You are welcome, the head lammergeier said. It seemed to stiffen, then said, We’d better get on with it; things appear to be coming to a head. It went quiet for a moment, then seemed to nod to itself. I would advise you not to use the crypt for the moment, it told me.
Righty-ho, I said, and gave the thumbs up sign.
They pulled some levers and the rails above me swung up and open; the balloon took off with a whoosh of air, dragging me and the lengths of plastic tubing up with it. It was like falling upwards. Felt like my stomach was pulled down to my boots.
They either closed the doors to the covering alongside the bottom of the shaft or put the lights out, because it all went dark down there and I was left with just the dark greyness of the shaft walls. The slipstream wind tugged at my clothes.
The balloon seemed to go up pretty straight, though I pulled on the control lines connected to the hinged flaps just to make sure they worked.
Even with all that tubing and stuff we fairly shot up and I had to keep yawning to clear my ears. Some of the lammergeiers had flown up inside the shaft, and I waved to their shadowy shapes as I went past. The whole huge circle of the shaft bottom seemed to shrink like some closing shutter as me and the balloon whistled upwards; pretty soon the birds wheeling round inside the shaft had grown too small to see, and the bottom of the shaft was just a black circle getting slowly smaller.
I don’t know how many minutes it took to get to where I needed oxygen, but it had got pretty bleeding cold by then, I can tell you. I was glad of the thermals and stuff they’d given me. My head was a bit sore by this time.
I turned on the first oxygen tank and took a breath. The balloon had slowed down a lot and I didn’t want to use any more oxygen than I had too, so I cut a length of the tubing off; it was thick stuff like you’d make a drain or something out of and it fell away like a big stiff worm; the balloon picked up speed again and the thin air hissed past me.
The walls of the dark shaft were plain and boring, just lines and rails and occasional circular outlines that might have been doors but which were never open.
I’d let 5 of the 8 bits of plastic tubing go when I saw flashes down below, in the depths of the shaft. A bit later I heard some muffled bangs.
There were more brief flashes, and then I saw a little wavering spark of light what didn’t fade; in fact the bugger seemed to be getting brighter and closer.
Oh fuck, I thought, and cut the strings holding the other three lengths of plastic tubing. The balloon whooshed up the shaft; the harness bit into my thighs and my arms were dragged down to my sides. The air roared distinctly around me and my headache got worse.
I watched the three bits of tubing falling away, hoping they’d hit whatever it was coming up after me, but they didn’t. The rocket – which is what I was assuming it was – climbed on after me. I didn’t want to cut my parachute free and I didn’t think that would make much difference anyway and there was just a chance if the rocket destroyed the balloon I’d survive and be able to use the parachute (Ha! Who was I kidding?). I felt my bladder getting ready to lighten me a bit.
Water, I thought. I got my water bottle out and was about to chuck it away when the fire around the tail of the rocket went out. It still kept coming for bleeding ages mind you, and I was half waiting for some second stage or something to ignite, and still hesitating about chucking away the water bottle.
Never happened; the rocket got to within about half a kilometre or so and then just sort of toppled over and slowly started to fall away, tumbling end over end back into the darkness and eventually disappearing.
I breathed a sigh of relief that misted up my face plate. The balloon almost scraped the side of the shaft but with a bit of dextrous pulling and a modicum of swearing and panicking I got the damn thing back on the correct course.
There was a explosion at the bottom of the shaft.
No more rockets.
I couldn’t see upwards naturally, but the base of the shaft was an awful long way away and I thought I had to be near the top of the thing by now. On the other hand, the balloon was still fairly racing upwards, so I guessed I was wrong. Sure enough, the climb went on for some time after that. My feet and fingers was starting to get really cold. My head was aching fit to burst.
I didn’t feel I was breathing right, but couldn’t remember what you were supposed to do to breathe right. I started to worry about what would happen if they’d taken the top off the tower or I drifted out the side through a hole and went on up into space. What’d I do then? I wondered. I looked down; my gloved fingers were fiddling about with the valves on top of the little bottles strapped to my chest. I shook my head. Doing this hurt a lot.
I think I must have blacked out for a bit because when I awake I was stationary.
My head still hurts like hell but at least I’m alive. The balloon is floating against one wall of the shaft and sort of bobbing me up and down very gently. It’s a bit lighter at last. I can see the tracks going up the side of the shaft in great detail, but no doors. I try to think what I can throw away. An oxygen tank; there’s one empty. I must have changed over to the second one after all.
I unscrew the tank with very cold gloved fingers and let it drop.
The balloon floats up very slowly.
My head feels tight and buzzy like it’s going to burst and my whole body feels bloated like I’m a balloon myself. Lights sparking in front of my eyes and roaring in my head.
The balloon stops, bobbing again.
Still no sign of a door.
I rock back and forward as if I’m on a swing; this scrapes the balloon against the side of the shaft, but it can’t be helped. Swinging quite hard, I can see a door – an open door! – a bit further up the shaft.
I take a drink from the water bottle, then let it drop into the darkness. The balloon bobs a bit higher over the next few minutes. Nearly there but not quite.
I might need the knife; can’t throw that away. I look at my boots and my gloves, but I suspect it would be crazy to throw them away. I could throw away the parachute but then I’d have no chance at all of getting back down.
It looks pretty light up here; I take the torch out and throw it downwards as hard as I can.
I keep the balloon going from side to side as it floats up a bit higher. I’m level with the door; it’s human sized and like a sort of square O shape. Looks dark inside there. I can almost reach the door but I need to make the balloon rock some more. The balloon floats down a bit and I shout and curse but I keep swinging and swinging and eventually I’m whipping back and forward in a almost complete half-circle and the door’s just about in range; I fling out one leg and hook onto the sill of the doorway, then pull myself in with my legs.
I dunno; I must be dopey with the altitude or something because I just undo the harness and of course the balloon races off up the shaft, nearly dragging me out of the doorway at the same time; I stagger with one hand flailing out of the door while the other glove slides along the flange inside the doorway.
I pull myself back in, gasping for breath. I look up the shaft. There’s a big black cone hanging down feeling the top of the shaft, and there’s big long holes like sort of upwardly-sloped gill slits letting in some light around the walls of the shaft opposite the cone. The light looks like daylight, though it must be coming from a fair distance as this is the centre of the tower and everybody knows it don’t taper much.
There’s another couple of balloons up there where the one that brought me up is heading. I watch mine thump against the side of the black cone. It goes on up, nearly disappears out of one of the big long slits, then comes to a stop at the top of the shaft, between the cone and the shaft side, bobbing like a balloon lost to the ceiling at a kids’ party.