The Day Earth Died

9. Pulling the Ripcord

"Good. Morning. Sunshines." Sergeant Guillebault whammed his boots against the metallic roof of the wagon we were sleeping on.

I groaned. God did I prefer laid-back, tipsy Guillebault. A loud splash sound made me jolt up. There were laughs and cheers. I sat up, half-asleep and dumbfounded. Sergeant had pushed a sleeping man into the lake. The guy tried to climb back up, all wet and slippery. I giggled a bit too but stopped myself halfway in surprise. I was in a good mood without having to force myself. I had slept well, eaten well and even when mum was a world away, I felt good. Amell was laughing too, sat on the border of the wagon with his legs dangling down. The same Amell whose father had beaten up his mother less than a day earlier. It baffled me how such little time changed us. Maybe home isn't as good as I thought.

We were handed protein bars as breakfast with a bottle of water. Other wagons from Ups cooked eggs and bacon on their fire, or at least that's what some men said. Sergeant Guillebeaux explained that we were too malnourished for too long to eat large quantities of food, especially if it was high fat. Whatever that means.

The water level sank as the sun rose. Once it was safe, we went back down the ladder. A bunch of young men preferred climbing off the high edge onto the platform and were given a flick behind the head. We scattered inside the main room and arranged ourselves into a tidy line before Sergeant could scold us.

"Listen up! The air column to go Under is dangerous. If you don't follow the instructions, you're done. Put your luggage in there," Guillebault dragged a white plastic box in front of us, "it'll be Under once we are. Do that, I'll go get the parachute bags." He left right then.

I clutched my backpack, uneasy. The box filled up fast. Dissatisfied, I put down my backpack. Hopefully it wouldn't be searched. I doubt carrying pills around is permitted.

A tall, beefy man came back with Guillebault, a dozen backpacks in his arms. His expression was sour and stern. I began fiddling with the rim of my uniform jacket when our eyes briefly met.

"This is Aspen. He don't talk much." Sergeant Guillebault snickered to himself. A little more and it seemed he'd pat himself on the back.

Aspen rolled his eyes and gave an irritated sigh. The skin of his neck was slashed by a deep, pale scar. It dipped under his uniform. I must've stared for too long because when my eyes climbed back up to his face, he scowled at me. I looked away, the skin of my cheek in between my teeth. Aspen soundly dropped the bags on the ground, only keeping one. He wore it and tightened it around his shoulders. Then, he attached the straps to his chest and thighs. He finished his demonstration by fake pulling the ripcord.

"Your turn," Guillebault said.

Hesitantly enough, I picked up a parachute. I swung it back and wore it with difficulty. It was way heavier than I had expected. Aspen had handled it with so much ease I hadn't considered it could be any heavy.

Still, I strapped it on. The smallest setting wasn't small enough for my narrow frame. It dangled off me. I looked at Amell. The bag was also quite big for him yet still fit him enough to hold on his shoulders. Aspen and Guillebault strolled around and helped officers. Aspen walked up to me. He tried tightening my shoulder strap and realized it wouldn't adjust any tighter. The gush of frustration on his face was replaced by indifference. He pulled on the thigh and chest straps instead, though they were already just fine. I choked a bit but hid it behind a fake cough. Aspen went up to help someone else.

My ribcage couldn't fully expand when I inhaled due to the chest restrain. My blood flow was blocked by the thigh restrain. After a few breaths, I got lightheaded, and my legs felt a bit numb. I loosened the straps again, ticked off.