by Chris Ryan
Kelly squatted down beside a dummy on the floor. ‘It was here. Someone took it.’ She suddenly sounded close to tears.
Ben had a terrible sinking feeling. They had burned their bridges coming here – and now, it seemed, not only was there no way to get to Bel; they had no escape route themselves.
He saw a door to a stockroom at the back of the shop and hurried across, trampling over a pile of discarded jackets. Kelly seemed dangerously close to giving up: he had to keep them both going. ‘They wouldn’t just have the one on display,’ he called. ‘Come and help me look.’
The stockroom was piled high with boxes. Kelly appeared beside him and pointed at a high shelf. ‘Up there! That’s what you want.’ There was hope in her voice again.
Ben climbed up the shelves and saw a stack of boxes with a picture of a power chute on the side. They were heavy and he had to brace his feet on the lower shelf before grabbing the boxes with both hands and pulling. Several boxes came out at once. Kelly dodged out of the way as they avalanched to the floor. Ben jumped down and passed one to her, then picked one up for himself.
They hurried back to the front window, their feet skating on the shattered glass. ‘We’ll have to put them on outside otherwise the chute will get tangled up,’ Kelly told Ben. She reached the pavement and put the box down, then stopped, all the fight gone out of her.
‘What’s the matter?’ said Ben, laying his box down next to hers.
‘I just realized. They don’t keep them fuelled in the shop.’ She looked at him, tears in her eyes. ‘Where are we going to get any gas?’ After the strain of the past few hours, she was exhausted.
Ben felt exhausted too, but one thing he’d inherited from his mother: he didn’t know how to quit. He spotted an old Land Rover, crusted with outback mud, parked at the end of the precinct. Like the shops, it had escaped fire damage. ‘We’ll get petrol out of that—’
Kelly shook her head. ‘No good. The chutes need a two-stroke mix, like the microlight. We could have got it back at the gas station …’ Her words trailed off.
Ben looked around, desperate for inspiration. Above the roofs, he could see a pall of black smoke in the direction they’d come from. Was it coming from the building next to the petrol station? It was certainly burning fiercely.
They had to keep going, he told himself firmly. They couldn’t give up.
‘You get the chutes ready,’ he said, ‘and I’ll worry about the fuel.’
A look of horror came over Kelly’s face. She laid a bandaged hand on his arm. ‘Be careful.’
Ben set off at a run, back towards the petrol station. Hot smoke smothered him like a filthy wet blanket. Even when he held the wet material over his face it didn’t seem to make much difference, but he forced himself to keep running. He had to get to the petrol station before the flames from the office building did.
His brain was working even faster than his legs. He needed a plan. As soon as he got to the roundabout, he’d be able to see whether he could safely reach the petrol station. If he was in any doubt, he’d turn round and come back.
It was a crazy plan. But without the fuel for the power chutes they couldn’t get out of the city, which was worse.
He ran across the green and had to break stride to avoid tripping over something lying in his path. He almost failed to see it in the smoke.
He continued for a few paces, then stopped and looked back. It was a lawnmower.
Kelly had got the chutes laid out on the ground. They looked like giant flowers – one blue and lime-green, the other purple and pink. She looked up when she heard the screech of metal scraping over paving slabs. Ben was dragging the lawnmower noisily back towards her.
‘Here’s our fuel. Lawnmowers use a two-stroke mix, don’t they? We need something to put it in.’ He dashed through the broken shop window, grabbed a billycan from the camping display, took it to the lawnmower and tipped the fuel out.
‘The fuel cap for the power pack is on the top,’ said Kelly.
Now Ben saw the power packs for the first time; they looked like giant fans on metal frames, with a mass of straps and clips. Kelly had stood them upright, ready for use.
As he poured the viscous liquid into the fuel tanks, Ben glanced up at the roofline and the black smoke beyond the burning offices. If he hadn’t found the lawnmower he might be there now.
Ben tossed the billycan away. ‘Ready.’
Kelly crouched down beside one of the engines.
