37º 22’ 27” North, 5º 59’ 18.84” West
Near Plaza de España, Seville
Friday, 12 October 2012
10:00 GMT+1
There were still two hours to go before the Día de la Hispanidad parade but the route through the city was already bustling with people. It would be a special event this year. Normally held in Madrid, on this occasion Seville had been honoured with organising the main celebrations. The most important people in the land would be watching in person, including the royal family, the president and representatives from Spain’s international allies. Edgard Grant, Vice President of the United States, would be attending as the guest of honour to emphasise the close relationship between the two powers. The official route would be longer and involve a greater number of soldiers and vehicles than ever before. The land units would set off from Isla de la La Cartuja on the far side of the river and cross La Barqueta bridge. The soldiers and vehicles would progress along Ronda de Capuchinos, the main road circling Seville city centre, and take it up to the Casino de la Exposición exhibition hall where it would pass in front of the VIP box. After saluting the royal family, the president and guests, the parade would continue onwards to Plaza de España where it would be brought to a close.
The national news channel had already set up a remote studio at Plaza de España. Two technicians were inside the mobile unit checking over their equipment. Maria Luces was hovering outside. She was one of several reporters who would be covering the whole event live on television. The news channel had dispatched numerous teams to ensure full coverage: five mobile units and ten reporters on the ground; forty cameras along the route and a helicopter in the air. The channel would also be able to link up directly to the aeroplanes in the air show.
Luces knew that this was a priceless opportunity to distinguish herself; she would finally be seen on televisions across Spain. Since she had graduated with a journalism degree two years earlier, all she had done was bounce from one company to another, slogging away in badly paid internships with abusive working hours. Just two months ago, the opportunity she had been waiting for had finally arrived: maternity cover in the regional office of Spain’s public television channel, no less. Ever since she was little, she had always been ambitious and highly determined. Now twenty-five years old, she was extremely attractive with chestnut hair, light brown eyes and delicate features. She was five foot seven with a slim, graceful figure and could easily have worked as a model. In fact, she took a few tentative steps in this direction shortly after starting her journalism studies. But ultimately, she found the fashion world disappointing and decided to focus on a journalism career. Her great dream was to become a world-famous reporter. For years she had admired the great professionals she saw on the small screen. Men and women who devoted their lives to covering major events around the world: wars, crises, corruption and more. There were countless burning issues that she was dying to cover, but for the time being she was stuck reporting on trivial affairs for a magazine show. So today she was beside herself with joy. This was her first big event, her big chance; she hoped it would be the catapult that launched her career into orbit. Unfortunately, she wasn’t the only one. All her colleagues, including the veterans, seemed to share the same idea. And because she was the newest member of the team, she had been at the back of the queue when the most important spots along the route were allocated. In the end, she was sent to Plaza de España to interview the soldiers once they had finished their role in the parade and members of the public who congregated in the square. So close and yet so far… She had kicked herself when she found out. In her ideal world, she would have been dispatched to report outside the VIP box. There, she might have been able to interview someone important. It didn’t matter who, an ambassador, a minister… A cabinet member! That way, viewers would finally discover who she was, and when she asked a tricky, probing question it would generate headlines that were picked up by the media across the country…
Her daydream was abruptly interrupted. “Maria! Are you listening to me?”
“Oh!” Luces snapped back into the present. “Sorry Carlos, I was away with the fairies.”
“I need the patience of a saint… I had to call you three times! Production are being a pain. They want some test broadcasts.”
“OK, let’s get started.” She clasped her hands together in apology.
Carlos Domínguez was her cameraman and the person who had helped her the most since she started her maternity cover. Even though he knew she was only in a temporary position, he had proven to be extremely patient and a great source of knowledge, particularly concerning technical aspects. It turned out she knew far less about the technical side of reporting than she had thought when she left university. He was thirty-two, wore his hair long and proudly sported a goatee. Yet this rather unkempt appearance belied a fastidious approach to work, especially when operating his camera, his most prized possession. He was notoriously well-prepared for any event, planning ahead by packing his large work camera and a second, smaller camera, just in case. If both of these failed, he also had a mobile phone that he could use to record and broadcast images in real time. Being so well-equipped had saved his skin on more than one occasion.
Luces and Domínguez reported back to Production and started to run the test broadcasts. Luces stood in front of Domínguez’s camera and began to speak as if she were reporting on the event. They practised twice before confirming that everything was up and running and it was time to get ready. In an hour the studio would start linking up to the reporters on the ground. Luces had been charged with stopping people in Plaza de España to hold live interviews. With her mind firmly on the job, she started to hunt down people who had come to see the parade. She chatted to passers-by, Domínguez ever-present and filming at her side.
37º 22’ 45” North, 5º 59’ 24” West
Near the Casino de la Exposición, Seville
11:00 GMT+1
Tristan and his parents had managed to fight their way through the rapidly thickening crowds and had found a good spot close to the VIP box. Fortunately, his father’s contacts had meant they were allowed into the guest-only area that was closed off from the general public. They had an excellent view of the nearby avenue and roundabout on the parade route. Even better, there were no tall buildings in this part of the city so they would have a fantastic view of the air show and parachute exhibition. They would have no difficulty watching Luis as he descended from the sky and landed just yards away.
