“Where are the parachutes?” Woody Bumberschott asked nobody in particular.One of the other two guys in the cabin of the plane (Woody couldn’t remember their names) shouted to the pilot (who had given the surely fictitious name Icarus Wallenda), “Hey Icky, this guy wants a parachute!”
Icky looked around at the guy who had spoken, then at Woody. Then he looked down at a clipboard that sat in the otherwise empty co-pilot seat. “What do you want a parachute for, Linwood?”
“Woody,” Woody said. “People call me Woody.”
“Why do they call you Woody,” Icky said, and looked at Woody’s crotch.
“Hey,” Woody said, reflexively covering his crotch with his hands.
The other two guys in the cabin laughed.
“So you don’t have parachutes?” Woody asked the pilot.
Icky shook his head.
Woody pointed to the co-pilot seat. “You mind if I sit here?”
“Be my guest,” Icky said. “We’ll be over the target soon, though.”
Woody sat. “You really don’t have parachutes?”
“What would be the point?” Icky said.
“I mean left over from before. When you did sky diving.”
“I didn’t need them then, either. People brought their own. You don’t want to trust something like that to some drunk assed has been pilot wannabe.”
“Wannabe? You’re not a real–”
“Relax,” said Icky. “I’m a real pilot.”
“Well, that’s reassuring.”
“And a real drunk, too, if you want to know the truth.”
Woody looked at the steering yoke in front of him. “Where’s your co-pilot?”
“Ain’t got no co-pilot,” Icky said. “What do you want a co-pilot for?”
“Well… What if something goes wrong?”
Icky laughed and turned to the two guys in the cabin. “Hey, Steve, what if something goes wrong?”
“What do you mean?” Steve said.
“Our friend Woody here is worried that something might go wrong!”
Steve and his buddy laughed.
Icky looked back at Woody. “Woody, my friend, what’s the worst that could happen?”
“Well …” Woody said, and trailed off. Dying wouldn’t be the worst thing that could happen. Dying was the point.
Icky said, “Well what the Christ did you think ’skydying’ meant?”
“I don’t –”
“If something goes wrong, we die, which is the whole point. So, again, what could go wrong?”
“Well…” Woody said. “We could… I don’t know, crash or something but not die. Just be mangled up bad.”
“Well, one,” Icky said, holding up a finger, “by the time we get close enough to the ground to crash, you’ll be long gone. You’ll be part of the ground. And two, well, why does that matter? In three minutes you jump. In three minutes forty one seconds, give or take, you hit the ground at about a hundred and twenty miles per hour. In three minutes forty one and a tenth seconds, you’re beyond caring. So what’s this all about? You chickening out?”
“I don’t …” Woody said. His mouth felt dry.
Icky turned. “Vick, how many times you done this?”
Vick said, “This will make thirteen. Lucky thirteen.”
“How about you, Steve?”
“This makes ten,” Steve said. “I have to prove I’m not a cat, you know.”
“Anything ever go wrong? For either of you guys?”
“No,” Vick said. “Not unless you count total catastrophic biological malfunction, That’s happened a few times. Like, twelve maybe.”
Woody said, “What’s it like?”
Steve said, “It’s a total frigging rush. In every sense of the word. Biggest frigging panic of your life. Then you hit the ground and you’re back wherever you were on Friday afternoon.”
“Speaking of which,” Icky said, looking out left window of the cockpit, “we’re here. Anytime you’re ready …”
Steve stood up and leaned out the open portal, restraining himself with his hands on either side. The wind whipped his short blond hair. He pushed himself back into the plane, turned around and said to Vick, “See you next cycle?”
Vick nodded. Steve leaned back and fell out of the plane.
Woody turned to look out his cockpit window, but couldn’t see Steve’s fall. He thought he heard a scream, but wasn’t sure.
“Hey, Mister,” Vick yelled. “You coming?”
“In a minute,” Woody said. “Enjoy your trip.”
“My what?” Vick said. Then he winked, stepped forward, and tripped on a bump in the rubber mat that ran between the eight seats of the small cabin. “Oh!” he said as he fell out the portal.
Woody suspected that the “trip” had been a fake one.
“Your turn, sunshine,” said Icky.
Woody looked at Icky and blinked.
“You might as well,” Icky said. “I ain’t giving your money back either way. As if money made a gnat’s worth of difference anyway.”
Woody said, “Did you ever have anybody change their mind?”
“Not yet, I ain’t. What the Christ did you come up here for if you didn’t want to experience the ultimate frigging thrill ride?”
“I wanted to. I thought I wanted to.”
“And now you don’t?”
“I’m not sure.”
“I take great pride in giving people their money’s worth.”
“Even if they change their minds?”
“Well, let me rephrase that. I take great pride in giving people everything they paid for.”
“But…” Woody’s mouth was even dryer now. “What if they don’t want it any more?”
“Well,” Icky said. “Remember when I said it don’t make sense to worry about nothing going wrong?”
“Your evocative phrase, if I remember right, was something like ‘because you’ll be part of the ground.’”
“Well, that was number one,” Icky said. “I never did tell you number two, the other reason not to worry.”
“What’s… what’s the other reason?”
“Because if anything starts to go wrong, I can always just do this.” He dipped the steering yoke sharply toward his lap, and the plane tilted nose first toward the earth.
Tags: manuscript