by Michael Rigg
"No!"
"Don't argue with me. Come on, I'll help you put it on."
"No!" She protested, and pushed the chute toward her wounded husband. "Kevin can take it. He's hurt. He needs a doc—"
"And you're not hurt." I glanced to Kevin. "Come on, Maggie, we need to save you."
"No!" She screamed. Tears welled in her eyes. "Don't do this!"
Kevin smiled toward her. "I'll be safe with the angel, beloved. Take the parachute and I'll meet you in Memphis."
Maggie's eyes grew fierce and she sniffed. She glared at me. "You take it!" I reared back slightly and started to protest, to argue her into it, but she took it and fumbled with the straps as if she were going to help me put it on. "No, Maggie. You—"
"I am staying with me 'usband."
"Maggie, you—"
"Ahm stayin' right here with Kevin."
Kevin gave up and only looked at me. He was too weak to fight. He knew that no matter what, he wasn't getting the only parachute, so the struggle within him to save his wife and die alone—or die with her—frosted behind his eyes.
"Damn it," I spat and pushed the chute away from me. I shook my head. Fine. If that's the way it had to be. "If you're not going, Maggie..." I flashed a crooked smile, "None of us are."
I don't know why—maybe because of the 'angel thing'—but that seemed to bolster the young woman. A half-smile bulged her cat whisker tattoo and she nodded as she wrapped her arms around her husband and kissed his temple. Another explosion bounced the Mystic Lady and toppled me back off my knees. I felt us lurch down again. "Damn it!"
Then it hit me.
Eyes blazing, I glanced to my friends before scrambling on my hands and knees toward Master Southby's room. It was a hunch, a long-shot, but the neatness his cabin exhibited, the guarded way it seemed he kept his gear —
I pushed open his bullet-riddled door and saw it almost immediately: an olive drab pack, neatly tucked between two boxes under his neatly-made bunk. I rushed to it and pulled it out. It was in even better condition that the first one I'd found. Turning back, I made my way to Maggie and Kevin.
Another explosion buffeted the ship and we listed slightly to the side. I knew we'd be out of the clouds soon, so we'd have to move fast. Pushing the new chute toward Maggie, I smiled. "Here. Let's get you two out of here."
Maggie looked at it, dumbfounded, a crooked lost smile on her face as she realized she and Kevin could be saved after all. Her moist blue eyes searched me as she shook her head. "We canna' leave without you, Alice."
I turned to Kevin and helped him to his feet. "Yes you can, and you're going to." Kevin shook his head and pushed his parachute toward me. "No. No, Alice, you—"
"I don't have time for this!" I yelled, my voice echoing off the metal corridor even over the din of buffeting blasts of fire and steam. "You two are getting out of here. I'll be okay."
Kevin said, "Alice, I can't—" I grabbed him by his good arm. "You can! You have a wife to take care of and a baby to bring into the world! Now go!"
It wasn't what I was going for, but it had the desired effect. Maggie must have thought I'd blessed her womb with my commands because she suddenly nodded and smiled, her blond curls bouncing at her temples as she helped Kevin into his parachute. Then I helped her into hers and we all made our way toward the back of the ship and the large open bomb bay hatch.
Surprisingly, the airship didn't list any more, though we were continuing on a downward spiral I was sure would pick up in speed with each passing minute. I hurriedly ushered Maggie and Kevin to the edge of the hatch and wished them luck.
"You know how to work that thing, don't you?" I asked, pointing to Maggie's chute.
She nodded, her eyes wet with tears. "You dun think I wasn't raised in the sky, Alice?" She took her husband by the good arm and glanced at me as Kevin nodded a silent farewell. "Thank you, Alice. May God spirit you on your path and deliver you where you need to be."
"Thank you, Kevin. You both saved me and I won't forget you."
"G'bye, love," Maggie said as her chin puckered. She mouthed the word “Angel,” but couldn't quite say it.
Then they both bent at the knee and cast themselves out into the clouds.
I stood there alone for a long minute, watching the milky white roll by below me. When at last the clouds broke, I saw the two pale beige mushroom caps of their chutes far below, falling toward rolling green hills not far from farmland nearby. I breathed a sigh of relief and waved toward them though I knew they couldn't see me.