His parents were thrilled to be there, particularly his father who was dressed for the occasion in his Spanish Air Force colonel’s uniform. His face beamed with pride and satisfaction. Tristan was delighted for Luis too, but couldn’t help feeling a stab of pain inside. He wasn’t sure if it was jealousy or something else. He would have given anything to be the one to inspire those expressions.
“Tristan, have you got the camera ready? Make sure you take some photos of the parade. And when Luis’s exhibition starts, record a video,” his mother looked at him, impatiently.
“OK, Mamá. The camera’s ready. Come on, let’s have a picture of you both,” Tristan gestured with his hand for them to move.
His parents stood together and smiled at the camera. Tristan pressed the button and captured their cheerful faces.
“Tristan, ask someone to take one of us all together,” Isabel looked around.
Tristan approached the nearest man who agreed to take their photograph. The boy stood between his parents and grinned, happy to be in a photo with them. The family put on their best smiles and the stranger took the snap. He showed it to them to see if they wanted another, but it was a good picture of them all. Tristan’s mother was determined to have a thorough record of this special day. It was an important, happy occasion for Luis and she wanted to remember it with as many photographs as possible. After admiring the picture, his father momentarily wandered off to greet some acquaintances. Numerous high-ranking soldiers were milling around in the invitation-only area in full-dress uniform adorned with medals.
While they waited, Isabel started to ask Tristan how things were going at school. It wasn’t something he really wanted to talk about. In fact, it wasn’t ever a popular subject. Now fifteen, he still didn’t know what he wanted to do when he finished school. He was currently studying sciences, like his older brother, but had no real idea what he would do afterwards. His mother had encouraged him to follow in Luis’s footsteps and join the Faculty of Engineering. But Tristan had no interest in designing aeroplanes or spaceships. And he definitely had little enthusiasm for making the kind of sacrifices that type of degree required.
The one thing he was passionate about was music. None too happy about this particular hobby, his parents had stoically accepted it. Two years earlier they had agreed, with pressure from Luis, to buy him his first electric guitar and to pay for private classes. Tristan might lag behind in his school work, but when it came to learning his instrument, he was both passionate and dedicated, showing remarkable progress. He dreamed of becoming a great guitarist, forming his own rock group and triumphing around the world, just like the rock gods he admired. The problems started when his school grades began to suffer; his parents were convinced that the guitar was a distraction. As a punishment, they banned him from playing and from then on he had to practice in secret, either outside the house or during brief moments when they had gone out.
His mother’s telephone rang, saving him from inventing any further excuses to her interrogation. His headphones were connected to his mobile phone so he put the earbuds in his ears and started to listen to one of his favourite prog rock songs. He and Luis shared a similar taste in music. When he was listening to good music, he could close his eyes and imagine anything; in that moment he could truly be himself. Even if he were listening to a song at full volume, he was transported to his very own haven of peace. A place where his mind operated on another level, taking him places he would otherwise be unable to reach.
A hand rested on his shoulder and gave him a gentle shake. He turned around; his mother was glaring at him.
“What?”
“Tristan, this isn’t the place for listening to loud music,” his mother had her classic disgusted face on.
“It’s not like anyone minds. I’m using my headphones,” Tristan snorted, sick of all this.
“I won’t say it again. We’re here to watch your brother and the parade. There are some very important people here, people who know your father… That’s not the image you should be giving.” she put an end to it sharply with her finger.
“Oh, whatever… You always manage to ruin everything.” He shook his head.
He put away his mobile phone and resigned himself to waiting patiently under his mother’s critical eye until the parade began.
37º 22’ 56” North, 5º 59’ 34”
West Avenida de San Fernando, Seville
11:30 GMT+1
Eva pushed her way forwards through the crowd that was flowing towards Plaza Don Juan de Austria. She had met Raquel and Miguel half an hour earlier so they could all watch the parade together. Other friends of Luis had also joined them, including Marta. Now the small group was trying to find a spot where they would have a good view of both the parade and the air show. Despite the press of people, Eva could feel Marta’s eyes like daggers at the back of her neck. It was driving her crazy. Who did that girl think she was? So high-handed, talking about Luis as if he were her property… Marta made it perfectly clear that she disliked Eva, especially now that she spent so much time with him. She didn’t care, if Marta was jealous that was her problem.
They eventually reached the square. It was packed, but they somehow managed to find a spot in the front row, just behind the temporary barriers that prevented the public from crossing the road. Eva stood next to Raquel and Miguel. Marta was on the far side, their other friends, Sara, Laura, Javier, Andrés and Julián separating them.
Eva had been determined to watch Luis jump today but none of her close friends were interested in the parade and she hadn’t wanted to go alone. When Raquel had rung her two days earlier and invited her to join their group, it had been the perfect solution. Although she couldn’t wait to see Luis, she was terrified of watching him skydive at the same time. There was no way she would ever be able to do something like that. Luis was so brave. He was the most resolute and capable person she had ever met. This show was going to be out of this world and she was glad she would now be able to tell him that she had been in the front row.
“Hey, Eva. Did you talk to Luis yesterday?” Raquel squeezed her hand.