‘Pull that red cord to start the engine, then put it on my back. Fasten everything tightly. It’s basically a parachute harness with an industrial-strength fan attached.’
Ben shook his head, confused. ‘You want me to start it and then put it on your back? Not the other way round?’
‘That’s just the way it’s done,’ said Kelly. ‘Now hurry up.’
Ben pulled the cord. The engine roared into life and the white propeller inside its frame quickly became a blur. He fastened the harness around Kelly’s waist and chest, then she got to her feet. Red webbing straps dangled between her legs. Ben fastened those too.
‘Attach the two clips from the chute to my shoulders and put my hands through the steering loops – those red things by the harness,’ Kelly told him.
Ben did that, then hooked the throttle cord through the harness so she could reach it with her teeth.
‘It should be easy to see the tram station when we’re in the air,’ he said. A sudden thought occurred to him. ‘Can these things carry two people?’
Kelly thought for a moment. ‘They can take a sixteen-stone man and your mom must weigh less than half that. I weigh eight stone so I should be able to take her. She can cling to me.’
Above the trees, the plume of smoke continued to boil. It was getting bigger and darker.
Ben started his engine, put it on his back and set up his harness and controls. The spinning propeller reverberated through the metal frame to his very bones.
‘Ready?’ said Kelly.
Ben nodded.
‘Do what I do. When the chute inflates, pull on the throttle and take your feet off the ground.’ She took the throttle between her teeth, then set off at a run down the street.
The lime-green chute flared out behind her like the train of a wedding dress. Ben followed the trailing material, making sure to leave enough room for her to get clear ahead of him. Just as he thought it would never get off the ground, the breeze caught the chute and started to lift it. Kelly opened the throttle. The engine roared. To Ben’s amazement, her feet left the ground.
Ben felt the chute pull at his shoulders. He glanced behind. The pink material was fluttering up into the air. He pulled on the throttle. The chute filled with air and pulled him upwards. In moments he was soaring into the sky.
It was an amazing feeling. Flying the microlight had been fun but this was ten times better. It was so free, he felt like a bird. If only the engine was quieter it would be perfect.
Kelly climbed in a circling pattern. Ben copied her. The chute was easy to steer – just pull the cord and you went in that direction. In moments they were hanging above the roofs. Smoke blew past in drifting clouds. Through it they caught a glimpse of chimneys and steep roofs. The burning offices by the petrol station were completely obscured by a black pool of smoke.
Where was the tram station? Ben wondered. He had lost his bearings. He could see abandoned vehicles and fire engines, but no trams. The roofs around them were a mass of geometric shapes in tones of grey and black. He tried to slow down, so that he could hover in one place and get a proper look at the ground.
Suddenly a thermal shot him up twenty feet. He gunned the throttle to regain control. So that explained why Kelly was circling constantly.
He looked down. He was flying over the petrol station. The wind was now blowing the black smoke away, revealing the low white roof over the forecourt. It was surrounded by a sinister border of orange flames.
They had to find Bel quickly. If the petrol tanks under th
e station forecourt went up, they would be engulfed in the fireball like insects in a flame.
Then Ben caught sight of something below him. Down in the murk, a bright yellow smudge beneath the cloud of smoke. It was moving. No … waving.
Ben eased up on the throttle and went down.
The yellow smudge took shape. It was a small red-headed figure waving a bright yellow fireman’s jacket.
‘Mum!’ yelled Ben.
She was standing on a long, low roof lined with metal walkways and rows of skylights. That was obviously the tram station.
As she saw him she started waving more frantically.
Ben craned his neck and spotted Kelly’s lime-green chute circling a short distance away. Ben flew up to get her attention, then headed back to the tram station roof – where Bel was now waving the jacket with a vigour bordering on fury. Ben cracked a smile as he saw her shouting up at him. When he flew off, she must have thought he hadn’t seen her.
Ben flew in a small circle over the roof. Kelly was right behind him. She cut the revs of her engine to a gentle chug, and flared the pulleys on her chute so that she floated gently down.
