CHERUB: Mad Dogs - Robert Muchamore Page 0,1

a metal spork bulging through the fabric of the pack strapped to Kevin’s chest. Kazakov unbuckled the pack, ripped out the metal object and wagged it in the boy’s face. ‘I told you to wrap sharp items inside something soft. Do you want to land on that? Do you want to find yourself with a spork sticking out of your chest on an island beach an hour’s boat ride from the nearest emergency room?’

James hooked his parachute over his back as Kevin said, ‘No sir,’ guiltily.

‘No time to repack,’ Kazakov yelled, before sending the spork clattering across the aircraft and launching a volley of Russian swear words. ‘You’re not getting that back. You’ll remember your lesson every time you have to eat with your fingers.’

Unlike the trainees, James didn’t have equipment to contend with because the instructors’ stuff was being delivered by boat.

‘A hundred and twenty seconds,’ Mr Pike shouted. ‘Start hooking up, people.’

As Dana whispered something in Mr Pike’s ear, the eight trainees formed a line and began clipping hooks – known as strops – between the back of their parachutes and a taut metal cable above their heads. The youngsters would be making a static line jump, meaning that a pull on the strop would open their chutes automatically once they were clear of the aircraft.

As the countdown dropped below one hundred seconds, Mr Kazakov and Dana both started walking towards James, who’d strapped on his helmet but was still struggling to fit his parachute harness.

‘Come on,’ Kazakov said, showering James with spit. ‘You’re useless; you’re supposed to be helping out with the little ones.’

Kazakov grabbed the harness of James’ parachute and yanked the straps so tightly that James’ shoulders squeezed together. His stomach churned as the giant Russian eye-balled him.

‘I can’t do this,’ James said weakly. ‘I’ve psyched myself out.’

Dana interrupted. ‘Mr Kazakov, I spoke to Pike about James and he’s changed the drop order. I’ll jump last and James second to last so that I can give him some encouragement if his nerves get to him.’

Kazakov glowered at James. ‘I don’t share my tent with cowards. You make that jump or tonight you sleep outside with the spiders and snakes.’

‘I’m not a trainee you know,’ James said indignantly. ‘You can’t boss me around.’

‘You’re jumping sixth now,’ Dana said, diplomatically pointing Kazakov towards the trainees by the door. ‘I’ll sort James out. You’d better go hook up.’

A warning buzzer sounded as Mr Pike began opening the aircraft door, flooding the gloomy metal tube with sunlight. The numbers on the clock began to flash as the count dropped below sixty seconds.

‘I feel like such a dick,’ James confessed, as he looked across at the trainees. ‘Some of them are ten years old.’

‘Focus,’ Dana said firmly as their gloved fingers interlocked. ‘You’ve been trained for this. Now take deep breaths and stay calm.’

‘Hook up, you two,’ Mr Pike shouted, from beside the door. ‘Eighteen seconds.’

James fought a spasm in his gut as Dana dragged him towards the trainees lined up against the fuselage. None of them looked happy, but none had worked themselves into as much of a state as James.

‘Good luck, kids,’ Kazakov shouted. ‘Remember: three elephants, check canopy and steer gently if you drift close to another jumper.’

James and Dana hooked their strops on to the cable, as an announcement loud enough to be heard in a war zone blasted out of a speaker beside them.

‘This is the co-pilot speaking. Navigation confirms we are in location. Winds are nine knots north easterly, giving us a drop-zone window of fifty-eight seconds on my mark.’

James looked over the helmets of the trainees as the countdown clock flashed triple zero. There was an eleven-year-old boy less than twenty centimetres ahead and Dana right behind with a reassuring glove on his shoulder, but he felt isolated.

Part of him wanted to fling the chute off his back and go spew in the toilet, while another was acutely aware of how much abuse he’d get back on campus if he did. And if he could master his nerves, he’d be down in under two minutes.

‘Mark,’ the co-pilot announced.

The drop clock changed from red to green as Mr Pike began yelling, ‘Go, go, go.’

To ensure that as many people as possible made the drop smoothly, the most confident trainees – mainly ones who’d jumped when they were red-shirts – were lined up first. As soon as the first trainee was out the next had to stand with their toes overhanging the door. After waiting