“Yep. We were at the EAC together all afternoon.” She came out of her reverie.
“Did he say what time his part starts?”
“He said they’d do the land section first and then it’d be the air show with the aeroplanes and helicopters. He’ll be right at the end.”
“Oh right. So, it’ll be a while before we see him.”
“They say there’s going to be more soldiers and planes than in the past three years put together,” Andrés couldn't stop checking Twitter on his phone.
“Yeah, it’s like suddenly everyone’s forgotten about the financial crisis. The government’s sparing no expense,” Javier said, suspicious.
“Well, I guess after the way things have been over the past couple of years, things are finally starting to get better,” Laura seemed hopeful.
“I don’t care about the rest of it. I just wish my Luis was doing his part now… All this waiting around, having to watch the whole parade… It’s so boring,” Marta grumbled, weary.
The others looked at her, unimpressed. She ignored them and carried on her litany of complaints, now moaning about the early start to the parade.
“It should be illegal to have to get up so early on a public holiday. But I suppose, seeing as my Luis is the star of the show, what choice do I have? I wonder if any reporters will want to interview me. You know, because I’m his girlfriend…” Marta was trying to locate the nearest cameras.
Eva couldn’t stand to hear another word; Marta made her seethe with rage. What on earth did Luis see in that girl, apart from a decent body? Raquel and Eva rolled their eyes at each other and edged away from their group, out of earshot.
“I don’t know how you can stand her,” Eva was exasperated.
“To be honest, neither do I. I don’t think any of us are really that keen, but since Luis hooked up with her all we can do is grin and bear it,” Raquel replied, resigned.
“If it carries on and she insists on coming, I don’t even want to imagine how awful Luis’s birthday is going to be,” Eva grimaced.
“Tell me about it… Now you mention it, he hasn’t guessed anything about the party, has he?”
“Nope. There are a few days to go, but I’ve been thinking… We always car-share in the afternoons, so I’ll tell him I’ve got something important to do that day and we have to leave early. Then I’ll take him to the bar and… Surprise!”
“Sounds perfect. As it’s the day before, I really don’t think he’ll expect it. Especially as he’s working so hard on that project of yours.” Raquel smiled imagining the face Luis would make.
“He’s going to love it. Right now, the project is all we have time for. A night out with his friends will do him the world of good.”
“You can say that again. We’ve hardly seen Luis at all lately. I mean, seriously, we’ve had to come and watch a military parade just to get a glimpse of him in the distance,” Raquel sighed.
They rejoined the others. Marta had finally given up trying to be the centre of attention and was commenting on the swelling crowd. A helicopter buzzed over their heads. It was the news channel filming a panoramic shot of the large turnout that had come to watch the parade. Eva wondered where Luis was at that precise moment. He must be nervous, she thought. It wouldn’t be long now before they saw him swoop down from the sky like an angel. She couldn’t wait. He was probably getting ready to board his aeroplane with all the other parachute jumpers. It was as if she could see him with her own eyes… Picturing him in her mind, she was convinced he would be clear-headed and ready to face any challenge, just like always.
37º 10’ 26” North, 5º 36’ 24” West
Morón Air Base, Seville
11:45 GMT+1
The four powerful A400Ms were parked in a row next to the main runway at the air base. They were surrounded by a frenzy of activity: technicians finishing last minute checks and a legion of parachutists waiting to board. Seen from above, it looked as though red and yellow masses were swarming around each of the aeroplanes. Preston and Luis were still in the hangar that was being used by the parachute jumpers. They had been there since nine that morning, making sure their equipment was ready. Captain Leal had spent half an hour with them checking through every detail one last time before he left for the regional television studio. The studio was in charge of broadcasting the mass parachute jump and providing the best coverage possible.
After Captain Leal had left, Preston went to say goodbye to Chapman, Takeda and Curtis. The three pilots were ready in their three F-22A Raptors that had been flown over from Naval Station Rota. Their instructions were to approach Seville in a wedge formation and then perform a fly past over the city. Nothing too challenging for pilots of their calibre, but it was still a great honour. After all, it was the first time US pilots had taken part in the Día de la Hispanidad parade.
Meanwhile, Luis had joined Ramos and the rest of his skydiving club. Everyone was really excited, counting down the minutes until take-off and their sensational jump over Seville. It went without saying that urban airspace was normally off-limits for skydivers so this was a once in a lifetime opportunity and they planned to enjoy every second. Luis wished them luck and returned to the hangar with Preston and they started to kit up.
Once they were ready, an airman drove them over to their aircraft in a military jeep. On arriving, they greeted the A400M pilot and started to prepare for take-off. Outside, the other parachutists had already started to board their aeroplanes. The roar of the four aircrafts’ engines was deafening. Meanwhile, the fighter jets that were also taking part in the air show circled in the air above them, tracing white trails in the sky as they waited for authorisation to depart to Seville.
“You nervous, kid?” Preston asked Luis.
“No, I’m fine. I wish we were there right now… Flying over the city and jumping.” He kept his gaze forward, concentrated.
“I was like you at the same age. Impulsive. With a ton of self-confidence. But don’t forget, there’s no easy challenge,” Preston looked at him, suspiciously.