Bel saw she was about to be rescued. She put the jacket on and looked up expectantly, but Kelly suddenly pulled the throttle and rose up again, away from the roof.
She manoeuvred her chute over until she was hovering opposite Ben. He shook his head, baffled, trying to mime, What’s going on?
Kelly indicated her bandaged hands.
So what? thought Ben. Then understanding dawned. Kelly couldn’t hold onto Bel and operate her chute at the same time.
Ben nodded. He would have to go down and get Bel himself.
He cut the revs and the chute began to drift slowly down. But would his chute be able to lift both of them? Ben figured he must be a lot heavier than Kelly.
Bel was glaring up at him, hands on hips, annoyed. Her blue eyes flashed in her grimy face. He saw her mouth something that was probably the sort of thing a thirteen-year-old shouldn’t hear his mother saying.
Ben was aiming to land next to her but an air current took him over to the other side of the roof and deposited him on the glass canopy. Still partly supported by the chute, he had no choice but to run along the glass roof. At any moment he expected to crash through the panes, but obviously they were stronger than they looked. He half ran, half flew over to where Bel was standing.
‘Mum, quick,’ he gasped. ‘Hook your arms into my harness.’
He expected Bel to obey immediately, but instead she looked at him with a sceptical expression.
Behind her he could see the plume of smoke rising from the petrol station. It was getting darker as the thick smoke shut out the light from the setting sun.
‘Ben,’ she said, ‘you surely don’t expect that thing to carry the both of us?’
Typical! Ben thought. Here he was, risking his life, and his mother – just as she used to do when he did anything dubious as a small child – seemed to be angry, rather than worried about him. What was it with parents? How come they just slipped into telling-off mode in any situation?
‘I didn’t have time to pack a spare!’ he almost screamed at her.
The more he lost his temper, the more Bel dug her heels in. He forced himself to speak very calmly. ‘Let’s say we’ve got a fifty-fifty chance. Could be worse.’
Bel still looked dubious, but she took a step towards him.
‘Hurry!’ he yelled.
At last Bel seemed to understand it was an emergency. She turned round so that she faced forward and put her arms into his harness. Ben un-fastened the waist band and adjusted it so it would go around her too. Hastily he buckled her in front of him. She smelled of wet soot and smoke, and chemicals.
‘Now what?’ said Bel.
‘Now we have to run like blazes!’
It was awkward, like running in one of those races where you’re tied to someone else.
The chute began to catch the air and rose, dragging upwards on his shoulders. Ben pulled on the throttle. The engine roared, but it didn’t pull them into the air. Something was wrong.
The chute didn’t have enough power to lift them.
Chapter Twenty-two
Ben tried to slow down, but Bel was powering forwards, pulling him along by the harness. He yelled in her ear, ‘Stop!’
Bel stumbled to a halt and he nearly fell over her.
‘What did you do that for?’ she snapped.
‘You’re too heavy,’ Ben gasped. He unclipped the waist harness and Bel half fell forward.
She twisted round and looked at him, furious. Her red hair was nearly black with sweat and soot. In fact most of her was. ‘Don’t be so rude.’
‘It’s that jacket. You’ll have to take it off.’ With one hand he yanked the jacket off her shoulders, then saw her boots.
‘Take those off too,’ he said, pointing. ‘They must weigh five pounds each! Jesus, Mum, you picked a hell of a time to give up wearing sandals.’
‘Take off my boots?’ said Bel. ‘Have you gone mad?’
‘Yes, and take mine off too. Otherwise we won’t be able to get airborne.’
She knelt down, obviously not convinced he was entirely sane.
‘Try and do it sometime today,’ shouted Ben.
‘There’s a petrol station over there and it’s about to blow.’
‘There’s no need for sarcasm,’ she said. But the thought of an exploding petrol station obviously persuaded her. She undid his bootlaces, grumbling, ‘I haven’t done this to you since you were three years old. Foot up.’
