Free Fall – Part 2

Beatrice Ross

Winmalee, New South Wales

Australia

A heavy object landed in the bag. He paused, putting the box to one side. He picked up an old camera from the pile of CDs. It had to be from the 90’s. It looked old. It reeked of dust. It was David’s camera. Well, his Dad’s really. Charlie recognised it from a long time back. David had kept it as a keepsake, a sick memento of some kind. It was the start of everything. The blood and guts, the waiting … it all came from the “free fall”, the footage on this camera.

It was during the months of 2007 that David got serious with his stunts. He was only eleven when he did the free fall. It was the first time he had died. He didn’t wake up for a full day. Charlie watched the whole thing happen behind the camera. He could remember it all so well. He flipped open the camera, replaying the footage.

21/09/2007
3:35:45 pm.

‘You’re such a chicken! Bawk, bawk, bawk!’

‘Okay! Fine, I’ll do it!’ Charlie snapped. The camera wobbled as it switched owners. An eleven year old David came into focus.

‘Are you sure your Dad’ll be okay with this?’ Charlie asked from behind the camera.

David shrugged, throwing aside a cricket ball and a worn bat. His knobbly knees were peppered with dirt, his shorts spotted with grass and smudged red where he’d earlier rubbed the ball.

‘Yeah. There’s nothing on the tape. Just sum stupid cousin’s wedding. Anyway, he has a new camera. He won’t mind.’

The camera panned across the quaint backyard. It was small, crowded by tall, untamed brushes of shrubbery hugging the fence line. A sprawling oak tree towered in the back corner, leaning close beside a shed. A trampoline sat not far from the foot of the tree. David stood in the shade of the tree, reaching for a high branch. He grasped it, hauling himself up. He sat on the crook of the branch, giving the camera a goofy grin.

‘Come closer,’ he shouted. The camera shuffled as Charlie walked.

‘I don’t know about this. What if your Mum sees us?’ Charlie said anxiously.

David stood erect on the branch, his voice straining with effort as he found his footing and continued climbing.

‘She won’t. Just keep a look out anyway. If she comes, I’ll hide.’

He scaled the tree branch by branch, leaves rattling as he reached the weaker limbs. He peered down, keeping a constant check on the position and whereabouts of the trampoline.

‘That’s good,’ Charlie called. ‘Jump from there.’

David ignored him, climbing on. He aimed high, his sight set on the uppermost branch. Charlie tilted the camera up higher, raising his voice.

‘Dave. That’s too far. You won’t get a clean jump.’

David monkeyed up the tree, fingers grasping for smaller handholds, feet finding bending branches. He finally stopped, swaying unsteadily on one of the very upper boughs. He scanned the ground for the trampoline. He searched again. He couldn’t see it. He lowered himself by a branch, teetering precariously.

‘Nearly there—’

Snap! The branches gave way. David shrieked, tumbling through a stronghold of boughs, leaves and twigs. His helpless body hit here and there, thumping hard on the branches like a ragdoll. Twigs and branches cracked. He cleared the network of wood, hitting the ground. He collapsed in a tangled heap.

The camera jolted, the vision blurring into a flurry of indistinct shapes as Charlie ran to his friend. The camera dropped halfway, knocked askew by the fall. Charlie dropped to his knees, shuffling towards David. David wasn’t moving.

‘Oh God! Dave wake up!’

He shook him, his hands coming back stained with blood. David was covered in gashes and bruises. Blank eyes rolled off to one side, staring unseeingly at the camera. His neck was bent at an odd angle, a knuckle of bone showing through beneath the skin.

‘No! Dave!’

Tears glistened on Charlie’s cheeks. Charlie wiped his eyes, blood smearing on his face. He sobbed into his shirt sleeve, great hacking sobs filling the sound of suburbia. Helpless and shattered, he knelt down low by David’s body, wetting his sleeve with his saliva and tears. He cleaned David’s face with his dampened sleeve, wiping away the blood.

‘Heal. C’mon man, heal,’ he blubbered.

‘David?’

A voice fractured Charlie’s sobbing. David’s mum called from inside the house. Charlie looked up, alarm shining in his eyes. It quickly enflamed into frantic panic-

Charlie stopped the camera footage there. He stared at his eleven year old self frozen on the screen. The little boy was scared. Hell, he was petrified. He thought his best friend was dead. After hearing David’s mother, the boy had dragged his friend’s corpse into the shed to wait out the night. He didn’t want to tell David’s parents that their son was dead. The innocent little boy waited for a full day for David to wake up.

He waited, hoping his best friend would wake up. And luckily for him, he did. Charlie had been too young for that shit. David too.

