Chapter 13

Before Gilbert could answer, Ace slammed on the brakes. With a drawn out screech of tortured rubber, the car lost its forward speed. The pilot nimbly spun the driver's wheel and the car swapped end for end. Before that motion completed, she popped the clutch again and the car accelerated back the other way. The shriek of rubber against pavement continued throughout the entire maneuver.

The instant voices could be heard again, Ace spoke in tones like dry ice. "Then we're in a real hurry. Also, I don't have anything in this car that will stop a truck. We'll improvise something at the airport."

They zoomed through Lark Haven at what must be close to a land speed record. It took only a few seconds to traverse the entirety of main street. Gilbert braced himself against the buffeting and muttered, "I wonder if that will finally wake up Sheriff Roy."

"What are we going to do, Ace?" Vivian said.

"I've got a rebuilt Sopwith 1½ Strutter. We'll catch the truck just fine, but—"

Gilbert said, "But what?"

"The war's over. The rebuilt Sopwith has no gun. How can we stop the truck in a way that—" With a spray of gravel, Ace veered off the highway and into the airport. The roadster careened toward a hangar. "—that doesn't kill everybody, them and us?"

"And Mom." Gilbert chewed on his lower lip.

All was dark and quiet at the airport, including the airship assembly hangar. Overhead, only wisps remained of the day's clouds. Fat stars shone steadily. The bright moon lit the scene, turning the blocky hangars into ghosts of silver and shadow.

Ace brought the car to a skidding stop at a person-sized door at the corner of the small hangar. "Quick as we can, now," she said.

The three popped out of the car as if propelled by springs. Ace unlocked the hangar door. "You two, open the big doors. I'll look around for gear."

"Yes, ma'am," said Gilbert.

Ace led the way inside. She reached into the darkness and engaged a hefty relay. With a spark and a bang, light flooded the hangar. Smaller than the airship hangar, it still encompassed a huge volume of empty air. Several of the Fernwood family's barns could easily sit inside with room to spare. Three small airplanes and a large double-engine monoplane parked in a diagonal array along one wall. Rolling ladders, work benches, jacks, tool chests, and other mechanical equipment dotted the sides.

Schooling their staring eyes to the task at hand, the twins raced to the center-front of the hangar. They both seized the handle of an oversized latch mechanism and levered it up. With a metallic scrape and a clunk, the two rolling doors separated by a half inch. The twins worked the left door first, grabbing well-engineered handholds and pushing. They strained, and the heavy door began to roll.

Meanwhile, Ace raided a wheeled cabinet for spare caps and goggles and stuffed them in her jacket. She seized a hefty steel crowbar from a workbench and sprinted toward a cheery biplane. Its bright red paint reflected to color its corner of the hangar rosy. She raced up a metal rolling staircase to the forward cockpit and stowed the crowbar under the seat. 

She glanced at the twins. They silently toiled as a unit to get the second half of the hangar doors open. The corner of Ace's mouth lifted in a half smile. A moment later, her eyes roved back to the hangar walls. She scowled and muttered, "Think, Ace, think. Pop the tires? Cut the gas line? Disable the driver?"

Vivian and Gilbert clattered over, and Ace descended to meet them. The flyer distributed flying caps and goggles and the twins took them in bug-eyed silence.

"Who is strongest?" Ace said, her eyes pinging back and forth between the two. Vivian had an inch of height advantage due to the ebbs and flows of adolescent growth spurts.

Vivian spoke first, wearing a sour expression. "Gilbert. In the arms, anyway."

Gilbert's eyebrows shot up and he stared at Vivian.

Ace nodded. "Gilbert, get in the middle seat. Vivian, you'll be in the rear, but get in front for now. Climb the stairs. You get to start the engine. Gilbert, see the marks on the wing? Step there. Buckle in. I'll be right back."

The teens obeyed, eyes wide, hearts pounding, smiles threatening to break through their masks of worry. Vivian climbed up the rolling ladder and gingerly hoisted herself down into the pilot's seat. She drank in the sight of the control stick between her knees and the rows of dials and switches. Gilbert jogged around the wing and clambered up and in. A third, rear seat crowded behind him, like a rumble seat on a car.

