Stealing Air (17 page)

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.

“Not again!” Alex yelled.

No. Not again. Everything was riding on this flight: saving the company, beating Frankie — everything. They had to fly now. Brian shouted to Alex, “We gotta lose some weight! We're too heavy for takeoff. Drop one of the sacks!”

“I can't!” Alex yelled back. “
Blackbird
is balanced. If I dump one sack, we might tip over.”

“Then drop one bag and center the other!”

“It's cow poop, dude! These bags are soaked through with it!”

“Alex, drop a bag! Do it now, or we're not going to make it!”

Alex screamed as he pushed one sack of manure soup onto the street and pulled the other into his lap. “Aw man, you owe me a new pair of pants!”

Brian squinted his eyes and gritted his teeth. “Come on, baby. Come on, baby,” he whispered. He held the yoke in one hand and patted the wing with the other. “Now, girl!”
Blackbird
rose up two feet. Then three. Four feet. She kept rising, speeding up.

“The tow rope!” Alex shouted.

“Oh crap!” Brian had almost forgot. He yanked the red lever. The rope fell away. Seven feet. Eight. They soared up into the sky. Brian could feel himself pushed down into his seat.

“Warp speed!” he shouted.

Power lines crossed the road ahead. Brian slammed the yoke forward and the flyer dove down under them, but he still ducked. When they were clear of the cables, he pulled up, bringing
Blackbird
a hundred feet above the trees. He worked the foot pedals to operate the tail rudder and pushed the yoke to the right, banking to starboard. In a moment they flew over Carl Jacobs Park in the middle of the square downtown. He leveled the wings and steered just with the rudder.

They were flying. Really flying. All the hard work had paid off.
Blackbird
was airborne.

“Woooooo!” Brian shouted. “This is awesome!”

“We're flying! We are flying!” Alex laughed. “This is so fun, I almost don't even care that a sack of manure's in my lap. We're really, really flying!”

Grandpa's farm was ahead to the right. The giant barn appeared small from up here. Brian thought back to when he and Alex had first swung from the rope in the hayloft, wondering what it would be like to be higher. Now they knew. He pulled back and right on the yoke and
Blackbird
soared up and to the north.

“Brian,” Alex shouted. “Max is on the radio. He says something like the NX-03 rocket was a success.”

“That just means the rocket burned out safely,” Brian called back. “His first two rockets exploded after ignition.”

They were flying high now over the north woods. Brian laughed out loud. “This is the greatest! Let's get crazy!” He pushed the yoke forward and to the right, diving and banking tightly. The trees below seemed to grow as
Blackbird
dropped closer to them.

“Um, Brian?” Alex said.

“I've got it.” He straightened their roll and pulled the yoke to bring
Blackbird
out of her dive. There was a little bump. “What was that?”

“Dude, the back wheels just clipped the top of that tree!”

“Whoops.” Brian wiped his forehead and brought
Blackbird
over Riverside, heading south toward the river. He banked out in a wide curve to get a little room and then came in line with the river, about two hundred feet up. The giant white cement towers of the grain elevators were dead ahead.

“What are you doing?” Alex asked.

“She's not a commercial jet. We built her to fly. Let's really
fly
!” They drew closer and closer to the grain elevators. Brian centered
Blackbird
on the space between two of the towers, a gap of maybe six feet.

“Brian, look out!”

At the last moment he cranked the yoke to port, dipping the left wing down sharply and the right nearly straight up. There was a rush of displaced air as they shot through the small space, and a quick jerk of the yoke righted the wings. He pulled up. The American flag fluttered in the breeze on top of the towers behind them. “Yeah!”

“I'm so glad we put in seat belts,” Alex said.

Brian kept their raised pitch, letting
Blackbird
gain altitude while steering to the south. Soon they were even higher than they'd been with Mr. Piggly.

“Ground Control, this is
Blackbird
.” Alex must have been yelling into the radio. “That's a good copy. Over.”

“What's up?” Brian said.

“Max says he's at the park. The target is in position, and we should begin Phase Four.”

“Roger that,” Brian said. He reversed course to fly back north to Riverside. “Let's see what
Blackbird
can do! I'm going to drop altitude again, and we'll do a flyby pass of the park to see where Frankie is. Then we'll bring her around for our attack run.”

“Yeah!” Alex shouted. “Come on,
Blackbird
! You can do it!”

He'd been waiting for this moment. Brian pushed forward on the yoke. He felt his body lighten in his seat a little as the aircraft headed down. There was no way to gauge their speed, but it sure felt like they were flying faster. He worked the foot pedals to adjust the tail rudder and keep them in line with the park. They were up maybe three hundred feet.