Ben lifted his foot. ‘Yeah, yeah,’ he muttered.
She got one boot off, then the other. The sky was growing darker and darker.
Ben saw Kelly, a lime-green figure high in the grey clouds. She was already making good progress towards the sea.
Bel knelt down and unfastened her own boots. She had done them up securely with double knots because they were a size too big.
While she fumbled with them, Ben watched the roof of the petrol station. The flames were getting higher and burning debris was dropping down onto the fore-court. Then a chunk of blazing roof fabric landed near one of the pumps.
‘Hurry up!’ yelled Ben.
‘I’m going as fast as I can,’ grumbled Bel.
‘Well, go faster,’ retorted Ben, ‘or we’ve had it.’
The piece of roof was throwing out flames and sparks barely half a metre away from the looped hose of the pump. Ben watched the progress of the flames with the same fascination that a mouse watches a cat stalk towards it.
Bel stood up, both boots off. She turned her back to Ben and hooked her arms into the shoulder straps. Ben again fastened the waistband and the leg straps.
‘You know the routine,’ he shouted. ‘On your marks … go!’
The roof was covered in fine gravel and it was painful to run on it in bare feet. Ben felt Bel falter with the discomfort and yelled in her ear, ‘Faster!’
The chute rose up behind. He opened the throttle. The propeller roared up to top speed.
Had they shed enough weight? Would the chute’s remaining fuel be enough to lift them?
The power pack dragged their feet clear of the roof, but it was like a badly judged take-off with too little lift. Ben kept the throttle on maximum. It wasn’t enough. They were starting to drift back down again.
Ben saw a flash out of the corner of his eye. Suddenly they shot vertically up into the air as if they’d been fired out of a cannon. The deafening roar came a split second later. A wave of heat followed, so intense that Ben felt as if his skin was peeling off. The shock wave catapulted them further up still. The sky around them was completely dark and filled with burning debris that wheeled and tumbled like a flock of birds on fire.
The flames had reached the petrol tanks in the filling station. The explosion and the immense burst of heat had rocketed them vertically upwards. Far below, under the seething black smoke, the petroleum fire blazed as bright as the s
un.
Way off in the distance, Ben could see a lime-green speck. It must be Kelly. She seemed to already be well away from the danger. That told him which way to steer to reach the coast.
He pulled on the left side of the canopy, but the chute didn’t respond. He looked up. Was the steering rope caught?
Then he saw a tongue of orange flame licking at the purple fabric. One section of his canopy was a tattered scrap of smouldering material. Already he could see sky through a hole that was getting wider by the second.
Quickly, he pulled the other side. The chute responded and took him inland again, over the burning city. Now they were starting to lose height again.
Bel twisted her head and looked round at him in alarm. She spotted the hole in the canopy and her face froze in horror.
They caught another thermal and the chute soared up once more. The burning city shrank to toy size. The intense heat dissipated and Ben felt able to breathe again. Ahead, the horizon opened out and the smoke started to disperse. He could see the sea.
But did they have enough lift to get all the way there?
Now he could make out the jetty and, beyond it, the harbour. Boats covered almost every square metre of the water’s surface. People were crowded onto the decks, huddling together as they watched their city burn.
A crash landing in the harbour wouldn’t be so bad. Except that Ben wasn’t at all sure they were going to make it that far.
They were losing altitude again and he tried to open the throttle, but it was already at maximum. The hole in the chute above them was widening as the fabric continued to smoulder.
They passed over burning roofs, then a burning park, drifting lower all the time. Leaves from the trees lining the park threw sparks into the air.
They continued to descend, their feet brushing over flaming branches. Whirling cinders burned their bare soles.
Ben smelled scorching fabric and looked up. Another section of the chute had gone. He gave it another thirty seconds at most – then the power pack would be blasting air up with no chute to catch it.
They didn’t need thirty seconds. When Ben looked down again, they were sailing over the boats. They’d made it. He cut the engine. The silence was immediate and almost soothing.
