I stood at the open door at the back of the airplane. I held on to the side of the doorway. I stared down at the desert. To the south, I could see Las Vegas. The buildings looked like little Lego blocks. I was 8,000 feet above the ground. That's nearly a mile and a half straight down. It's a long way to fall. Soon I would throw myself from the airplane into that mile and a half of empty space.

But not yet. I wasn't quite ready. There was one last thing to do. I needed to pray.

Some guys carry a lucky rabbit's foot. Others knock on wood. Just about everybody has some way to deal with fear.

It is a simple fear. It is a fear that the parachute won't open. And that the backup parachute won't open. If they both fail, you fall about the same speed as a piano . . . until spat -- you're a blob of jam.

I closed my eyes to pray. I pray before every jump. I mean, I think it's better to believe in God than in a rabbit's foot. If I die, I'd rather meet Him than the ghost of a rabbit with no feet. Besides, how lucky could the rabbit be if someone had killed it and chopped its feet off?

"Dear God," I prayed, "thank you for letting this fear remind me that my life is always in your hands. Please keep me safe. Amen."

I opened my eyes again. The roar of the engines changed as the pilot turned to take the airplane over the target far below. The wind noise rushed through my helmet. I shook from the force of the air that pushed over the airplane wings and into the doorway.

"Hey, Jeff!"

The shout came from a girl standing right behind me in the airplane. Sabella Scanelli. She's one of the best. My main competition. She and I were the only ones going up for this jump.

I turned my head slightly. There wasn't much time before I needed to jump.

"Yeah?" I shouted back.

"Betcha a hundred dollars I land closer!"

She meant closer to the target on the ground. We were both training for the biggest parachute event of the year.

Instead of answering with another shout, I shook my head no.

"Chicken?" There was a big grin across her suntanned face.

She knew I wasn't chicken. I just didn't have her kind of money. Her father owned a casino in Las Vegas. A long, shiny black car brought her to the airport to jump. It took her away again as soon as she was finished. Me? I wasn't rich. I had to work at the flight school to pay for my jumps.

"Chickens don't fly!" I shouted above the wind. "But I do!"

I pushed myself into all that empty air.

I love the feeling of letting the wind sweep me into a free fall. It is as close to flying as a person can get.

Face down, I spread my legs and arms. Although I was falling at more than 100 miles an hour, I was still so high that the ground didn't seem to get any closer. At least not yet. But if my parachute didn't open . . .

Far below me I saw the brown of the desert. The airport runway was a dark slash of pavement across it. Farther away a large circle of red and white marked the target. Soon enough, I would have to concentrate on getting my angle right.

For now, though, I was having fun. I leaned one way. Then the other. I moved my arms and swooped like a hawk. In free fall, without an open parachute, you can twist and turn in the wind.

Finally, I pulled on my rip cord.

I held my breath.

Although I have jumped more than 200 times, pulling the rip cord is the one thing that makes me nervous. For a few seconds, I always wonder if my 'chute will open. In my nightmares, I'm falling toward the ground. In my nightmares, I have two or three minutes to watch it rush toward me. In my nightmares, I have all that time to wonder what it will feel like to smash into the ground.

I held my breath and counted the seconds. One, two, three . . .

Bang!

My shoulder straps jerked me as the 'chute opened wide. It slowed my fall from a 120 miles per hour to 10 miles per hour. It slowed me so quickly that it seemed to yank me upward, like a giant hand pulling me from above.

I started to breathe again. Now all I had to do was guide myself toward the target as I floated downward.

I looked over my shoulder to see where Sabella was. I spotted her about a minute behind me. She was a dark shape against the pale blue sky.

I checked the ground.

I checked Sabella.

I checked the ground again.

I checked Sabella. And nearly screamed.

Her 'chute had tangled!

The strings of the parachute were all wound together, and it could not fill with air.

She tumbled toward me. Because I was floating and she was in free fall, she gained on me like a rock.

I saw her pull the breakaway cord and release her main 'chute. She yanked at her second rip cord to open her reserve parachute.

Nothing happened. No 'chute opened behind her.

I couldn't hear her scream, but her mouth was wide open in terror.

A second later, she flashed past me on her way toward death.

There was only one thing to do. I had to cut myself loose from my parachute.