The roar of a black delta-wing snapped me back to the present as it thundered by below the hatch. I reached for a support beam and held on as I watched another of the planes coming close underneath. The pilot was setting his course and speed as Wilco had done, trying to get under the Mystic Lady and board.
"Oh, no you don't." I looked to the right and saw one of the harpoon cannons the pirates used to haul us in. I ran over to it and climbed into the gunner's chair as I looked over the levers and wheels that controlled it. The gun was loaded, a tall coil of heavy cable next to it that would snag the plane, but I saw no other real choice. I was going down and probably wouldn't survive the crash. I wasn't about to sit by and not fight for the last moments of my life.
The gun site in front of my face was a wire ring the size of a dinner plate with a small ring in the center all held in place by crossed wires. I aimed toward the engine block of the delta wing as the pilot edged closer, then tilted the gun up to allow for wind and velocity of the cannon. I had no idea where this knowledge came from. I knew I had fired guns in my life before amnesia, but a harpoon cannon?
He was close enough for me to see him, but he didn't see me. He was looking farther forward, setting his sights on the access hatches. The man wore black leather to match his plane, but the white sling and cast on his arm glared up in obvious contrast. I didn't waste time wondering where he got it. I reached out, squeezed the release on the lever and pulled back.
FOOMP!
My head snapped forward, then back, as the enormous harpoon cannon fired. Cable zipped out from the coil as the spear-like weapon rocketed toward its mark. Quickly, I scrambled out of the seat and rushed forward as I heard the barbed spear solidly clank with something metal. I scrambled back. I didn't want to be near the open hatch if the plane exploded under me, or—worse yet—snagged on the cable and flew up into the underside of the airship.
Damn. Maybe it was a dumb idea after—
The explosion sent me flying forward. I heard bits and pieces of the pulverized delta wing thunk and crack into the underside of the Mystic Lady. I glanced over my shoulder through the open hatch and saw that the harpoon gun was gone, uprooted from where it had been riveted to the floor. I scrambled to my feet and hurried back just in time to see the tail end of the plane spiraling down after a black smoking hulk of what was left of it, a tattered line and part of the harpoon gun falling to earth below it.
Grinning tightly, I turned and dashed toward the bridge to prepare for my crash. Maybe I could still steer this thing and hope for ditching it in some trees or something.
On the bridge, I kept my attention focused straight ahead and on the wheel. I didn't want to see what was left of the poor Leslie Southby. I hope he found the peace he never had in life. I vowed to remember him, and Kevin and Maggie, as I unhooked the wheel and tried pulling it back to level us out.
The ship felt enormous and sluggish in my hands, like a wounded whale I was trying to reign toward the surface of the sea. Slowly, it came up, but as the nose leveled out, she tilted more to the side. I had to struggle to remain standing upright as anything loose on the bridge, broken glass, fragments from shattered brass dials, Kevin's gun, slid past my feet to the right. As I saw the large chrome weapon slide by, I let go of the wheel and dove for it. Immediately, the ship dipped down but also leveled out. I snatched up the pistol and tucked it into the front of my torn skirt before re-taking the wheel. I glanced behind me. I didn't know if anyone would try b
oarding the ship again, but I'd be ready if they did.
Outside, the engines of the surviving delta wings roared closer, then I heard the machine gun fire. This was it. They were going to shoot me down and finish me off. Ducking instinctively, I held tight to the wheel from the bottom, but no shells pierced the hull and no explosions rocked the airship from behind me. More guns fired, more planes roared by, but still I wasn't hit.
Risking it, I slowly climbed up the wheel to stare out through the shattered windows. A black delta-wing shot by, followed by a beige-colored biplane with blue stars on its wings. The biplane spat fire from its front-mounted guns as it chased the black plane away.
"Yeah!" I cheered, exalted with hope as I pumped my fist toward my would-be savior. Then I set my attention on the Mystic Lady and willed the old girl to stay afloat awhile longer. I pulled back to raise our altitude while fighting our starboard list, then I'd ease off on the wheel to let us level out as we angled down toward the earth. Using this method, I was able to keep us up, just under the clouds for awhile longer as I heard the shooting going on all around me, white-hot tracers of shells zipping by outside the forward pane as the black and beige planes continued their dogfight all around me.
