Crimson Sky: A Dark Sky Novel

by Amy Braun

  “What?!”

  Sawyer ignored her and held out his hand to me.

  I stared at it, seeing the calluses and grooves that had come from years of hard work and survival. Mine were the same, but I still hesitated. Marauders were known for being liars and cheats, and he agreed quickly. They might be playing nice with me now because they wanted something, but the moment they had it, they would turn me back to Garnet.

  But I couldn’t rescue Abby without their help. Even if I had a ship to take up, I didn’t know how to operate one. It wasn’t like I could ask a Hellion to drive me, either.

  Before the moment became too awkward, I took Sawyer’s hand in my bound ones and shook it firmly. In spite of his calluses and the dryness of his skin, his touch wasn’t unpleasant. His palm was warm and his grip was strong, but not constricting. After a moment his hand slipped from mine, but I was reluctant to let it go.

  “You can’t be serious,” protested Gemma.

  He glanced at her, but didn’t say anything. It didn’t seem like he needed to.

  “Gem’s right, Sawyer,” added Nash. “We should really think this through before–”

  “Later,” he interrupted. “We’re not going to attack them without a plan.” His eyes cut to me. “It could take a while to form.”

  Trickles of panic slipped into my heart. The longer Abby stayed on the Behemoth, the longer she would suffer. My sister was stronger than she gave herself credit for, but the Hellions never returned those they stole.

  But Sawyer was right. Getting up to the Behemoth without a plan was suicide, just as Gemma suggested. We didn’t even have a working ship to get us up there yet.

  Distress me as it did, I nodded briefly to Sawyer.

  Gemma scoffed again. Sawyer ignored her, that teasing glint coming back in his eyes. “So,” he said. “Ready to see the damage up close?”

  One look told me it was clear he wasn’t even thinking about helping my sister yet, and that his agreement was going to cost him something with his crew. I shrugged.

  “No time like the present.”

  Chapter 4

  Sawyer let me keep the Volt, and returned my tool belt to me. It felt good to have it back. I was a hundred times more confident. When I asked, I was told we were in the last standing air hangar of the ports– a five hundred foot square building that served as a holding bay for trading ships before The Storm. It sat in the middle of a concrete tarmac a hundred yards long in every direction. According to the marauders, the tower on the opposite end of the tarmac was collapsed and empty. The hangar was the only useable building. Even if I escaped the building, the marauders wouldn’t have to look hard to see which direction I was running. For better or worse, I was trapped here.

  As I walked with the three marauders to the Dauntless Wanderer, I asked how they obtained it. Given how legendary the ship was, it should have been impossible to find, let alone hide. Sawyer claimed it had been in the hangar when they arrived. I didn’t believe him, since I’d heard that the Dauntless Wanderer had been shot down in the northern part of Westraven, closer to the Breach. I was ready to point this out, until I noticed how Sawyer’s casual demeanor began to change. He didn’t want to discuss how he found the famous airship, which only made me more curious about it.

  Still, I’d pushed him enough for now. I needed him– and the sulking Gemma and ominously quiet Nash– on my side if I had any chance of saving Abby.

  “How much repair has been done?” I asked when he stopped in front of the Dauntless. I walked closer, craning my neck to look up at the giant ship.

  “Only the exterior,” Sawyer answered. “We’ve got that under control, but we can’t get the engine started. We haven’t been able to find or bribe a willing engineer, and I don’t even know what’s missing from…”

  Sawyer trailed off the moment I reached the side of the Dauntless. A web of netting hung over the hull leading down from the deck, passing by the twisted crater in the ship’s side. It was in between the row of guns, and easily climbable. The marauders didn’t protest when I started climbing the netting halfway through Sawyer’s explanations. I was still feeling sore from the encounter with the Hellion and my body didn’t want any kind of exertion placed on it, but I couldn’t stand around and do nothing. Gritting my teeth, I pulled myself up the netting and fought the pain that radiated from my shoulder and neck. It was difficult, but it only took me about twenty minutes to reach the crater and swing myself in.

  I ducked to avoid the scrape of torn metal over my head and planted my feet on the iron floor. I took the torch on my belt and pulled it open. Yellow light illuminated the interior of the hull, showing how ragged it was.

  All airships, even the Behemoth, used standard cannons. The difference was the type of shot. With the help of engineers, the airship gunners were able to create various types of cannon shot to devastate their enemies. Shots could be filled with shrapnel, smoke, explosives, even acid.

  Whatever was shot into the engine room had turned it into a blackened, melting cave. The cannons on either side of the crater were cracked, seared metal. Corroded black boxes huddled in the corners, and burned wire cables snaked along the floor. Those wires led to a large metal cylinder near the far wall. It had been all but obliterated, but I recognized the machine covered in melted gears and dented circuit boxes. The engine.

  I made my way over to it and knelt down, shining my light inside to get a better look at the damage.

