With a roar of effort, he yanked the secondary handle. A snap like a gunshot echoed through his bones as the white silk bloomed above him. The violent jerk nearly knocked him unconscious, but then, the world went quiet again. The screaming wind became a gentle hiss.
He checked his altimeter: 12,000 feet. The air was getting thicker, warmer. He could see the green patchwork of fields below, looking like a miniature train set. Freier Fall
He was a "Jump-Master," a man who lived for the adrenaline of the (free fall). But this wasn't a planned jump over the Swiss Alps. This was Flight 174, and the left wing had just vanished into a cloud of orange fire. With a roar of effort, he yanked the secondary handle
He kicked the emergency door open. The roar of the wind was a physical blow, a wall of ice and noise. He looked back at the terrified faces in the cabin, but there was no time for heroics, only physics. He stepped out. The screaming wind became a gentle hiss