Chapter 5

CHAPTER 5 Ben grabbed Harry. He crawled across the floor toward the door, dragging Harry along with him. He pushed against the door. But it was stuck. It was wedged against the cracked, broken floor. Now what? They were trapped! Panic churned Ben's insides. They couldn't stay here! But where could they go? His body was frozen. His heart pounded. His mind swirled so that it was impossible to think. Was this how Dad had felt, when he knew his F-16 was going to crash?

Dad had only recently told Ben the story of the crash. They'd been at the basketball court across from their house. Normally, Dad didn't tell stories about being at war. But something about the thump, thump, thump of the basketball had loosened Dad up, got him talking. He'd described what had happened when the engine exploded, when the lights on the cockpit console had flashed like a video game gone haywire. He was twenty-five thousand feet in the air, rocketing through the sky at five hundred miles per hour. Any minute, the entire plane could burst into flames. His only chance was to eject, to pull the big yellow lever that would explode him out of the plane and send him shooting through the endless sky. The roof of the cockpit — the canopy — was made of clear plastic, and was designed to pop off when the eject lever was pulled. A small explosive under Dad's seat would blast the entire seat into the air. Two parachutes would open — the first to

yank Dad upright, the second to float him down to Earth. But what if the canopy didn't open and Dad crushed his head? What if the parachutes failed and he fell like a rock straight into the ground? Dad had heard stories about ejections that went horribly wrong. Plenty of pilots had died, or were so badly hurt that they never walked again. These were terrifying thoughts. But Dad had been trained for these life-and-death moments — to fly through enemy fire, to land on an aircraft carrier in a thunderstorm, to avoid a missile aimed straight for the belly of his jet. "The fear is always there," Dad had told Ben, bouncing the ball and lining up at the free-throw line. "But you can't let it take over." He'd eyed the basket and taken a shot. "You have to choose: live or die. If you let yourself panic, you're finished." Swish.

Now Ben remembered what Dad had said to him next. "What you learn in training is to close your eyes," Dad had said. "You breathe deep. You breathe, and breathe, and breathe. And somehow your mind clears so you can do what you need to do." Ben closed his eyes now. It was hard to fill his lungs — his chest felt as if it was wrapped tight in rubber bands. But he kept thinking of Dad's words: Breathe. Breathe. Breathe. And somehow his mind stopped swirling. His body relaxed. And then, almost without thinking, Ben grabbed Harry. He dragged him back toward the bed, which had strong metal legs.

Ben pushed Harry underneath, and then scrambled in after him. "Wait!" Harry screamed. "Nya!" The cat was in the middle of the room, frozen in shock. Harry tried to crawl out, but Ben gripped on to his ankle, pulling Harry back in. "Get her!" Harry screamed at Ben. Ben slid out from under the bed and crawled on his elbows after Nya. He caught her by the tail. She howled and scratched at him, but he managed to pull her back so that Harry could grab her. Ben had barely made it under the bed when the room seemed to explode. And the ceiling came crashing down.