“Ewen! It’s collapsing!”
Ewen thrust a second torch into the fire’s dying embers. It refused to catch.
They had forgotten to keep the campfire going!”
He threw himself flat and blew frantically into the bed of hot ashes. Sparks showered into the sky but no flames. He blew again, filling his lungs until they felt about to burst, and blasted air into the centre of the campfire in an explosive out rush. A tiny flame flickered and was extinguished. He sucked in again and blew till his vision blurred. A sudden crackle, an explosion of heat that singed his eyebrows, and the brand was alight. He rushed back to the balloon clutching the precious flame. The balloon was no longer tear-shaped but was now flattened at the top as though the apex of the envelope had collapsed inwards on itself. Crease marks were appearing around the sides, spoiling the envelope’s powerful symmetry, and the throat was dipping down to Jenine. In his panic he forgot the practice sessions and tripped on one of the restraint ropes. The torch’s head of blazing seaweed flew off the stick and landed near the fire basket. As he went down, he felt a great rush of hot air breathing down on him, sighing softly as it surged through the balloon’s neck, forced out by the weight of the collapsing envelope above.
Ewen heard Jenine give a cry of despair. He recovered his balance and prodded desperately at the blazing ball of seaweed, trying to snag it back on the stick. It rolled in the sand and was in danger of going out. The balloon gave another great surge as a whisper of a breeze caught it. There was only one possible course of action to avert a disaster. He snatched up the ball of fire and tossed it into the fire basket an instant before the pain seared through his hands. The plugs of streamer seaweed caught immediately and sent a great tongue of flame into the envelope’s gaping maw. It lit up the interior of the balloon so that they both saw the timely arrest of the skin’s inward collapse.
Ignoring the pain in his hands, Ewen fumbled for a bone knife to cut the last three restraint ropes. With two severed, the balloon gave a sudden unbalanced surge in the strengthening breeze, lifting both passenger baskets clear of the sand even though they were laden with ballast.
“Ewen! It’s pulling out! Get aboard!”
But Ewen didn’t need Jenine’s anguished cry to see what was happening. The last peg was yanked out of the sand before he had a chance to cut the rope. He made a blind leap for his basket and hauled himself over the rim just as it struck the scaffolding and jammed under a horizontal support. The fire basket spun crazily, spewing burning ashes through its vent holes. Despite its burden of ballast, the balloon continued to lift on Jenine’s side, swinging the fire basket off centre so that its furnace-like flames brushed near the envelope’s neck, causing the membrane material to blister and blacken. Mustering unknown reserves of strength, Ewen pressed his hands upwards against the scaffold with enough force to punch a foot through the woven floor of his basket. He succeeded in shoving the basket clear. Freed of encumbrances but without enough buoyancy to climb, the balloon dipped and dragged the passenger baskets along the beach. Jenine saw the dark shadows of the trees at the edge of the beach looming in the balloon’s path.
“Dump your ballast!” she screamed across at Ewen. “Dump! Dump! DUMP!”
Originally they had planned to drop the bags of rock in an orderly manner to preserve the balloon’s balance but there was no time now. They frantically yanked on the bag nooses and released a cascade of rocks that fell to the beach with dull thumps. In his rush Ewen accidentally jettisoned a bag of the precious fuel plugs. This time the balloon climbed, dragging the baskets through the upper foliage of the forest. With fronds slashing painfully at her forearms Jenine managed to keep her nerve. She yanked open a fuel bag and began lobbing the plugs of compressed seaweed into the fire basket. The invigorated fire belched heat and light into the envelope and lifted the balloon clear of the treetops.
At last they were free of the ground and rising fast.
11.
The sudden silence after the pandemonium of the last few minutes was a blissful respite that enabled the couple think clearly and orientate themselves in relation to their strange new environment.
Jenine called across the gap that separated the two baskets, asking Ewen if he was all right.
“All in one piece, but I’m going to have some real blisters to teach me a lesson for being so clumsy.”
