Thirst No. 5 by Christopher Pike Read Free Book Online Page B

“Just one thought. I should be the first one to jump. If I’m able to grab one of the jets, it’ll cause a distraction for both pilots and give the others more cover to complete their jumps.”
    Matt nods. “You’re right. But don’t jump until you’re sure you can catch one of them.”
    “Understood.” I stop and lean over and kiss his cheek. “I’ll see you on the ground.”
    “It’s going to work, Sita,” he says.
    Brutran takes the news calmly when I explain our situation, and so does Jolie, but Seymour is another matter.
    “What is it with you?” he complains, not bothering to hide his fear. “You’re always having us jump out of something.”
    “True. But this time you’ll be wearing a parachute.”
    “Great. And I suppose it makes no difference to you that I’ve never worn a parachute before.”
    I smile. “A kid can do it. All you have to do is be sure to pull the rip cord when you reach a thousand feet.”
    “I’ll pull it the moment I jump,” Seymour says.
    “Listen to Sita,” Brutran warns. “Your chute will be easy to spot, even with the clouds. You want to get as close to the ground as possible before pulling the cord. A thousand feet is good. That way their pilots will have less chance of calling in your location.”
    “Exactly,” I say. “It will do us no good to escape the jets if they’re able to radio their people where we’ve landed.”
    Brutran has already taken out a parachute and is fitting it over her shoulders. She puts one on her daughter as well, but—following Matt’s advice—she has no intention of allowing Jolie to use the chute. She only wants her daughter suited up so she can buckle onto her and perform what’s called a tandem jump. Despite what Hollywood movies would have people believe, it’s physically impossible for a human being to hold on to someone else when they pull their rip cord. The jolt is too strong. But Jolie will be safe if she is locked on to her mother.
    “You and Matt are glossing over a major problem,” Brutran says as she preps her daughter, who looks excited at the prospect of jumping out of the plane. “You’re assuming the jets willline up behind us, in classic attack mode. Remember, these guys have been briefed. They’ll know you and Matt are to be treated with extreme care. They might fire on us as soon as they come into range, which could be any second. Their missiles can hit us from thirty miles out.”
    “Matt feels they’ll want to eyeball us before firing,” I say. “Also, if they fire too early, our radar will alert us, which will give us a good chance of bailing out. Matt doesn’t think they’ll risk that. That’s why he’s pretty sure they’ll come in close and go for a kill shot.”
    “Why don’t we wait and see if they’ll let us surrender?” Seymour asks. “If they do, then you and Matt can overpower them.”
    “That ain’t going to happen,” I say.
    Seymour looks miserable. He glances out the cabin’s windows. “I hate heights,” he mutters.
    Matt and I have guessed right. Minutes later the twin jets come into view, but they make no effort to contact us by radio, nor do they fly up beside our cockpit and wave us down. Instead, they take up a position behind us, two hundred meters away. I have my parachute on but am still doing a last-minute check on Seymour’s equipment. I worry he hasn’t fastened all the necessary buckles. He can’t stop trembling.
    “I wish you were coming with us,” he says.
    “I’ll see you on the ground, don’t worry,” I say as I finish checking his chute. I stride toward the side door, which islocated near the front of the main cabin. The door has a locking mechanism that prevents it from opening in midair, and I have to call out to Matt to override it. Just before I yank it open, I give the others final instructions.
    “We’ve dropped to eight thousand feet, so oxygen isn’t going to be a problem. But we’re cruising at two hundred miles an hour. The