Chapter 3
Greg emerged into the mortal world at the bottom of a cliff.
Immediately, he felt disoriented.
The mortal world was loud. There were people everywhere, running around with headsets or drinks or cameras.
Tech was scattered around the area. A bit further away there was a catering tent and a row of coolers with the Apex Energy logo on them.
And towering over all of it, a twenty-foot inflatable duck in sunglasses, swaying gently like it owned the place.
Greg stared at it.
The duck stared back, thumbs up, giant and unblinking.
What was going on here?
Greg looked down at his clipboard. He was in the right place. He was here for someone called Dustin.
Where was Dustin?
Led by instinct, Greg looked up at the platform on top of the cliff, barely visible against the sky.
There was a figure standing at the edge.
Was that…?
It had to be. But if Dustin was up there, why had Greg emerged down here?
Unless…
Oh.
Greg started his stopwatch.
He had 3:50 minutes to collect this soul.
3:42
Dustin jumped at seven.
The world tilted and the wind swallowed him whole. He spread his arms out and arched his back. His form was perfect.
He grinned.
This was the only place that made sense.
3:35
Greg watched the body fall.
It was... beautiful, actually. The way humans threw themselves at death, not because they wanted to die, but because they wanted to feel alive. He'd read about this. Studied it. But seeing it—
He clutched his clipboard tighter.
Focus. You have a job to do.
3:20
Freefall.
Dustin counted the seconds in his chest. One. Two. Three. Four.
The valley floor rushed up like a promise.
Five. Six.
He reached for the pilot chute.
3:12
The parachute bloomed open, a rectangle of black and red against the blue sky.
Greg exhaled. Here it comes. Any second now, something would go wrong. A line twist. A malfunction. The file said Dustin was going to die here and the file was never wrong.
The canopy caught air. Dustin spiraled downward in slow, graceful arcs.
What?
Greg checked the file again.
2:58
Dustin steered toward the landing zone, bleeding off altitude. He had his eyes on the target. He would nail it. Just like he did every time.
Well—almost every time.
He shoved that thought down where it belonged.
2:30
Something was wrong.
Greg looked at the time. Looked at Dustin, still descending, still very much alive. Looked back at the time.
Two and a half minutes left. Plenty of time. The death would happen on landing. It had to. A bad angle, a gust of wind, a—
Dustin touched down soft as a breath. He rolled once and came up grinning.
The crew burst into applause.
2:15
“That's a wrap on the jump!” someone shouted.
Dustin unclipped his harness, still buzzing with it. The high never lasted long, but right now, he felt like he could do anything. Fight a bear. Call his dad back. Eat a vegetable willingly.
He wouldn't do any of those things. But he could.
1:45
No. No, no, no.
This could not be happening!
Greg scanned the file. Everything was in order. Everything.
Except for the fact that Dustin was not dying.
1:30
Dustin pulled off his helmet and shook out his hair. Someone handed him a bottle of water. Someone urged him to move on to the interview segment. Someone else tried to give him crap for jumping early.
“So sorry,” Dustin said. “Want me to go back up and do it again?”
“No, of course not. But next time—”
Dustin didn’t listen to the rest of the sentence.
He caught a glimpse of the duck again.
“Can we move that thing?” he asked. “It's in the shot.”
“It's supposed to be in the shot,” the producer said. “That’s the whole point.”
“The whole point of a BASE jumping video is a giant duck?”
“The whole point is brand visibility, Dustin.”
1:15
Greg moved closer. The humans couldn't see him, but he still felt exposed. Like everyone knew he was failing.
He only had one minute and fifteen seconds left. And the human was still standing.
What if Greg failed his first freaking assignment?
0:45
“Fine,” Dustin said. “Leave the duck. But I'm not doing the interview next to it.”
He turned away, heading toward the water cooler. All he had to do now was answer a few stupid questions and he'd be free of this circus. He could go back to his motel. Have some fun with the locals, maybe.
A gust of wind rolled through the valley.
0:30
Something snapped.
Greg heard it—a sharp ping of tension released. His head whipped toward the sound.
The duck shuddered.
0:20
Dustin didn't hear it. He was mid-sip, back turned, thinking about the shower he was going to take and whether the hotel had good water pressure.
Another snap.
It was the mascot’s anchor lines.
0:15
The duck began to lean.
“Uh,” someone said. “Should that be—”
0:10
Greg watched in horror as twenty feet of branded nylon collapsed directly toward his assignment.
Oh no, he thought. Then he caught himself. This was what he wanted. This was it. This was the moment.
However ridiculous it might be.
He straightened his tie. Gripped his clipboard. Prepared his speech.
0:05
People were running.
Why were they running?
Dustin turned just in time to see a wall of duck coming at him.
“Oh, you've got to be—”
0:00
Impact.
The duck smothered him completely. Dustin went down in a tangle of vinyl and aggressive corporate branding.
Greg held his breath.
A moment of shocked silence fell over the crowd.
The crew shouted. People rushed forward. Someone was laughing. Someone was screaming, and over all the noise, a lady was asking if they got it on camera.
The time hit zero.
The window closed.
And underneath twenty feet of deflated mascot, Dustin groaned, shoved a giant webbed foot off his face, and said:
“I hate that fucking duck.”