not so simple. What do I say here—the truth?

I fell, then my bones snapped, and then everything went quiet and I was floating in the stars, surrounded by them, breathing them, feeling them, dead, I knew I was dead, but I still heard guys yelling, felt Cory doing chest compressions, keeping my heart going, then something cinched tight to my left wrist and the life surged back into me?

No way. I’m not telling her that. She’s not ready yet. But these drugs in me are wicked.

I think it.

Words come out.

That’s dangerous.

And my recollection feels too sharp. Too real. Just now it felt like I slipped into the past. As I was talking, my mind dove much deeper. I could see every detail. Feel every sensation. I literally just relived my death.

“Gideon?”

“Yes?” I was droning again. Basketball brain is bad news. The fact that the Kindred are out there and I’m stuck in this chair is even worse news. The radiator’s going again. I didn’t even hear it go on.

“What happened after the fall?”

“I woke up in the hospital. Walter Reed Medical Center. I’d been in ICU for a few days when I came around. My mom flew out to be with me but I only have a vague memory of that. Of anything from those days, actually, because I was either unconscious or drugged. Kinda like right now. By the way, Nat, Natalie … Cordero. I have a supersensitive stomach and it’s not liking whatever you gave me. Puking’s a personal specialty. I hope you’re quick.”

“Your files from Walter Reed are interesting,” she says, without missing a beat. “You were released within a week of being admitted.” She looks up, her eyes going a little wide. “That’s awfully fast.”

“Awfully so.”

“Where did you go afterward?”

“I was transferred home. I’d stabilized much sooner than the doctors expected. They couldn’t seem to get a good grasp on what needed to be fixed. The status of my injuries … they described it as ‘dynamic.’ The docs did what they could, set the major bones—the femur and tibia—then decided to give the swelling a chance to subside before bringing me back for further assessment.”

“Your injury status was dynamic?”

“Constantly changing.”

“Thank you, I know what it means. Where’s home?”

“Half Moon Bay, California.”

“And what happened there?”

“Things got weird.”

Cordero sits back in her chair. She threads her fingers together. “Tell me about the weird,” she says.

So I do.





CHAPTER 5

Okay. Home.

I was only there for about a day, but a lot happened in that time. It was when I first started noticing that things with me weren’t right.