by Jim Proctor
She began to run, dodging trees, hurrying to get somewhere that wasn’t here. Anywhere. She would occasionally pause and look up. If she found Terrin’s platform, she would be safe. She could climb up, high above any threat, and wait for her knight in shining armor. A noise startled her, and she jumped. A twig snapped behind her, and she spun around. Shadows moved. She ran. “Help!” she screamed, but the forest swallowed her cry. No reply, not even an echo came. Sweat beaded on her skin as she ran on in terror. Tripping over a tree root, she fell and slid, scraping her knees and hands.
Scrambling to her feet, she ran. “Help!” she screamed again. Her breathing was deep and rapid, coming in gasps. Suddenly, there was no ground in front of her. With a shriek, unable to stop, she grabbed a small tree with both arms as her legs swung out over nothing. Then, scrabbling for footing, she got her feet back on solid ground, still clinging to the tree as though her life depended on it.
Eventually, she mustered the courage to look into the void. A deep ravine cut across the land, the trees growing right up to the edge. The slope was steep, and large, jagged rocks lined the bottom about ten meters below. Her head swam as she looked over the edge, the ground seeming to rock and tilt below her feet. Pushing away from the tree, she staggered back the way she had come and collapsed on the ground a few meters later. “Oh, Milla, my sweet, did you feel fear like this? I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I had no idea. Is this how you died?” She lay in the moldering leaves, uncontrollable sobs wracking her body.
Soaked with sweat, cold, and shivering, Jazeen awoke. It took a moment to recognize her surroundings. Throwing the covers aside, she climbed out of bed and opened the heavy curtains. The sun was shining brightly in a clear sky. The trees at the edge of the parking lot swayed in a gentle breeze.
Crying, she sat on the edge of the bed and whispered, “I’m sorry, Milla. I shouldn’t have hated you. I hated what Mother and Father did to me since you died, and I took it out on you because you couldn’t protest. I’m so sorry.”
* * * *
Showered and dressed, Jazeen walked across the street to the diner for breakfast. The smell of bacon, sausage, and hot coffee greeted her as she stepped inside. All the tables were occupied, but a few seats were available at the counter. That’s probably a good sign, she thought. She sat and picked up a menu.
“You want coffee, hon?” a woman asked.
Jazeen looked up to see a dark-haired woman in a white suit and white apron standing behind the counter holding a steaming pot.
“Yes, please,” she said.
“Cream and sugar?” the woman asked. She set a cup and saucer on the counter and began to pour.
“No, thank you. I like it black,” Jazeen replied.
“You need a few minutes to look over the menu?”
“No, I’m ready. I’ll have a stack of pancakes and a side of bacon.”
“Okay, hon. I’ll put the order in for you. We’re pretty busy, so it may take a few minutes,” the woman said before walking away.
Jazeen picked up the cup and took a sip. A smile spread across her face as she savored the taste of the wonderful brew.
After breakfast, she went back to her hotel and packed. It didn’t take long. She stopped at the front desk to pay her bill, and then walked to the bus stop. Fifteen minutes later, she was riding through town on her way to Sharpstown, about a mile past her former school. There was an extended-stay hotel there, which included a kitchenette in each room. The other reason for choosing Sharpstown was that Terrin lived there. She could walk to his house, or even better, she could walk to his platform, if she could find it, and catch him alone. Then they could talk freely.
The bus made several stops in town, and then turned onto the highway going east. There were only a few stops between towns, so the last part of the trip went quickly. In downtown Sharpstown, she got off the bus and walked to the hotel. The lobby was much nicer than the last place. She hoped the room would be nicer, too.
After booking for two weeks with an option to extend her stay, she went to her room. The carpet, the furniture, and most importantly, the bed were all nicer than the hotel in East Garrett. The kitchenette had a single burner stove, a toaster oven, a small refrigerator, and a sink. It wasn’t the gourmet kitchen she had grown up with, but it would be adequate. Cooking for one, she wasn’t planning to make any elaborate meals.
