The following is an excerpt from Freefall by Brad Guy. At 22, Brad was in an accident during tandem skydive. He and his instructor’s parachute failed to open properly, sending them plunging 15,000 feet to the earth. The book, out now, tells Brad’s remarkable story of survival and offers a powerful picture of what is often referred to as post-traumatic growth. We may be broken, but we can put ourselves back together in beautiful, new ways.
AUGUST 31, 2013.
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The jumping conditions at 15,000 feet could not have been better; it was 25 degrees with not a cloud in the sky.
We don’t usually measure large distances in feet, so let me put it into perspective for readers on the ground: 15,000 feet is about four and a half kilometers. If you’re in Melbourne, that would take you from Flinders Street Station to Brunswick, St Kilda Pier, or Yarra Bend. If you’re in Sydney, that would stretch from the Opera House to Newtown, Rose Bay, or Northbridge. I travelled much of that distance at 80 kilometers an hour, a commuter’s dream.
Ecstasy. That’s what the freefall felt like, at first. All my fear and doubt were swept away by elation, as we headed towards earth. It was phenomenal. We were weightless, suspended but falling. A flood of pure adrenaline ran through my body, and as the cold air whistled and thundered around us, I recall being surprised by this ‘falling’ sensation.
That feeling was short-lived. I felt the thrust of the parachute release, but it wasn’t as strong as I had expected, and we didn’t slow down.
I looked up to see a crumpled parachute, failing to open and catch the wind. My tandem guide, Rick, began swearing and scrambling. We were strapped together, and I could feel his panic transfer to my body. He was shaking from exertion. Pure terror set in. I was silent as I hoped and prayed that whatever was causing the problem would be solved.
Then we began spiralling.
Shaking and spinning violently out of control, like being stuck in a washing machine. We were moving so rapidly that I lost a shoe. Through all the spinning, I could see the earth getting closer and closer. It was coming in fast. The harsh flap and high-tension whistling noise of the flailing parachute was almost deafening.
“Knees up! Knees up!” shouted Rick.
I assumed this was to stop the harness from coming off. That’s how much we were spinning.
Rick was working desperately hard at the parachute, trying to have it catch the air and open. Then I noticed a second one above me. Both chutes had been deployed, but the emergency one was caught on the original. They were entangled, and provided no wind resistance at all.
We were falling.
Falling towards the ground.
A retching feeling hit my stomach.
There was nothing to stop us. I realized with cold calm fear I was going to die. I was seeing my own death approaching, and there was nothing I could do to prevent it. I was going to hit the earth and simply stop existing. My mind erupted with feelings so fast that I could barely compute any of them. Amidst bracing myself for impact, I could see my family in my mind. What must they be witnessing right now? They were watching me fall to my death. I had brought my whole family there, to watch me die.
Guilt washed over me.
I crashed into the earth with a blast of searing pain that shot through every part of my body. Winded, I gasped for air, but nothing came in. I couldn’t feel my legs or move my head.
I was clearly alive at that moment, but was convinced I was going to be a paraplegic, at best. I could move my fingers and was conscious enough to recognise some of the parachute on top of me. I attempted to throw it off, and my fingers met water. Where was I?
With increasing awareness of my surroundings, I realized my legs were almost entirely submerged. Slowly, I clawed oxygen back into my lungs. More realizations. I was on top of Rick, who was not moving. Positioned slightly perpendicular to his body, I could see his face, blue and completely motionless. He was dead. I was lying on top of a dead person. And I was responsible for that death.
Guilt shivered down through my hands, and with the little strength I had, I struggled to shake him. To wake the dead man. Tears ran down my face as I clutched his hand and begged him to come back to life. All I could say was, “Please, Rick, please. Please don’t die.”
I’m not sure how much time passed, but I sat with that thought in the muddy water for an eternity.
When he eventually came to, he was in a world of pain. I tried to ask if it was ok, but the words never really came out. He was trying weakly to move away, but there was no chance. He was too badly hurt, and the harness locked us together. My weight must have been causing him more pain, but I was in too much agony to move.
There was a commotion, and shouts from voices coming towards me. Three strangers on a golf buggy appeared. Two of them waded into the water to unstrap my harness while another held my neck stable. I fought hard to keep the tears back, because I wanted to be strong. One of the buggy men kept telling me I was OK, but how could I believe him? How could things be all right when I couldn’t feel my body and was convinced I had just killed a guy and was now strapped to his corpse? Nothing was making any sense.
More commotion came from somewhere behind us. An ambulance pulled up. I was hoisted onto a stretcher and asked a series of questions to confirm my condition and ensure I wasn’t concussed. Surprisingly, I wasn’t. I was definitely less coherent than usual, mind you.
I heard someone screaming my name. I wasn’t able to move any part of my body. All I could make out were voices, some strangers, some familiar, and no faces because I could only look up at the sky from which I had fallen. It was my sister, Jess and boyfriend, Arnold, who arrived first. They had run as fast as they could from the airport with the rest of my family. Jess just kept shouting through her tears, “Brad, you’ll be fine. You’ll be fine.”
I was lifted, crying, into the back of the ambulance. Arnold joined me, and was speaking to the Ambos. People only tell you that you’ll be fine when things are really bad. The other voice coming from the distance was Mum. She was yelling through tears, telling me that she loved me. I just wanted to give her a hug, then and there. I’ve since heard stories about what that moment was like for them. One sister vomited, and the others rushed around for help but to no avail. The only thing they could do was run to me. Every single member of my family, and Arnold, came to my rescue.
Freefall by Brad Guy is out now. Signed copies can be purchased directly from the author’s website. Follow Brad on Instagram and TikTok.
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Chrisk
As someone who’s done the jump myself from 30K it must’ve been surreal and complete terror at the same time. Once was enough for me though. I had too many ear problems afterword’s from falling that fast.
itzallan
Whoa, that was amazing, in a terrifying, death-defying sort-of way! Reading that made me feel like I was in that situation crashing toward the ground. Glad he survived it.