  The engine’s exterior was fairly intact, but the interior was destroyed. The shot– which had likely been turned either explosive or acidic on impact– had corroded all the way to the power source, leaving a hole as wide as both my arms put together. I reached inside, moved my arm through dangling copper wires, and touched the source, which was nothing more than a lifeless box lined with ragged holes dangling on weak wires.

  “Well?”

  I jumped, pulling the power source out with me with a violent tug. I stood and turned. The marauders stood by the open hole in the hull. Sawyer was closest to me, only steps away. He looked at me impatiently, like he hoped the problem was a simple one.

  Which it was, except...

  “The power core needs to be rebuilt.”

  “Okay,” Sawyer said. “How long will that take?”

  “Once I have the parts it shouldn’t take more than a couple days, but building it isn’t the real problem. Powering it is. The generators you have down there won’t work.”

  “Why not?”

  I narrowed my eyes. “Do you have anything that can haul a thousand pounds of metal up here, or extension cords long enough to hook to both the engine and the generator? Assuming the generator is capable of handling all the power needed to power said engine?”

  Sawyer scowled at me. We both knew the answer. If the generator were any good, they wouldn’t need the kerosene lamps lighting the air hanger. It was fine for warming the hanger– mostly– but if the Dauntless Wanderer was going to be powered again, it needed a stronger, newer energy source. A very difficult thing to obtain since The Storm.

  “Then where are we supposed to get it?” he asked impatiently.

  I sighed. “The substations.”

  Sawyer frowned, knowing what I really meant. I would have to get the power from one of the Electrician’s substations. Garnet’s substations in particular, since I knew where all of them were and how they operated. If he found out that I was there and stealing from him–again– he would take me back and torture me, probably to death. But there was no way I could use the Volt as an electric charge for the Dauntless’ engine. That kind of power would fry the entire ship, and everyone inside.

  “Everything else can be fixed with scrap from the Junkyard,” I assured, “so we can go there to get the parts for the power core. But it has to be powered by electricity.”

  “You’re absolutely sure about this?” Sawyer asked.

  I nodded, and wished I were more like my parents. They would have found another solution. One where electricit
y wasn’t needed. As good as I was, they were better than I could ever be. I’d followed them around as a child, years before the Discovery of the Breach, finding scrap metal and trying to put it together, turn it into something useful. My parents would smile at my efforts, take my creation, then rebuild the entire thing until it actually worked.

  I knew they were trying to teach me how to improve, but all I could think was that nothing I accomplished would ever match their patents and successes. If they had more time, they could have closed the Breach and sent the Hellions back to wherever they’d come from. But my father was killed in a bombing, and my mother left me with secrets and a baby sister.

  I fought the urge to fiddle with the skeleton key hanging around my neck. It felt like a lead weight over my heart. I turned the torch over in my hands while scrambling for an answer.

  “What is that?”

  I looked up at Gemma, who was nodding to the torch in my hand. “This? It’s just something I made.”

  The female marauder was staring at the light hungrily. I started to put it back, out of her sight.

  “And I only have one,” I said.

  She sighed and folded her arms over her chest. Beside her, Nash laughed. He put his arm along her shoulders and kissed her temple. She continued to pout, but didn’t push him away. Grateful that she’d bought me time to answer, I looked at Sawyer.

  “I can do this,” I said. “We should get the scrap metal first. It won’t take long, and the Southside Junkyard will have everything I need. After that we can find a plan to get the electricity from Garnet’s substation.”

  Sawyer folded his arms over his chest. “Sounds like a risky plan. Especially if the Junkers tell Garnet that you were there. They work for him, don’t they?”

  “Yes,” I admitted. It seemed that news traveled fast above the ground as well as under it. “Are you saying you won’t do it?”

  Sawyer grinned. “Wouldn’t be a marauder if I didn’t take risks. We’ll leave first thing in the morning. Right now we should eat and rest. You’re going to need your full strength if you’re going to run with us, Firecracker.”

  I narrowed my eyes at him. “Don’t call me Firecracker. My name is Claire.”

  “Claire,” he said, testing out my name. He spoke it almost gently, as if he liked the way it sounded on his tongue. I kind of wanted him to say it again.

  He nodded once, then said, “Let’s get you settled, Firecracker.”

  ***

  When it became clear that Sawyer’s marauders were in no rush, I asked what time it was. Nash was kind enough to explain that the drug Gemma gave me–chloroform– had knocked me out for most of the morning. They transported me, kept an eye on me while I was sleeping, patched my cuts, and let me rest for most of the day. When I woke up, night had fallen again. The favorite raiding time for the Hellions.

  As much as I cursed myself for being unconscious for nearly twelve hours, I had to admit that I felt better. The bruises from my beating looked angry, but didn’t hinder me as much anymore. I could walk without feeling like a board. My head was completely clear.

  Plus… I was starving.

