Hear the Children Calling (37 page)

“What about the balloonist?” Jill asked. “The children can’t be alone up there.”

“They might be,” Lou said. “No one can establish radio contact with the balloonist.”

Jill closed her eyes, feeling the heat of tears behind them. Had she come this far only to see her son die in a freak accident? It couldn’t happen that way. None of this could be such a waste. “Come on,” she said. “Let’s get to that field.”

“Follow me,” Lou said. “I’ll give you an escort.”

Red-and-blue beacons flashing, the sheriff’s car roared down the mountain road and onto the highway. They were at the fair in moments, where Lou received a report of what had happened from the security team assigned to watch over the crowds.

“Do you know where the balloon is now?” Jill asked, looking up at the colorful gathering in the sky. “Is there any way to stop it?”

“Of course there is,” said a man who had joined the group. It was Max’s partner, Neal. “You’ve got to pull a rope that leads to a rip panel. Trouble is, landing
may not be so slow and smooth without the tether line.”

“It won’t be smooth at all if they crash,” Danny growled.

“Aerostation accidents are rarely serious,” Neal reassured.

Danny scratched his head. “I’d feel better if that ‘rarely’ was a ‘never.’ ”

“But where is it?” Jill asked again.

“Heading eastward,” Neal said. “We’ve got people monitoring it.”

“I’ll put in a call to those helicopters I’ve had searching for Adams and his crew,” Lou said, heading back to the squad car.

Danny had a sickening thought. “What—what happens when the burner is empty?”

“The air already in the bag will hold them up,” Neal said. “They’ll go down at parachute speed. But it isn’t the descension that’s dangerous. It’s finding a safe place to land. On a clear day like this, you need about sixty feet of clear space for the empty bag. But if the winds pick up, you need much more. The gondola drags a bit before it stops.”

“What if they hit trees?” Jill asked.

“If they’re going slow enough,” Neal said, “not much harm will be done. But if they hit something at high speed, or if they land too fast . . .” He let the other imagine the rest.

Jill shivered and moved closer to Danny. He put his arms around her. “If only there was some way to contact the children,” he said.

Now Jill pulled away again, her eyes wide. “But there is! Danny, you can call. Kate and have her send a message to Laura. Neal here can give you instructions over the phone on landing that thing.”

Danny nodded eagerly. “It could work.”

“It has to work,” Jill said. “Six years ago, we thought our children had died. We can’t sit by and make it really happen. Not after all we’ve gone through to get them back again.”

Danny turned to Neal. “Where can I find a phone?”

“We have a trailer set up at the back of the field,” Neal said. “Just follow me.”

They raced toward the crowds. Danny was so nervous when they climbed into the van that his big fingers fumbled with the phone dial. Jill took it gently, asked Danny’s home number, and dialed. Only half a ring sounded when Kate jerked the phone off the hook.

“You found her?” she asked hopefully, remembering Danny’s earlier promise.

“In a way,” Danny said. “Kate, you were right. Laura is up in a balloon and there’s no one to land it. The only way we can help is if you contact Laura and instruct her. There’s a fellow here named Neal who’ll show you how.”

“I understand,” Kate said. “Give me a few minutes to get in touch.”

“I’ll wait,” Danny said, though he wished Kate’s gift was as fast as a telephone.

Every minute that went by put his daughter, and the other two children, in greater danger. And this time, it wouldn’t be a trick.

54

T
HE BALLOON FLOATED LAZILY ON CURRENTS OF
mountain wind, carrying its four passengers farther and farther from the crowded fairgrounds. The din of the burner as it shot heat into the mouth of the balloon was loud enough to drown out the cries of the people below, but Jenny could sense their horror as easily as she had picked up other voices and thoughts throughout
the past years. She searched her mind for the woman with brown hair and glasses, a woman she now believed to be her real mother. Even if Michael hadn’t found those files, she would have come to this conclusion. Alice Segal had never shown her any love. She had always treated Jenny like a . . .

Jenny tried hard to think of a word. Like something under a microscope, she decided. Her father had been nicer—her pretend father, that was—but he never did anything to stop the hurting. And he’d taken her away from her real parents.

