1: Drop

June 2014

In all of his time as a Cherub, George couldn't think of a single thing he'd done which seemed more insane than this. There were three Cherubs crouching in the back of the small plane, squashed together so tightly that George, in the middle, couldn't even move his arms. On his back was a large parachute, which weighed him down and kept him from toppling over when the plane banked gently, whilst his equipment pack was secured to his front.

"One minute to the drop area," Instructor Yeboah barked, banging his gloved fist on one of the plane's metal struts. "Line up by the door."

George felt relief for his trapped arms as Jemima, on his left, pulled herself out of the tiny space and stepped into position by the side door of the aircraft. Her long dark hair was tied in a tight braid and she had a determined look on her face, her hands tightly gripping the straps of her pack.

On his other side, Ralph used a beefy arm to give him a helping shove to get him to his feet. The ceiling of the plane was too low to walk upright, so George kept his head hunched forward, stepping into position behind Jemima. A second later, Yeboah gave him a hard push in the back to get him to take another half step closer to her, meaning he head-butted her bedroll and she staggered forwards slightly. Jemima looked around at him, annoyed, but the din of the plane's turboprop was too loud for normal conversation and he tried his best to look apologetic.

Ralph squashed up behind him, with the massive frame of Yeboah bringing up the rear. While all three Cherubs had their equipment packs as well as their parachutes, Yeboah only had a parachute, since he was there to supervise the drop and ensure nothing went wrong before leaving. He was so big, though, that even though his hair was brushing the roof, he was still crouching down.

A green light filled the inside of the plane and Jemima reached out, pulling a lever and opening the side door of the plane. Air rushed in suddenly and the noise of the engine multiplied, leaving nothing but an incessant noise in George's ears. Yeboah used hand signals now, keeping an eye on his watch and counting down with his fingers.

When he reached two, Jemima stepped into the space by the door, one hand gripping the edge, and when zero was reached, Jemima jumped and suddenly George was looking out at the blue sky. He had to give her five seconds to get clear, and they'd drilled the jump sequence several times, but now it was real, he almost lost his head. He wanted to throw up as he watched the sea glittering below them.

Yeboah's fingers went down to zero and George hesitated for a split second, but the door was right in front of him and it only took the tiniest step before he was on the edge. He had Ralph behind him and he didn't want to let his team down, so he took a two-footed jump out, heart racing.

The slipstream of the plane buffeted him for a second, then he was free falling. He spun around once, getting views of the sky and then the sea below him, before stabilising himself and pulling the parachute's ripcord. There was a reserve chute, in case it didn't deploy properly, but he felt a sense of relief as the orange canopy unfurled above him and he felt a huge jerk on his shoulder straps. He followed his training, checking it was slowing him as expected and taking hold of the steering straps, keeping his eyes looking down and heading for the dark green outline of the island. There was a blue target set out on the ground which he was supposed to aim for, but his second's hesitation in the plane had meant he was further away from it than anticipated and he focused on just landing successfully on the island, rather than in the sea, or worse, on the jagged rocks around the coastline.

Drifting in the air, parachute rippling and the sun shining, George felt almost peaceful, but he was still descending fast and the closer he got to the ground, the less time he'd have to make course adjustments. He was making good progress, though, and the wind was carrying him in the right direction, so when he did reach the ground, he was in the middle of a grassy area which gave him the softest landing he could have hoped for: he even managed to stay on his feet.

Quickly, he gathered in his parachute and rolled it up as tightly as he could, stuffing it into a lightweight bag he was carrying on his hip. Yeboah would take the parachutes away with him when he left. Once that was done, he started walking in the direction of the blue target he'd missed, where there would be more equipment to collect. The island was covered in a sparse grass, and the occasional hollow squelched under George's boots, but it was dry higher up. Wind was whipping across the exposed top of the island, which carried the sound of the waves breaking against the rocks and made George think of seaside holidays from his childhood. It was easy walking, though, and the equipment by his target was in a sledge which could run easily over the grass. It was covered in a peculiar layer of yellow foam, which George puzzled over until he realised it was there to protect him in case he'd mistimed his landing and crashed into it. He kept the foam though, in case it was useful, and then dug unto his equipment pack for the plastic compass he'd deliberately left on top so it would be easy to reach. He walked north west, dragging the sledge behind him on a strap, the sun behind him and casting his shadow into a long figure across the grass in front of him.

Actually being on the island seemed a long way from their initial planning session, held in Jemima's bedroom back on campus. They'd been given a blank map of the island, which only showed the coastline and elevation, plus the three landing zones they'd been aiming for. All three of the Cherubs on his team were navy shirts, so there was no leader, and they'd been encouraged to work as a team instead. Jemima was bossy, though, and she'd said they should gather on the highest point of the island, in the north west, which would give them the best view of it and help them to plan their next steps. George thought this was a good idea, but he was annoyed because it meant Jemima would get the credit for suggesting it. Plus, Jemima had made sure she dropped first, which put her landing site nearest to the meeting point and meant she had to spend the least time dragging equipment around.

