Escapes! (17 page)

“Don't worry,” Peter shouted in Günter's ear. “People will think it's a motorcycle.”

Günter, Doris, and Petra held up the neck of the balloon. Watching Peter, they braced themselves for the impact. Günter nodded, and Peter turned on the blowtorch and burner. The flame streaked out — higher than they expected. Doris and Petra jumped out of the way. Peter's hair was singed as he held the powerful burner steady.

The fabric on the ground began to stir, rippling as the air streamed through it. Peter stared at it as he gripped the burner. Come on, he thought. This time it
has
to work.

Ever so slowly, the colored stripes began to rise off the ground, snapping in the air. The balloon swelled as it lifted high above their heads.

All four stood with their heads tilted back, mouths open in amazement. It was beautiful! Like a dream, the balloon towered over the trees and swayed against the starry sky. Flushed with their first success, Peter shouted for joy.

It was time to tell Frank, he decided. He had worried that the kids would have a hard time keeping a giant balloon a secret. One little hint to their friends, and the whole plan was finished. Worse, they could be arrested. But now Frank was getting suspicious — it might be more dangerous to leave him guessing any longer.

Back at home, Peter led Frank to the garage, and this time he didn't hide anything from his son. As Frank stared at the deflated balloon, basket, and burner, Peter told him the story of their escape plan. Frank blinked with disbelief, then a slow smile spread across his face. It seemed too good to be true!

“We're almost ready to go,” his father added.

Peter watched Günter as he wandered restlessly around the garage. He had been quiet tonight, even for Günter. Something was wrong.

Finally Günter spoke up. “Petra's been having bad dreams,” he said slowly. “She's more afraid now — that we'll get arrested. That we'll crash.”

“That's natural...” Peter began to say.

Günter cut him off. “It's not just Petra who's having doubts. Look, we've filled the balloon, but we still don't have enough lifting power.” He looked down, avoiding Peter's eyes. “I'm just not sure that we can do it anymore.”

Peter nodded. He turned his face to hide his disappointment. How could he blame them? Günter and Petra would have to risk so much.

“It might be better if we didn't see each other,” he said at last. “I don't want the police arresting you and Petra as our accomplices.”

There was nothing else to say. The two friends shook hands and Günter walked out into the night.

Peter stood in his backyard in the crisp spring air and stared at the propane tanks at his feet. It had been a year since that wonderful night when their balloon had filled the sky. Peter was still struggling alone to solve the puzzle of lifting power.

Peter sighed as he upended another used propane bottle. He turned the tap to empty the last bit of gas. Instantly propane streamed out through the opened tap. The pressure was incredible!

That's it! Peter thought. Turning the bottles upside down increases the pressure! That night he confirmed his theory at the test site — the burner's flame was at least 40 feet long.

Nothing was holding them back now. The Strelzyks waited nervously for the right flying weather — a clear night with a westward wind that would blow them over the border. Frank spent days at school staring out the window at a nearby weathervane. Doris and Peter made a point of taking on long-term projects at work, so no one would suspect they had a sudden departure on their minds.

Then one afternoon at school, Frank didn't hear a word his teacher said. The weathervane outside had been pointing steadily in the right direction for hours. The sky was blue — not a cloud in sight. Tonight would be the night!

Back at home, Doris grabbed the family's identification papers and made sure everyone had warm clothes — they would be soaring thousands of feet up in the cold night air. But they took little else with them. Extra weight would be disastrous.

The hours passed slowly as they waited for dark, then for their neighbors' lights to turn off. Slipping through the garage into the car, Peter told the boys to lie down in the back seat, so no one would see them out late.

The motion of the car soon put Andreas to sleep. But Frank was wide awake, his heart racing. He'd never felt so excited — or nervous.

At the clearing they set up quickly, and Peter made a final equipment check: flashlights, matches, altimeter. He started the blower and the balloon began to fill with cold air. Glancing up at the sky, he frowned. A few clouds drifted across the sky. They hadn't been there when they left. But he wasn't turning back now.

It was time to heat the air. He ignited the blowtorch and held the flame to the neck of the balloon. Frank quickly put the burner together. He watched for his dad's signal, then lit it.

