Facing Danger

• Erynne Casey, Grade 11
• Short Story
• 2015

The water calmed as Dad shut the boat engine off. He passed me my blue fishing rod. I put the bait on the hook and threw out a wide cast. We sat gently on the stream’s surface between towering rock walls, partly protected from a strong, gusty wind and scorching summer sun. The water rippling out from underneath Dad’s little Tango Skiff glittered and peacefully lapped at the sides of the boat. Kakadu’s Katherine Gorge was our escape destination.

I was winding my line in to get better control when we heard a man’s distressed shout. Dad and I exchanged alarmed glances. Before I could wind my line in, Dad started the motor and we were off. We were gliding along Katherine Gorge like an eagle descending on its prey. At a rapid pace, we were scanning left and right. Then we heard the yell again and located the trouble.

What we saw with our necks craned was this: a base jumper, with his bright green parachute tangled, ripped and entirely destroyed on the rocks thirty metres above us. For now, he looked secure as the parachute was caught on sharp rocks but if the wind picked up, the man would be thrown from side to side, his body striking the jagged rocks. I winced as I watched him try to search for a foothold. His face clearly displayed terror as he tried to keep his balance and save himself from the potential fatal fall.

I took my eyes off the man to find Dad frantically searching his Tango Skiff’s compartments for anything that might be of help. As Dad searched, the wind roared again and almost knocked us off balance. I looked back up to the base-jumper whose parachute had loosened. Once again he struggled against the tormenting wind as it slammed him up against the rock wall.

I held my breath as I saw the green parachute slip to within inches of coming off the rocks. The man froze as he too noticed his approaching doom.

The parachute ripped, causing his body to drop almost two metres before the rocks snagged the parachute tightly again. Dad hysterically searched the boat, throwing objects behind him, looking for anything to save the man. I could only watch helplessly.

The clouds darkened and consumed the warm sunshine, leaving a biting chill in the air. The man screamed out in pain as his back forcefully hit the rock wall.

And suddenly, he fell.

He made an effort to brace himself, but Dad and I knew those rocks at the bottom would leave him no hope. He neared the bottom of the cliff. I clenched my teeth and expected the worst.

To our astonishment, the base-jumper missed the lethal rocks by centimetres. He landed in the rippling water with a loud splash followed by the shredded parachute, leaving a green covering on the water’s surface.

There was no movement. Instead, the water engulfed the green material, and Dad’s motor was running again.