Blue Skies. Black Death

Prologue

Present

The perfect backdrop. A glorious evening with the setting sun and the rising moon vying for position in the sky, twilight just breaking. That hazy time between day and night. The skies coming alive with vibrant pinks and reds, seamlessly melding into gentle hues of blue. Snow-capped peaks of the White Mountains were just barely visible on the distant horizon. Trees alive with the effervescent colors of autumn. Nature’s work of art on an ever-changing canvas.

Taking a deep, full breath of the cool, crisp air she looked into his eye as they stepped out. She reveled in the purity of the moment and the sheer majesty of their surroundings. The brief freedom from everything it offered was like no other experience. She savored the moment. She had no clue that it was just the beginning of her living nightmare.

Chapter One

Five Years Earlier

“Okay Whit, what’s the game plan?” Chip inquired.

Whit began to explain the dive plan for what he hoped to be a 40-way for his 40th birthday. It was also going to be Skye’s first visit to the drop zone. He wanted everything to go well and for it to be the first of many memories he and his daughter would share.

He recently realized how little time he had spent with his only child while she was growing up. There had always been some pressing matter or other that took precedence. He rationalized that there was time, there was plenty of time. Time has a way of disappearing. She was not a child anymore. She was here to celebrate her 21st birthday and his 40th. It was a big day in the Chambers family. He intended to make it one she would not soon forget.

“I am sure you’ve all looked at the roster and know your slot,” Whit said with a wide grin and a hint of sarcasm. “Two otters are ready and waiting. 21 in the lead plane, 21 in the trail. Two front floaters will be the first out, rear line of flight. Launch four-way in grips, two centers, two in the door, inside centers, Form a round, hand to wrist grips in between each two, single-leg grip on two, etc. Any questions?”

“So, what’s my slot? Who’s docking last?” Chucky quired with a wink.

“Whom do you think?” Racheal stated with a giggle.

“If you had looked at the roster you would know.” Whit answered with mock anger.

” Oh, I will.” Chucky replied.

“Why do you always get the glory spot?” Chip complained in feigned anger as he read the roster and saw Whit was docking last.

“Damn right. My jump, my slot.” Whit answered in matching banter.

“His plane too,” Ken added.

“Planes, plural. Get it right.” Was heard from the back of the room.

“Well, we should all be nice to the birthday boy before he gets mad, stomps his feet and goes home.” Chip teased.

“That’s right. I could just take my toys and go home. Just be reasonable and do it my way. Floaters: it must be a fast climb out. Make room for the big boys flying center. Inside grips: get low in the door. Make it tight.”

“We like it tight, don’t we boys?” Someone bellowed as the others hooted and giggled.

“Alright people, may I go on?” Whit asked. “We all like it tight. I want you to scream it out. HOT! Ready! Set! GO! Floaters: do your thing. Pull it in and punch it out. Everyone from you in the rear, through the person in front of you out the door. Everyone on lead should be in grips before trail gets first dock in. I wanna feel the heat from this thing. Make me work for my slot.”

“You can count on that.” Burrito chimed in.

“Knew I could count on you.” Whit said.

“I only aim to please”

“Trail two: squat in the door, grab the door jams. Two in the rear of squatters. Eyes up guys. This should look like two tandems coming out the door. Plow the roads. Bring your flock to the formation. Far side slots: high and fast. Keep it even as it builds. Look around! Don’t let it wave. No potato chipping out there. Stay tight. I’ll try to get to a slot fast enough for at least half of the formation to survive. Break from the outside, after the camera flyer dumps out of center at 5, or a completed formation, whichever comes first. Lead video flyer…”

“WHAT? Hold on now, now you wanna tell me how to fly my slot?” Freak complained.

“I just want something specific for this one is all.” Whit explained.

“Want me to wear a radio too?”

“Might help.” A female voice chirped out.

“Very funny Rachel.”

“Sure couldn’t hurt.” Rachel laughed.

“Alright children, if we could get on with it. Trail video: you’ll leave after the tenth swooper. Stay high and even with the flock. Sink below as you approach the flock. Half of it's yours, use the space. High video flyer drop into the center after I dock. Pull a 360 so I want everyone to fly their tongues. Let’s have some fun out there. Gear up for a dirt dive. Wheels up in twenty.”

Like what you read so far? Want more? This is just the beginning of a story complete with skydiving, sex, murder, intrique, and deception. Be on the look out for what happens next...