Trent Reedy - Stealing Air

“Blackbird, this is Ground Control. We’re clear of the Eagle’s Nest. We could use your help carrying the package. Over.”

Now Brian had to find a way to end this phone call with Grandpa. “We will… all… have… to go… back.” He spoke very slowly as if he were saying it out loud while he wrote it down. “But they got in. That’s great. That’s the perfect story. Thanks, Grandpa!”

“But there’s more. They came to Iowa and settled on a farm—”

“Right. Got it. I better go work on this paper. It has to be typed and everything. Can I call you back if I have more questions?”

“Sure. Anytime.”

“Thanks, Grandpa. Bye.” Brian ended the call and slipped the phone in his pocket as he rolled to the end of Lincoln Street, where the pavement ended and a gravel road headed out to the country.

“Dude, hurry up!” Alex’s shout came from the woods off to the right. Brian tied Spitfire to his backpack and ran across the field to join the guys and Blackbird . Max waved at him. Alex, carrying the other radio in his own backpack, along with a small black bag slung from his shoulder, nodded toward the empty corner of the flyer. “We have to hurry. If Frankie gets to the park and you’re too late, he’ll say you were too chicken to show up. Then I’ll lose a bunch of money.”

“You bet on me?” Brian asked. They rotated the flyer to get it around a bush.

“I bet on Blackbird taking off,” said Alex. “It’s a long shot, but sometimes you just have to go for it.”

They came out of the trees beside Riverside Road.

“We should cross quickly, before a car comes along and we are discovered,” said Max.

They scurried across the open road as fast as they could. “Good thing she’s so light,” Brian said.

“Actually, it is slightly lighter than usual,” Max said. “The fuel tank is empty. I hid a gas can with my bicycle, the rope, and the weapon at the takeoff point.”

Finally, they came to the edge of the woods near the dead end at the top of the Seventh Street hill. They carried the aircraft through the weeds up to the edge of the road. Ahead and off to the right was a big white house.

“It is perhaps a great irony that the biggest hill in town has Frankie Heller’s house right on top of it,” said Max.

They put Blackbird down in the tall grass next to Max’s bike and ducked down to hide. They had a perfect view of the house. If Frankie was already waiting at the park, they could just take off in time to meet him. If he hadn’t left yet, they would know when he did.

Max put a plastic funnel into the spout on the fuel tank and then filled it up from the gas can. Alex took Brian’s radio and slipped it into the wire basket they’d added to the back of the pilot’s seat. He put the other radio in the dorky-looking basket on the front of Max’s bike. Brian tied a rope to the special hook they’d installed under the engine’s support beam, and tied the other end to Max’s backseat handlebars. Then he checked the tightness of the clamps on the NX-03, the new silver rocket Max had installed on his bike.

Alex slipped the camera out of its carrying bag and gently handed it to Max. “This is my dad’s. It’s the most expensive thing ever. You need to get a lot of good video of the flight, but whatever happens, don’t mess up the camera.”

They sat in silence for a while. Max took off his glasses and wiped them on his shirt. Then he chewed the earpiece. “I don’t know about this, Brian. Maybe we should abort the mission.”

“This is going to work, Max! I’ve thought about this a lot, and you can’t wait around for a situation to get better. You make a choice. You have to take that risk for greatness.” He took a deep breath. “At the skate park before the first day of school, Wendy asked if I could get air. But flying doesn’t come naturally.” He pointed at Max. “You have to be smart.” He nodded at Alex. “You have to take the big gamble.” He held his fist up. “You have to steal air.”

Just then, Frankie came out his front door and walked away from them, heading toward the park. They waited a while to let him get ahead.

“Begin Phase Three,” Brian said. “Let’s do this.”

A few minutes later, Blackbird was in position in the middle of Seventh Street at the top of the hill. Max rolled his bike about fifteen feet down the street, until the rope they’d strung between the flyer and the bike was taut. Then he walked back.

“I think we’re ready to begin. Gentlemen, please take your seats.” Brian and Alex sat down in the pilot and copilot chairs. Max nodded to Brian. “You are familiar with the controls.” He pointed at a red lever that had been installed to the left of the yoke. “This is new. Pulling that disengages the tow rope.”

“Good to know,” said Brian.

Max walked around toward the back of the aircraft. “Alex, once again, you’ll be in charge of the brakes. Remember, it’s important that you push both levers down at the same time and keep them pushed down until they lock.” He returned to Brian’s side and looked down the street. “I’m still not entirely confident about this.”

Brian gave him a light punch to the shoulder. “Max, you said Blackbird doesn’t have enough power to get up to takeoff speed on a level runway. So, we start the engine and throttle her up, you pull us with the rocketbike, and we’re all rolling down the steepest hill in Riverside. With that much speed, Blackbird will take off just fine.”

“Come on! We have to hurry! Time is literally money here, guys!” Alex said.

Max ran back to the weeds and returned with two damp cloth sacks. “I almost forgot our weapon.”

Alex wrinkled his nose and waved his hand in front of his face. “Unh, that smells worse than it did yesterday.”

“Good,” said Brian. “They’ll work even better, then.”

“But why this?” Alex said. “Why not a basket of eggs or something? We could have mounted a slingshot and shot the eggs one at a time.”

“Eggs cost money.” Max shrugged. “This was free.”

Alex grabbed the tops of the bags and rested the bottoms on the back corners of both skateboards. “Still, we didn’t have to get the soupiest stuff.”

“Let’s go!” Brian shouted.

“Good luck,” Max said.

“We’ll need it,” said Alex.

Max ran ahead and got on his bike. He gave the thumbs-up. Brian grabbed the handle for the starter cord and yanked hard. The engine sputtered a little. “Come on, Blackbird ,” he said. “I need you, girl.” He pulled the cable again. The propeller spun to life with a roar. Either Blackbird would fly, or they’d roll down the hill and crash. There was no backing out now.

Max hit a button on the NX-03 and then started to pedal. Fire burst out of the end of the rocket and the bike shot forward. The rope went tight and Blackbird jerked so hard that Brian was pressed to the back of his chair.

“Oh yeah!” Alex shouted over the noise of the engine, the rocket, and the wind.

They rolled faster and faster down the hill, crossing Lincoln Street in moments. Brian pushed the throttle up to give the engine more power and pulled the yoke toward him. When they cleared Tilford Street, Blackbird rose from the ground about two feet.

“We’re flying!” Alex said.

But something was wrong. The flyer crashed back down to the ground and rolled some more. It felt like their speed had leveled out. Blackbird did another quick jump and then hit the ground.