Then I heard it. Well, I heard and felt it. The Mystic Lady shuddered slightly as loud clanging noises bucked from behind me. Either the other engine was going, or someone was hooking up to the ship to board her.
I kept glancing over my shoulder, straining to listen over the din of battle for who—or what—may be trying to come aboard. Finally, following another set of cracks and clangs that I recognized as the hatch where Maggie and I had signaled Wilco, I released the ship's wheel and drew the revolver from my skirt. Bracing myself against the wheel to hold it steady, I took aim.
The door to the bridge was open and I could clearly see down the corridor toward the side rooms where the hatches were located. Not wanting to be seen or give my attackers an advantage, I lowered my weapon and moved quickly toward the door. I shouldered it closed, the heavy metal squealing on its busted hinge, then stepped back to the wheel and braced myself again. Moments later I thought I heard feet clanking on the grated deck beyond the door. This was it. I raised the pistol and aimed down the long barrel, bracing myself but keeping my elbows loose as I remembered how the gun bucked in Captain Vernon's hands.
The door thumped as someone kicked at it, then swung open and banged against the wall. The man wasn't as tall as I thought, but he was dressed similarly to the pilot of the black plane I'd shot down. He brandished a black pistol of some kind with a glass tube on the barrel. It looked similar to Fats' stun gun but not quite. I didn't trust it, but I wasn't about to be taken prisoner. I pulled the trigger.
The gun bucked, but I held firm. Fire erupted from the barrel as the slug tore into the man's chest. He flew back, arms flailing, and hit the deck already dead. I rushed to the body and checked to make sure as I held the gun ready. I didn't recognize the symbols on the uniform, but I kept them in mind in case I should survive this and come across them again. Moving quickly, I made my way aft toward the hatch room and entered, gun-first.
No one else was here, but I heard the loud drone of the black wing's engine as I neared the open hatch. Even from the angle through the door I could see the empty co-pilot's seat—and the man in the pilot's seat in the cockpit behind it. I took aim as the man looked up and saw me. I saw the panic and fury in his eyes as he reached up and pulled the lever to release the plane. As he did, I fired again.
The gun roared and I saw the man's head stain red and loll to the side just as the black plane fell away. I watched through the open hatch as it spiraled uselessly toward the ground, then I kicked the hatch closed and ran back to the bridge.
I stepped over the body of the first man I'd killed and tucked my pistol into my skirt before bending down to take him by the ankles and drag him inside so I could close the bridge hatch door. Once the body was out of the way, I closed the door and rushed to the wheel. More gunfire sputtered outside and I saw a flaming delta wing roar past with the attacking beige biplane close behind it. "Whoever you are, hurry up!"
It seemed to go on like this forever, a dogfight raging outside, me raging against the heavy falling airship inside, until another explosion somewhere out in the sky seemed to signal the end of the battle.
Moments later I heard that familiar clank-clank of the hatch as the ship lurched with the added weight of another boarder. Quickly, I hooked the broken ship wheel with the rope and turned my back on it, pulling the enormous pistol and aiming it toward the hatch. Just because the beige planes took out the black ones doesn't mean I could trust whomever was coming for me, and I couldn't even be certain it was the beige—I'm assuming Confederate—planes that won. I raised the chrome barrel toward the door. I heard muffled shouts beyond the door but I couldn't decipher them. Then the door swung open toward me.
The man stepping in wore a russet pilot's jacket and cap, the goggles perched on his head. The tufts of blond hair at the edges of his cap were familiar to part of me but my reflexes acted faster than my brain. It didn't really matter who he was. They were all after me. All of them.
Just as Bryce called out, "Alice!" I pulled the trigger.
CHAPTER 30, “Getting Ahead”
Click.
Bryce braced himself in the hatchway of the sinking airship as Alice pulled the trigger. He felt his life flash away in an instant, but the weapon either dry-fired or the chamber was empty. He ripped off his cap and goggles and quickly held his palms out toward her. "Alice! It's me!"