“I know. Look, don’t get the wrong idea… I’m not arrogant. I’m only confident because I’m really strict with myself. I train really hard,” Luis felt very confident.
“That’s a good answer, kid. OK, once we’re up there we better make sure we’re perfectly synchronised. As you know, you’re jumping first. I’ll jump straight afterwards and then we’ll free fall down through the middle of the main formation.”
“Yes, Jack. I’ve got it. Besides, I can use the helmet during the jump to check I’m on the right trajectory.” He touched his helmet with his fingers.
“Great. If you don’t mind, I’d like to give you one piece of advice. A good pilot, or in this case skydiver, should never just rely on a machine. You need to trust your instinct and be ready for the unexpected.” Young people, always so proud and impetuous, Preston thought.
“I will. But some extra help is always a good thing,” Luis was impatient to have to comment on such obvious things.
“Yeah. Well, you know what I mean.” Preston sighed; Luis was starting to remind him of his teenage daughter.
Luis hated to be treated like a novice. He knew Preston didn’t mean it, but Luis had done enough jumps over the years to be more than aware that he ought to trust his instinct. Anyway, he told himself, I can’t let it get to me… He knew he could learn a lot from the American pilot; he mustn’t let his pride get in the way.
The A400M pilot informed them that they were about to start the take-off manoeuvre. Their aircraft would be the last of the four to take off. Preston and Luis would be accompanied by several airmen who would help them to launch. As they were going to perform a high-altitude jump, everyone on board their aeroplane had to carry an oxygen supply and wear a safety harness. An insignificant slip could prove fatal once the launch ramp was open.
The four military transport aircraft carrying the parachutists started to taxi towards the main runway. Inside, the jumpers all waited impatiently, anxious to be in the air, anticipating their launch. Chapman, Takeda and Curtis were already in the sky at the controls of their F-22As and had now been joined by most of the Diablos de Hispania Squadron in their Typhoons. A squadron of Eurocopter ec-665 Tiger assault helicopters was also circling above. In the distance, several transport aeroplanes, two electronic-warfare aircraft, transport helicopters and the acrobatic helicopter and jet teams were already airborne. They were all waiting for their turn to fly towards Seville and amaze the spectators below with the roar of their mighty engines and rotors. It was going to be the largest air show in the history of Spain and everyone wanted to live up to expectations.
From where he was sitting, Luis could already feel the atmosphere crackle with excitement. It was almost palpable. He had even started to notice a tingling sensation at the back of his neck. For the first time, he felt nervous before a big event. Or at least that was what he thought…
37º 22’ 27” North, 5º 59’ 18.84” West
Plaza de España, Seville
12:15 GMT+1
“Good morning. Here we are at Plaza de España waiting for the Día de Hispanidad military parade. As you know, just fifteen minutes ago the first light tanks set off along the route from La Cartuja and are now about to reach the VIP box. Then they’ll continue on here, to Plaza de España. As soon as the soldiers arrive, we’ll have the chance to interview them and hear their thoughts about taking part in such an important parade. We’ll be back soon.” Maria Luces said goodbye.
Luces ended her broadcast. She was at one of the entrances to Plaza de España with Domínguez, who was carrying his camera on his shoulder. They had spent the past hour interviewing passers-by in the square; there was little else to do. Now they had to wait for the first soldiers to arrive. They would have to wait a while longer, because the first section of the parade consisted of land vehicles that wouldn’t be stopping in the square. The infantry would follow soon after to close the land section of the parade; this was the moment Luces was waiting for. She would interview the soldiers once they had finished and be beamed into households across Spain.
The parade had started with military punctuality and the opening section left the public open-mouthed in wonder. It began with two dozen Leopard 2E tanks followed by forty vamtacs and numerous Nyala mk5e multi-purpose vehicles. Some were armed with machine guns, others with grenade or rocket launchers. There were also ambulances and even two nuclear response units. They were followed by an assortment of armoured vehicles, including the famous Pizarro, which was used to transport troops through minefields, vast armoured vehicle launched bridges, armoured fighting vehicles for deploying infantry, vehicles used in electronic warfare, for deactivating explosives and more.
The spectators were astonished to see so many military units pass before their very eyes. Not only was it the largest military parade ever held in Spain, it was the first time Seville had ever seen so many tanks rolling along the city streets. Television cameras filmed the units as they slowly progressed along the route, switching between the parade and people’s impressed faces. The streets were awash with Spanish flags; they were draped across balconies and were being enthusiastically waved by people on the ground. Over the past few days, thousands of these little flags had been handed out in the streets to make sure no one went without. This event was a chance to convey a clear and strong message: Spain had recovered from its financial and political crisis. Its might should not be questioned. Huge attendance figures and the largest number of military units ever seen in public ensured the message was loud and clear. Inviting the United States as Spain’s guest of honour was an equally important gesture. The US was being represented on the day by Vice President Edgard Grant, as a spectator, and by fighter jets and infantry soldiers in the actual parade. The United States had been a vital ally to Spain, providing essential support during its economic recovery and backing its reforms. It had also been key to helping it become the location for the new European Aerospace Centre.