They peered down in fascination at the receding beach, now palely lit by the ghostly first light of dawn. The balloon swung gently and they saw in its entirety the island that had been their home and prison for five weeks.
“It all looks so different,” said Jenine. “To think that it took us a day to walk right round it.” She caught her breath and pointed. “Look.”
In the early light the buildings that they had seen across the straits from the hilltop looked absurdly close. They were the waterfront structures of a small city with buildings and tower blocks connected by broad, straight roads. There were even mag-lev train tracks that snaked everywhere without entering tunnels. The entire community was laid out without regard for the conservation of space that they were used to in Arama. The strange cylindrical sections that Ewen had first seen looked even more mysterious. They lay beyond the city, scattered about on a barren plain in a seemingly random fashion.
The air became noticeably colder which imparted more lift to the balloon, causing its rate of ascent to increase slightly. Hot air breathed unexpectedly on them. The decreasing atmospheric pressure was causing the hot air in the envelope to expand and spill out through the throat; as it expanded, so its temperature dropped. The balloon stopped climbing. The envelope exhaled another blast of hot breath like a monster.
“We’re losing height!” Jenine warned.
The transition from a slow, but steady descent to a near plummet was so rapid that it took them both by surprise. The sea, burning red in the light from the rising sun, was coming up to meet them at an uncomfortable speed. Ewen looked up and saw the cavernous, fume-filled interior of the envelope collapsing.
“Jenine! Fuel!”
Despite the disaster looming, they managed to keep calm and toss fuel plugs into the fire basket one at a time. The fire flared up, searing their faces, but the infusion of heat into the envelope did little to arrest the downward drift.
“Wait! Wait!” Jenine snapped. “The envelope’s fully stretched! There’s no point in burning more fuel for the moment. The heat just spills out. Maybe it takes time to start climbing.”
They waited, clutching the rims of their baskets and staring down at the approaching sea. Ewen looked at the hill that they had climbed on several occasions and saw that they were below the level of the vent. It was best to copy Jenine’s example and keep a careful watch on the envelope’s vast interior.
She pointed to where the membrane was starting to crease and fold in. “Another plug!” she called out. “Just one.”
Flames roared up from the fire basket.
“And another.”
Ewen lobbed another fuel plug into the fire. He looked down in time to see one of the trailing restraint ropes dip into the sea. At least the impact would be gentle, and there would enough buoyancy in the envelope to enable them to paddle back to their island prison.
There was a barely imperceptible tug and the balloon began to rise. The jerk dislodged hot ashes from the fire basket which spiralled down to the sea. Ewen didn’t think they had been ejected from the vent holes.
“One more!” Jenine yelled in exaltation, and threw a plug onto the fire.
The tongues of fire reached right into the envelope. The balloon’s rate of ascent quickened noticeably. More glowing ashes whirled from the fire basket. This time Ewen thought they came from beneath the giant skull where he couldn’t see.
“That’s all we have to do!” Jenine declared excitedly. “Just keep burning enough to keep the skin tight! Another!”
The balloon continue to climb into the clear, morning air. The reddish light of the sun changed to a rich gol
den and the eastern sky went from indigo to pale blue. The ashes falling from the unseen hole in the fire basket were now a steady trail of falling sparks.
“There’s no wind,” said Jenine, leaning over her basket and looking down. “We’ve drifted no distance at all.”
“It’ll come,” Ewen replied. Strange that there was no need to shout. He had imagined that it would be noisy and yet there was no sound apart from the creak of their baskets and the spluttering of the fire. The escaping ashes were a worry. Of course, they’d be building up now - dead weight; perhaps it was just well that the fire basket was shedding them.
Another two plugs were tossed into the fire basket to maintain the balloon’s rate of climb through the still air. Despite the brightness and warmth of the sun, the cold air stung their lungs if they inhaled too sharply.
“Still no wind,” said Jenine dejectedly. “I’ve got only two bags of fuel left.”
