start dropping now,” he said into the radio. “Find us.” He tossed the radio down and turned to Amalia. “Don’t fire the burners unless I tell you to.”
Glancing behind him from time to time, he knew he was ahead of the rain. He wanted to be on the ground and erect some kind of shelter before the full force of the storm hit. They could not afford to get the envelope wet. It would take a day or more to dry out and that would definitely put them out of the running.
Amalia didn’t say a word. She watched his every move. He wished he could reassure her, but only being safely on the ground would do that.
The basket swayed more strongly than before. He heard Amalia’s gasp but was too intent on getting them down to do anything more than tell her to hold on and be ready to start the jets if he wanted more lift.
The balloon spun around, the basket swinging with the momentum. Even Rafael was having trouble holding his balance. The last sway had knocked Amalia off her feet. She scrambled up and held on to the frame, looking over the edge, her face white.
The gusts were stronger the lower he went.
“Are we going to crash?” Amalia asked.
“No.”
And, surprisingly enough, they didn’t. He reached a large plateau, pulled the emergency release cord and told Amalia to be ready to jump off the basket when he gave the word. “And take one of the ropes with you. I’ll follow and pull on the other.”
The basket hit hard, the balloon almost puddling over them as it continued its waffling in the wind as it collapsed with lack of hot air.
Amalia jumped off and looked for something to tie the rope to. Rafael was beside her in a second, pulling on another rope. It was windy. Amalia could feel stinging from the sand particles in the air as the wind swept across the rocky plateau. The basket tugged against the rope. There didn’t appear to be anything handy to anchor the rope.
Rafael strained against the pull even as Amalia ran a few steps to keep the rope from being pulled from her hands. She got a better grip and leaned back, throwing her entire weight against the pull of the wind.
The envelope settled into an uneven lump, ruffled by the wind, but no longer driven by it. The pull eased. Amalia was breathing hard, but held fast.
“Good going,” Rafael called. He studied the terrain, and then moved to the left a bit, trying his rope to an outcropping of rock. Not a very substantial one, from Amalia’s viewpoint, but she trusted Rafael knew what he was doing.
He crossed quickly to her side, taking the rope from her hands. He found another rock and made it fast.
“Let’s do what we can before the rain comes,” he said, already moving to the balloon. Before long he had it stretched out, flapping in the wind, but in the wind’s direction, with the basket as anchor. He began folding it, first lengthways, then when it was as wide as the basket, began rolling it toward it.
As soon as Amalia realized what he was doing she went to help, keeping a wary eye on the clouds massing behind them. Before they’d finished, the first drops of rain began to fall.
“We’ll turn the basket on the side, floor to the storm’s direction and huddle inside to keep dry,” Rafael said, using one of the lines to fasten the balloon, scrambling for the plastic tarp and stretching it over the balloon. He stood and looked around. There was no shelter in sight.
“Help me tip the basket on its side, it’ll afford some shelter.”
Once that was done, he sent Amalia to sit in it, while he double-checked the jets and then found a large rock and dug a shallow trench around the covered balloon.
In seconds he joined her in the makeshift shelter, the one side away from the wind open to the elements. The rest was cozy and so far dry.
“If the storm gets very bad, the wicker will leak,” he said.
“But we stay with the balloon,” she said.
“It’s the best way for the crew to find us,” he explained.
“How will they know where to look for us?”
“They’ll find us.”
They sat and waited.
“Is there a road to this plateau?” she asked.
“I saw a dirt one not too far away. Every half hour we’ll use the radio and see if we can raise them. They’ll get here, sooner or later.”
She was quiet for a moment. “I think you liked our ride down,” she mused.
He laughed, flinging an arm across her shoulders. “It’s exhilarating, man against nature—especially when man wins this round. I didn’t expect the storm to come so quickly or to be caught without adequate shelter, to be honest. But we’ll manage.”
“It wasn’t so bad. It all happened so fast, I didn’t have a chance to become afraid.”
“You did well, Amalia. I’m glad you were with me instead—”
He cut himself off, but Amalia knew he was thinking of Teresa. For a moment she felt pleased she’d done better than the other woman would have. But only for a moment. Then the obstacles to getting safely to some hotel for the night made themselves felt. She had a feeling it would be a long time before his chase team located them.
“I’ve never been a big fan of camping out, as you know,” she said. “So I really did get my fill last night.”
“We have snacks, blankets, shelter. What more do we need?”
“I can think of several things, not the least of which is to be dry. This shelter may start to leak before long.”
“We’ll manage.”
Amalia wished once again she wasn’t on this expedition. But not one to bemoan things beyond her control, she gave in to the inevitable.
She studied her companion. “Do you camp often?” she asked.
He studied the rain as it began to come down. “Not if I can help it. I like my amenities too much. But now and then. Today is not good weather. But when it’s clear, to be away from the city lights, to see the stars and feel the awesome vastness of space, it’s well worth minor inconveniences. Admit it, once you had dinner, last night was not a total waste.”
He puzzled her. She would expect him to rail against the weather, to vent frustration on the circumstances. Instead, he seemed to take the setback in stride—maybe even relish it a bit.
He reached for the radio and made a call. No one responded. He tried again, but again there came only static. Switching it off, he tossed it back on the pile they’d made on one side of the tipped basket.
“Might as well make ourselves as comfortable as possible,” he said.
He stacked the blankets side by side and sat down. Patting the one beside him, he waited for her to join him.
Eyeing the dubious shelter they had, she wondered how much longer before the wicker began to leak. Even as the thought came to mind, a drop landed on her nose.
“I think our shelter is getting soggy,” she said.
Rafael looked up and swore. He turned and rummaged through two of the pockets on the side, coming up with another plastic tarp, not as large as the one covering the balloon, but large enough. He went into the rain and tied it to the side of the basket now their roof, fighting it and the wind until he had it covered.
Crawling in, he brushed off his jacket, wet at the shoulders, and sat down.
“Won’t the wind blow it off?” she asked, hearing the plastic snap as the wind slapped it against the basket.
“Might get some nicks and tears, but nothing major. I think it’ll hold. I’m more worried that water will get on the balloon. We need it dry to fly.”
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