Eva was watching the Navy Marines march past in step. The thunderous noise of the land units had left her reeling. She felt uncomfortable seeing so many war machines together in one place; it frightened her to think that one day they might be used to kill people. When the first section of the parade had finished, she had let out a sigh of relief. Now it was the turn of the infantry. The soldiers marched in groups of a hundred, each formation belonging to a different unit or detachment. Most were in the army, but the air force and navy were also represented. The Legion received the loudest cheers and applause as it paraded after its popular mascot, a goat. The Legion was a world-famous Spanish Army unit and its members, the legionnaires, were notoriously tough and brave on the battlefield.
The soldiers gave a military salute as they passed the VIP box. King Felipe VI and President Manuel Alonso returned the gesture. Vice President Grant sat with the heads of state, honoured to be representing his country at the event.
“This is all most impressive. I hope your people are enjoying it as much as I am,” Vice President Grant remarked smiling.
“Thank you. As you know, we’ve worked hard to put Spain back where it belongs. We wanted today to be a symbol of our recovery,” President Alonso had given everything to achieve it.
“You know that you can count on my government. We’ve invested a great deal in Spain and President Powell believes that our relationship will be mutually beneficial.”
“We’re grateful for your support. The Spanish people will never forget it.” President Alonso looked at the gathered crowd.
Tristan and his parents were close by, eagerly watching the soldiers. They were lucky enough to see the parade in person but for those who were less fortunate, graphene screens had also been set up along the route so that spectators could follow the live television broadcast. The studio linked to Luces; she was now interviewing soldiers who were resting in Plaza de España after their efforts. This was swiftly followed by an announcement: the third part of the parade was about to begin. A reporter excitedly explained that, now the land vehicles and infantry had finished, it was the turn of the air force aeroplanes and helicopters.
Everyone gazed up at the cloudless sky to watch the aircraft race overhead. First, thirty Eurofighter Typhoons soared over the city: the Diablos de Hispania Squadron. They flew together in groups of five in a wedge formation. Commander Aguilera was at the head of the wedge with his two trusted wingmen on either side: Enrique Esteve and David Aguilar. Descending to Seville, they performed a fly past along the parade route from north to south. They were followed by around twenty F-18 fighter jets from one of the 12th Wing squadrons at Torrejón de Ardoz Air Base in Madrid. The spectators were astounded by the fighter jets. Next, it was the turn of Chapman, Curtis and Takeda in their F-22A Raptors. They also swooped down to follow the parade route, amazing the crowds below and offering them their first ever glimpse of their us-built aeroplanes.
The Americans were followed by more Spanish Air Force aircraft, including transport vehicles, aerial firefighters, electronic warfare machines and even an impressive NATO E-3 Sentry AWACS that left the crowds speechless. It produced an ear-splitting noise and once it had passed, next it was the turn of the EC 665 Tiger helicopters. Twelve helicopters noisily buzzed over people’s heads in groups of three. They were followed by a further two dozen units, including transport, sea rescue and logistics support helicopters. The whirr of their rotors marked the end of this section of the show.
A megaphone crackled into life and announced that the final phase of the parade would begin in a few moments’ time: the mass parachute jump over the city. Tristan glanced at his parents anxiously. Finally, it was Luis’s turn. Eva and the others looked on with pride. They were proud to be able to say that they were friends with one of the exhibition’s stars. They had their cameras, video-cameras and mobile phones at the ready; it was a moment to treasure forever. And they certainly wanted to share it with Luis the next time they saw him; he would be thrilled to see their recordings.
Eva squeezed Raquel’s hand and smiled at her. They were dying to watch Luis jump. There wasn’t long to go now. On the television, the reporters informed viewers that a brief pause was needed to ensure that the airspace over Seville was completely clear; this was vital for the parachutists to jump and land safely. The large open area used for Seville’s annual April Fair had been marked out as the drop zone where the parachute jumpers would try to land. Only Luis and Preston, the Spanish and United States flag-bearers, would aim to touch down just in front of the VIP box where the king and the president would be watching them.
The television broadcast displayed a brief animation that walked spectators, and viewers at home, through the parachute display step by step. Luces and Domínguez headed to the centre of Plaza de España; they wanted the best possible view of the exhibition. Luces had interviewed enough people by now and Production had instructed all the reporters across the city to take up different positions so that the display could be filmed from every available angle. Captain Leal was at the regional studio, checking the monitors and organising the coverage with the head of production. At that precise moment he was watching Preston and Luis preparing for their jump inside the A400M.
Luis was all set; his equipment had been checked and rechecked. Everything was in order. Preston was opposite him, ready for action. Two airmen were helping the American with his gear while a third was filming the two parachutists for the television broadcast. Everyone on board the aircraft was wearing breathing equipment due to the altitude; the A400M was now cruising at forty thousand feet on its way to Seville.
“Luis, do you copy?” Preston wanted to check the helmet communication system again.
“Loud and clear,” Luis turned to him smiling.
“I doubt we’ll have to use the comms, but it’s always a good idea to check they’re working properly. Captain Leal will keep us up to date with the main group.”
“Perfect. I don’t think we’ll have any trouble either. We’ve been lucky… The sky couldn’t be clearer.”
