Jessie's War (Civil War Steam)

by Connors, Meggan

  “What? Won’t that attract attention?”

  He turned away, and the small ripple of the intimacy swimming between them was extinguished. “They already know we’re here. I’ve killed two men and you’ve set off the Gatling gun. We go out now, we’re backlit by fire. Let’s give them something else to look at.” He paused for a moment. “Unless you can’t do it with the shutters open?”

  “No, I can.”

  “Stay low, then. Don’t give them a target,” he reminded her.

  Jessie had no choice but to obey.

  As soon as the flash powder went off, Luke grabbed her by the shoulder and hauled her up behind him. “Follow me!”

  He barreled out the door and into the night, lit up by the artificial glow of thermite hissing and popping against the dark.

  Snow fell fast and thick, pale gray against the white-hot glow of burning thermite, the air cold and raw. On her front walk, twenty feet away from her door, lay the bodies of one man and one horse, both riddled with bullet holes.

  I’ve killed a man.

  Before she had time to truly process the thought, Luke shoved her hard, and she went sprawling on her stoop. He fell beside her, as the sound of gunfire rained down upon her.

  Suddenly, the gunfire ceased. The distant wail of sirens punctuated the brief silence.

  Luke.

  He laid a gentle hand upon her back, and her heart sang with unexpected relief. “You all right, Jess?”

  “Yeah,” she lied.

  “It was them or us,” he reminded her over the stock of his rifle. He moved into position and readied the weapon. “He would’ve killed me and kidnapped you, and God only knows what he would’ve done to you next. There’s no shame in surviving.”

  Shocking how well he could read her, even after all this time. Had she changed so little in eight years? Because he’d changed so much.

  “I never thought there was.” But her words were yet another lie.

  A series of brief flashes appeared on the hill.

  A heliograph. Communicating with someone in this valley in the dark.

  Looking through his scope, Luke took careful aim and fired. The light went out.

  She closed her eyes against what that meant. Didn’t want to think about it, so she looked up in the direction of Virginia City, now obscured by clouds.

  Something about the light the city cast through the clouds was too bright against the backdrop of snow and darkness. The ore crushers ought to be audible, but all Jessie could hear was the hissing of falling snow and the wail of far off sirens. And in that instant, she realized the alarm wasn’t for her, and the fire brigade wasn’t coming. No one was coming for her. They had bigger problems than a fire at the Indian girl’s house.

  Descending out of the clouds like a great, round beast was an airship, its oblong body graceful despite its size, and so quiet she could barely make out the sound of its engines above the whisper of falling snow and gusting wind.

  She hadn’t seen an airship in Virginia City in the nine years since the shelling, and the sheer size of the thing as it materialized out of the cloud cover awed her. Staring in mute horror, she hit Luke on the shoulder to gain his attention.

  “What?” he demanded crossly, and Jessie pointed to the sky. “Shit. That can’t be one of ours. Out, Jessie! Out, out, out!”

  He was on his feet in an instant. Yanked her up by her wrist only to shove her roughly off the stoop and into the snow. Pushed her in the direction of the horses as the airship fired explosive shells into the heart of Virginia City.

  Then the bloated beast began to turn as the airship maneuvered so its massive cannons faced in the direction of Jessie’s house.

  Until the guns were pointed at them.

  “Run!” Luke shouted, shoving her so hard she stumbled and fell to her knees. “You run!”

  Jessie pushed herself to her feet as a hail of gunfire pierced the sky. Luke dove off the stoop, caught his balance, and regained his footing without so much as a stutter. Grabbing her hand, he hauled her behind him. Pain lanced through her chest, the act of filling her lungs sheer torture. Though she tried, she couldn’t keep up with him and went down again.

  She was done, drawing her last painful breaths in the gritty snow.

  He slung the carbine onto his back, looped her arm around his shoulders and helped her to her feet. “For the love of God, Jess, run!”

  Tears burned her eyes. “I can’t.”