She opened her suitcase, then put her things away in the dresser and closet. Given the state of her pants and shirts, the ironing board and iron were a welcome discovery.
On her walk from the bus stop, she had passed a shopping center. Having packed only three outfits, she wanted a few more. By the time she finished shopping, it would be lunchtime.
Chapter 7
“Dolus, I’ll take over now. Have something to eat and then turn in for the night,” Venandi said as he entered the wheelhouse.
“Thank you, sir,” Dolus said when the captain took the wheel. “I’m a bit worried about the weather, boss. The sky up ahead looks mighty black, and I’ve seen lightning.”
“Yes, I’m concerned, as well. I’m going to go around the storm to the north,” the captain said.
“But we barely have enough fuel to make it in a straight line, sir,” Dolus said.
“Going north around this storm will give us a strong tailwind. That should more than make up for the extra distance. Go on, have some dinner and get some sleep.”
“Yes, sir. Goodnight, sir,” Dolus said. He turned and headed down the steps. Belowdecks, he hurried to the galley and prepared a meal of dried and salted meat, hard cheese, and a mug of mead. He could hear the deep rumble of thunder in the distance as he put his plate on the table and sat. Airships and severe weather were not a good combination. He ate quickly, and then hurried to his cabin.
Lighting the oil lamp, he looked at his bunk and shook his head. From a small cabinet, he pulled out a hammock and strung it between two beams. With the rough weather, he’d rather not roll out of the bunk in his sleep. If the ship rolled side to side, he’d swing gently in the hammock. With any luck, I’ll sleep through the worst of it, he thought. He grabbed a blanket off the bed and draped it over the mesh of the hammock. Putting his pillow at one end, he pulled another blanket off the bed. A crack of thunder made him flinch. Opening a drawer, he took out some ear plugs and carefully inserted them. Then, after extinguishing the lamp, he climbed into the hammock and covered himself.
* * * *
Venandi swung the airship to starboard to skirt the storm. It was a monster. Going around was going to be a long trip. He’d have to hug the edge of the storm to keep the added distance to a minimum while taking maximum advantage of the tailwind. They wouldn’t reach land, otherwise. They had a rough ride ahead.
Lightning seared the night sky, and thunder rattled the airship time and again. Ever closer, Venandi guided the ship until the massive wall of black cloud was all he could see to port. He had no visual reference to judge his air speed, but he was sure they were going at least double the ship’s normal speed. Steering was tricky. At times, gusts of tailwind were so fast the rudder pushed the ship in the opposite direction to the way it was turned. Twice a gust nearly wrenched the wheel from Venandi’s hands. He hoped the cables and hinges didn’t snap.
He fought to keep the airship on course, taking advantage of the tailwind without getting sucked into the storm. That was the part of skirting a low-pressure system that required skill, though now he worried he may have been too greedy, moving in too close. Increasing the pitch to the port propeller, he tried to gain a little more distance from the black wall of destruction.
There was barely a perceptible delay between the lightning flashes and the boom of the thunder, they were so close now. The storm was still drawing the ship closer. Venandi couldn’t be sure of their altitude, but knew he needed to go lower if he wanted to live.
Increasing engine RPM to maximum and pushing the propellers to full pitch, he pushed the elevator lever forward and felt the ship begin
to sink. If he could get down to a hundred meters or so, he was sure he would be able to drive away from the storm. Watching the horizon to the north, he kept the ship descending. The sea was black, making it nearly impossible to judge his altitude. His altimeter was useless this close to the storm. Feeling the ship begin to move to starboard, he leveled out. When he reduced the pitch to the starboard propeller, the ship began to turn. They would live.
As he was silently congratulating himself, a wave slammed into the side of the ship, shattering two windows on the port side of the wheelhouse. Water and glass filled the air, and Venandi was thrown across the wheelhouse.
“Damn!” he yelled. He struggled to his feet and ran to the wheel. Pulling back on the elevator control, he felt the ship begin to rise.