The aeroplane captain made an announcement. “Sixty seconds to launch zone.”
On the ground, the spectators could now see the group of three A400Ms approach in the distance, high in the sky. Television screens and megaphone announcements kept the crowds up to date: the parachute display would start in one minute. The fourth A400M was harder to spot because it was flying towards Seville at such a great height.
The aeroplane launch ramps started to open and the parachutists readied themselves for the jump. The main group would leap out five seconds before Preston and Luis, who now stood opposite their own slowly descending ramp.
“Thirty seconds to launch,” the moment of truth had arrived.
“Good luck, kid. Do what you do best. It’ll be fine,” Preston gave him a thumbs up.
“Good luck to you too… They’re not going to believe their eyes,” Luis made the victory gesture, bowing with a grimace.
“That’s for sure.” Preston caught his enthusiasm.
“OK, Jack. See you on the ground.” He took a deep breath.
“Ten seconds to launch zone,” the pilot announced.
Luis carefully edged towards the ramp. The moment of truth had arrived. He was instantly hit by the freezing temperature, despite his protective clothing and helmet. His body was buffeted by the forceful wind. He glanced back at Preston and then the camera. Everything was ready. His visor displayed his speed and altitude and a green line that marked out the trajectory he should follow once he was in the air.
“Five seconds to launch zone.” Luis heard, feeling the adrenaline flowing in torrents.
At that very moment, the parachutists leapt from the first three A400Ms. They looked like streams of red and yellow paint splashing downwards through the air. On the ground, the spectators could hear the whir of their bodies whipping through the air in free fall as they spread out through the sky. The parachute jumpers grasped each other by the hand to form lines, quickly creating the Spanish flag.
Luis fixed his sight straight ahead and gathered momentum to jump. The first seconds were vital if the exercise was going to turn out well. He had to react fast to avoid the ‘black hole’, what skydivers called the first three or four seconds after leaping out of an aeroplane. It was when the mind was unable to process such an intense sensory overload. It could go completely blank, unable to comprehend what had happened. This often happened to inexperienced skydivers during their first few jumps and meant that valuable seconds were lost at the beginning of a complex exercise. But Luis was calm; he had done thousands of jumps, more than he could count, and he knew how to react instantly and waste as little time as possible. The soldiers opened the smoke canisters.
“We’re at the launch zone. Jump! Jump! Jump!” They heard the commander's imperious voice.
Luis drew back and leapt, leaving Preston and the aircraft behind. Before he was even in the air, everything suddenly turned black. Time seemed to have stopped. One minute he was jumping off the A400M ramp and the next he was floating through a thick, black void. What was happening? This couldn’t be real… But it wasn’t a dream either. He was definitely awake. There was no way he could have dreamed that entire morning: waking up, travelling to Morón, getting ready with Preston and the others, taking off… He hurtled down through the blackness at full speed, feeling rather seeing, falling with no notion of where he was headed. A profound sense of unease spread throughout his body, throbbing outwards from his chest. Something terrible was happening. But what? This was very different from his dreams of the illuminated cavern, or the dark place he passed through to reach it. There he was always on the surface, touching the ground, walking. Here he was tumbling out of control.
Suddenly, he heard a powerful beat. It seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere at once. It was followed by a flash that illuminated his surroundings for the briefest of seconds before the darkness returned. It was impossible to take in what he had seen. There hadn’t been time, it had been too fast. He continued to plunge downwards while the creeping feeling that something terrible was happening grew and grew. He had to know what was going on, it was desperately important.
Another pounding noise and his surroundings shuddered once more. Again, it was followed by a flash, and this time the light mercilessly ripped apart the shadows to give him a momentary glimpse of what lay beyond. He tried to process what he had just seen. He was in the air above Seville, falling to earth, but it was night. At least, everything was dark and he could see the city lights. But it couldn’t be night time, he quickly remembered, it had barely been past midday when he jumped. There was no trace of Preston or the other parachutists. What was this?
Another beat. This time he was practically concussed by the blow. The flash had been brighter than before and it almost blinded him, but he screwed up his eyes to see through the glare. He had to figure out exactly what it was he could see during this eternal free fall. When his sight returned, he was left petrified. He didn’t want to believe his eyes. Beneath him was Seville at night and he, a silent witness, was falling from the sky as the city burned beneath him. Smoke and flames were savaging the city and he could hear the distant sound of people screaming in anguish.
One more pulse: this time his head throbbed as if it had been hit by a bullet launched from inside his skull. The glare dazzled him again and he noticed the metallic taste of blood in his mouth. Seville was still burning, but now there were explosions in the sky and on the ground. He thought he could make out shadows, obscure reflections, move between him and the surface. Terror and fear swept through his body in a wave of anxiety and alarm. Something told him there was more to these images but he could not yet grasp what it was.
When the next pulse struck him, his body arched in the void, twisting with an indescribable pain that coursed along his nerves. To distract himself, he tried to focus on what he could see and the scene below. Seville was being destroyed by an invisible, incomprehensible force and no one could do anything to stop it. A feeling of powerlessness surged up inside him, spurring him on to learn more. But it was too much to take in, too many things were happening at the same time, each one appearing to be both real and unreal.
