With Eyes Turned Skyward

by Gregory Stravinski

  A loud burst catches my ear.

  My heart stops. The hairs on my arm prick up, one by one. That can’t be right; this is one of the most secure cities on the Eastern Coast. Pressing up against the glass, I strain my ears to pick up something else: anything. Silence pounds; the kind of pounding that happens only when you know something’s not right.

  Almost in unison with my heart beat, two flak bursts light up the sky.

  What could possibly be out there? There haven’t been any sightings in this area for weeks.

  I make up my mind that whatever’s happening, we can’t be here anymore.

  Turning on my heel, I lunge into the bed. “Cass! Cass, wake up right now!”

  “Baz, what’s wrong?” she says, shaking awake.

  I pull close. “We need to go.”

  Cass throws her covers off despite every impulse to the contrary. “Baz, what’s going on?”

  I lick my lips before responding. “Cass, I think we’re under attack. We need to get back to the Artemis. Right now.”

  Cass’s eyes roll up, listening to the commotion outside. The explosions are becoming more pronounced. Someone screams through the side wall. Without a word, Cass launches off the bed, grabs her pack and throws on her pants. She doesn’t even bother changing her shirt. I follow suit before we both sprint down the stairs.

  Families shout to one another, their children crying at the unexpectedness of the situation. The click of rifles echoes off the walls as our German compatriots charge down the stairwell clad in full gear. Whatever allegiances they have fade into the background as they take up position around the inn. They must know someone here.

  Running past the commander of the small platoon, I place my hand on his shoulder, managing a small but sloppy, “Danke.”

  He takes one look at me, nodding as we run past. The grimace on his face tells me it wasn’t his idea to be stationed at this post.

  The bare components of daylight creep into the surreal world. Dark clouds slowly give way to piercing golden rays. The booms and cracks blow in from the southwest. I still haven’t seen our attackers, but I have one goal in mind: reach the Artemis before it launches. If Cass and I don’t make it on the manifest, it’s not Admiral Khan’s fault, it’s ours. With a crew that size, each crew member has to take responsibility when going out on dock leave. The sheer thought of being stranded in Shipwreck is enough to churn my stomach. Last night was paradise because we still had money to burn. Once our cash runs out, our life expectancy slims considerably.

  Cass darts in front of me, struggling to remember the landmarks pointing our way back to the shipyard. Luckily, the dock’s such a prominent part of the landscape we can see it in the distance. It serves as a solid reference point, but we still need to navigate the streets on our own.

  Panic rises with the distinct sound of engines reverberating close to the ground. My first instinct overpowers all others as I tackle Cass by the ankles. Her chest hits the ground as three dark blue and grey planes streak by. I cover my head from showering glass as a warehouse in front of us bursts apart. Timber and brick rain down. Whoever’s attacking is indiscriminately strafing the city. Our section of town has no military installations that I know of.

  Cass draws up her knees, inspecting herself. “I appreciate the save, but next time you take my legs out of from under me, can you at least give me a little warning?”

  “I’m sorry, it was a split second decision . . . We have to keep going!” I say.

  Cass seems to understand as she wipes off the splotches of blood forming on both her elbows. Biting my lip, I help pick her up. I didn’t mean to hurt her, but grated elbows are better than a bullet through the back.

  “Did you see the markings?” I yell into her ear.

  She shakes her head, running next to me. “No, I just saw the shadows. Did you count three?”

  I nod, re-adjusting my pack. “I think there are a lot more than that.”

  Explosions reverberate in the distance. It doesn’t add up. This is a full scale attack.

  Cass and I churn down the dirt road with the shipyard looming in the distance. It’s almost a half day’s travel to get to the docks, under even the best circumstances. This is hopeless. We won’t make it back to the Artemis before it raises planks. But if we don’t make it to the ship before takeoff, the life we know is gone.