  Water in Westraven could still be found, though it had to be filtered before it could be classified as drinkable. Food was harder to come by. There were a few farms near the downtown market, providing more revenue for the Trade Board and Westraven. All food production and trade halted when the Hellions began their attacks. In the chaos of trying to gather supplies, the farmers had been forced to take their seeds, abandon their farms and hide in the most secluded areas of the city. Some of the farmers tried to create a power monopoly against the Electricians, only to find their new homes burned and themselves forced into slavery. Some marauder Clans were rumored to have hired out farmers to provide food for their own gangs, and ruthlessly killed anyone who tried to steal, trade, or attack them. Garnet had a farmer working for his colony, but only he and a handful of his most trusted thugs knew where that person was.

  And it was rare that he felt inclined to share.

  Since fresh fruits and vegetables were a challenge to grow with the limited light from the overbearing clouds, meats were a little easier to come by. Most survivors stopped caring about the kind of protein they devoured as food became scarce. When the farm animals were gone, wild animals were next. Westraven didn’t have many forests, but the deer, rabbits, birds, and coyotes in them were quickly hunted to extinction. After that, humans turned on their pets. After that, they captured and ate rats. That seemed to be all that was left, and while it wasn’t terrible if I didn’t think about it too long, even rats were growing scarce. Once all the rats were gone, we would have to turn to something else. Possibly human meat.

  The very idea terrified me, but not as much as the rumor that some other colonies had already started doing it.

  So when the marauders brought out a small crate of unwashed vegetables, a few bruised fruits, and dried meat, I was stunned. I stared at the contents of the box as Sawyer set it on the floor next to the kerosene lanterns we were circled around. I had to be dreaming. I looked at Sawyer, Gemma, and Nash as they sat across from me. They clearly enjoyed the shocked look on my face.

  “We made some deals,” Nash explained, taking out a small red apple and giving it to Gemma. She was reclined against Nash’s chest, comfortable in his arms and content with ignoring me. “We check on our farmer pal Davy, make sure other marauders don’t rough him up and he has what he needs to keep growing, and we get some of the fresh food he grows.” Gemma took a big bite of the apple, chewed contently, and handed it to Nash. He took it eagerly, holding her closer and taking a bite of his own.

  “He’s growing food aboveground and no one’s caught or bribed him? How?”

  “Davy’s discreet,” Sawyer said, rummaging through the box before he found an apple of his own. He rubbed it along his shirt to clean it. “And we’re very good at what we do.”

  He started eating the apple and I felt my stomach start to rumble. I could barely remember the last time I ate real fruit. Garnet was good about keeping us healthy mostly through unused vitamins from apothecaries and hospitals– he liked his people pretty, he said– but it didn’t compare to what I was seeing now. I looked at the marauders for permission, but they seemed lost in their own world. So I reached into the box, and took out an apple, a carrot, and a wide strip of dried meat. I tore into them even before I sat back down. I was eating so fast I barely tasted anything I put in my mouth. Even if the marauders decided to keep me in their group– even if I wanted to stay– I couldn’t imagine things would be this convenient.

  “Garnet treats you all like shit, doesn’t he?”

  I looked at Nash, whose arms were curled around Gemma. She had the apple back, but was watching me with just as much interest as her lover. There was still animosity to her gaze, but hopefully she would hear me out. Before we sat down for dinner, I heard her arguing with Sawyer about keeping me around. About the impossibility and utter danger of the deal we made. It was clear Gemma didn’t trust me. Maybe it was because she didn’t know me. Maybe it was just who she was.

  While I thought about my answer, I looked at Nash and Gemma. Physically, they couldn’t look more opposite. His dark skin and bulkiness, her paleness and thin frame. But I barely registered it, because they just fit. I could see the strength in her that attracted the kindness in him. I could also see his willingness to defend her combining with the comfort she felt with him. I barely knew them, but even I could tell that Nash and Gemma were perfect for each other.

  I’d never known anything like that. I looked down, picking at the piece of dried meat and nibbling on it.

  “He treats everyone like that,” I muttered. “I’m no exception.”

  Except that I was. I was always the target of abuse because of who my parents were.

  “How did you get trapped by him?”

  I shrugged, still looking at my hands. “The same way most people did. I was scared and desperate. I had a baby sister to t
ake care of, and nowhere else to run.”

  “How did he know you were an engineer?” Sawyer asked.

  I stopped myself from looking at him, and admitting that Garnet knew my parents. “I told him. My mother and father were engineers. I learned from them, and I mentioned it to Garnet when I came to the colony. It kept me safe from… other things.”

  No one asked what those other things were, and I was grateful. I broke the silence by continuing to eat and looking up at the marauders.

  “What about the three of you? How do you survive up here?”

  “By doing what we do best,” Gemma answered, a wicked grin curving her lips. “We lie, cheat, and steal. We play things smart, but we’re not afraid to live dangerously.” She winked at me, then leaned deep into Nash’s chest. “Besides, the underground has nothing worth taking. All the good stuff,” she nudged the foot crate with the tip of her boot, “is up here.”