Gods of New Orleans

by AJ Sikes

  “Conroy,” Brand said then, nodding at the kid.

  “I’m‌—‌ I’m Aiden’s father,” Al Conroy said, coming out from behind Emma and sticking out a hand. Behind them, in the corridor, the wife kept up her chanting and mumbled pleas to the empty sky. Emma wanted to whack her, but she couldn’t bring herself to do it. It was the first time since she’d met Alice Conroy that the woman seemed to have something other than venom rolling off her tongue.

  Brand shook Al Conroy’s hand and Emma took the opportunity to get some questions answered. She stepped up closer to Brand and leveled a finger at his grimy mug.

  “So you just pop up when you’re needed? Like my father did? Is that how it works now? Because we sure could have used your help before that guy got in here and had his hands all over me.”

  She knew it wasn’t fair, but she needed someone to holler at. It wouldn’t do any good giving it to Al Conroy. The way his eyes kept roving, he’d probably just take it to mean she’d rather he was the one pawing at her.

  “I got here when I could. If you remember, you let me out a few floors above Chicago City. Forgive me if I had some trouble catching up with you.”

  “So how is that, Mr. Brand?” the kid asked, coming into the cabin, too, and smoothing his hair with both hands. “I mean, you know, you went out the door, and that thing was with you. The‌—‌”

  “Yeah, your pal, Larson,” Emma said, remembering the other tramp’s name. At least the name he’d used when he wasn’t a snarling beast with teeth and claws and covered in fur and blood. “What happened to him?”

  “Turns out the gods don’t like it when one of us flubs the job. I don’t know the details, but the way I hear it, Larson had too many chances and didn’t make the most of ‘em.”

  “So are you‌—‌?” the kid started to ask.

  “He’s gone and you don’t have to worry about him anymore. Or that thing he turned into,” Brand said.

  “But how’d you come back?” the kid said.

  “Like I said, Conroy, I jumped from this ship. We all like to think we’re in charge here, but you know same as I do it’s the gods who run the show. So you don’t like your cards and decide to fold, they just put you back in the game. Only thing is,” Brand said, scratching at the whiskers on his cheek, “they figure it’s best you stay at rock bottom from then on. You get turned into a mailbag with legs,” he said. “And you hop to when you’re told. Otherwise, you’re on your own time, but you don’t get much to work with.”

  Finished with his little speech, Brand pointed his eyes to the cabin floor.

  “So what happens now?” Emma asked.

  “I’ve done what I can,” Brand said, taking a slow step to the cabin door. “There’s nobody down there to give you any trouble, but I wouldn’t bet on it staying that way. Gas up, but do it quick. And wherever you’re heading, stay low and out of sight.”

  “Like we’d do any different,” Emma said, moving to the cockpit as she spoke. “We’re all on the lam.”

  “It’s probably worse than that, Miss Farnsworth. The gods know what you did back in Chicago City. What all of us did. It’s as much your head as mine that’s on the block. That goes for your jazz man, too, and his pal.”

  Emma froze in a crouch, half sitting in the pilot’s chair. She bristled inside but kept her teeth together. Turning to face Brand, she let her eyes tell him he should use Eddie’s name the next time.

  If there is a next time.

  Brand peeled aside a filmy layer of air. Emma’s eyes narrowed against the glimmering space it revealed.

  “What’s back there, Brand?” she asked, unable to stop her voice from quavering.

  “Memories, Miss Farnsworth, and the only place I’ve got left to call home. Right here,” he said, stepping to block her view. “Right here it’s memories of every man and woman who’s ever stood in this ship.”

  Emma reeled aside, ripping her gaze from the flickering images that had begun to take shape behind Brand.

  “Conroy,” Brand said, taking in the cabin and the airship itself, “take care of this pig for me, will you? Miss Farnsworth,” he said, gripping his hat brim. “She’s all yours.” Brand looked at the kid’s father then. “Mr. Conroy, a pleasure.”

  “Yeah, likewise, buddy. But‌—‌”

  “Sorry, I’m out of time.”

