The Perilous In-Between

by Cortney Pearson

  Oscar hadn’t thought of that. “You think Miss Digby would help my cause?”

  Graham shrugged. “The girl’s cool. Easy to talk to. Plus, she’s his niece and head of the pilots. She might have some sway. The last time I talked to her, she was experimenting with a piece of that thing, trying to destroy it too.”

  “A piece of the monster? She—she had a piece of it?” Someone else in this town had more than an ounce of sense? Oscar stood there like an imbecile, staring at Graham as he analyzed the diagram. Anticipation slowly trickled over him. He stepped forward, handing Graham the long, cylindrical piece he’d been looking for.

  “I think I just might,” Oscar said, growing more excited by the minute.

  Perhaps Miss Digby had also seen the changes he’d noticed in the Kreak’s behaviors. Perhaps Graham was onto something, and Oscar could turn to her for some assistance. Unless Jarvis Digby was trying to cover something up, though Oscar couldn’t accept that answer either. Jarvis was the head of the Nauts, of the town’s very protection and safety. Why would he avoid handling something as monumental as this?

  Graham was right—Oscar would speak with Victoria about it. If anyone could get through to Jarvis Digby, it would be his niece.

  “They need a machine to do this,” Graham said, staring at the collection of wheel pieces he and Oscar had spent the morning constructing. Piece by annoying piece, over and over, the two of them had been doing the same thing. For hours. It reminded Graham of the Steel Tech kit his dad had gotten for him one Christmas. Graham had never touched it. Sports had always been his thing back home. Not building stuff.

  Graham’s tendons ached, and he shook his hand to relieve it. Oscar noticed.

  “Same here, old fellow. Same here.” He flexed his own hand.

  So much about this place was strange to him. Like the endless energy he felt. It was as though he’d been chugging Red Bulls since he arrived. Vitality razzed through his veins, making him feel so wired he hadn’t been able to relax enough to sleep. But the weirdest part was, he hadn’t seemed to need it.

  It definitely made for long days, though. Graham had been nothing short of relieved when the Radley guy had shown up along with Victoria’s uncle. At least he hadn’t had to deal with the crotchety guy on his own.

  When the two stopped for lunch and joined the other workers in a large chow hall, servants of all kinds flocked around the tables, offering bread and bits of meat that were as bland as plastic. One of the servants offered Graham a platter, thin and frilly-looking, like the ones the servants used at Gingham Range. Except instead of holding food on the silver tray, this one held a small, folded note sealed with wax.

  Graham set his fork down and raised an eyebrow at Oscar. “You guys eat paper here?”

  Oscar chuckled, nearly choking on his string bean.

  “You’ve received a message,” Oscar said after downing a gulp of water.

  Who in the world would send Graham a note here? His first thought was his mother. But that was impossible.

  Graham took the letter and looked around a few times before slipping his finger under the dried wax seal. The script was swirly and refined, and if it wasn’t for the sway of the ink—and the fact that they have no computers here—he would have thought something so pretty must have been typed.

  Mr. Birkley,

  I’d like to invite you to join me on patrol again this evening. If it is convenient, please meet me at Hangar 12C when your duties with my uncle are completed. Preferably at sundown.

  –Victoria

  Twenty

  Victoria’s palms sweated beneath her gloves. She wasn’t usually this nervous before patrol, but the prospect of having Graham Birkley with her again set her nerves into a frenzy.

  She felt bad for how their conversation had ended and wanted to make it up to him. He had tried to help her, tipping her off about heating the acid. She wanted to repay the favor.

  She’d taken extra care with her clothing that evening, even securing her cap so it sat tipped over her forehead in a more attractive way than usual. She paced before the open hangar door, staring up at the exposed framework, willing her pulse to slow.

  “For goodness’ sake,” she told herself, stomping to the wall to retrieve her goggles. “It is ridiculous to be so anxious.”

  “What was that?”

  Victoria whirled around, dropping her goggles in the process. Graham Birkley strode in wearing a cream, button-up shirt tucked into trousers. The sleeves were rolled to his elbows, showcasing his tattoo. A smear of grease streaked on one sleeve, as well as below a days’ worth of growth at his jaw.

  “Mr. Birkley! You startled me.”

  He flicked the piece of paper in his hand for her attention, like a flag. “But you knew I was coming, right?”

  “Of course I did.” She made for the ladder, not wanting to let him see her blush. “Come along. After tonight’s inspection, I’ll fly you to Wolverton. We can see if your friend is there.”

  Graham’s brows crinkled. He stood close to her, one hand on the middlemost rung. He smelled strongly of welding smoke, but Victoria didn’t mind. “Really? But your uncle—”

  “He has searched all he can of Chuzzlewit. There must be somewhere else we can look.”

  She lifted her foot to mount, but Graham stopped her with a hand on her bare forearm. The touch charged like a warm shock up to her shoulder, and she stared at his hand and the grease smiling under his fingernails.

