The zeppelin rested on tapering supports that resembled old- fashioned oil derricks. Other towers were arranged closer to the air- craft. With Zavala close on his heels, Austin made his way from tower to tower, finally reaching two scaffolds that supported the star- board rear nacelle. He glanced around. The crews were still intent on keeping the zeppelin down as it strained against the anchor lines. Satisfied that they had not been seen, he climbed to the top of the tower.

The egg-shaped engine housing was about the size of an SUV and attached to the fuselage by metal struts. The spinning propeller was the height of two men. Austin grabbed onto a strut and pulled him- self onto the top of the nacelle. He could feel the vibration from the powerful engine through the soles of his boots. As the propeller picked up speed, it created a backwash, and he had to hold on tightly to prevent being blown off. He reached down to lend a hand to Zavala, who was still scrambling onto the engine housing, when the launch crew slacked the lines and the zeppelin began to rise. Zavala's legs dangled as he tried to get a foot up on the rounded side of the nacelle. Holding on with one hand, Austin used the considerable strength in his shoulders to give Zavala the lift he needed.

By then, the zeppelin was halfway to the roof. From their position atop the nacelle, they were shielded from eyes below. But the prop wash was picking up, and it was becoming harder to hold on to the slick, rounded surface. Austin looked up and saw a rectangular open- ing where the struts disappeared into the fuselage. He yelled at Zavala, but his words were blown away by the wind, so he simply pointed. Zavala answered, and although Austin couldn't hear his partner's reply, he was sure Joe was saying, “After you.”

Austin began to climb. The strut had been made with ladder rungs to allow an engineer access to the engine pod for midair repairs. With the prop turning and the zeppelin rising, the journey of several feet was the ultimate challenge. Austin's progress wasn't pretty, but he made it through the rectangular opening in the zeppelin's belly.

Once out of the main force of the prop wash, he hung on the lad- der and looked back. Zavala was right behind him. The zeppelin had risen through the top of the dome, and the doors in the roof were closing. The people in the dome looked to be the size of ants. By the time Zavala made it into the fuselage, the dome was closed completely. Having made their decision to stow away, he and Zavala had no other choice. They began to climb into the darkness.

NUMA 4 - White Death

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