Storming

Forty

HITCH AND JAEL started running at the same time. They headed for the back end of the field, toward Schturming. He overtook her, in her party shoes, almost immediately. Already the deep thrum of _Schturming_’s engines rumbled in his chest.

He shoved through the party. “Move! Get out of the way!”

His brain scrambled to catch up with his legs. Campbell had launched the thing? Why? Campbell had nothing to prove to these people. And he wouldn’t hurt Aurelia or Walter. Hitch had done what Campbell’d wanted. Campbell didn’t have a single reason to hurt them. His heart exploded energy through his body with every stride.

Ahead, the white cloud of _Schturming_’s envelope floated up from the ground. She was aloft, the bright moon showing every detail. The tethers had been cut, the propellers already repaired thanks to Campbell. She powered right over the top of the party.

People started looking up. They pointed. Some of them laughed and waved. But then uncertainty swept over them. Conversations ceased. The dancing stopped. A second later, even the band petered into silence.

Above, the engines cut out.

Hitch stopped, panting. Behind him, Jael skidded to a stop.

From above, a voice shouted down: “You are enjoying your party, yes?”

Zlo.

Rumbles of astonishment and confusion washed through the crowd.

How had this happened? Campbell knew Zlo had some gambit up his sleeve. He had men on guard. Surely, Zlo couldn’t have hidden away enough people to overpower them all. Hitch balled his fists. Or maybe he could. Maybe in allowing Schturming to be captured, what he had really done was cleverly get rid of all his deadweight—all the people from Schturming who’d disagreed with him. That would leave him with just those men who were loyal to him and his notions of what he wanted to do with the dawsedometer.

Hitch looked skyward—up and up, until there. Zlo and half a dozen other shadowy figures stood on the railed walkway atop the envelope.

Zlo laughed. “You tried your best, and you have lost. And now again, we are going to play this game by the rules I give you. Except this time, you need motivation maybe. I have two of your people as my passengers.”

“Gospodi pomiluy,” Jael breathed.

“Say your names,” Zlo said. “So your people know who they will lose.” He shook one of the shadows flanking him. “Say it.”

A whimper floated down. Then: “Aurelia Honoria Smith—and Walter.”

The party erupted. People started shouting and screaming. Mothers started running for their children, husbands for their wives. Standing near the food tables, J.W. shook his fist.

“Two of your people,” Zlo’s voice deepened. “One each for two days—tomorrow and the next day. You have until then to give my ransom. Wave red flag on top of your bluff when you are ready.” He turned to the shadows of his men. “Otpustite nas!”

The engines throttled up. The propellers started pummeling the air.

This whole thing was another setup. Zlo wouldn’t give Aurelia and Walter back, no matter what the town did from now on. He’d chuck them overboard at his own good pleasure and in his own good time, just to show who was boss.

Walter and Aurelia’s only chance was a rescue right here, right now.

Hitch turned and ran to the Jenny. He stopped at the rear cockpit long enough to stick his hand inside and feel for the fuel switch.

He turned back, and Jael practically smashed into him.

“What do you think you’re doing?” he demanded. But he already knew.

“I am coming with you.”

Protesting would be a fat lot of useless at this point. So he just plain didn’t. Besides, a little help would be more valuable than not about now.

“Get in! You know what the magneto switch is on the panel? As soon as I tell you, flip it.”

She kicked off her heeled pumps and jumped from the wing into the front cockpit. “All right!”

He raised his leg, like a pitcher ready for the game of his life, and cycled the propeller. “Contact!”

“Contact!” she hollered.

He hand-propped it again. The engine roared to life, and he ran back to swing himself into the rear cockpit. Feet on the rudder pedals and the stick in his hand, he opened the throttle and taxied the plane around to take off into the darkness. The wings caught air, and he pitched for a maximum rate of climb.

Ahead, _Schturming_’s inner lights winked through her portholes. Paired with the moonlight, that would have to be enough. So long as they were in sight, he could find the ship. The moment those lights winked out, she was as good as gone.

He puffed in breath after breath, his lungs working too frantically. Calm down. Think. He regulated his breathing. First thing that had to be done here was to keep Schturming from gaining altitude too fast. The lower it stayed, the better the chance it wouldn’t get away from him. He opened the throttle and careened past the airship, all the way to its prow.

