Chapter 3: A Rough Landing and a Deep Regret
Zim soared through the sky, and he felt the sudden urge to shit. He clenched his butthole trying to keep it all in. His hair whipped back from his face, and he suddenly puked. Reddington's wonderful whiskey splashed all over his face and zipped away into the great blue yonder. Some went up his nose, so he puked again. It got in his eyes this time, and he screamed while trying to clear it away.
When he had vision again, he felt like his eyeballs were trying to hide deeper in his skull. But he could see Dembe and just beyond him Reddington.
Think Keanu! Think Keanu!
Zim waved his arms like he was swimming, and he couldn't believe it actually worked. Soon he found himself directly over Dembe, so he straightened into a dart. Once again, he surprised himself when it actually worked. He suddenly found himself right next to Dembe. He grabbed the man around the back.
"Get off!" Dembe yelled.
"No! Pull the thing!" Zim couldn't come up with the word "ripcord."
"What?" Dembe shouted.
"THE THING!"
Below them Reddington's parachute opened, and he started gliding comfortably toward the ground.
Dembe pulled the ripcord . . . right off the pack. Nothing happened. He stared at it, just as confused as Zim did. Then he saw it.
The bullet hole. When Dembe shot the latch off the cockpit, the bullet had continued going right through this parachute.
They were both going to die horribly.
"Zim! You must open the pack! I can't reach!"
Zim, renewed with hope, climbed up and around Dembe until he reached the opening of the pack. He yanked on it, and the parachute jumped out . . . and then away from them. The bullet had also severed every string that held the parachute together.
Dembe and Zim looked at each other, horror in their eyes. Then Zim looked down. They were approaching Reddington.
"Fuck this," he muttered. He pushed from Dembe and started making his way for Reddington. What he didn't see was that by pushing Dembe, he'd accidentally punched him in the face. Dembe, now unconscious, went limp and continued to fall.
Reddington saw Zim approach. "No!" he shouted.
Too late. Zim meant to grab him around the neck, like he was getting a piggyback ride, but he missed and managed to snag Reddington's legs. Reddington roared with pain and anger as several strings on the parachute broke from the sudden extra weight. They now swung back and forth wildly as the ground approached faster. Zim held on for dear life.
He felt the impact first. His body collapsed, but he landed like a pro without even knowing it. Reddington slammed down next to him and uttered an OOF. The wind plucked at the parachute, and Reddington worked his way out of the pack before it could sweep him away.
Zim stood. "Whoa." He had no idea that he'd actually made a pretty funny reference. "I'm alive."
"And Dembe is not," Reddington said. He stood over the horrible mess that used to be his guard and driver. "You took Dembe from me."
Zim didn't care. He survived, that was all that mattered. He kind of wanted to get a taco.
"I made a grave mistake, Mr. Zim," Reddington said. "I regret the day I ever started collecting your files."
Zim searched his pockets, but his wallet and phone were gone. Fuck. "Hey, you think you could get me a ride to Taco Bell?"
Reddington stared at him, his head tilted to the side. Then, without a word, he leaned over Dembe's corpse and went through his jacket. He pulled out a gun and aimed it at Zim. "There is only one way to clean up this mess. I don't know why someone hasn't killed you yet." He smiled. "I suppose I'll have to do it. Really, it's for the best."
"Oh shit," Zim said.
TO BE CONTINUED!
