[ WP ] A plane is about to crash and you secretly have the only parachute on the plane , what do you do ?

`` We're going down. That's just great. That's just fuckin great!'' 
 
 The large black man next to Harold started crying. `` I do n't wan na die! I do n't wan na die! I ca n't die! Not yet!'' 
 
 The passengers were in a frenzy, but all in all, everyone was doing what the pilot said to do. *Buckle up and hold on. * 
 
 Everyone except Harold. See, Harold was a sky marshal. A sky marshal with a gun. A sky marshal with a parachute, an item which he'd started carrying for just such a situation as the one presently unfolding. 
 
 He had stashed the parachute in his carry-on, and now he was going to use it to get out of this crash alive. 
 
 He got up and shimmied across the large black man that was crying, opened the overhead compartment, and pulled out his luggage, holding on to the seats for stability as the plane rumbled. 
 
 The man he had shimmied over put two and two together rather quickly, and tried to grab for Harold's chute as he was pulling it out. Harold pulled his Glock and shoved it in the man's face. The man let go of the bag and held his hands up. He grumbled. `` Nevamind, you go head and get on outta here lilbitch, I do n't need a bullet in me ontop all dis.'' Harold was already walking to the exit three rows behind him. One other person tried to grab his chute, but Harold pressed his gun against the man's ribs. The man sat down again. 
 
 He shot once into the window on the emergency exit, and people started screaming with renewed vigor. He counted to five and shot a second time, giving the plane little holes to depressurize through. He shot five rounds into the window when it shattered. The plane began to depressurize much faster. He shot at the base and the top of the exit, and hoped he'd hit whatever other locking mechanisms were in place. Harold figured now he might be able to open the door. 
 
 He pulled with all his might on the red bar, and it came loose. Harold was immediately sucked out. 
 
 He fell through the air. One second. He leaned slightly so he could rotate and get a good view of the plane. Two seconds. Someone slammed into him from above, and they went into a tumble. Three seconds. Harold shoved his Glock into the man's red and blue striped polo and fired twice. Four seconds. He shoved the man off and stabilized his spin. Five seconds. Another man plummeted past Harold, screaming, grasping for Harold. Six seconds. 
 
 `` Help me please God help me!'' 
 
 Harold ignored the man as his screams faded. Seven seconds. Harold slowed his descent as best he could. He estimated that he was about 5000 feet off the ground. He took a moment to appreciate the countryside before him. Eight seconds. 
 
 Harold yanked the cord on his parachute, and he experienced a jaw twisting deceleration. 
 
 As he floated over what he surmised to be Nebraska, he heard a distant explosion.