The girl looked over the rim of the basket at the mountains. Fortunately, the wind was blowing them away from the Rockies, but if it turned, or if the burner stopped . . .

She shook her head hard, not letting herself think such things. There had to be a way out of this. The boys were trying to come up with a solution. Tommy was busy patting the balloonist’s face, trying to revive him. Michael, forcing himself to overcome his fear of heights, was studying the control panel. Jenny caught a flash of his thoughts and realized he had figured one of the gauges, labeled V
ARIMOMETER
, was measuring their ascent in feet per seconds. But then she became so caught up in her own search for her real mother that she shut Michael out completely.

Tommy looked up from Max, seeing Jenny staring out at the mountains. “What’re you doing?” he asked. “I need help here.”

“I’m trying to get us help,” Jenny said. “I’ve been trying to reach my mother, to call for help. But she’s cut me off, for some reason.”

The truth of the matter was that Kate Emerson had channeled all her mental energies into memorizing the instructions Neal was giving her over the phone. Before she could relay them to Laura, before she could risk the lives of three children, she had to be certain she knew exactly what she was doing.

From thousands of miles away, Neal’s voice was tinny and crackling. Kate jotted down notes with a
nervous scribble as Dorothy read them over her shoulder. Guide the balloon down through telepathy? It seemed impossible, but it was the only chance the children had.

“Okay, I’m ready,” she said. “Put Danny on the line.” When Danny got on, she said, “Say a prayer this works. I’ve had tentative cooperation from Laura in the last day, but I still think she’s skeptical.”

“She’ll listen,” Danny says. “She’ll feel how much we love her and she’ll know we want to help.”

“I’m giving the phone to Dorothy now,” Kate said. “If there’s any trouble, she’ll let you know.”

“Good luck, Kate.”

Kate didn’t respond. She gave the receiver to her friend and pulled out a chair. Sitting at the kitchen table, she closed her eyes and rested her head in her arms. Over and over she called her daughter’s name, begging her to answer, telling Laura how much she loved her.

The response was so immediate that Kate sat up with a jolt, her eyes open but glazed.

“Kate?”

She didn’t hear Dorothy’s voice. Her friend reported Kate’s condition over the phone and kept watching her. The eyes were blank, as if Kate’s soul had fallen through some kind of hole into another dimension. Dorothy wondered if Laura was there, too.

To Laura, it wasn’t like falling through a hole into blackness, but like having a brilliant light suddenly flicked on when you’d spent days in darkness. Darkness. They’d locked her in a dark room and told her she could have light only if she said her name was Jenny Segal. But when the brown-haired woman with glasses started appearing to her, she’d sensed joy and light. It was only now, in the terrifying situation she was in, that Jenny/Laura could let herself accept that light.

“She’s here,” Laura cried. “My mother is here and she’s going to help us.”

Tommy looked up at her. He wasn’t telepathic like
Michael or Jenny or some of the others, so he didn’t really understand what was going on. But if Jenny was in touch with someone who was going to get them the heck down to the ground, he was all for that. He glanced over at Michael, who still stood bent over the control panel. Tommy felt helpless, but still he continued to prod the balloonist.

“I can hear her calling me,” Jenny said. “I’ve got to—to answer.” She closed her own eyes and sat on the fuel tank.

I knew you’d come, Mommy.

You called me mommy! Oh, Laura, my baby . . .

I don’t want to die, Mommy.

You won’t, sweetheart, Oh, no, you won’t. I’m going to tell you how to get that thing down. Can you listen to me and talk to your friends at the same time?

I guess I can. What do you want me to do?

Who’s at the control panel?

Michael Colpan. He’s real smart.

All right, tell him to keep watch on the variometer. You want to lower the balloon very slowly, no more than five hundred feet per minute to start. When you get closer, you’ll be going as slow as a hundred feet per minute, okay? And then, even slower than that.

Jenny looked up at Michael. “We have to go down slow, Michael,” she said. “The variometer’s not supposed to say more than five hundred feet per minute.”

Michael nodded. Right now, the wind was carrying the balloon upward.

How do we get it to go down?

What’s the other boy doing, Laura?

He’s trying to wake Max up.

Tell him to forget Max right now. Tell him to look at the cables and find one that goes right up into the top of the balloon.