She turned the gun around and held it like a hammer as she leaned against the listing deck and took on a defensive stance. She shook her head wildly as she held out a hand to stave him off. "Don't come any closer! I didn't do it, Bryce. I didn't kill Clayton."
In the past few days he had seen Alice in many different forms, but she never looked so cunningly beautiful to him as she did now; combat ready, her skirt torn at short angle, her hair in sloppy unkempt red pig-tails with a dirty white bandage wrapped between them, her beautiful green eyes full of fire.
When her lip trembled, his heart cracked. Bryce held his hands higher but kept his ground. "I know, Alice. Lady McFerran confessed ...and so did Clayton. That's why I had to find you."
He could see by her expression that she was shocked to hear his brother was alive. Bryce nodded. “Lady McFerran didn't kill him, Alice. Neither did you.”
She scowled but didn't move. "It's the truth. If it weren't so, would I have come here to find you?"
Alice blinked a few times before glancing around the ruined bridge then back to herself, her face slack with exhaustion. Broken glass, hissing steam pipes, blood on the wall, and distant shuddering explosions framed her as she leaned against the listing deck. Alice lowered the pistol to her side before she looked at him with a mask of calm resolve. In her best Southern Lady's accent, she said, "I think I was doing fine on my own, Captain Landry."
He glanced from her determined look, to the pistol in her hand, to the destruction around the bridge, and nodded. "That you have, my dear. That you have." He held out his hand. "But it's time we abandoned this ship, Alice. She won't make it much further."
Alice glanced over her shoulder and saw the slanted green earth coming up to meet them.
Bryce said, "She probably has no more than ten minutes. Come on. I feel we have to talk out some things."
Without saying a word, Alice nodded. She dropped the pistol on the deck and ran to Bryce, hugging him tightly, feeling his warmth as he returned the embrace. He led her through the corridor to the hatch where Lucien waited with the Confederate biplane. Bryce held her hand for support as she crouched and prepared to climb down through the hatch. He held her in place, sitting on the edge, as he climbed down and stood in the cockpit of the plane, holding on to the edge of the airship's hatch for balance.
"Bryce," Alice called down through the rushing air.
He looked up at her.
"
Wilco... tried to save me... They shot him down."
Bryce's eyes searched her as they flashed with morose fury, then the acceptance of an officer at war who hears of a fallen comrade. He nodded solemnly before reaching up to help her down.
They settled into the tiny cockpit, Alice having to make due by sitting at an awkward angle on Bryce's lap. He held her tightly around the waist as he called over his shoulder to Lucien, "Get us out of here."
Lucien nodded behind his thick goggles and shouted above the wind, "Good to have you back, Dear Alice," then he reached up and pulled the release handle. The plane fell away from the airship and banked slightly as Lucien piloted them away. Alice looked over her and Bryce's shoulders toward the Mystic Lady. It looked far worse on the outside. Tattered holes were ripped along the length of the blimp, fire and black smoke poured from both engines, and a huge chunk of the tail was missing. It was a miracle Alice held on to her for as long as she did.
Bryce asked, "Are you warm?"
Alice squinted through the wind-rush down at him, her pigtails untangling, the bandage whipping loose from her head as she trembled in his arms. "I'm okay!"
Bryce reached forward and unhooked a pair of goggles from a handle near his knee. He reached up to gently pull them over Alice's head. "Here. So you can see. I'll hold on to you and keep you as warm as I can."
She pulled the goggles over her head and looked at him squinting back at her. She nodded slightly and settled into his arms as Lucien gunned the engine.
~~~~~~~
Bradford Thorne boarded the airship Venture with a bright, broad smile. Dressed in a slick brown suit and silk tie, his handlebar freshly waxed, the head of Thorne & Hearse made his way along the promenade with a cadre of naval officers all dressed smartly in navy blue uniforms patterned with brass buttons. The Venture was part of the "Pride of the Imperial Fleet," a line of four immense warships that had seen combat in nearly every conflict the Empire had ever fought. Fortified with armor plates and a thick metal mesh around the outside of its blimp, the airship was virtually unsinkable, though she sported plenty of knocks and dings from Confederate canons over the past few decades in one corporate conflict or another.