He settled in. The seat belts puzzled him for a moment, but soon he figured it out. Straps from over his shoulders and at each hip all buckled to a big latch about where his belly button was. All the belts could be released by sliding a knob sideways. A ribbed shell of metal surrounded him, padded with leather at the top edge. Gilbert buckled his leather cap on, and settled his goggles into his eye sockets.

Ace returned, jostling the plane as she stepped heavily on the wing. She heaved a massive electric motor over the side and into his lap. Gilbert blurted, "Eaugh!" as the lump of steel, iron, and copper compressed his thighs.

"It's most of Joe's favorite grinder. He's going to be mad at me." Ace flashed a grin. "But it's also our torpedo, and we only get one shot, bombardier!"

"Um, yeah. Check," mumbled a doubtful Gilbert as he hefted it this way and that, trying to find a position where the weight didn't cut off blood flow to his feet.

Ace was already gone. The pilot pelted around the wing and up the ladder. She thrust a hand and arm into the cockpit to point out the controls to Vivian. "Here's the contact. Here's the throttle. Here's the choke. Start with the choke all the way out, and ease it in, but don't let the engine die. Can you do that, Vivian?"

"Can do, Ace."

"Good. Here's part two. When I give you thumbs-up, we'll swap places. You have three things to do as fast as you can: roll the stairs away, remove the chocks, and then climb in behind Gilbert. Got it?"

"Yes, ma'am." Vivian's brown eyes locked with Ace's for split second. The corners of Ace's eyes crinkled and she gave the tiniest of nods, like a salute.

Ace jammed her own leather flying cap down over her ears and slid down the stairs. She lowered her goggles and zipped around to the front of the propeller. Arms stretched high, she gripped the wooden blade with both hands. "Contact!"

Vivian pressed the cold metal of the switch with her thumb. It clicked down and she yelled, "Contact!"

Ace bounced up on her toes, then heaved the propeller blade down. The propeller spun. The engine coughed. And coughed again. And it caught and roared, belching a cloud of gray to the rear. Ace gave the propeller a wide berth as she sprinted around it. She sprang up the ladder to Vivian.

As for Vivian, the airplane frame vibrated around her and air blasted back from the propeller into her face. But the choke and throttle slid easily. By listening to the engine, she was able to balance the two to keep the engine from stalling. On the whole, the Sopwith's engine behaved a lot better than her father's secondhand tractor. When she could push the choke all the way in, she looked up to find Ace leaning on the cockpit grinning at her. The famed flyer's scars pulled at her smile on one side, but the overall effect bubbled with good humor.

Ace gave Vivian the thumbs-up and extended a hand. Vivian grabbed it, and Ace pulled. Vivian vaulted out of the cockpit, bumping the overhead wing on the way. Ace slipped in her place and stomped on the wheel brakes.

Vivian clattered down to the bottom stair, then tugged hard at the rolling staircase. The contraption rolled easily. She dodged around the stairs and raced to the wheels. Two chocks connected by rope stopped the plane from rolling forward. The first tug at the connected wedges failed. She bared her teeth, roared, and tried again. They popped free, and she raced for the wing. Gilbert lowered a helping hand over the side, and Vivian seized it like the lifeline it was.

The pilot glanced back to see Vivian slither into the rumble seat. She gave another thumbs-up to Gilbert and Vivian, then released the brake and opened the throttle. The engine roared, and the Strutter jumped as if kicked. 

It rocketed out of the hangar. The world snapped from bright and electric to dark and ghostly.

The wind whipped at the teens, and they adjusted their goggles and checked their seat belts. As they bounced faster and faster over the pavement, Ace handed a small object back to Gilbert. He took the papery, firm-squishy rectangle. He squinted at it in the moonlight and read, "Double mint gum."

As he deciphered the gum wrapper, they lost contact with the ground. The heavy motor in his lap crushed his thighs even harder, but the jolting ground vibrations vanished, leaving only the steady moan of the engine. The pressure in his ears changed almost immediately, and he hastily plucked a stick of gum from the pack and handed the rest to Vivian.

Chewing made his ears pop, bringing sudden comfort. The cold wind, though, numbed his cheeks and forehead. He glanced back to Vivian and she gave him thumbs-up and a toothy grin.

Sparks of electric lights from Lark Haven drifted by below. His gaze darted all around and he wished he had ten eyes. The joy inside burst out and Gilbert laughed and whooped.