Then darkness once again swept over everything. His mind was buzzing, trying to connect the dots. Thousands of images flickered before his eyes, snapshots from each time he had been given a glimpse of the city. He tried to make sense of what was happening, find some meaning in it all. That was when he saw it. When he felt it. The detail that had escaped him until now, that only his intuition had alerted him was there.
Once more it was night time over a Seville that was being destroyed, its people massacred. He was falling towards it, frustrated, desperate. But what he hadn’t realised until then was that he wasn’t falling with his body, his arms, his legs. Each time there had been a flash of light, he had caught sight of a gleaming reflection, but until now he had been unable to make out what it was. And now he knew. His body was not his own. It was bigger, much bigger, and made entirely of metal.
Before could even attempt to understand the ramifications of his discovery, there was another pulse, a thousand times more powerful than anything that had come before. He was violently jolted around but had the chance to snatch a further glimpse of the city. Seville was being burned to the ground. Its river flowed red with the blood of its citizens. Suddenly, a horrible blackness began to engulf the city, like an enormous and terrible black eye. As it swelled, the air filled with the deafening screams and laments of the dying. It was as if anything that was touched by that strange darkness fell into unimaginable torment.
Luis looked on in despair, helpless. He was utterly terrified, and yet this very feeling of powerlessness started to transform into anger. An ancient rage simmered through his blood, his muscles, bones and skin, setting them ablaze until it reached his head and flooded out of his mouth.
“NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” He shouted with an almost inhuman voice and with supernatural power.
His whole body burst into flames that raged with a bluish light and consumed everything around him, driving apart the shadows and shooting outwards in an endless and furious stream towards the stars…
Preston watched Luis jump from the aeroplane and prepared to do the same. He had to wait three seconds to maintain a safe distance between them. When it was time, he drew back and leapt forwards out of the aircraft. At that precise moment, he was struck by an invisible force that tossed him around like a leaf in the wind. He lost his balance and started to spin around wildly, hopelessly out of control. He caught sight of Luis to one side; the back of his helmet had been completely destroyed and he was plummeting to earth at an astonishing rate. The A400M must have been buffeted by the same wave of turbulence because it was veering to the right and rapidly losing altitude. Then Luis and the aeroplane disappeared from view. Preston started to feel dizzy. He had to regain control. Something had just gone terribly wrong. He had to fix it.
The spectators looked on in horror. Just seconds earlier they had been watching the enormous screens and seen hundreds of parachutists’ leap from their aeroplanes. The images had then focused on the two flag-bearers representing the United States and Spain. The reporter who was describing the event had just informed viewers that they were about to make their jump when the first had launched himself out of the aircraft. The second followed and then chaos had ensued. Everyone looked on, aghast, as the camera gave a sudden jerk and then the signal was lost.
The television studio was mayhem. Captain Leal yelled at the technicians to switch to another camera, to images filmed by one of the parachutists in the main group, before rapidly putting on his headset and firing off questions.
“Lieutenant Colonel Preston, Luis, Transport 4. Do you copy? Do you copy? What the hell’s going on?” He felt like his chest was going to explode.
“Transport 4 here. We’ve been hit by heavy turbulence. Half our systems have gone crazy. We’ve lost altitude but I think we can get things back under control,” the pilot maintained his composure despite the circumstances.
“Understood. Can you make it back to Morón, Captain?” Captain Leal sighed as he glimpsed the light again amidst the chaos.
“I think so, sir. I don’t think the damage is serious but we’ll be ready to make an emergency landing just in case.”
“OK. Lieutenant Colonel Preston, do you copy? Luis, do you copy? You’re descending too fast!” Disaster was stalking him again.
“Preston here. I’m fine. I’ve managed to stabilise myself. I’m trying to reach Luis, his helmet’s damaged. He’s out of control. I don’t know what happened… The comms system was out for a second and the interface is fried.”
“We can’t get hold of him. I think his intercom is damaged. Try to reach him, Lieutenant Colonel Preston,” Captain Leal tried to control his nerves, with Preston operational there was only one problem left to solve.
Preston struggled to regain his balance and orientate himself in the air. He was slightly dazed but what worried him most was Luis. Although the boy’s parachute would open automatically at a specific altitude, if he was unconscious, he could easily hit another parachutist on the way down. The results would be fatal. And how had he somehow accelerated like that? Preston pressed his arms against his sides and faced forwards to nosedive downwards as fast as possible, desperately hoping to catch up with him.
Luis had a brutal wake-up. Back in the real world, he was falling fast, too fast, with no control over his body. The nape of his neck felt as though it were burning and freezing at the same time. The back of his helmet had been blasted away. Begging for help, he soon realised that none of the helmet’s systems were working, neither the communications system nor its augmented reality interface. To make things worse, he had limited visibility because his visor was partially splattered with blood. Weak and disorientated, he was utterly alone. Every second from now on was critical; he had to find some way to react. If he didn’t find the strength from somewhere, it would mean certain death. He spread out his arms and legs, trying to stabilise his body and decelerate as best he could. It was an immense effort because, at that speed, any type of movement was like trying to wade through thick mud. Unaware of the incident, the other skydivers continued with the exercise as planned. They had succeeded in finding their positions and splitting into groups. The formation had almost been completed when, ahead of time, Luis flashed through them at high speed. He passed less than three feet away from two other parachutists, leaving behind nothing but a trail of coloured smoke in his wake.