Next thing would be to somehow get Walter and Aurelia out of there. Another of the rope ladders he and Rick used for car-to-plane transfers—like the one they’d used to clog _Schturming_’s propellers earlier today—was already secured and rolled up under the wing, just waiting to be of use. If he matched speed with _Schturming_—and if Zlo still had his hostages up top—maybe Jael could climb down the ladder and help them into the plane. It was risky. Insane, actually. But it was better than nothing.

He knocked his fist against his windshield and waved his arm until he got Jael to look back at him. Then he mimed unfastening the ladder and climbing it.

The Jenny reached the front of the dirigible. With a yell, he slipped her in closer than was good for anybody’s nerves. He nipped right under the front of the envelope, athwartships, and practically right over the top of the bow. The wind pressure shifted momentarily, and the sound of people yelping in surprise made it to his ears.

Ever so slowly and ever so slightly, Schturming edged down and to port.

Wasn’t much. But it was something. He allowed himself a tight grin.

He swung the Jenny back around to the stern. They’d make one pass over the top to scope things out. Then, with any luck, Jael would get the same idea and chuck the ladder over the side.

He swooped in low, barely twelve feet above the envelope. The Jenny’s forward bulk kept him from seeing straight ahead, so he kept the walkway under his left wing where he could monitor it.

In the front cockpit, Jael leaned over the side to see past the lower wing.

He held his breath and strained his eyes.

Nothing but white and more white. Maybe Zlo had already taken Walter and Aurelia down to the ship.

Then Jael stood up so fast the whole plane flinched.

He looked from her to the walkway. There. A large blot of black separated itself into half a dozen smaller shadows. Six pale faces looked up toward the Jenny.

Hitch bared his teeth. “Got you now.”

That was when Zlo’s men threw both Walter and Aurelia over the railing.

Every vein in Hitch’s body seemed to explode. The Jenny roared on past, and he whipped his head back to see over his shoulder.

For an instant, they both clung to the railing. Walter was better visible against the envelope, thanks to his dark suit and his dark hair. He seemed to be reaching for Aurelia. She was slipping, slipping. He was grabbing for her hand, trying to pull her back. But her weight was too much for him. Both of them lost their grip and skidded down the side of the envelope.

“No!” Hitch shouted.

Zlo and his men glanced from the empty railing up to the Jenny. Then they turned and ran back down the walkway, headed inside.

Still standing in the front cockpit, Jael waved her arms and moved her mouth. But the wind swept away her words.

Hitch’s mind spun in blank circles. His hands and feet seemed to operate entirely on their own. He turned the Jenny around and made another pass down the side of the envelope.

The mountain of white stretched forever. And then—the two shadows appeared against the endless envelope.

He exhaled hard.

Somehow, by some outright miracle, Walter and Aurelia had caught one of the ropes that were still slung over the top of the envelope from when Campbell had moored her earlier that evening. The rope must have caught on something on the other side, but it wasn’t secure. Walter and Aurelia were descending: a few inches every minute. Twirling, they clung—Walter above Aurelia’s head. Even if the rope could hold, they couldn’t.

In front of him, Jael flung first one stocking and then the other out of the plane.

For the love of Mike, what now?

Then she stood up, and it all made sense. His heart kept right on galloping. But if anybody could pull this off, she could.

The ladder was their only chance now. If he could get the ladder within reach, maybe Aurelia and Walter could grab on to it. Maybe. He growled. That kind of trick was scary enough with a seasoned professional, much less an addled woman and a little boy.

Jael gripped the cabane struts holding up the top wing. She swung out first one bare foot and then the other. As soon as her toes touched the canvas, she leaned forward and grabbed the guy wires. Hand over hand, she passed herself from the wire to the strut near where the ladder was affixed. She looked a whole lot more like a monkey than that society belle she’d been imitating earlier.

She unfastened the ladder and it exploded out into the wind.

He applied opposite stick to compensate for her offsetting the center of gravity, then eased the Jenny around for one more pass. All he had to do was get the ladder in close enough for Jael to help Walter and Aurelia onto the ladder—and then keep the plane steady while he matched pace with Schturming.

Sweat trickled down the side of his nose into his mouth. He licked it away.

Walter and Aurelia still clung to the rope. They’d already slid halfway down the envelope. That rope could give at any second.

He rammed the Jenny in close to the envelope. And then closer yet.

