DropZone

1

The yell from above shattered the night like a brick through a window.

Ethan jarred to a halt, earphones halfway to his head. He’d been out for another late-night walk to clear his mind. It hadn’t worked.

Looking up, he saw someone falling from the roof of the block of flats he called home; a silhouette racing towards him, getting bigger, closer, on target for a direct hit he knew would kill him.

His breath caught in his throat.

His voice didn’t.

‘Shit…’

Keeping his eyes pinned on the figure, Ethan quickly pulled himself out of its way, turning back up the street to a vandalized bus shelter that was tagged to hell.

Suddenly another sound filled the darkness, like bed sheets flapping in the wind, followed by a whoop and a shout of ‘Yeah – nailed it!’ and the silhouette exploded in the sky, expanding from a black smudge to a black oblong. Its descent slowed dramatically. It drifted away from Ethan, riding wind and moonlight.

Stunned and staring, he watched as the shape floated down just ahead of him, a human figure dangling underneath what he now guessed was a parachute. It landed gently, silently.

Ethan couldn’t believe it: some idiot had just parachuted from the top of the block of flats – his block of flats. He watched as the figure rapidly gathered in the parachute to nothing, bundling it up as though rolling the night into a ball, then jogged towards him.

A van in the road next to him sparked to life. Another figure loomed out of the darkness, emerging from the far side of the vehicle, video camera in hand. As the van door swung open, music blared out into the night, a barrage of heavy guitar and drums.

The idiot with the parachute stopped in front of Ethan. Ethan recognized him from the year above at school: he had been in the upper sixth; Ethan was in the lower. His hair was long, blond, wild; Ethan’s was night-time black, and sprang from his head like a frozen explosion. He had given up trying to do something with it years ago. He almost felt the same way about his life, but something kept him looking for the right thing to do with it. He wanted a purpose – he just hadn’t found it yet.

‘Totally awesome, Johnny!’ yelled the van driver, pointing the video camera at the guy with the parachute standing next to Ethan. Ethan turned and found himself providing an involuntary wave for the movie. Idiot.

The parachutist Ethan now knew as Johnny tapped him on the shoulder and said, ‘Pen?’

Ethan shook his head.

Johnny ran over to the van, reached inside, came back. He grabbed Ethan’s hand and wrote on it.

‘Check this in about an hour,’ he said, indicating the scribble on Ethan’s palm. ‘You’re famous!’

Ethan stared at his hand and the MySpace address now scrawled on it.

It was a stupid question, but Ethan couldn’t help himself: ‘Don’t people usually jump out of planes rather than off buildings?’

Johnny grinned. ‘This is BASE jumping. You do skydiving first, then this – same deal, less room for error.’

‘More chance of death,’ said Ethan. ‘Why do you do it?’

Johnny leaned a smile in close. ‘Life’s too short not to,’ he said.

Then, pulling the parachute in with him, he jumped into the van next to the driver.

Doors slammed, and the road swallowed the van.

Quiet. It was all suddenly so quiet.

Ethan stood there for a moment, staring at the space where the van had been, watching flashbacks in his mind of what he’d just witnessed. The adrenaline still surged through him; he could feel it like pinpricks in his fingers. And he hadn’t even been the one doing the jump. He tried to imagine what it had felt like for Johnny.

Just when he was wondering what to do with his life, searching for a purpose, some nutball had jumped off his roof. For some reason Ethan couldn’t explain, it changed everything.

Staring at the web address on his hand, he headed home.