“Break formation! Break formation! Start the next phase!” Captain Leal shouted through the channel that all the parachutists received.
Preston had succeeded in halving the distance between Luis and him when he shot through the enormous human flag. He relaxed slightly when he saw the boy was trying to find his balance and slow down.
“Preston here. It looks like Luis is conscious and trying to slow his descent.”
“God, I hope he can… Otherwise he might be going too fast when he opens his parachute,” the tension was tearing Captain Leal apart.
Without realising, Eva had been clenching Raquel’s hand ever since she had seen the incident involving Luis on the giant screens. She now threw her a tense, frightened glance before continuing to watch her friend in free fall.
Tristan was in shock. His parents were clutching each other and he could hear them muttering come on, Luis, you can do it, you can make it, come on, don’t give up now… His heart ached; he believed in his brother but his stomach was tied up in knots. Might he actually die? It was horrendous to feel so utterly powerless, to know that there was nothing he could do to help.
Luces couldn’t believe what was happening; it was a tragedy in the making. Domínguez had focused his camera on the smoke trail left behind by the first skydiver, who seemed to be plunging to earth, wildly out of control. Luces desperately hoped that it would all turn out well, that he would open his parachute in time and touch down safe and sound. But it looked increasingly unlikely. Just in case, she started to prepare herself, thinking about how she would record her link describing how she had observed the disaster first-hand. This could be her big chance, after all, she had a better view than anyone of what was happening, better than any of her colleagues…
Luis was still falling too fast. The damage to his helmet meant he was completely unaware of his speed or altitude. But the buildings below were getting closer and he was starting to make out people in the streets below, tiny dots as small as ants. He attempted to relax. He was stable now, that was good. But he was still descending too fast and his mind was exhausted from the mental strain. There was no other choice; he made one final effort and tugged at the parachute ring. His parachute shot out of the rucksack and sprang open but his rapid speed meant that half of its lines instantly snapped. The Spanish flag he had been carrying unfurled too. When the parachute opened his body was roughly jolted, knocking the air from his lungs. That was only to be expected. Without a moment’s hesitation, he started the emergency protocol and detached himself from the main parachute, or what was left of it, before opening the reserve chute.
The spectators gasped in unison when they saw the first parachute break. Everyone was preparing for the worst. Luis’s mother, Eva and Raquel burst into helpless tears. Preston swore out loud. It was too late, there was nothing he could do for the boy now and if he didn’t look out for himself, he would end up in the mess. Preston spread out his arms and legs to brake and then opened his parachute.
The reserve parachute jerked Luis hard but this second jolt wasn’t as severe as the first. Luis looked up the parachute in desperation. Had it held? It seemed intact so he grasped the steering handles and started to brake, guiding the parachute as best he could. He had to avoid crashing into the tall towers on either side of Plaza de España and aim for the wide, open space in front of the VIP box. The ground was rushing up to meet him; it was too late to work out whether there was a headwind or tailwind. Luis’s body had turned numb some time ago, now he was guided purely by instinct alone. He was no longer even sure if what was happening was real or a dream. It was all a blur. His mind was shutting down. Just a few more seconds and it would be over. For better or worse.
Luces shouted at Domínguez not to lose track of Luis as he rapidly glided over their heads, just a few dozen feet above the ground. Domínguez tracked him with his camera as best he could until the boy disappeared from sight when he made a last-minute swerve to avoid the second of the square’s towers. The crowd screamed when they saw Luis sharply veer towards the main avenue and VIP box. Finally, he crashed to the ground right in front of the box. It was a rough landing, but he was in one piece. All eyes were on the young man as he released his parachute and dropped to his knees. Tristan wanted to jump the barrier and dash over to his brother but his father held him back, shouting that he had to stay with his mother. Instead, his father copied Tristan’s idea and leapt over.
Eva had closed her eyes the second before Luis landed. She couldn’t bear to witness her best friend’s tragic ending. Then she felt a tug on her arm. It was Raquel, telling her to open her eyes and look. He was alive! Eva’s heart leapt in her chest; she was hit by a whirlwind of emotions that left her dazed. She had never felt this way before. Now, more than ever, she knew for certain that Luis was no mere friend. He was the person she loved and needed above all others. She would never deny it again.
Preston succeeded in making an awkward but safe landing just ten yards away from Luis. He instantly released his parachute, removed his helmet and tossed it to the ground. He raced over to the inert young man as gasps of alarm rang through the crowds. As soon as he reached Luis, he took him in his arms and carefully inched off his shattered helmet. It was sticky with blood. Luis had been injured at the back of his neck; the whole area was covered in blood. The wound was presumably the reason he had crimson red stains all over his face.
“Luis, are you OK?” Preston began to carefully probe his head.
Luis turned to look straight at Preston, his bloodshot eyes staring right through him.
“The darkness… It’s coming for us… It’ll consume everything… I have to stop it…” Luis mumbled.
Then he collapsed face down on the ground and fainted.