  The only impetus keeping us running is the fact that we at least have to try, no matter how improbable escape may be. To either side of us, groups of citizens hurry to underground shelters, putting as much distance between themselves and the lead being hurled their way. The shelters are relatively rare since the water table’s so high. It’s a recent development to even be able to build on this ground, much less under it. With a poor enough foundation, structures can still sink up to the second floor.

  More enterprising civilians rush up to the rooftops, rifles in hand. I respect their bravery, but lament their tactics. They just want to protect their families, but their dark trappings make tempting targets against the stark bleach of the stone underneath them.

  A rib-shaking burst detonates behind us. My fear wins out over the age-old advice that says never to look back. I should’ve listened. The combination of encroaching sunlight and creeping explosions reveals a floating abomination. A gray and blue beast powers toward us. It is, at the very least, twice the size of the largest dreadnaught class vessel I’ve ever seen.

  It dominates the sky, without the assistance of a balloon. Instead, four twisting rotors hold the vessel aloft and plowing through the pale morning sky. Its size is matched only by its speed, and it’s gaining. A row of oversized, swiveling cannons defend the top of the ship, defying all known physics. There’s no way a vessel of that mass could possibly fly without a balloon, or five.

  My blood runs cold. This is the ship Sabine warned us about. This is the bogeyman that’s been trickling through the rumor mill. Except it’s not a rumor; it’s a nightmare.

  Then I witness the source of the burst that shook me in the first place. The front row of the fortress’s cannons turns and fires, rocking the lumbering dreadnaught. A column of flame a quarter mile high ignites the district below us, shuddering the ground beneath our feet. The clamor of the ship’s churning engines is rivaled only by the drone of its fighters as they blanket the sky. Cass and I keep close to the walls as plane after plane shoots over the rooftops.

  Sprinting through a marketplace, I hear another distinctive engine as a lone plane rockets by. By chance, I catch the emblem on the tail of the fighter: a growling bear. I dredge up the memory of the Russian dreadnaught that flew over us as we entered the city. It’s a match. The residents of Shipwreck, both permanent and temporary, are rising up. Closing my eyes, I can hear the groan of several different types of engines.

  The Russians aren’t the only ones going to war against our surprise foe.

  I don’t get much time to bask in our unity before Cass takes me by my collar and slams me to the ground. My head bounces off the pavement, shooting nausea up and down my body. My knees hit my chest as bullets dig into the road around us. A group of watermelons in the stall next to us explode as the rounds find their homes. Turning over to Cass, I move to pick myself up. I press a hand to my swollen eyebrow. It comes away bloody. I’ve popped open the wound created by the exploding sights on the Cornelia Marie.

  My worried expression isn’t lost on Cass.

  “We’ll get that patched up once we’re safe, ok?” she says.

  Her face hardens, noticing something in the fruit stand behind us. I follow her gaze, putting pressure on my head in a halfhearted attempt to stem the bleeding. My hand drops at the sight of the mangled leg protruding out of the corner of the stall. It snakes up to the half connected torso of a man wearing a white turban. His eyes plead, his fingers crawling almost independently toward us.

  Cass’s eyes well at the corners. “We can’t help him,” she says, “We need to go.”

  I stop, staring at her. This isn�
�t the response I was expecting. “Cass . . . ” I say.

  She looks back up, her eyes no longer misty. “I said, let’s go!” she yells.

  The terseness in her voice is enough to get us running again. The pleading man is no longer our concern. We have to reach the Artemis. If we don’t make it, we’re stranded. If the Ark makes another pass, there’s not going to be anything left to be stranded in.

  Even as I ponder that thought, Cass’s reaction is still enough to make me wonder where the kind nurse I fell in love with has gone. Maybe it’s something about the city that’s triggered it, but the contrast scares me.

  My thoughts are cut short as pebbles and rocks begin shuddering and jumping beneath us. The sheer rumble of the warship’s engines is enough to make the ground shake. I wheeze as exhaustion sets in. Running as far as we have with the weight of our packs is finally starting to take its toll.

  The droning roars louder. Chancing a look back, I see the rotors of the warship slowly leveling themselves out. The ship begins losing speed. Maybe this is our chance. Maybe we’ll make it out of this after all.