“I’ve got one bag,” said Ewen. “I dropped one by mistake.”
Jenine said nothing. Unless the wind came, it was clear that they weren’t going to make the strange land.
“Jenine! Look! There! And over there!”
For some reason they had always thought of their island as being unique. It never occurred to them that there might be more. Certainly not a whole string of them lying off the main land mass, and stretching in both directions as far as the eye could see.
And then came the wind.
12.
The initial gusts before the balloon started moving with the wind caused the envelope to flatten and distort, squeezing out such huge quantities of hot air that the couple thought they were in danger of asphyxiation from the fumes. The loss of height was not so serious this time, but refilling the envelope cost them the last of their fuel plugs. There was no point in conserving them. They had learned that once an envelope collapse started, it was difficult to prevent it from escalating. But the fire continued to burn briskly, controlling their descent just as Ewen had anticipated it would when he had designed the balloon.
“We’re going to make it!” Jenine cried excitedly.
It certainly looked like it. The coast was edging nearer even though the wind’s general direction was carrying them away from the city. They could see individual rocks on the broad beaches. Jenine pointed to an enclosed wheeled vehicle driving along the road at the top of beach.
“It’s watching us,” she said. “It keeps stopping. Ewen - there’s people there - worrying about us. Doesn’t it make you feel good?”
Ewen was busy estimating the narrowing distance to the coast and equating it with their rate of descent. It was certain that they would make dry land. He began worrying about what sort of landing they would make. Unlike the island there were few trees. With each passing second, the beach looked more likely to be their landing site. It was going to be a rough, bumpy touchdown, and a long drag across the sand, but they were unlikely to come to any harm. The sea, reaching inexorably towards them, now bore a heavy swell. Rollers were breaking on the beach; ahead a rocky headland was sending plumes of white spray high into the air. But the fire was holding well on the last of their fuel, maintaining the envelope’s shape and slowing their descent.
The vehicle stopped and five men wearing helmets jumped out. They were too far to make out who they were but their black uniforms and bearing bore the unmistakable stamp of the police or the military.
And then disaster struck.
Without warning the bottom fell out of the heat-weakened fire basket and dumped their precious fire in a great cloud of fumes and smoke from which an avalanche of hot ashes fell hissing and spluttering into the sea. After that everything happened with extraordinary speed. The envelope had been on the point of collapse. Without the sustaining column of heat from the fire basket, it folded in on itself; its weight acting as a giant bellows, driving a wall of hot air and fumes through the balloon’s wildly flapping throat like a dragon exhaling.
The wind spun the world about Jenine. A whirling section of the fire basket, still attached to its rope, struck her on the temple. Her scream was cutoff by the blackness that closed in and muffled by the voluminous folds that fell about her.
Ewen heard her cry and looked frantically around, momentarily disorientated, not knowing which way was up or down. A glimpse of grey water racing towards him but he had no chance to brace himself before his basket hit the sea. The force of the impact smashed his helpless body through the bottom of the woven reeds, pinioning his arms as the terrifying green light closed around him. The dull pressure on his eardrums told him he was going deep. His panic released a mass of adrenalin into his muscles that gave him the strength to smash his way out of the basket and claw desperately towards the suffused, pale daylight. His head broke the surface. He tried to inhale but a layer of the envelope’s membrane clamped to his face and was sucked into his mouth. He clawed desperately, ripping through, but another layer fastened over his face like something pallid and alive. There was no end to them. There was a reddening before his eyes. The pain in his hands was forgotten as his fingernails tore frantically through successive layers of clinging membrane. A wave broke over him and suddenly he was sucking clean, cold air into his tortured lungs.
“Jenine!” he gasped, twisting head this way and that, trying to make sense of the billowing folds that surrounded him like heaving clouds. The swell lifted him. He caught a glimpse of blonde hair a little away from the island of wreckage, and struck out for her. Water entering his clothes made swimming difficult. He grabbed the hair and turned Jenine over so that her face was above water.