  “You have to,” he told her fiercely. “Don’t break on me now. We’re almost there.”

  “I can’t.” Her voice splintered in her throat. “I can’t.”

  “Yes, you can.” He shouldered her weight when she began to slump. “C’mon sweet, you can do this. The horses are just over the ridge. We can do this.”

  He pulled her along, and she forced her feet to move.

  “We’re almost there,” he panted, glancing over his shoulder.

  Jessie didn’t care what he was looking for. She couldn’t go any further, and if she got shot, she preferred to be shot in the back.

  Run, Jessie, a voice said in her head. Familiar and not unkind.

  She ignored it, and went down to her knees.

  An explosion rocked the ground beneath them, and she turned her head in time to see her house go up in flames, the fire burning so hot she felt it even at such a distance in this weather. Just beyond her burning life, she could barely make out the movements of the airship through the snow and the darkness. Saw the bright flash as it fired on her city.

  Not her city. Virginia City had never been her city. It had been her father’s. As she lost it, and his house, she lost him all over again.

  “Don’t look at it. Just run.” Luke yanked on her arm in an attempt to get her to stand. Her ribs and her aching shoulder shrieked and she resisted him. She was done. Finished. She accepted death as it came.

  She never thought she’d live that long anyway.

  “Don’t fucking do this to me, Jess.” Real fury burned in Luke’s eyes. “Get a hold of yourself. You’re better than this. Don’t fucking give up now.”

  “I hate you.”

  “I thought you were tougher than this. Never knew you were some wilting flower who’d roll over and die at the first sign of trouble.”

  “You’re an ass,” she snarled.

  “Maybe so, but I’m an ass who will live. Not sure the same can be said for you. I never would have taken you for a coward.”

  She gasped against the weight of cold and soot in her lungs. “You wouldn’t say that if you knew me at all.”

  “I’ve gotten real good at reading people since I left, and I think you’re a coward. But if you’re so tough, prove me wrong.”

  Angrily, she shook off the hands he offered. She struggled to her feet and walked under her own power, even though she only wanted to curl up and sleep.

  She’d walk just to spite him.

  They crested the last ridge and found the horses, and Luke turned to Jessie and put a hand on her shoulder. “Can you ride?”

  Jessie uttered the most violent Paiute curse she could think of, and she would have sworn she heard laughing in the howling of the wind. She climbed on the rock next to one of the horses and mounted.

  Her vision swam, and the bright flashes of light behind her eyelids had nothing to do with exploding houses or cannon shells. She dry-heaved, but that just made everything worse.

  Luke touched her knee. “You did good. I knew you could do it.”

  “I don’t need your approval, Bradshaw.” She wanted to hold on to her earlier anger, wanted to stay angry with him for calling her a coward, but she wasn’t. She even knew why he did it.

  The sound of exploding ammunition rocked her valley, and, as she looked down over the ridge, hot tears stung her eyes. Her house, her memories, and the only life she’d ever known was up in flames, burned up as if she and her brother had never existed. Anguish, like white-hot lightning, tore through her, burning her heart until only ashes remained. />
  “I’m sorry, Gid,” she whispered, and put her heels to horse.

  Chapter Eight

  They kept close to the hills, using cloud cover, weather and the terrain to hide their escape. The snow continued to fall fast and thick, the small flakes an indication the storm wasn’t going to let up any time soon. As they passed the still smoking remains of a burned out crawler, Luke scanned the sky, his expression sharp.

  Jessie didn’t need to ask what he was looking for. She’d lived through the first shelling of Virginia City, too. She remembered the airships descending from the sky. She remembered the debris and the devastation. She remembered how Luke had held her that night, and what he’d done to protect her.

  Her eyes lingered as they passed another crawler. This one wasn’t burned out. They could take it and make their way down the hill. With its steam engines, it wouldn’t take long to warm.

  She shivered. Luke caught her eye and shook his head, and then turned away from her. She knew his answer. She even understood.