What the fuck had they gotten themselves into?

Charlie lost his old friend that day. The old David had died. A new David, fuelled by the pleasure of death, had taken his place.

That was the last time he’d ever cried over David’s body. It was the only time he had ever been convinced that his friend was dead for real. He never wanted to experience it again.

Charlie tied the garbage bag, hauling it over his shoulder. If David wanted to collect a record of his stunts so badly, he could keep them all in his own room. Charlie couldn’t do it anymore. This shit had gone too far. He had to stop David. He had to talk some sense into him, before it was too late.

From the top of the MCL Centre skyscraper, the city lights lit up the night. David leant on the railing, shivering as the wind chilled him to the bone. It whistled in his ears, making his clothes billow and flap around him. The wind was stronger than he had anticipated. It was colder too. His fingers were numb on the railing. He wished he’d had brought a jacket for the jump.

To his shock, David trembled as he stepped up to the railing. His stomach squirmed, doing knots as he peered over the edge. Somehow he didn’t feel as confident as before. He hoisted himself over the railing, swaying unsteadily as a gust of wind rocked his body to one side. He recovered quickly, gripping the railings like iron. The sheer drop was merciless. Nothing would stop his fall. Charlie’s warning came to mind. He shooed it off. He was here to prove Charlie wrong. To prove that he didn’t need a mummy’s boy looking after him every step of the way. David was no coward.

Far behind him, the fire escape door flew open. David jolted, losing hold of the rail in an instant. He released a half shriek, scrambling for the railing. He grasped it, clinging on for dear life. Charlie jogged across the roof towards him. Speak of the devil.

‘Why are you here?’ David growled, not quite mustering the hostility he hoped for. Something about leaning over the railing of a sixty storey building killed the mood.

Charlie approached warily. ‘To talk you out of this.’

David watched the steady stream of traffic on the street below. ‘It’s too late.’

‘You don’t have to do this. You don’t have to prove anything,’ Charlie urged, ‘Come back over the rail.’

David took in a deep breath, teetering precariously on the edge. He edged forward. As the air grew open around him, the last ounce of courage died. A hot, feverish terror grew in its place. The night air was a gaping mouth, ready to swallow him. But it was too late to turn back now. He peered behind his shoulder. Charlie’s face washed pale. David managed to find his voice.

‘Wait for me down there. You watch, I’ll wake up.’

He clinched his eyes shut, letting his fingers slip from the rail. He tumbled forward. He was free falling. There were scuffing footsteps on the rooftop. Sweaty fingers suddenly clasped his wrist. The fall cut short. David jolted, his legs dangling in open air. Inside his body, his organs dropped rock bottom. Gravity tugged him down. His body swung wildly from side to side. Charlie grasped him tight, leaning over the railing.

‘Let go!’ David gasped.

‘No!’

Charlie tightened his grip, panting and straining. He heaved, hauling David further up the railing. He strained, his face ruddy with exertion. David slumped, clambering up the rungs of the rail. Charlie hunched over further, his breath rasping. The wind whistled past them, buffeting David from side to side. An overpowering gust knocked David. He slipped in Charlie’s sweaty grasp.

‘Hold on!’ Charlie shouted.

David slipped. He hit the railing. He grasped the bottom rung with bone white fingers.
Knocked unsteady, he teetered over the railing. He slipped overboard. Charlie shrieked. David reached out. Their hands interlocked. David grasped tight. They swayed in the wind for a moment. Charlie craned his neck, his eyes wide and unblinking. He trembled, his hand slick with sweat. His grasp slipped. They held each other by their fingertips. Charlie shouted over the roar of the wind.

‘Wait for me.’

Charlie slipped. He screamed, tumbling through the open air. The wind buffeted him as plunged down storey after storey. David watched in horror.

‘CHARLIE!’

Gasping for breath, David hauled himself over the railing. He collapsed on the concrete. He staggered to his feet, lunging for the railing. He looked over the edge, searching for Charlie in the darkness. He couldn’t think. Everything raced at a hundred miles an hour. Fuck, fuck, fuck, FUCK!

Charlie was gone. This was all his fault. His stupid fault.

An agonising minute passed. Down below, a faint crash set off a chain of blasting car horns. David staggered back, tears streaming down his face. What had he done? Oh God, he felt sick. It was all his fault. It was his turn. His turn to die.

He stepped over the railing, trembling from head to toe. Charlie was dead. Hot tears ran ice cold down his cheeks. The wind swallowed the sound of his hacking sobs. This was it. Free fall. He flung himself over the edge. He hurtled through the air. He tumbled head over heels, hoping that when he hit the concrete, Charlie would be standing over him, waiting for him to wake up.