Clive Cussler - The Kingdom

“I thought you would.”

Sam dropped another brick into the brazier. Whoosh!

With the late afternoon sun at their backs, they glided ever southward, occasionally feeding bricks into the brazier while keeping a sharp eye out for a landing spot. They’d traveled approximately four miles and had so far seen only scree valleys, glaciers, and copses of pine trees.

“We’re losing altitude,” Remi said.

Sam fed the brazier. They continued to descend.

“What’s happening?” she asked.

“Dissipation, I think. We’re losing the sun, along with the temperature. The balloon’s bleeding heat faster than we can put it in.”

Sam dropped another brick through the hole. Their descent slowed slightly, but there was no denying it: they were on an irreversible downward glide path. They began gaining speed.

“Time to make a choice,” Sam said. “We’re not going to make a meadow, but we’ve got a Plan B coming up.”

He pointed over Remi’s shoulder. Ahead and below was a stand of pine trees. Past that lay another boulder-strewn valley.

Sam said, “Or we can stuff the rest of the bricks into the brazier and hope we find a better spot.”

“We’ve pushed our luck too far. I’m ready for terra firma. How do you want to do this?”

Sam checked the approaching tree line, trying to gauge speed, distance, and their angle of approach. They had three minutes, he guessed. They were traveling at perhaps fifteen miles per hour, and that would likely double by the time they reached the trees. While a survivable crash inside a car, on this platform their chances were fifty-fifty.

“If only we had an air bag,” Sam muttered.

“How about a shield?” asked Remi, and tapped their bamboo platform.

Sam immediately grasped what she was suggesting. “Dicey.”

“A lot less dicey than what you were just mulling over in your head. I know you, Sam, I know your expressions. What do you put our odds at?”

“Fifty percent.”

“This may give us a few more points.”

Sam’s eyes darted to the tree line, then back to Remi’s eyes. She smiled at him. He smiled back. “You’re a hell of a woman.”

“This, I know.”

“We don’t need this anymore,” Sam said. He sliced the straps holding the brazier and shoved it off the platform. Amid a plume of sparks, it hit the ground, tumbled down the valley, then crashed into a rock.

Sam scooted across the platform until he was snug against Remi. She was already grasping the guylines in both hands. Sam grabbed another with his left hand, then leaned backward, laid the blade of his Swiss Army knife against one of the risers, and started sawing. With a twang, it parted. The platform dipped slightly.

Sam moved to the second riser.

“How long until we hit?” he asked.

“I don’t know-”

“Guess!”

“A few seconds!”

Sam kept sawing. Pitted and slightly bent from overuse and Sam’s attempts to sharpen it on rocks, the knife’s blade was dull. He clenched his teeth and worked harder.

The second guyline snapped. Sam moved to the third.

“Running out of time,” Remi called.

Twang!

The opposite end of the platform was dangling by a single riser now, fluttering like a kite in the wind. With both hands clutching guylines, Remi was all but hanging, with only one foot perched on the edge of the platform. Sam’s left hand was grasping the line beside hers like a talon.

“One more!” he shouted, and started sawing. “Come on . . . Come on . . .”

Twang!

The end of the platform swung free, now hanging vertically below them. Sam was about to drop his knife when he changed his mind. He folded the blade closed against his cheek. He clamped his right hand on a guyline.

Remi was already lowering herself down the risers so her body was behind the platform. Sam climbed down toward her. He peeked around the edge of the platform and saw a wall of green rushing toward him.

Their world began tumbling. Though having taken a good portion of the impact, the clawing branches immediately spun the platform around. They found themselves hurtling through a gauntlet of whipping boughs. They tucked their chins and closed their eyes. Sam unclenched his right hand from the riser and tried to cover Remi’s face with his forearm.

On instinct she shouted, “Let go!”

Then they were falling through the tree, their fall softened by branches.

They jolted to a stop.

Sam opened his mouth to speak but all that came out was a croak. He tried again. “Remi!”

“Here,” came the faint reply. “Below you.”

Lying faceup and diagonally across a pair of boughs, Sam carefully rolled onto his belly. Ten feet below, Remi was lying on the ground in a pile of pine needles. Her face was scratched as though someone had swiped her with a wire brush. Her eyes brimmed with tears.

“How bad are you?” he asked.

She forced a smile and gave him a weak thumbs-up. “And you, intrepid pilot?”

“Let me lie here for a bit and I’ll let you know.”

After a time, Sam began the task of climbing down.

“Don’t move,” he told Remi. “Just lie there.”

“If you insist.”

Sam felt as though he’d been pummeled by a bat-wielding gang, but all of his major joints and muscles seemed to be working properly, if sluggishly.

Using his right hand, Sam lowered himself from the last branch and dropped in a heap beside Remi. She cupped his face with a hand and said, “Never a dull moment with you.”

“Nope.”

“Sam, your neck.”

He reached up and touched the spot Remi had indicated. His fingers came back bloody. After a bit of probing he found a three-inch vertical gash below his ear.

“It’ll coagulate,” he told her. “Let’s check you out.”

Their clothes had likely saved them, he quickly realized. The parkas’ thick padding and high collars had protected their torsos and throats, and the knit caps had served as a crucial bit of cushion for their skulls.

“Not bad, all things considered.”

“Your shield idea saved the day.”

She waved her hand dismissively. “Where’s High Flier ?”

“Tangled in the tree.”

“Do I still have the bamboo?”

Sam saw the end of it jutting from her collar. “Yes.”

“Does my face look as bad as yours?” Remi asked.

“You’ve never looked more lovely.”

“Liar-but thank you. The sun is setting. What now?”

“Now we get rescued. I build you a fire, then go find some friendly villagers who will offer us cozy beds and hot food.”

“Just like that?”

“Just like that.”

Sam pushed himself to his feet and stretched his limbs. His entire body hurt, a throbbing pain that seemed to be everywhere at once.

“Be right back.”

It took him only a few minutes to find the emergency chute pack, which had been ripped off his back during the crash. It took longer to find the duffel bag, however; it had fallen when the platform’s last riser had given way. Of the seven or so bricks that had been left, he found three.

He returned to Remi and found she had managed to sit upright with her back against the tree. Soon he had a brick burning in a small dirt circle next to her. He placed the two remaining bricks beside her.

“I’ll be back in a flash,” he said.

“I’ll be here.”

He gave her a kiss, then headed off.

“Sam?”

He turned. “Yes.”

“Watch out for Yetis.”

GOLDFISH POINT, LA JOLLA,

CALIFORNIA

“I have a translation for you,” Selma said, walking into the solarium. She walked to where Sam and Remi were reclined on chaise longues and handed Remi the printout.