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The balloon scraped the ground, throwing everyone sideways.
Nash, Chico, and John grabbed the basket, but their combined weight wasn’t enough to ground it. We scraped and bounced along, pushed by the wind.
“Okay, go!” I yelled. “Everyone out. Now!”
I meant the guests, but Madden was the first to bail out. Two guests vaulted out after him, while the rest climbed to the edge of the basket more clumsily. Not their fault, with the basket skidding along, hitting rocks and bushes. My hip banged into the propane tank, and my knee smacked into the stiff weave of the basket.
“Oof.” John tripped, and that side of the basket jerked upward.
The motion flung the two guys on the lower side of the basket to the ground, while the other two toppled back in.
“Everyone out!” I yelled, doing my best to keep the balloon steady. “That side.”
Having lost several hundred pounds of human ballast, the balloon rose clear of the ground. That made the motion smoother — other than the swatting and crashing of bushes. It also meant the last two guests faced a seven-foot drop to the ground. Intimidating, but not deadly.
“Go! Now!” I yelled.
Finally, they ditched, landing hard, then running clear.
“Erin!” Nash yelled.
I glanced over the edge of the basket. The balloon had risen higher, lifting Nash and Chico off the ground in their efforts to control it.
“Get out!” Nash yelled as Chico fell to the ground.
The balloon rose even higher. And, shit. The balloon continued hurtling toward the power lines, and I hadn’t considered the change in ballast. Now, I was ten feet off the ground. Fifteen… Twenty…
My mind spun with a whole new set of calculations. My first priority was to keep the guests safe, and we’d accomplished that — aside from a few bruises. My second priority was the balloon. If I bailed out now and let it hit the power lines, it would be a total write-off. Worse, we could be sued for damage by the power company. Even if we weren’t, the bad publicity would be a blow to the entire industry.
Of course, I had to keep myself safe too. But when I weighed it all up…
I made a split-second decision, then pulled the burner cord hard.
Flames burst out, and the balloon jumped higher.
Terrifying as it was, something primal in me cheered. A crazy, untapped section of my soul that had always yearned to fly free.
“Erin!” Nash yelled.
“Let go!” I yelled. It was too late to land before the power lines. My only option was to climb high enough to clear them.
Standard procedure for making a balloon climb was to heat the air in short bursts. But since this wasn’t exactly standard procedure… I yanked on the burner cord and held it, makingthe balloon surge upward. That came with a risk of burning the fabric of the balloon, but that seemed the lesser of two evils.
“Erin!” Nash yelled again.
Huh. Why did he sound so close?
A glance back showed Chico, John, and several of the guests running, pointing, yelling. As if I hadn’t noticed the power lines. I huffed. Men!
I turned back to the power lines, because that was all that mattered. My heart leaped to my throat, because it would be close. Very close.
Unconsciously, I rose to my toes and raised my chin as if that would somehow help the balloon scrape over.
And, whew. The air pressure changed, and we rose an extra foot or two — high enough for the balloon to clear the power lines. But not the basket.
I gave the burner a quick break, then pulled again, praying for an inch of clearance.
Seconds later, the power lines disappeared under one side of the balloon. I braced myself, waiting for disaster.
