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,