  Brand whipped his hand and the curtain-like veil lifted around him. He slipped behind it and out of sight, leaving the others standing in the cabin. Emma stepped forward, daring against her beating heart to stand up and touch the space where Brand had been standing. She heard a thump behind her and spun around. At the entrance to the bunkroom corridor, Alice Conroy was lying flat on her face and out cold.

  Chapter 2

  Aiden’s ma went down like a prize fighter in the tenth round, just dropped flat on the floor. Her white dress was all smeared with dirt and stains from what they’d been through in Chicago City, and her hair was a rat’s nest. She looked like someone else, someone he didn’t know or had never seen before.

  Aiden’s pa went down on one knee beside her head and put his hands on cheeks.

  “C’mon, Alice. Stay here. Stay here with me. And with Aiden.”

  Aiden stooped and then kneeled next to his father, putting one hand on his ma’s arm and giving a little squeeze.

  “She okay, Pa?”

  “I don’t know,” he said, shaking her gently as he rolled her onto her back. “Alice? Alice!”

  She snapped out of it in flash and heaved in a deep breath. Her fingers clutched at the air and Aiden’s pa held her still with his hands on her shoulders. She bucked and shook on the floor. Her teeth clamped together and she whipped her head side to side as her eyes flashed open and seemed to stare at something far off in the distance.

  “Get her feet, Aiden!” his pa said.

  Aiden moved slow, like he was dreaming. He had to be. His mother didn’t get fits. As he reached to hold his mother’s feet, she kicked up with both legs, knocking him backward.

  “Dammit, son, hold her still!”

  Aiden rolled up onto his hip. Miss Farnsworth was at his ma’s side already. She had hold of his mother’s left leg while the other one kept swinging out and back in, like it was some kind of machine on a factory line. Aiden went forward again and got hold of his ma’s right ankle just in time to avoid a kick in the teeth.

  “Just hold her ‘til she’s through,” his pa said. “Just hold her.”

  Together the three of them kept the rocking, flailing form of Aiden’s mother down on the floor of the cabin. In a few moments, she went still and her eyes closed.

  “Ma?”

  “Alice? C’mon, honey. Come back to us. We’re here,” his pa said.

  “Mrs. Conroy?” Miss Farnsworth asked, and her voice came out all nice and kind, something Aiden figured she didn’t have in her. At least not where his ma was concerned.

  Aiden held his breath until his mother opened her eyes. She looked at each of them, one by one, landing last on Miss Farnsworth’s face.

  “I’m . . . okay now. I’m just t‌—‌ Sleep. I need to‌—‌”

  “Okay, Alice. Okay now. We’ll help you back to the bunk. C’mon everybody.”

  Aiden and Miss Farnsworth each held one of his mother’s legs. His pa lifted her under her arms and carried most of her weight. They shuffled back to the corridor leading to the bunkrooms. There, Aiden’s ma seemed to get her wind back and struggled to get her legs free. His pa said to let her go, so they did. Aiden and Miss Farnsworth stood back as his folks made a slow step into the bunkroom.

  ~•~

  Emma waited for the door to close before taking the Conroy kid back to the cabin. They were his folks, and even if she didn’t feel all that warm to them, they were all the kid had. She’d known enough of what it means to lose a family, and the whole experience had brought that pain right back into her heart. It was hell watching the kid’s face twist through those same feelings.

  For a momen
t, Emma let herself think about losing Eddie. He and Otis had been out cold since they got airborne back in Chicago City. She should go back and see how he was doing.

  It’d just take a minute.

  But they still had to get fueled up.

  “Can you work the fuel lines?” Emma asked the Conroy kid. “Can you run the pumps, and shut them off when I give the word? The gearboxes down there put the lines into the ship, but without anyone to work the station house radio, we’ll have to disconnect them manually. Can you do it?”

  The kid nodded, but his head turned slowly back so he was facing the corridor again. Emma followed his gaze with her own and then, quick as lightning, she snapped her face back around.