  Through the haze of dueling aircraft, I see the hangar bay of the giant open from below. How could they possibly be launching more fighters than they have already? I slide to a halt as a blue light illuminates the guts of the ship from within.

  They’re not launching anything.

  A shockwave shakes the dust off of the city’s surface, blasting me from my feet. I try sucking in to regain the air that’s been knocked out of me. Sprawling on my back, I search for Cass. She’s getting back to her knees a few feet away from me. She didn’t feel the shockwave coming.

  The ground heaves, but not like before; it’s coming from below this time. From deep below.

  Dark silver chunks burst from beneath the city’s crust. The grayish shards erupt from the ground, upending and destroying the houses and pipes above. As the shards make their way into the ribs of the warship, I scramble over to Cass. The whites of her eyes threaten to envelope the rest of her face as she struggles to get back to her feet.

  “What is it doing?” she asks.

  I grit my teeth, pulling her up the rest of the way. “Harvesting this place,” I say.

  We waste no more breath, devoting the rest of our energy to sprinting through the crowded streets. Plumes of fire leak from scattered buildings. Families run into the roads to escape anything with a roof; they don’t realize their underground havens won’t save them if the threat’s coming from below.

  I push through a Vietnamese prefect on the road, trying to direct traffic as best he can. The officer hits the ground swearing. I should feel sorry, but the new opening makes just enough room for us to make it through the crowd.

  Sirens permeate the air. A small brigade of firemen arrives ahead of us, their hoses snaking out from the bed of their truck to combat the blazes. Following a curl of flame licking up toward the sky, I see the dots overhead come into focus. The winged specks pour streams of light at one another, chewing through ammunition.

  The firemen point to the sky, abandoning their truck in the middle of the road. An explosion erupts behind us, peppering the street with shards of hot metal. Cass and I duck into a covered doorway as a dark aircraft bears down.

  The plane plummets, making no attempt to pull up. The nose bucks just enough to bring the craft level, but the maneuver’s too late. One wing catches a rooftop, showering debris on the crowd below. The fighter pirouettes into the street, flipping over several times before finally crunching to a halt.

  I ball my fist, punching the doorway we’ve taken cover in. The crash is blocking our exit. Cass knows it too.

  I take a breath and realize the pilot might still be alive. If he’s part of the local militia, maybe he can tell us where the nearest airstrip is so we can make our escape. Cass and I break from the doorway as flames begin shooting up from the plane’s fuselage.

  I tug on her sleeve. “I’m gonna try and save him! Maybe there’s another strip where we can catch a ride.”

  Cass says nothing, considering if this is good use of our limited time.

  “It’s the least we can do if he got shot down protecting this place,” I plead.

  With her curt nod, I race out next to the abandoned fire truck. Its hoses dance in the absence of their handlers. One such hose swings its head, catching me across the face with a high-pressure blast. Half blinded, I try clearing my eyes while dodging through the artificial rain. Only able to see out of my left eye, I can make out a hand trying to pull itself from the cockpit. The fire creeps in on its prey as I fight to cover the distance before it can.

  As I sprint the last few feet, a head frees itself from the crumpled prison. Reaching the fuselage, I glance at the tail fin. A circle frames a grey tidal wave as it rises up over a blue background. Breaking spray spits out over the top of the wave. They must be from a long-range caravan, because I’ve never seen that emblem before.

  I slide to my knees, yelling at the trapped pilot. His head’s down, focused on pulling his legs out from the mouse trap of his crumpled cockpit. He throws out a hand, still fighting with his feet. I grab hold of his arm and elbow, pulling him part way out from the fuselage. Only his knees remain trapped inside, but with another good pull I believe we can get them free.

  He looks up to thank me, but he doesn’t say a word. His eyes lock on my lapel. They flit up to my face, then back to the lapel. His pupils dilate, muttering something I can’t hear.

  My arms freeze in place.

