Spider Bite by Justin D'Ath

Author:Justin D'Ath
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781742286204
Publisher: Penguin Group Australia
Published: 2009-09-25T04:00:00+00:00

14

BOMBS AWAY

I saw an old movie once where they made a balloon go up by throwing out bags of sand. The bags were called ballast. In the olden days, before balloon-makers had worked out how to make burners that turned on and off, ballast was part of a balloon’s standard equipment. But modern hot-air balloons don’t have ballast, they have big gas bottles instead.

The bottles looked heavy.

‘Jordan, give me a hand,’ I said.

I had already undone the wide velcro straps holding the two big silver bottles to the side of the basket, but I couldn’t undo the gas-lines because they were screwed on too tight. I figured it didn’t matter – the weight of the gas bottles would tear them free. I hoped so, anyway. If I was wrong, our number was up.

Jordan and I positioned ourselves one on either side of the first bottle. My little brother looked pale and trembly and weak. He was supposed to be taking it easy until I got him to a hospital, but this was an emergency. If dogs had hands, I would have got Myrtle to help, too. The bottles were nearly as big as me, and probably twice as heavy.

‘One, two, three, HEAVE!’ I said.

The gas bottle was heavy, all right. I lifted nearly all its weight, but without Jordan’s help I wouldn’t have got it all the way up to the edge of the basket. We balanced it there for a moment, then gave it a push.

‘Bombs away!’ I yelled, and both of us ducked. It was lucky we did. There was a loud bang as the gas bottle ripped the reinforced rubber hose out of its fitting beneath the burner and dragged it over the side. Liquid propane sprayed in all directions. It was freezing cold. It turned to ice crystals on our hair and hands and clothing. If we hadn’t ducked, it might have blinded us.

We got rid of the second gas bottle in the same way, being very careful this time to shield our faces and eyes. When the icy spray cleared, I looked over the side, hoping the bottles didn’t land on anyone. I didn’t see where the first one hit, but the second bottle exploded spectacularly in the middle of Martin Place. Luckily there was nobody close enough to get hurt, but I saw people taking cover as far away as George Street.

‘Why are we trying to bomb people?’ Jordan asked.

‘We’re not. We’re making the balloon lighter so it won’t crash in the city,’ I explained, gauging our rate of descent against a big office building to our left.

It had worked. Without the gas bottles aboard, we were no longer falling as fast as before. But we were still losing altitude. The tops of the several buildings were higher than us now. They loomed on either side of us like glass and concrete cliffs. The balloon drifted silently through the narrow canyon between them. I could hear the traffic below. A bus engine rumbled, a motorbike went speeding along a street, a car tooted.

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