  Eddie’s fine. He has to be.

  “Kid, I’m talking to you here. I’m sorry about your mom back there, but I’m guessing you’ve already seen that vanishing act Brand pulled. You know what it’s about, or at least you know as much as I do. My father did it a couple times back in Chicago City. So now Brand’s in on the game. Fine. But how about we make good on the help he gave us and get this ship back in the sky?”

  “O‌—‌ okay, Miss Farnsworth. Yeah. Okay,” he said, sniffling a bit and then pulling it in, holding his head up and looking her in the eye. “What do I do?”

  ~•~

  A gust of wind came up as Aiden dropped off the airship’s ladder, making him hit the deck with a jolt. He stumbled sideways and just missed falling off the edge by hanging onto the ladder with both hands. The wind picked up again, but he was ready for it this time. He waited until he had both feet steady before letting go of the ladder.

  Aiden dropped to a crouch by the posts on the edge of the deck. He fished the two restraining cables and pins loose from their clasps. Then he manhandled the ladder into position and drove the retaining pins home on each post.

  The fuel pumps stood down the deck behind him; two great metal canisters attached by hoses to the storage tanks below the deck. Another pair of hoses extended past a set of stirrups beside the pumps. The hoses were joined to the fuel valves on the Vigilance. Aiden looked past the fuel pumps at the two automatons in their small, covered shed. They stood stock-still, like they were frozen. Something about the way they stood there worried Aiden. He’d always liked watching them work back in Chicago City. But these two . . .

  He wondered if they were still powered up. He couldn’t hear the clatter of their little two-cycle engines over the wind.

  Miss Farnsworth’s voice carried down to him from above and he cupped an ear to catch her words better.

  “Go ahead and run the pumps, kid. The valves are open.”

  Aiden stepped up to the pumps and ran his hands over the gauges and buttons until he found the handle he was looking for. These pumps were older than the ones he’d used before, but the system was simple enough to figure out. Aiden rotated the handle in its slot until the arrow at the handle’s end lined up with the word RUN. Aiden heard the fuel begin moving through the hose.

  While he waited for Miss Farnsworth to give him the word to shut down, he let his eyes roam the surface of the pump casing. The metal was scratched up but good, and someone had painted all the signs and letters back on. The hoses joined the pump casing with new collars, though. The gleaming aluminum rings stood out like a set of city bracelets, making Aiden think about what waited for them in New Orleans.

  Would they land safely? Would the coppers be there, holding out their jewelry? Or would they just shoot the Vigilance out of the sky?

  Aiden listened to the fuel sloshing and bubbling through the hoses. He wrapped his arms around him and kept wondering how this would all turn out.

  Miss Farnsworth’s voice broke in on Aiden’s thoughts.

  “We’re about full. You can shut it off.”

  He walked out from behind the pumps and waved up at the cabin, seeing her shadowy figure standing at the door. Back at the pump he flipped the handle to OFF and reached for the levers that would release the fuel lines. It took all his strength to move just one of them. When the second fuel line released, Aiden made for the ladder, but Miss Farnsworth reminded him they were still moored.

  “Get us loose. You’ll have to work the winch by hand. Can you do it?”

  “Yeah, I got it,” he yelled up at her, hoping his voice sounded more sure than he felt. The pump levers were a real doozy to work, and he knew the mooring winch took both gearboxes to operate. With the machines still standing pat in their shack, he’d have to manage it on his own. Maybe there was a trick to it though, like a‌—‌

  “C’mon, kid! Get us loose! They’re back!” Miss Farnsworth’s voice carried down to him in angry fright.

  Throwing a quick glance at the station house below, Aiden didn’t have to ask who had come back.

  “Move it, Aiden! Now!”

  Aiden ran to the ladder without looking at the station house again. He’d seen the slim line of light in the corner of his eye. Someone had copped the sneak from the little building, trying to get the drop on him before he got back inside the airship.