  Before I can react, he unclips his pistol, leveling it at my head. The trigger clicks. I catch his wrist, deflecting the barrel towards the sky. The bullet brushes my temple as it flits past. Ringing of the shot drills down my ear canal. The grim determined look on his face and the pull of his arm readjusting to finish the job is enough to wrench me out of shock. Swinging the gun away, I lower my elbow, slamming my full weight into the bridge of his nose. The impact stuns him. So I keep doing it, three more times.

  The gun finally falls to the wet pavement as I feel him go limp. A thick dampness collects in the crook of my sleeve as I push off of the road. My would-be assassin’s face bows inward, partially crushed. His temple bleeds, but he’s starting to stir again.

  I take the gun, flicking it to Cass as she catches up.

  “Baz . . . Baz! Oh my God, are you ok?” she asks, immediately tearing open my jacket to check for wounds.

  I barely notice her as I glare at the bleeding pilot. Dark red pools around us as his life slowly ebbs away. Cass snarls, pointing her new pistol at the semi-conscious man.

  I put a hand on hers, carefully guiding the barrel down.

  “Save the ammunition. At this rate we’re probably going to need it,” I say quietly.

  I watch the flames creep onto the pilot’s legs, delighting in their first course. That’ll teach the fucker to draw a gun on me.

  “Serves him right!” I growl.

  Cass stares down at the man slowly being consumed by fire. “Why did he try to kill you?”

  “He knew who I was,” I say. “Or at least who I worked for. Give me a hand with this!” I yell.

  My eyes skim around the alley, searching for anything we can use as a tool. They land on the soaked entry mat of a nearby hovel. Perfect.

  We rush over to the mat, ripping it up from the walkway. Luckily, it’s worn and in disrepair. The stakes pull right out of the ground.

  Some of the nails still dangle from the sopping mat as we drag it over to the burning nose of the plane. Getting our body weight under the dripping mass, we throw it over the top. A nasty hiss rises up as it hits, fanning clouds of steam out from the sides. I glance at the tailfin again. The crashing wave bubbles, curling from the heat. I know this won’t be the last time I see it.

  “That mat’s not going to stay cool for very long,” I say, turning to Cass. She holsters her pistol as I grab her by the waist. “You’re going up first!”, I shout.

  With me supporting her hips, she launches
herself up onto the mat. She cries out as she makes contact with the mat, barely separated from glowing metal underneath. She balls up, protecting her arms from the heat. Her forearms blister as she turns onto her hip, reaching down to pull me up. My throat tightens as I smell the burning skin. My blackened hands flash in front of my eyes. The cinders push down, choking me.

  I try pulling myself up.

  “Come on!” Cass screams, shifting onto her other hip to relieve some of the heat.

  I can’t catch my breath. I can smell my mother burning.

  Cass throws all of her weight into dragging me up.

  My eyes well with tears. I can’t tell if they’re from smoke or regret. Why would I condemn a man to the fate I fear most?

  Cass gets me up on the top of the nose.

  The extreme heat grills away the water particles separating the open flames from our bodies. With her job done, Cass launches herself off the other side of the plane. Before following suit, I take one last look back. The flames crawl up over the pilot’s face, dancing over his open mouth. Over the crackle of fire, I hear his rasping screams. They will haunt me until I die.

  I am a monster.

  I slide down over the side of the nose, hitting the ground. Laying there, I make no movement to get back up. Cass kneels in a pool of water, trying to submerge her forearms enough to give them some relief from the burns. The mat finally catches fire behind us. There is no way back.

  At that moment, the telltale sound of super magnets pulses into our alcove as they reverse their charge.

  Cass and I both raise our eyes, watching the bow of the Artemis glide out of the dockyard as it gains altitude.

  Cass slumps forward into the puddle, breaking the surface with her forehead. She pulls her arms and legs in quietly. I let myself slide back onto my elbow and look up into the sky. The dots are still fighting. Larger bannered zeppelins have moved in, firing volleys at one another in the confusion. We’re going be swallowed by this place.