Walter struggled with his pocket knife up high in the trees, trying to cut loose the ropes of the parachute connected firmly to the fighter jet chair he was strapped into. He knew the fall would be harsh, possibly fatal, but sitting there would hardly be the solution. About a full meter below him was a thick branch of the tree, and he tried to lower the chair to a height where he would be able to get onto the branch without falling towards certain death.
Another of the wires succumbed to the knifes' cutting edge with a load snap. The chair lowered another few inches towards the branch, and started to lean backwards.
Oh no...
Walter shuffled forwards in the chair as far as the seatbelts crossed in front of his chest would allow him to. His legs had lifted in front of the view of the branch by the backward rotation of the chair. He took a deep breath and started on yet another of the wires.
Time was of little importance here, most likely the forest was completely empty except for some rebel groups he would hardly want to run in to. The war had left most of the worlds' population in demise and poverty, and rebels and clans had been sprouting all around the world - they were not exactly known for their friendliness and hospitality. If they found out who he was, they'd most likely demand a ransom and kill him after collecting it. He took some reassurance from the fact that in any case, in the rebuilt world his name would be remembered.
Another snap pulled him from his thoughts, just in time to feel the chair lowering another few inches. The chair came back in its upright position, and Walter could almost put his feet on the branch. It looked rather slippery, and Walter hesitated for a moment. Cutting another wire could cause the chair to fall all the way down to the ground, which was at least 7 or 8 meters down. On the other hand, the branch looked unstable enough to have him fall down that exact same distance.
He decided to take the gamble of cutting another wire. Slowly and carefully, he started to cut the rope with the small metal knife. Every cut felt like an eternity, the other ropes making small crackling noises as the weight each of them carried increases ever so slightly. Suddenly, the knife was through the wire, and there was another loud snap. The chair slowly sank another few inches, and Walter felt the branch under his feet.
He reached for the button of the seatbelt, as suddenly there was another snap, and another one. He quickly clamped his legs around the branch of the tree as the last ropes of the parachute snapped. It was no use. Walter saw the branches above him move away from him, and knew that behind him, the ground was rapidly closing in.
The last thing he heard was an immensly loud crack, only a split second of it, and everything was gone.
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