A moment later, Dolus stomped up the steps. “What the hell was that?”
“I misjudged our altitude, and a wave hit us,” the captain said. “With this storm, the altimeter is bouncing all over the place.”
Surveying the damage, Dolus said, “I better do something about those windows.”
“Be careful,” Venandi said.
Dolus disappeared down the steps. A few minutes later, he returned with a sheet of plastic, a few thin strips of wood, and a toolbox. Removing a roll of tape from the box, he held the plastic sheet up above the broken windows and taped it to the frame. Then, placing a strip of wood along the edge, he nailed it in place. Working his way around the opening, he taped the plastic and then nailed wood over it until he had sealed out the worst of the wind and rain.
“I hope that holds,” he said. Turning around, he saw a trickle of blood on the left side of Venandi’s face. “Are you okay, Captain?”
“Yes, Dolus, I am, thank you. You should go back to bed. I’ve got us out of the worst of it now.”
With a doubtful look, Dolus said, “Very well, sir. Do try to keep us above water, if you can.”
Venandi laughed. “I’ll do my best.”
With a wave, Dolus headed back to his cabin.
* * * *
When Dolus awoke, daylight streamed through the porthole of his cabin. Casting off his blanket and swinging himself out of the hammock, he made his way to the galley.
Fifteen minutes later, he climbed the steps to the wheelhouse carrying two steaming cups of coffee.
“You flew through the night,” Dolus said.
“You’re a skillful pilot, my friend, but I wanted to fly us around that storm.”
Dolus knew from experience that Venandi only called him my friend when he was deeply concerned about something and trying to hide it. It must have been a horrible night. He wondered how he had slept through it, and what toll it may have taken on the captain.
“I’ve brought you a cup of coffee. If we’re out of danger, why don’t you drink this and have a bite, and then get some sleep, sir? I’ll keep us heading west.”
“There’s a problem, I’m afraid. The storm took out the GPS. I suspect the antenna on the top of the balloon has been damaged. I’ve been using the compass for our heading, but I have no idea how far north the storm has driven us,” the captain said. “Can you check the GPS on your phone?”
“I don’t have one, sir,” Dolus said.
“No GPS?” Venandi asked.
“No phone. Since my wife passed away, I haven’t seen the need for having one,” Dolus said. “What about your phone, sir?”
Venandi looked embarrassed. “I don’t have one, either.”
Dolus’ brow wrinkled. “Begging your pardon, sir, but you had one when we left port. I saw it.”
Venandi turned to look through the forward window without any reply.
“Sir?”
After a moment, Venandi said, “For some time, now, I’ve had the unnerving feeling that the Black Witch has been keeping tabs on me, following my every move. Yesterday, it occurred to me that maybe she wasn’t using magic, maybe she was tracking me through my phone. So I… threw it overboard. It’s at the bottom of the ocean.”
“We’re over the bloody ocean! There’s no cell phone service. She couldn’t have accessed your phone out here,” Dolus said. “You could have at least waited until we were a day out from Scallia, is what I’m saying, sir.”
Venandi waved a dismissive hand. “I know, I know. Believe me, I’ve been kicking myself ever sense.”
“Well, it looks as though we’ll have to do things the old-fashioned way, sir,” Dolus said. “When you take the helm this evening, I’ll get out my sextant and find out just how far north we are.”
“You have a sextant?” Venandi asked.
“Yes, sir. I’m an old sailor. I don’t take this ship nowhere without it,” Dolus said.
“You’re a lifesaver, Dolus.”
“I don’t know about that. I’ll figure out how far north we are. Can’t say that I’ll be able to do much about it if it’s bad news,” Dolus said.
“Still, we can’t do anything until we know where we are,” Venandi said.
“Well, then, as soon as it’s dark, I’ll get my sextant and sight on the polar star. It’ll only take a minute or two to get an answer,” Dolus said.