  A crawler would be too easy to track in the dark. On horseback, the snow would cover their trail. But without the proper tools, they could die of exposure. With little food and water, it would be so easy to die out here in the high desert scrub.

  She wondered if Luke was making a fatal mistake.

  Every muscle in her body ached, and she’d lost all sensation in her limbs. As time passed, she began to tremble violently, her fingers so numb she could barely cling to the horn of the saddle to keep her balance.

  All she wanted to do was sleep. Knowing she’d die if she did, she wasn’t entirely sure she cared.

  “You’re gonna hyperventilate if you keep that up,” Luke said.

  Jessie hadn’t realized he’d been watching her, but he was right. Already, her vision swam, the edges growing dark and hazy.

  “Shut up.” She didn’t want another lecture. Didn’t want to be reminded that she’d been weak back at her house. She just wanted to be left alone.

  He clicked to his horse and was instantly beside her. He pried her hands from the saddle horn. “Jesus, Jessie, you’re freezing. Where are your gloves?”

  She clenched her teeth to keep them from chattering, though it did little good. “I took them off at the house.”

  “And you didn’t think to bring them with you?”

  “I forgot.”

  Their horses walked alongside one another for a few moments, so close her leg brushed against his. Luke pulled a small, round object from his pocket and opened it. Jessie heard the snick of a switch being hit, and the object glowed faintly, the pale light reflecting against his features. He turned in his saddle and studied the landscape, obscured by clouds and smoke.

  “What did you think was going to happen?” Luke asked. “If we were going to escape, you didn’t think we’d be going someplace warm and balmy, did you?”

  Hot tears pricked her eyes, and she didn’t bother to try to stop them. “I didn’t think the vault door would explode. I was shocked and scared, and I—I forgot to pick up my gloves. Arrest me.”

  “You’re gonna get frostbite.”

  She nodded slowly to no one but herself.

  “Whoa.” He brought the horses to a stop. He took the packs off the saddle of her horse and put them on his. Swinging himself on to Taba, he settled himself behind her and took up the reins.

  “You’re shaking.”

  “I’m cold.” But that wasn’t why she shivered in his arms.

  Luke pulled her into his lap. “Better?”

  The heat of his body seeped through her sodden clothes, a furnace she thought she should embrace but did not want. It burned her in more ways than one. She tried to move away, but he held her fast.

  “What are you doing?” she demanded.

  “Trying to keep you warm.”

  “I was warm enough before.”

  He removed one of his gloves and took her hand. “You’re soaking wet. You’re probably suffering from exposure. We need to find some shelter.” He pulled some jerky from his pocket and handed it to her. “Eat this. It will help.”

  The dried meat dangled loosely from her fingers, for she didn’t have the strength to bring it to her lips. “We’re lost.” Tears scalded her cheeks.

  “You might be, but I’m not.” He dismounted. “Get off.”

  “You’re out of your mind.”

  “You need to move. It’s the only way to raise your temperature. You need to walk.”

  “I can’t.” Her voice splintered in her throat. “I think my ribs are broken. I can’t breathe.”

  “Hasn’t stopped you from talking, so I think your ribs are fine.” He reached up and pulled her from the saddle, and she only allowed it because she didn’t have the strength to resist. When she stood rooted in her place, he barked, “Move your ass, Jessie!”

  “You try walking when you can’t breathe.”

  “That’s horseshit. Join me when you decide to stop being a daisy.” He took the horses’ reins and walked away. Taba followed dutifully.

  Traitor.

  She watched his back, certain he’d stop and come back for her. Only he didn’t.

  He disappeared into the dark.

  How like him to leave her and not come back.

  Walk, Jessie, whispered that voice again, and it offered comfort.

  She forced herself to move her feet. Struggled to follow him into the night, step after painful step, trudging through the snow in the direction he’d gone.

  Once she was safe, she’d never have to see him again. But right now, as much as she hated to admit it, she needed him.

  “Bradshaw?” she called.