Only Jael, crouching on the wing, held steady. Her skirt whipped around her thighs. She gripped the heavy strut with one hand, then swung herself under the wing and down onto the ladder.

Let her make it, just let her make it. Hitch held his breath.

Between the wings, Aurelia blinked into view.

Hitch throttled back just a little and rose until Aurelia was beneath him, hopefully right where Jael could reach her and guide her hand onto the ladder. Nope, too much. He gunned the engine the tiniest of smidges, then held steady.

Aurelia’s wails filtered to him. Jael shouted something.

Aurelia rose out of view above the top wing.

That was bad. Schturming was climbing. Hitch nudged the stick back and added a little power to match the climb. Ahead, the sky was a black wall. If he lost Schturming in this, that’d be it for good and all.

Once more, the Jenny’s wingtip hung steady beside Aurelia.

Still wailing, Aurelia pried one hand loose from the rope and lowered it toward Jael. Immediately, she slid a good five feet down the side of the envelope.

Hitch pitched down and reduced power to keep up with her.

She reached again—and let go of the rope with her other hand.

His heart somersaulted in his throat for a second.

But then the Jenny took the full brunt of Aurelia’s weight on the ladder. Jael had caught her. The plane’s whole frame shuddered. Hitch overcompensated, and the Jenny yawed hard left, away from the dirigible—and Walter.

Hitch fought with the controls. The weight beneath him swung around, first one way, then the other.

Jael had to get Aurelia under control, or they were all in big trouble.

He gritted his teeth. “C’mon, c’mon, c’mon, baby.”

The Jenny howled for all she was worth. She shook beneath him. The stick bucked like a wild thing in his hands, and he strained against it.

A bare thousand feet off the ground, Jael suddenly heaved herself up onto the wing in front of Hitch. She gripped the forward cockpit’s rim and crouched to reach back down for Aurelia.

Hitch hauled on the stick. Every muscle and sinew in his arms felt like it was tearing.

Jael hooked her elbow over the cockpit rim for extra leverage and leaned back, straining to pull Aurelia up. She threw her head back, and her mouth opened in a silent shout.

Hitch’s heart stopped beating altogether. The wind rushed cool against the sweat on his face. His own breaths whistled, echo-like, in his head.

On the wing, Jael had gotten her feet under her. She crouched, one arm still hooked over the cockpit, the other pulling at Aurelia. She moved her mouth. She was talking, trying to calm Aurelia no doubt.

But if Aurelia heard any of it, she was too fear-crazed to listen. Hanging half off the wing, she kicked both legs and flailed with her free arm. She hit Jael, she hit the wing, she hit the fuselage. She was slipping.

“No!” Hitch shouted. What they’d just done in catching her was a miracle. They couldn’t lose her now. “Aurelia, don’t you do this!”

He looked around. Find a relatively flat place to land. Aurelia might break her legs, hanging off the wing like that. But it’d be a sight better than breaking her neck. Ahead, the pale dust of a road blinked faintly in the darkness. That’d do. It’d have to do. He pointed the Jenny in its direction.

As the plane turned, Aurelia’s scream cut through the wind. For the second time, her hand yanked free of Jael’s.

She fell.

Hitch froze.

Aurelia tumbled backwards. Her violet dress spread around her like broken wings. Her white face blinked in the darkness. Her eyes stared straight at him, her mouth open and round.

And then the Jenny sped on past. Darkness engulfed everything.

Aurelia… gone.

For an instant, his mind was a vast empty space that held only those two words.

In front of him, Jael crouched on the wing. The night swallowed her black dress, leaving nothing but the dim outline of her arms and legs and face. She didn’t move.

He looked up. The night sky stretched, punctuated only by icy stars. No Schturming. No Walter. A scream of pain and rage built in his chest. But he kept his mouth shut and trapped the power of it deep inside. He couldn’t let it out. If he did, it would tear him apart.

He breathed in, a huge breath, until his lungs felt as if they would burst.

He waited until Jael collapsed back into the forward cockpit.

Then he raised the Jenny’s nose to the sky and climbed. He wouldn’t find the ship. And, even if he did, the chances of Walter remaining safe that long were next to hopeless. By now, the boy would have fallen too.

There would be no going back from this night. But he had to try. He’d fly until the engine choked from lack of fuel. Then he’d land, refuel, and fly again.

God help them all.