“Very good. You have the helm,” Venandi said. “I’ll drink my coffee in the galley while I eat. Then I’ll retire for a few hours.”
“You sleep as long as you need to, sir. It looks like clear sky ahead. I’ll take care of the ship.”
Venandi nodded. “I know you will, and I’ll sleep soundly knowing you’re at the helm.”
As the captain made his way down the steps, Dolus looked over the gauges and indicators. They had burned fifteen percent of their fuel and they were two days into their thirteen-day journey. He shook his head. We’ll barely make it before our tanks run dry, he thought.
The plastic covering the broken windows flapped in the wind, and Dolus was sure the noise would drive him crazy before long. When they reached land and stopped for fuel, he’d pick up some glass and re-glaze the windows before they set out again. Checking the altimeter, he made an adjustment to the elevator. According to the compass, they were right on their desired heading. Of course, who knew how far north they were. Scallia was a big continent, so they would make landfall no matter what, but if they were too far north, there wouldn’t be a port where they could land and get fuel. They needed to reach civilization, not just land.
* * * *
As midday approached, Dolus checked his altitude and heading. He scanned the sky ahead for other airships. Tying the wheel, he dashed down to the galley, threw some meat and cheese on a plate, poured a mug of mead, and ran back to the wheel. He ate, listening to the drone of the engine, the thrum of the propellers, and the annoying flapping of the plastic. All he could see in any direction was ocean, making him feel small and vulnerable.
The afternoon passed uneventfully as the sun slid down the clear sky ahead. Dolus yawned, more out of boredom than fatigue, until he found himself listening to the rhythm of the flapping plastic.
As the sky ahead changed to orange and purple, Venandi climbed the steps. “What’s our status, Dolus?” he asked.
“We’ve burned nearly nineteen percent of our fuel. That’s right on the mark for reaching Scallia with a few hours of fuel left. It’s colder outside than I was expecting. I’m a bit worried that the storm has driven us a long way north of our course,” Dolus said.
Venandi was silent for a moment. Finally, he said, “I’m more than a bit worried, Dolus. I’m afraid the storm was traveling north at a fair clip as we rode its winds.”
“Yes, sir. Have you eaten dinner?” Dolus asked.
“Not yet. I came up to see how things were going,” the captain said. “I’ll fix a plate before coming to relieve you.”
“Take your time, sir. In fact, you might as well sit down and eat in comfort. I’m going to wait until dark, so I can check our latitude before I turn in.”
Venandi nodded. “Good idea. We still have a long way to go, but if we’re off course, the sooner we correct it, the better we�
�ll be when we make landfall,” Venandi said.
“You go ahead and eat in peace. I’ll be fine here. Come back whenever you’re ready.”
“Before it gets any darker, I’m going to walk around the deck and check for damage,” Venandi said.
“Yes, sir,” Dolus said as Venandi exited the wheelhouse. His back was aching, and his legs were throbbing. He desperately wanted to lie down, but he was more concerned about where they were.
Several minutes later, Venandi returned to the wheelhouse.
“Two ropes in the rigging are snapped. We’ll need to splice them and get them tied off or we might lose the balloon,” he said.
“If you’ll take the wheel, sir, I’ll get right on it,” Dolus said.
Venandi nodded. “Good man. Be careful, there isn’t much light left.”
Dolus ran out onto deck and inspected the rigging. He located one of the broken ropes right next to the starboard ratlines. It would be easy to fix. Opening a storage box, he pulled out a coil of rope, slipped it over his head, and began climbing the ratlines. Halfway up, he tried to grab the broken rope as it whipped in the wind. After a few tries, he caught it. Climbing farther up, he tied a small cord around the rope about twenty centimeters from the free end and then untwisted the strands of the rope back to the cord. After doing the same to and end of the new rope, he expertly spliced the two ends together. Dropping the coil to the deck, he scurried down the ratlines. After removing the other end of the broken rope from the deadeye, he secured the new rope and cut it.