Chapter 1 - The PushElliot Mercer could not make his legs stop shaking.
Wind rushed across the top of Blackstone Ridge, tugging at his clothes and snapping the loose straps of the parachute harness against his sides.
Ten years old.
Nine hundred feet of empty space in front of him.
And his grandfather standing directly behind him.
Elliot stared over the cliff.
The valley looked impossibly small.
Pine trees covered the slopes below like dark green needles. Farther out, the mountains faded into the bright Colorado afternoon.
His stomach turned.
He stumbled backward.
“Grandpa…”
Walter Mercer caught him by the shoulders.
For a moment, Walter looked exactly like the grandfather Elliot had known all his life.
Calm gray eyes.
Neatly combed silver hair.
The patient half-smile he wore when teaching Elliot how to fish.
“Easy,” Walter said.
Elliot swallowed hard.
“I’m really scared. I’ve never gone skydiving before. I don’t know how to do this.”
Walter squeezed his shoulder.
“Relax. It’s easy. You can do it.”
“But Mom said—”
“Your mother worries too much.”
“Dad said people train first.”
Walter’s smile tightened.
“Your parents and your grandma will be so proud of you.”
Elliot looked at the cliff again.
His breathing became faster.
“No.”
Walter said nothing.
“I can’t do it.” Elliot shook his head violently. “I’m too scared.”
The hand on his shoulder disappeared.
Something changed behind him.
Elliot turned.
Walter was no longer smiling.
His face had become hard.
Empty.
“If you don’t jump on your own…”
Walter pointed toward the edge.
“…I’ll push you.”
For several seconds, Elliot thought he had misunderstood.
Then he saw his grandfather’s eyes.
“Grandpa… don’t.”
Walter stepped forward.
Elliot backed toward the cliff.
“You’re scaring me.”
“You should have kept your nose out of grown-up business.”
Elliot froze.
“What?”
Walter’s gaze dropped briefly toward the small black sports watch on Elliot’s wrist.
Then back to his face.
“You should never have gone into my study.”
Elliot’s blood turned cold.
He remembered the blue envelope.
Grandma Diane crying.
Walter shouting.
The photograph Elliot had taken before running upstairs.
He had never told Walter.
At least, he thought he hadn’t.
“I didn’t—”
“Enough.”
Elliot spun toward the cliff, instinctively trying to move sideways.
Walter shoved him.
Both hands.
Hard.
Elliot’s shoes scraped across loose rock.
For one fraction of a second, his arms flew outward and found nothing.
“GRANDPA!”
Then the cliff disappeared beneath him.
Elliot fell.
The scream tore out of his throat until the wind stole it.
Sky.
Rock.
Trees.
Sky again.
He could not remember which handle Walter had shown him.
He could not remember anything.
His hands clawed desperately across the harness.
Something snapped behind him.
A violent jerk nearly broke him in half.
Elliot screamed again.
Fabric thundered overhead.
His fall changed.
Not stopped.
Changed.
He was still descending terrifyingly fast, swinging beneath a partially inflated canopy that twisted toward the trees.
Branches rushed toward him.
Elliot covered his face.
The canopy caught first.
His body slammed through pine needles and thin branches before the harness jerked him to a stop.
Silence.
Then pain.
Elliot opened his eyes.
He was hanging several feet above a rocky slope.
His left ankle burned.
Blood trickled from a scratch beside his eyebrow.
Above him, the parachute canopy was tangled across two pine trees.
He tried to breathe.
“Grandpa?”
No answer.
He looked up toward the distant rim.
Walter was gone.
Elliot began crying again.
“Grandpa!”
Nothing.
A tiny electronic chirp came from behind his shoulder.
Elliot twisted awkwardly.
Something small was attached beneath the harness webbing.
A black device.
A green light blinked.
Once.
Twice.
Then a voice crackled faintly through it.
“Beacon Seven, this is Owen. If anyone can hear me, stay where you are.”
Elliot stared at the device.
“Hello?”
Static.
Then—
“Elliot?”
The boy sobbed.
“Yes!”
“Elliot, listen to me. Do not unclip anything. I know where you are.”
Elliot’s fingers tightened around the strap.
“Grandpa pushed me.”
Silence filled the radio.
Then Owen Pike, Mercer Ridge Adventures’ longtime safety director, answered in a voice suddenly stripped of all calm.
“I know.”
Elliot stopped breathing.
“What?”
“I saw Walter take that rig.”
A long pause.
“And Elliot…”
May you like
Owen’s voice dropped.
“That parachute was never supposed to leave the equipment room.”
Related Stories