Jenny relayed the message. Tommy left Max and went to peer up into the throat of the balloon. He quickly spotted the rope that Jenny had described to him.

He’s got it, Mommy.

Tell him that’s the rip line. When you pull it, a panel opens on top and lets air escape. It’s the way you lower the balloon. But tell him not to open it yet.

“That’s a rip line,” Jenny said. “It opens the top of the balloon so we can go down. But you aren’t supposed to pull it yet.”

“Then when can I?” Tommy asked impatiently. “I want to get down from here.”

Jenny ignored his outburst and turned her mind back to her mother.

He’s got it. What now?

Now look out around you. What do you see?

Mountains, but they’re getting farther away. I see a lake, and a big, big ranch. There’s cows there.

How far away is the ranch?

I don’t know. It looks really far.

In her kitchen, Kate sighed deeply. She didn’t feel Dorothy’s hand on her shoulder. If only she could see what Jenny was seeing! Was the area big enough to land the balloon? Was it far enough away to give them the right amount of time for descent? Neal had said they’d need sixty yards of clear space for the deflated bag. Well, if it was a cattle ranch, then they certainly had the space. She only hoped the landing didn’t startle the animals into a stampede.

But there was no time for speculation. She had to guide those children down the best she could, using the instructions Neal had given her.

I’m back, Jenny. I was thinking. Now listen, it should take you about ten or fifteen minutes to get down. Is there anything in your way? Any tall trees or electrical wires?

It looks pretty clear.

Great! Now, tell Tommy to slowly, slowly open the rip panel.

“She says you can open it now,” Jenny reported.

Eagerly, Tommy yanked the rip cord. Michael saw the needle of the variometer swing toward D
OWN
. The numbers climbed higher and higher until they read five-hundred feet per second. When the balloon began
to accelerate even more, Michael cried out, “No! Close it. We’re going too fast.”

Tommy let the rip line go. The heat from the burner right above him had brought a pink flush to his cheeks, and he wiped his arm across his sweat-covered forehead. Whoever said it was freezing up in the sky had never ridden in a hot-air balloon.

How close are you to the ground?

I don’t know. I’ll ask Michael.

“How far do we have to go?”

“About 375 feet,” Michael reported, never taking his eyes from the gauges.

Three hundred seventy-five feet.

Then slow down to a hundred feet per second.

Jenny relayed the orders and Tommy opened the rip panel ever so slowly. The balloon moved so lazily, so carefully, that it seemed the danger was past them. Jenny could see the field was clear. This realization, combined with the strength of her mother’s guidance, gave her a sense of confidence.

What, now?

Just keep coming down, very, very, slowly. When you touch ground, you’ll drag about ten to twenty feet as the remaining air is released. Laura?

Yes, Mommy?

Are you afraid?

I don’t know. You make me feel so safe, Mommy. I never felt that way with Alice.

Alice?

The lady I thought was my real mother.

Kate’s response was muffled by ominous words from Michael.

“Something’s wrong.”

Tommy, still holding the rip line, turned and looked at him. Jenny gazed up from her seat on the fuel tank.

“What do you mean?” Jenny asked. “We’re so close to the ground. What could possibly happen now?”

“The wind’s picked up,” Michael said. “Can’t you
feel it? It’s pulling us along, back toward the mountains.”

“We’ll land before we go too far, won’t we?” Jenny asked.

The wind’s blowing really hard, Mommy. What’s going to happen?

Just tell Tommy to keep tight hold of that rope. And watch the speed.

“How fast are we going, Michael?”

“Three hundred feet per second,” Michael cried. “Tommy. Close the panel, now!”

Tommy had been so caught up in the conversation between his friends that he’d forgotten to open and close the rip panel to regulate the speed of their descent. They were going down too fast.

“We’re gonna crash,” Michael cried. “The wind is blowing too hard and we aren’t slowing fast enough.”

Mommy, Mommy, we’re going to crash.

No! Oh, no, Laura. You won’t crash.

But the ground is so close and it’s so windy and the field is really bumpy, and . . .

Kate’s mind went blank. She opened her eyes and turned to Dorothy, her face completely pale. “Oh, dear Lord, Dorothy,” she said, “I’ve lost contact.”