Barnstorm by Wayne; Page Read Free Book Online Page B

continued the countdown, “Twenty-one, twenty-two, twenty-three.” Without an intervening force, Trip might have counted to a million and still never jumped.
    One hand above each side of the opening, he had a white-knuckle grip. The plane lurched, tossing Trip over backwards to the side of the plane directly opposite the open door. He resembled a random pinball rolling from pillar-to-post. Regaining his balance, he stood up with his back to the opening. He fell over backwards, somersaulting across the floor and tumbled out! No more counting to one million was needed. Trip was in free fall.
    Trip could now cross skydiving off his bucket list. That he had yet to land safely was a minor detail. This was a real free fall. No daydream with Socrates as a parachute buddy. To his own surprise, Trip was good at this. Arms and legs fully extended, he floated gently. No out-of-control tumbling and spinning.
    Having no idea of his altitude or location, pulling the rip cord seemed advisable. He wasn’t prepared for the rapid deceleration in descent as the jerk almost ripped off his shoes.
    The parachute performed as designed. He looked up at a canopy of billowing, orange fabric. Off in the distance, a pilotless plane plummeted out of control and crashed in a ball of flames in a clump of trees. The smoke mushroomed skyward. The violent explosion was in stark contrast to his graceful glide to earth and the peaceful sound of rushing wind.
    Graceful and peaceful probably didn’t describe the next moments for Trip. He looked down, measuring the distance and timing of a hoped-for landing and roll through a soft wheat field. No such luck. He was surrounded by wheat and cornfields, but he was clearly headed for the tall oak, ash, and hickory trees of a dense woods.
    Trip glided closer to the peaceful green of trees that were becoming larger and more threatening. The sound of rustling leaves and breaking branches confirmed that the wheat field would be left untouched. Golfers wisecrack that trees are ninety percent air. Go ahead, aim toward that tree. While technically true, Trip discovered that leaves that flutter in the breeze were connected to twigs and branches that had sharp edges. Twigs that bent to the touch could slap the arms and face when hit by a falling skydiver. And full-size branches and limbs didn’t bend as easily as elbows and legs. This wanna-be pilot, afraid of heights, was now suspended in an oak tree, twenty feet above the ground.

Chapter Five
    “Ugh, I’m dead,” Trip cried. However, kicking his dangling feet and waving his arms confirmed that he had no broken bones. “I’m alive. Aha.” He checked out his groin area where parachute straps choked his private parts. Wiggling, he tried to adjust, change position. Like a helium-induced soprano a full-octave higher than normal, he squeaked, “I’m dead.” There was no one to hear his falsetto plea.
    ☁ ☁ ☁
    The airstrip parking lot was illuminated by the alternating blue and red flashing lights of Sheriff Carter’s squad car. Buzz sat in the back, holding the tangled cords and fabric of his parachute. Disgusted, he was not particularly interested in the Liar Flyer welcoming party.
    He was interested in the rib-crushing hug from Deb. She wouldn’t let go. For the preceding hour, she had thought Buzz dead. The Sky Gypsy Café had been as cheerful as a dermatologist’s waiting room at a leper colony. Even the Liar Flyers had agreed a cease fire prudent.
    In tears, Deb whimpered, “Thank God, thank God. Ya okay?” Dejected, Buzz confirmed, “Yeah, I’m fine.”
    While Deb approached the situation from a purely emotional standpoint, the three Liar Flyers understood what a close call it was. For an Air Force trained fighter pilot to abandon ship from an eighty thousand dollar jump plane–it had to have been bad.
    “Pretty close call, eh?” Hooker consoled.
    “Too close,” Buzz agreed.
    Then it started. The cease fire ceased. First it was Bomber,