In a few minutes, they were close enough for Brian to turn to port. Down below, little dots of people had gathered near the skate ramps in Riverview Park. Brian slammed the yoke forward and
Blackbird
dove at a steep angle. Alex let out a whoop behind him, but Brian focused on the maneuver. He could feel the aircraft shaking. The park and the kids in it appeared to grow larger. Some of them were shouting and pointing up at
Blackbird
.

Frankie had his hand up, keeping the sun out of his eyes to get a better look at the approaching aircraft. “There you are,” Brian said quietly to himself. Frankie started moving off toward home.

“He's trying to get away!” Alex yelled.

“Not a chance!” Brian banked the flyer and shot down again to cut him off. They swooped by only about four feet from the ground, close to a dozen feet in front of Frankie. People, trees, ramps passed by in a blur. Brian pulled up, soaring back into the air. They were past the park already. He used the river as a ground guide to maneuver to port and get lined up with the park again.

“Let's do it!” Brian yelled.

“Ground Control, this is
Blackbird
,” Alex said. “We are in position now. We're starting our approach for the attack run. Over!” There was a pause. “Roger that, Ground Control. That's a good copy. Talk to you after it's over.
Blackbird
out!”

“You ready, Alex?” Brian asked. Riverview Park was coming into range again. He eased the flyer down to maybe two hundred feet.

“Max says he's worked out the geometry,” Alex yelled. “We need to pass about three feet above Frankie's head, then it's bombs away when we're eight feet in front of him. Whoa!”

Brian pushed the yoke forward and
Blackbird
plummeted toward the ground. They picked up speed as they descended, moving so fast that the flyer shook again. All the kids were watching them. Some clapped. Some pointed. Frankie moved a little to the right. Brian adjusted course to keep him centered.

“Brian, are you sure she'll pull out of this?”

“Get ready, Alex!” They had seconds until they were in range. One poop bomb, one shot. He brought
Blackbird
out of her dive so they'd just barely pass above Frankie. Thirty feet. Fifteen. Eight. “Now! Now! Now!”

“Bomb away!” Alex shouted.

Brian pulled back on the yoke to bring
Blackbird
back up, but he didn't even watch where they were flying. Instead, he looked back to see the blob of thick wet manure expand. The soupy dark brown poop slammed into Frankie so hard that he went flying back off his feet. He flailed his arms, landing on his butt.

“We nailed him!” Brian yelled. He put
Blackbird
in a tight low curve. “Alex, you timed it perfectly!”

“Dude, it plastered him!” Alex laughed, but then stopped. “Ground Control, this is
Blackbird
, go ahead. Over.”

Brian brought them around toward the Runaway Bridge and did a dive run under it. He pulled up to gain altitude.

“Max says everyone is cracking up,” Alex said. “Frankie is spitting manure out of his mouth and wiping it from his eyes and nose. He's not sure, but he thinks Frankie might be crying.”

“Let's go check it out,” Brian said. They'd turned around and were coming up on the park again. He brought it in at a low twenty feet. Frankie saw them and started running out of the park toward home. “There he goes!” Brian laughed. “But we're still here. Looks like you won your bet.”

“I always win!” Alex said.

Down below, their classmates clapped, laughed, and cheered. Brian dipped a wing to them and then took
Blackbird
up high. They'd done it.

“Brian, Max says he has no idea how fast
Blackbird
burns fuel, so we shouldn't take any chances. We should go ahead with Phase Five and bring it in for a landing heading north on First Street. It's at the bottom of the hill and should be level enough.”

“Roger that,” Brian said. He put
Blackbird
through a series of maneuvers that lined them up with First Street.

“Watch for cars and power lines,” Alex said.

They were coming in nice and shallow, maybe twenty or twenty-five feet up, just like Dad bringing the Cardinal in for a landing on some little grass airstrip. Brian eased the throttle lever forward and felt the engine power down a little. The flyer began to descend. “Be ready on those brakes,” he shouted to Alex, but he did not look away from the street. Twenty feet. Ten. Five feet up. They were just above the pavement. He eased the yoke forward and throttled all the way down. The skateboards made smooth contact. Brian hit the kill switch to shut the engine off. “Brake! Brake! Brake!”

“I can't … stupid things …” Alex muttered. A horrible screeching noise came from the rear of the aircraft.

Brian felt them slow down a little, but there wasn't much more he could do. He lowered the horizontal stabilizer to push the nose down a little, but given that they were rolling on two skateboards, they could pretty much move only in a straight line.

They had maybe two blocks to go until First Street intersected with Lincoln Street. The yellow house directly ahead loomed closer and closer. “Why aren't we stopping?” Brian turned around. Two trails of thick black smoke rose from the ground below
Blackbird
.