“Jenine!” His feet pumped furiously as he trod water. Despite being tossed about by the swell, he managed to pound her hard between her shoulder blades and was rewarded by a choking cough. At least she was breathing. There was no time for anything else. He looked desperately around as the swell lifted him. The heavy seas pounding the rocky headland were terrifyingly close. He could hear the boom of surf on the beach. He kicked towards the sound, one arm hooked around Jenine’s neck and the other doing its best to aid his flailing legs.
He swam blindly for several minutes until exhaustion forced him to rest. Jenine’s head lolled lifelessly against his shoulder, and he saw the ugly bruise on her temple for the first time. The sound of heavy seas breaking over the rocks was now much louder. He turned onto his back and kicked feebly for the beach, certain that the strong current that was sweeping them to the rocks would triumph over his aching muscles.
Something touched his foot. Thinking it was a monster of the deep, he tried to kick it away and discovered that it was sand. He shoved himself forward with renewed hope. This time both his feet encountered the bottom. He pushed again and found that he could stagger backwards. The steeply-shelving bottom was worse than deep water even though the beach was now in sight. He had a fleeting glimpse of figures standing in a line and tried to signal to them but the waves broke savagely over and around them. The undertow sucked the sand from beneath his feet, causing him to fall and lose his grip on Jenine. She was swept from him in a welter of swirling foam. Twice he thought he saw her but the shapes were masses of seaweed and foam being borne towards the beach. His burnt fingers closed thankfully on a handful of hair. He pulled her head above water, gripped a mouthful of hair between his teeth, and crawled on all fours through the maddened foam.
“Help me!” he cried out to the five black-shrouded figures who were watching him near the tide’s edge. His second plea was gagged by a large wave which bore them forward with great violence and hurled them onto the beach. Another wave surged forward and rolled Jenine’s still form over as the sea tried to pluck her back into its clutches. Ewen shifted his grip to her wrist, spreadeagled himself face down on the sand, and clung to her with all his dwindling reserves of strength. He lifted his head to the five watching figures. They were standing quite still, hands on their sidearms, eyes unseen behind their tinted helmet visors, and making no attempt to offer assistance.
“Hel
p me! Please!”
“Another two paces!” one of the men barked.
Somehow Ewen managed to climb to his knees. Another wave pulled at Jenine, causing him to overbalance. “Please!” he implored.
“Two paces!” the voice repeated.
Ewen slipped his hands under Jenine’s armpits and dragged her a little way up the beach. He used the back of his wrists to haul on her dead weight, the pain in his burned palms was now intense. He thought he was making some progress, not realising that his heels were making deep troughs in the soft sand. His strength gave out and he collapsed beside her still form.
“Please!” he begged.
“Another pace,” the voice grated.
Somehow he managed the required distance. The leader signalled to his men. Hands seized Ewen and jerked him roughly to his feet. Before he could summons the strength or will to voice a protest, he and Jenine were dragged up the beach and bundled into the back of the waiting truck. The door was slammed shut on a windowless compartment. The sudden loss of daylight was even more frightening than the rough handling. There was the sound of the men piling into another compartment, and the vehicle moved off. Ewen’s first thought was for Jenine. He groped around in the darkness and found her. She felt cold but, to his immense relief, her breathing and heartbeat were regular.
“Jenine!”
He was rewarded by a hand reaching for him.
“Ewen?” A little voice in the darkness. “Where are we?”
Despite his burns, he drew her into his arms and held her close. “Safe… I think…”
PART 10. Prelude.
1.
The combination of bright light and strange memories prodded Ewen awake. The grey ceiling reminded him of his cell when he had been awaiting trial in the GoD Centre. He closed his eyes and tenuous memories came back as a series of disjointed images. The swaying vehicle. Darkness. The agony of groping with burnt fingers for the capsule radio in his top pocket, and dropping it before he could use it when the vehicle suddenly stopped; doors being thrown open. Someone saying incredulously:
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