The Midnight Country

Chapter 5

By the time Karen had maneuvered us to a hard landing at the edge of the playing field, the first of the sword-tails were already circling the Excelsior—just circling and gliding, as though carefully sniffing the zeppelin out. As for myself, I knew we’d have but seconds before security responded—violently, I was sure—and so was scrambling with the bullhorn before the balloon’s envelope had even fully deflated. I only remember that the thing was heavier and louder than I’d expected, and for the latter, at least, I was profoundly grateful.

“Ladies and gentlemen, I’m going to ask you all to get up and proceed to the nearest exits. Please don’t panic, just do it now and in an orderly fashion.”

But they did panic, almost instantly, probably because someone had already noticed the sword-tails, and the next thing I knew there was a sea of humanity crushing toward the exits even as the security staff ran at me across the field and the first explosion rocked the arena.

“Get on the ground!” I recall someone shouting in the instants before I was piledrived, and then I was literally seeing stars as the heavyset men piled on and at least one of them started kicking me in the ribs.

“Jesus, look up!” Karen shouted, and when I rolled over on my side I saw that she had leapt atop one of the men’s backs and was forcibly lifting his head.

To the purple-pink sky and the soaring Jovian hunters. To the massive, dark-skinned zeppelin which was already on fire and continued to explode as additional cells were ignited.

And then I was free, they’d clambered off me at last, and I struggled for breath while still curled up on the Astroturf even as great chunks of burning wreckage began to reign down all around and Karen tried to help me to my feet. And yet even amidst all that it occurred to me: my camera might still be in the ruins of the balloon (for I’d placed it on a shelf below the bulwark right after the Gas Monkey had exploded). And the next thing I knew I was searching for and finding it and triggering the record button, pausing only to look at Karen over the viewfinder as she let go of my arms at last and began shaking her head.

“I—I’ve got a kid, if no longer a husband,” she said, the tears streaming down her face. “I can’t stay here.”

“I know,” I remember saying—as gently as I could under the circumstances. “Go. I’ll be all right.”

And then she smiled almost motherly—and was gone across the wreckage-littered field.

––––––––