Savage Son (James Reece #3) - Jack Carr Page 0,121
frigid air and the pounding surf made it difficult to discern the voices of his fellow team members. His course was a bit farther to the right than he intended so he tugged the toggle with his left hand. A drastic correction could be disastrous, so he was careful to make slight movements.
The island was long and narrow, resembling the far smaller but similarly configured profile of Long Island, New York. A series of high peaks ran across the center spine of the landscape, providing few, if any, suitable landing zones. Reece’s target was a saddle between two mountaintops, roughly at the island’s longitudinal center. He could make out two snow-covered mountaintops below and, as he steered toward them, he desperately hoped that they were the correct ones. His mind wasn’t on the mission now; it wasn’t on saving Hanna, finding Raife, or getting back to Katie. All of his focus was on landing his chute.
The terrain grew closer, rushing toward him as his perspective changed. Reece looked down over his boots and saw that he was officially “feet dry,” meaning he had crossed from the ocean and was over land. His mind went through a checklist, consulting the altimeter, studying the terrain, making slight course corrections, and scanning the horizon for any sign of another jumper.
He glided toward the mountains, dropping rapidly. He needed to slow down, or risk overshooting his target. He had expected the wind to die off as he approached land, but the valley created the opposite effect. It effectively formed a wind tunnel that threatened to blow him into the sea. His airspeed provided him plenty of stability but not the angle of approach that he needed. He was still fifty feet off the ground and the saddle was beginning to fall away below him as the slope plunged toward the water.
Reece pulled hard on his left toggle, which put him into a steep turn that robbed his canopy of air. He turned 180 degrees and was now landing into the wind, which should have slowed his forward progress. Instead the wind gusted harder as it raced through the saddle, threatening to blow him backward over the cliff.
He pulled as hard as he could with one arm, effectively stalling the chute so that he would crash into the side of the mountain rather than into the water. The move sent him into a steep left turn from which there was no recovery. His feet touched the mountainside and his body went flipping across the snowy face like a downhill skier crashing out of control. He felt his NODs rip from his helmet and felt the receiver of his AR burst apart despite the tape intended to hold it together. After what seemed like an eternity of tumbling through snow rock and ice, his canopy again filled with a gust of wind, dragging him over the rough ground. Reaching up, he frantically searched for the release to arrest his momentum.
Got it!
The world was suddenly still and quiet.
Shit, that hurt.
Reece lay still, looking up at the sky, feeling the cold snow on his back. He started with his toes; he could feel them, which was a good sign. He then bent his knees and arched his back. Cautiously, he twisted his spine. Then he wiggled his fingers, moved his elbows, and slowly turned his head from side to side before pushing himself up into a sitting position and reaching for the Echols rifle, which had survived the fall.
Frogman luck.
Reece stood up stiffly and slid the Echols from its padded case, observing his immediate surroundings. His NODs were gone but his helmet was still attached to his head and had probably helped save his life. His first-line gear was still attached to his body, which meant he had his pistol and blades. Without a working light to check his sniper rifle he used his fingers to explore the familiar weapon system: barrel, scope, stock, sling. Everything was in place. Whether it retained its zero remained to be seen.
Gazing up at the mountains, he pulled out a small compass to get his bearings. He was alone, in enemy territory, without a working radio, and needed to rendezvous with his team. Their loss-of-comms link-up point was just a mile to the southeast. There was no sign of any other human life.
He was alive and had a mission to complete.
Alone, in a foreign land, he moved off into the night.