Love is Always Write Anthology Volume 6

dropped the fuel gauge, reached out and lifted me into the basket like I was a sack of groceries.
    "Stay down before you fall down. I need six more minutes to get this balloon out of here. Have you got six minutes?"
    I shook my head. "I don't know. Probably not." I sighed and slumped down against the side of the wicker balloon basket, unable to support my weight now that it was not strictly necessary that I do so. I stayed there, with my eyes closed, for about thirty seconds listening to the man do whatever it was that he was doing to get the balloon off the ground.
    Then I took a deep breath and steeled myself for whatever pain my moving was going to cause my leg. I wasn't going pass out on another stranger trying to help me.
    "Anything I can do to help?"
    He gave me an appraising look and then nodded. "Start tossing those ballast bags over the edge. If we can lose some weight we'll get off the ground sooner." He paused. "But don't stand up all the way. We don't want whoever's chasing you to see you." I had to bite back a snarky response of no shit Sherlock . Instead of speaking, I just nodded and turned to my task.
    Without looking at me, the stranger started talking. "There are three guys who look like a bad stereotype for goons combing the crowd and headed this way. They the ones you're running from?"
    "Tall dark and muscled? Look related to each other?"
    "Yeah."
    "Yeah."
    "Well, as soon as they make it to the field your footprints will lead them right here. We got maybe another minute."
    "That enough time to take off?"
    He shrugged and knelt down to rummage through a pile of boxes in the corner of the basket and said, "Maybe."
    He pulled out a small plastic case with a handle and popped the clasps. When he pulled out a small gun and slammed a magazine into the handle, I just about wet myself.
    "Shit. Why do you have a freakin' gun?"
    "Second Lieutenant Rhys Whelan, retired, at your service." It was as he shoved the gun in the back of his waistband that I noticed his army regulation haircut and UNM ROTC sweatshirt. "Don't worry. I don't plan on shooting anyone who isn't shooting at me. Just pays to be prepared."
    I nodded dumbly, part of me relieved that I had found someone who might actually be able to protect me, and part of me scared shitless that I was soon going to be trapped in midair in tiny basket with a stranger who had a gun, and probably knew how to use it.
    Relief quickly outweighed fear as I heard Tommy yell, "This way." Second Lieutenant Rhys Whelan tensed and started messing with the flame a bit, making it bigger. I decided to risk a glance over the edge of the basket.
    My heart jumped into my throat when I saw Tommy, and two of Shea's other cousins, Stephen and Liam, fifty yards away, at the edge of the field and headed in this direction. I felt the basket start to lurch and lift off the ground at the same time that Tommy drew his gun. I figured he wouldn't start randomly shooting because even Old Man Charlie wouldn't be able to clean up a civilian shooting in public without a lot of trouble. As soon as he got close to aim though, we were toast.
    I saw Rhys tossing a few more non-ballast items over the edge of the basket and I felt us start to rise into the air with a more encouraging speed.
    When the three Doherty's reached the place where the balloon had been, it was about fifteen feet off the ground. It wasn't until I saw Tommy holster his gun that it occurred to me that they didn't want me dead. They wanted me alive so I could tell them what I did with the USB drives. I slumped over in relief.
    I glanced up at my rescuer and got my first good look at him. His dark blond hair was close cropped and ice blue eyes stared at me out of a rigidly angular face.
    "What's your name?"
    "Jason."
    "You got a last name that goes with that?"
    "Not until I know you a little better." While his face didn't move a whit, his eyes seemed to smile at this and in that moment they turned from dull ice cubes to rich glacial pools. I scolded my heart for doing a double beat and broke away from his stare.
    Rhys turned away from me then, and began rummaging in the corner that had produced the gun again. This time when he turned around he had a red box marked with a white cross on it in his hand.
    "Come on. Let's get a look at your leg."
    Five agonizing minutes later my calf had been cleaned and bandaged and the ragged bloody part of my pant leg had been cut off. I had to clench my fists and take slow deep breaths to keep