  “So you decided to live.”

  Jessie whirled around to find him about ten feet behind her, leaning against the brittle, twisted trunk of a scraggly juniper tree, holding a bundle of sticks. Approaching her, he motioned for her to hold out her arms. When she obeyed, confused, he handed the bundle to her.

  “You expect me to carry this?”

  “Just to those rocks over there.”

  “I’m so tired.” And suddenly so hot. She had to get out of these clothes, maybe lay down in the snow for a while. Only the bundle of sticks in her arms kept her from taking off her coat.

  “You’re doing fine, Jessie. It’s just to those rocks over there. I’ll be there in a minute. I’m going to get some more firewood, and I’ll be right there. Just go to the rocks. Make sure you walk a bit, would you? It will keep your body temperature up.”

  She swayed on wobbly legs. “No.”

  Luke shook his head. “You are the biggest pain in the ass I’ve ever met,” he said, but his tone wasn’t unkind. “Just take the bundle to those rocks. I’ll bring the rest of the supplies. Unless you’d rather build the shelter and see to the horses.”

  “We’re stopping?”

  “Yeah,” he answered, as if her question was the most idiotic thing anyone had ever said. “What did you think we were doing?”

  “I thought you were making me walk and carry your stuff for you.”

  Turning his back to her, he said over his shoulder, “I’m glad you hold me in such high regard.”

  She shuffled in the direction of the rocks. Her muscles stiffened and locked down, and her calves cramped in her boots.

  “Move, Jessie!” Luke roared.

  She wanted to tell him where he could go and what he could do with his orders, but she fought through the cramping and the pain and forced her legs to move. Forced herself to keep moving despite knees that threatened to buckle and take her down into the snow. She clung to that bundle of sticks as if it were the most precious thing she’d ever held in her entire life.

  Sadly, she’d already held that in her arms and lost him.

  She refused to think about that now.

  Luke waded through the snow, carrying a large armful of wood and some blankets. “Follow me.” When she held her ground, he said, “If you want to stay out here, that’s fine. Or you come with me and I’ll find us
some shelter. You choose.”

  Cursing in every language she could think of, she followed.

  He led her to a cluster of rocks, mumbling something that got lost in the wind. When she rounded the corner, she saw what he had in mind: an abandoned mineshaft.

  The place felt eerie and familiar and wrong.

  She stopped at the entrance. “Where are we?”

  “One of the collapsed tunnels of the old Shaeffer mine. It’ll give us some shelter for the night.”

  “You’re kidding, right? This place is dangerous.”

  “So’s being out in this weather. Come on.”

  “It’s… it’s haunted.” She stiffened, so hot she could think of nothing else but stripping down to her undergarments and lying down in the snow.

  “Don’t tell me you’re superstitious, Jessie. I’d expect more from the daughter of the resident scientist.”

  And she’d expect nothing less from the granddaughter of a tribal shaman. She might be her father’s daughter, but that didn’t make her any less native. She wouldn’t trespass on the graves of the dead unless she had no other choice.

  “No, I’m not superstitious,” she lied, following him inside, though the act took every ounce of courage she possessed. The air was heavy and viscous, like moving through quicksand. “But think of all the people who’ve died here. Everyone who’s entered the mine has died. The place is cursed. It’s burial ground, Bradshaw.”

  He took the bundle from her and set it on the floor. Taking out a flint and steel, he began the process of building a fire. She didn’t know why he bothered. She wasn’t even cold anymore.

  “Damn stuff is soaking wet,” he grumbled as he arranged the firewood. “I don’t want to use the thermite unless I have to. You see anything dry?”

  Behind her, some old, dry tumbleweeds clustered along one wall of the shaft. Hearing what sounded like a shaman’s chant eddying up from the dark, low and melodic, she tried to convince herself it was a trick of wind. She ventured into the darkness of the tunnel, gathered the tumbleweeds, and brought them back.

  “Perfect. You’re not as useless as you pretend to be.”