The Long Way Down
Chapter 1

As soon as I dive through the door, I realize something is wrong.

Certainly, many things are right and familiar. There is the exhilarating feeling of weightlessness, the whipping of the jumpsuit, and the roar of the wind.

And then, there is the afternoon sun glistening off the distant desert lake. But this beautiful sight is part of the problem.

You see, there are no lakes within a hundred miles of the drop zone.

Then where am I? Though I try to match the features below with the geography I've encountered on the job, I am unable to place myself anywhere in the country.

In my confusion, I seize upon a chilling thought.

I realize now with fear what lies below me.

Her hair still damp from the shower, the pilot emerges from the locker room. Crossing the hall into the empty men's locker room, she unlocks #103 and empties the customer's wallet. Having inspected the identification with satisfaction, she transfers half of the small stack of bills to her own wallet, where they nicely complement the foreign bills she has recently received. The other half go to the receptionist.

"Hey Jessica, this is for you. And close our latest customer's account. He won't be needing it anymore."

Jessica grins.

After spending a couple thousand vertical feet hoping that I am wrong, I finally resolve to act. A low-altitude opening, I decide, will minimize my chances of detection and hopefully get me back home safely. In another scenario it might be feasible to open high in an attempt to steer back, but probably not at this distance; all the while I'd also be a sitting duck.

As soon as I land, I hide the chute and take off to the north. There are parts of the border where some have successfully made the crossing. I don't know exactly how I'll do it, but one thing is certain: I can't stay put and just let myself be caught. It worries me to think what will happen if they discover a foreign officer on the edge of their military base.

Keep in mind that this isn't just any other country. For many years our diplomatic position regarding our female neighbors to the south has been one of deferential tolerance. Though we are perennially appalled by the leaked stories of their human rights transgressions -- especially the psychological and sexual torture -- their military's superior funding and technological sophistication have left us no choice but to tolerate their methods. Frankly, we consider ourselves fortunate that so far, they've been uninterested in bringing their military to bear against us.

But instead, there's the kidnapping. Every once in a while, someone near the border will disappear and never be heard from again. Sometimes it's a civilian. Sometimes it's military personnel. Today it's me.

It is anybody's guess what happens to those they have taken. It is known, however, that they enjoy playing cat and mouse. I heard from the border guard that once, they saw a man running toward the fences from the other side. He came close enough for our patrolmen to see the hope in his face -- and then to hear his plaintive yelp as he was subdued and dragged off by black-suited female forms. Apparently they had lain in wait for hours just to savor that moment.

But that transpired fifty miles to the east of where I have now arrived. Only the faintest purple traces of sunset remain on the western horizon as I see the barrier in the distance. From my thigh pocket I retrieve a bundle of cord that I have saved from earlier.

I am tying the first knot when I feel a light prick in my thigh. I keep on working feverishly in hopes that I've only imagined it, but my fears are soon realized. My body grows heavy, and despite my best efforts to stay on my feet, I slump to the ground. As I gaze upwards at the sky, a woman strides, hands on her hips, into my rapidly dimming field of view.

"Come on. You didn't think we could afford a few motion detectors?"

She turns, motioning to others I can't see. "Bring him in. And put his rope to good use."