He spotted Jemima while he was still a hundred yards away, and he waved a glove at her. She waved back, but before he could cover half the distance, a shadow appeared from behind him.

"You're slow, Knight," Yeboah snarled, pushing him and sending him sprawling on the soft turf. "I've covered three times the distance you have."

This was totally unfair. Yeboah wasn't carrying any equipment and he was jogging, something impossible for George with a heavy sledge, but by the time he'd struggled back to his feet, Yeboah was standing next to Jemima, stowing her parachute into a larger canvas bag. George caught up, heaving the sledge up to the top of the hill.

"I barely touched you," Yeboah taunted him, snatching his parachute off him. "You saw me coming and weren't even ready."

George didn't rise to it. If he did, Yeboah would only punish him again, so he just smiled tightly. Luckily, Jemima wasn't laughing at his misfortune, out of solidarity for her teammate.

"I passed Powell too. Three successful drops. Once I have your parachutes, you're on your own," Yeboah said quickly, putting a hand over his eyes to block out the sun and surveying the island. "Weather forecast is clear. Remember, press your emergency transceiver only if the weather turns very bad or someone is injured."

The three of them watched Ralph struggling up the hill, dragging an equipment sledge behind him too.

"If you'd met on the beach, it would have all been downhill," Yeboah said, grinning nastily, once Ralph arrived. He snatched Ralph's parachute too. "Then you could have left equipment there and walked up here. Oh well."

Yeboah's smirk told them all they needed to know about his opinion of their team, and once he'd zipped up the canvas bag, he left without saying goodbye, leaving Ralph to catch his breath while George and Jemima sat on the grass, squinting into the sun.

"There's a dinghy on the beach at the far end of the island," Ralph told them. "I saw it when I was parachuting in. That'll be Yeboah's ride off the island."

George nodded. "It's windier than I expected," he commented. "We'll have to find a sheltered spot for setting up camp."

"One thing at a time," Jemima said, put off by Yeboah's disparaging comment on her plan to meet on the hill. "Let's look at our equipment, first. There might be some useless stuff we can leave behind."

This was a classic tactic from basic training, and everyone opened up their equipment sledges, comparing items as they pulled them out and using the metal runners to pin down lighter items to stop them blowing away.

"There's a print out of the weather forecast here," Ralph said, pointing to a document wallet. "It's got sunrise and sunset times, too."

"If we look at the direction of the expected winds on there, we can figure out where to camp to stay sheltered," George said. "Is there a map of the island?"

Ralph shook his head as he checked the papers. "No, just the same blank one we had before, and a briefing."

All three of them had identical briefings, but they were all in different languages. George's heart sank when he saw the Greek characters on his, which reminded him forcefully of sitting in a freezing classroom in basic training.

"Mine's all Chinese," Jemima said, shaking her head.

"French," Ralph said, but George looked at it happily.

"My French is pretty good," he said, recognising the words. "I should be able to read this easily."

This seemed like an oversight by the instructors, but George wasn't going to complain. He got stuck into the briefing while the others kept combing through the equipment.

"There's not much in this briefing," George observed. "Our objective is to get back to the mainland, and as soon as we do it, the exercise is over."

"There's a whole load of what look like engine parts here," Ralph said, pulling a propeller wrapped in protective plastic out of his sledge. "Boat engine."

George nodded. "It says there's a boat on the island and we've got to assemble the engine."

"Won't go anywhere without fuel and there's no fuel here," Jemima reminded them. "There must be other supplies on the island."

Since he was the one with the briefing, George decided to take charge.

"While we've got relatively good weather and lots of energy, I suggest we split up and try to explore the whole island," he said. "We can each take a map and write down anything we find. Then we'll meet back here and compare."

"Sounds good," Ralph said, but Jemima shook her head.

"We should prioritise setting up a camp," she said. "When we've got a secure base, we can spread out looking."

"But there might be camping equipment in the supplies," George argued. "And it would look stupid if we set up a camp on a patch of grass when there's a perfectly good campsite somewhere else."

"It might take us hours to set up camp. I want somewhere to sleep tonight," Jemima said, adamantly.

George shrugged. "Okay, we can do that. It was only a suggestion."

They both looked at Ralph for confirmation, and he grinned.

"Let's make a camp," he said. "I don't want to listen to you two arguing for the whole exercise."

"Just be glad you didn't get put on a team with her and Rex," George joked. "It would either be a blazing row, or a snog-fest."

"Me and Rex haven't snogged for ages," Jemima replied hotly, going back to her equipment bag while the boys laughed.