  A gunshot snapped through the windy evening air and Aiden heard the bullet zip past him. He dropped to the deck and crawled on his belly, just like he’d done with Mr. Brand when they’d run from the Governor’s boys back in Chicago City. Memories of that awful night flooded Aiden’s mind and his heart threatened to bounce him off the deck. The ladder was just a foot away now. He’d make it. He knew he’d make it.

  Another gunshot snapped below him and a bullet thwacked into the deck beside his legs.

  Aiden couldn’t hold in the scream of fright, but he got his hands under control in two shakes. With a quick slap, he popped the retaining pins out from the base of the ladder and then he climbed with everything he had as another shot cracked the sky and then another.

  The shots went wide, behind Aiden as he raced to the top of the ladder. Miss Farnsworth revved the engines and the ship gave a lurch as Aiden hoisted himself inside, sending him sprawling into the cabin.

  “The mooring‌—‌” he started to say, but the whip-crack of the line snapping away answered his worry.

  “That deck was just scrap wood, kid,” Miss Farnsworth said. “This boat may not be much to look at, but she’s got a team of Packards driving her. We’d be stuck on an honest municipal deck, but that old pile of sticks didn’t stand a chance.”

  Aiden worked the levers to close the cabin door and draw up the ladder. As he did, he spied a bulky object swaying in the wind beneath them, hanging off the nose cone mooring line. It looked like a winch wheel.

  “Won’t that overbalance us, Miss Farnsworth?”

  “Not too much,” she said. “Like I said. That deck was mostly just sticks and glue, by the look of things. I wouldn’t be surprised if that wheel is made of wood, too. We’ll get it off the line next time we set down.”

  Aiden told her about the new collars on the fuel lines, but she swatted his worries aside.

  “They probably stole the lines and pumps and everything else before they knocked the deck together out of whatever was lying around. New collars just means they’re smart enough to make sure they don’t blow themselves up.”

  ~•~

  The kid asked her a few more questions about the ship and she answered them as best she could. What she’d learned from the mechanics at her father’s plant couldn’t be passed along overnight, but she did her best to teach him the hows and what fors.

  “That’s your rudder pedal. This one here works the fuel. Step on it to give it more gas, lift up and it’ll slow us down. The stick here works the flaps so we go up or down. And this valve,” she said, working a handle counterclockwise, “this is your launch ballast for when you start out. This one,” she said, aiming a thumb at a handle on the other side of the control board, “is for when you land at the end of the ride.”

  “Can I give it a shot?” the kid said, surprising her. She thought for a minute and figured it’d be good to have at least one more person on board who knew how to wor
k the ship.

  Breathing slow and struggling to keep her heart from beating out of her chest, Emma stepped out of the cockpit and let the kid get settled in the chair. His hands and feet went where they belonged natural enough, and Emma relaxed a bit.

  “Keep us moving, but don’t go for broke on the gas, okay?”

  “Sure thing, Miss Farnsworth. And thanks, hey? For giving me a shot, I mean. My pa . . .”

  Emma put a hand on his shoulder. She thought about saying something to make him feel better about his father, but the words got tangled up in her mind. Instead she just smoothed one of the tufts of his hair that still stuck out like a horn. Then she put a hand to her own head and felt the short curls and snarls she had left after their escape from Chicago City.

  She’d have the finger waves she used to wear. Someday. She’d have to find a good cloche hat as soon as they got settled in New Orleans.

  The kid shivered in front of her and Emma chided herself for worrying about having the right wardrobe. The cold night air came at them through a bullet hole in the glass, the hole that Emma had put there only a week earlier. She shook her head to clear the memories, but they forced their way in just the same.

  Archie Falco, the guy who used to fly the ship, and the way he’d grinned like a wolf. Then the way he’d pawed at her like she was some kind of . . . and the way his head drooped forward on his neck while her ears rang with the gunshot.

  Brand said the places he could walk now were filled with memories. Emma wished the ones she had of this ship would stay back there with him, out of sight and out of mind.

  Swallowing a sob, she let Aiden fly them on, occasionally telling him to correct their course or let up on the gas a bit.