52

I grab Orch's body and push her toward the open hatch at the stern of the ship.

"Hang on!" she screams, her voice snatched away by the wind. "We need rifles."

There's no time for that. We have a few seconds before the aircraft crashes into the ground.

I push her into the open night sky, praying she has the presence of mind to pull her rip cord. A split second later, I dive in after her, immediately opening my own chute.

A wave of relief washes over me when I see Orch's camo parachute unfurl from her pack and she floats into the darkness. Just two seconds later, it would be too late.

But my hope is dashed when the reaction of the falling ship hits me, pushing me in the opposite direction and denting my own parachute. I'm spiraling out of control, plummeting too fast.

The treetops reach out to me like leafy claws.

A second later, and my world becomes a chaos of snapping branches tearing at my flesh as gravity pulls me to the ground. I don't feel any pain though.

My mind is focused on on