The balloon rose so swiftly they were startled. The lines holding the basket to the fabric stretched to the breaking point.

“Come on,” Peter shouted as he turned off the blowtorch and threw it down. The four of them scrambled inside and crouched down on the steel floor. Peter and Frank leaned over the sides and cut the cables holding them to the ground.

Slowly, gently, the basket swayed upward. Peter had not expected it would feel like this — he could hardly tell they were moving at all. Doris and the kids watched the trees below get smaller.

Peter kept his eyes on the gas flame. He mustn't let it touch the fabric, no matter what. He gripped the stovepipe to steady the flame in the center. It was as cold as ice! With a groan Peter remembered that he had left his work gloves lying on the ground. And beside them he had dropped the fire extinguisher!

The balloon kept rising in the darkness. Within minutes they had passed 3,000 feet, then 4,000, and still they soared higher. Peter guessed it would take them half an hour to reach West Germany. How much time had it been so far — 10, 20 minutes? Not long now, he told himself.

Suddenly Peter felt like he'd been drenched in a wet fog. They were in the clouds!

Don't panic, he thought. But he knew the balloon would soak up the water in the clouds like a sponge. It would make them heavier. And slower.

The basket started spinning, buffeted by strong winds. They'd hit turbulence! Peter quickly turned down the gas, and they sank under the clouds.

No one noticed at first that they kept sinking. Peter was blinded by the burner's hot flame. Why didn't I bring goggles? he thought uselessly. But when the others looked over the side, they saw the lights below getting bigger.

Shouts filled the balloon as everyone realized at once — they were going down.

“We're dropping!”

“Look out!”

There was no time to turn up the gas to lift them back up. Before Peter could react, he heard fabric tearing as the balloon sailed through the treetops. Pine branches gripped the balloon as it passed, slowing it down. Before they knew what was happening, they hit the ground.

“Everyone out!” Peter ordered. He didn't know what might happen — the propane might explode, or the balloon might fall, trapping them.

One by one they hopped over the guardrail and ran into the woods. From a hiding spot they looked around, panting.

Where were they?

Peter's mind raced. They'd been in the air for more than half an hour. Chances were, they'd made it.

“Stay here while I look around,” he said.

Peter walked alone out of the woods and spotted a fence up ahead. No, he thought. Two fences, high ones, with a strip between them. He tried to stay calm. Was it the border?

And which side were they on?

Peter returned to the woods. “Follow me,” he whispered to his family. “Slowly.”

They crept through the dark with the flashlight off, afraid its light would give them away. Peter stumbled on something. He lit the flashlight, shielding the beam with his hand and moved forward.

The light fell across something odd — wires spiraling across their path, about waist high.

Holding the others back, Peter swung his leg carefully over the wires. There were more ahead. He followed the length of one of the wires with the flashlight, and saw where it connected to a box.

Trip wires! Fear gripped Peter's mind. Do the West Germans use trip wires on their side? He didn't know. But they couldn't go any further in the dark, not with these deadly traps threading all around them. The slightest brush against them would set off an alarm — or automatic bullets. They'd have to wait until dawn.

Frank stooped down and picked something up. It was a torn package. Peter aimed his flashlight at it, and as they read the print, their hearts sank: “People's Owned Bakery, Wernigerode.”

They were still in East Germany, just short of the border fences. Without speaking, Peter clicked off the flashlight. The four of them huddled together, and waited for first light.

If only. Those words haunted Peter when they got back home. If only they hadn't hit the clouds. If only he'd noticed sooner that they were sinking. He could have turned up the flame for the burst of speed they needed to carry them over the border. They were so close! The thought tortured him.

As the days passed, his hands stopped shaking, and he told himself that they had been lucky. A little further and they would have landed in the minefield.

Now something worse weighed on his mind — there was no going back to their old life. They'd left a balloon lying in the border zone. The police would search for the failed escapers. The newspaper had already carried a picture of the things they'd left in the abandoned balloon, asking people to come forward with information about the “crime.”

It was only a matter of time before some clue — the fabric they'd bought, a witness who'd seen them driving to the clearing — led the secret police to their door.

There was only one thing to do: build another balloon. Fast. But this time Peter knew they couldn't do it alone.