Kill Order

Part 1, Chapter 8: First Class

Borodin crouched beside Evelyn and dabbed the blood onto her collar with disdain. "Courage is tedious," he murmured. He motioned to his men. 

The cabin door rumbled open. Night air howled through the fuselage, whipping loose paper and Evelyn's hair. Her eyelids fluttered. She saw Tristan, horror and apology mingled in her eyes.

Tristan's voice rose, rough with fury. "Touch her again and I will tear your spine out."

Borodin's mouth curved. He stepped to Tristan, crouching so close Tristan felt the man's breath. "The great big beast speaks." The scent of cologne mingled with jet fuel. "Watch closely. Loose ends will vanish."

The guards dragged Evelyn to the door. Without hesitation they hurled her into the night. Wind tore her scream away. Tristan's throat strained with an inarticulate roar.

Borodin watched her fall, then turned. "Do you feel the sting in your lungs? That is fear. Many will share it soon. All who breathe it in will face agony." He sliced through the straps of Tristan's parachute harness. It slumped uselessly at his feet.

"Goodbye, hero." Borodin's voice dropped to a hiss. "Every breath on the way down, picture her broken body."

Two guards hauled Tristan upright and muscled him toward the yawning door. Night air punched against his chest, freezing in seconds. Tristan fixed a glare on Borodin that burned hotter than the pain splitting his skull.

The men shoved. The cabin fell away behind him. 

Air became a wall. Cold seized every inch of skin. He tumbled head over boot tips, stars spinning until he flattened his body into an X, arms wide, legs spread. The spin eased enough to bring the horizon into view. No sign of Evelyn's chute appeared above. He prayed the canvas had opened unseen.

Below, moonlight painted quilted patchwork: dark forest, a silver ribbon of river, pale fields shining. Trees meant branches to break the fall. Open pasture meant certain death. He angled his shoulders, working airflow to guide descent toward the thickest patch of canopy.

Wind roared so loudly it swallowed thought. Clouds whipped past, icy mist flecking his cheeks. His pulse pounded in his ears. Training, just training: keep limbs loose, prepare to roll, branches first.

Altitude dwindled. The forest rushed up like a dark sea. He counted off heartbeats. At five hundred he rolled feet downward, limbs loose. Branches became individual spears. He filled his lungs, then exhaled to tighten core muscles.

Impact.

Upper twigs exploded like tinder, slowing him fractionally. Thicker limbs battered ribs, hip, shoulder. Pain flashed but momentum kept him moving. One branch slapped across his back, whipping him sideways. Leaves filled his mouth. Then the forest floor slammed against him like a stone wall.

Everything went white.

He lay face down in crushed ferns. Stars flickered through gaps in leaves. Pain pulsed behind his eyes in brutal rhythm. He tried to crawl but strength fled. Darkness pooled at the edges of vision.

Thoughts narrowed to a single image: Evelyn's face as she vanished into black. Rage mixed with fear twisted in his chest. With fading focus he murmured her name, a promise to find her alive. Then night closed over him and he knew nothing more.

Darkness...

Sound came first, a deep bass hum Tristan felt through his ribs long before he could name it. The noise settled somewhere between turbine engines and distant thunder. When he tried to open his eyelids he found them glued by exhaustion. Darkness pulsed behind them. Voices floated in like radio static.