  “He put you up to this?” Graham asked. Victoria couldn’t quite read his tone. It wasn’t cocky, but curious in a shy way, as though he didn’t feel he deserved the extra help. He lowered his hand. “The guy probably wants me out of his house, doesn’t he?”

  “Not at all,” Victoria said, wishing she could remove her gloves and wipe her palms. “I only wanted to help. I’m sure it must be difficult for you. You want to get back to your friend and your home.”

  Graham’s mouth parted for the smallest moment. “Wow. That’s cool of you. Thanks.”

  Victoria smiled at him, unsure of what to say. “I did try heat, by the way.”

  His brows rose. “And?”

  She couldn’t help the grin spreading across her cheeks. “And it did not work. But I appreciate your input, Mr. Birkley.”

  Piloting Elsie had only ever come naturally to Victoria. She’d been at home with the gadgets, with the gears and maneuvers—fiddling with machinery her whole life probably helped with that. And it wasn’t as if she hadn’t flown with Graham before. But for some reason his presence behind her back—she couldn’t even see him, for goodness’ sake—was distracting enough that she kept fumbling.

  She floated along the seashore, scanning the horizon, looking back at the torn buildings on Down Street and the lavish homes beyond. She passed the spot where she’d first found Graham, and the open gape in the corner bookshop, still a mess of clutter and debris. The other hovercraft followed a similar pattern, lingering in certain places, then moving on at the lack of evident danger.

  She listened to the light fuzz in her earpiece, but no warnings sounded. There was nothing aside from the usual banter between the Nauts.

  “No activity tonight,” said Emma.

  “It knows I’ve returned to my duties,” Dahlia said. The other girls laughed.

  Bronwyn’s voice crackled over the line. “It wouldn’t dare go up against you again.”

  I wonder why we don’t ever go to the monster, Victoria thought. It didn’t make sense for them to always wait for it to approach. Surely there was an easier way of stopping the attacks before the creature made it to shore. She made a mental note to mention it to Graham later. She wouldn’t do so now, not when he was preoccupied with finding his friend.

  “Looks like the all-clear this evening, ladies,” Victoria said. The other girls sounded their acceptance and retreated, soaring for their hang
ars.

  Victoria should do the same. She knew she was breaking procedure and couldn’t help hearing her uncle’s reprimand. But this was not for the Kreak. This was to help Mr. Birkley. Surely Uncle Jarvis would understand.

  She lagged behind the others, watching their planes veer to the north. Hoping no one noticed her absence, she turned the joystick in her hand and headed east instead.

  “You sure this is okay?” Graham asked.

  She ached to turn back and see his face. But she focused on her navigational duties, on the gauges of her fuel and on getting to Wolverton as quickly as possible without drawing too much attention to herself. She hadn’t realized how it would look to others if one plane were still in the sky. People would think that something else had gone wrong. Once the planes were called back, they knew it was safe to come out again. She would draw far too much attention.

  “It will be fine,” Victoria lied, more to assure herself than him.

  “Whatever you say,” he said in a resigned sort of way.

  “I do know what I’m doing, Mr. Birkley.”

  “Sure you do.”

  “We’ll be there momentarily,” she added.

  They were approaching Silverton Manor, Rosalind’s estate on the edge of Chuzzlewit’s green and near one of the rounded corners of the lake in the center of the countryside. Stretches of farmland separated the two neighboring towns for forty or so miles, but Victoria had never explored it for herself.

  She crossed the farmland, squared off and lined with rows and rows of tasseled wheat in one field, tall stalks of corn in another, and squat, leafy beets in another. Cows grazed along the open grasses in between; farmers guided horses with plows attached to their reins, and a few homes speckled the fields here and there, giving Victoria a glimpse of a life lived more simply than her own.

  “You know a guy named Oscar Radley?” Mr. Birkley piped up behind her.

  “I know him,” she said, thinking of Rosalind.

  “He’s got some great ideas about building watercraft and attacking the Kreak thing head on. You might want to talk to him. Tell him what you’re up to. I think he’d want in on it. He’s been trying to talk to your uncle about it.”

  Victoria pushed against the back of her seat, unease fighting the excitement rushing through her. Watercraft was a wonderful idea, and she was sure it could work. Once she discovered the means to destroy the metal, the two tactics combined would ensure their victory.

  But Uncle Jarvis. She swore she wouldn’t pester him about the Kreak anymore. And if he was denying an audience with Oscar about it as well, something told her it would be madness to team up with him, no matter how good his ideas were.

  “I . . . can’t,” she said. “My uncle would only be more furious. He probably wouldn’t listen anyway.”

  “It’s worth a shot,” Graham said. “Are you sure this is the right direction?”

  Victoria glanced at the stretch of fields, the hills rising in the distance, the mountain breaking into the sky. From every angle there was nothing but farmland. They should have arrived at the outskirts of Wolverton by now.

  “Quite sure,” she said, keeping her eyes open for the Tinswool Bridge where her father had once had a hovney accident. The sight of the bridge would surely tell her she wasn’t making a fool of herself. She’d followed the coordinates for Wolverton. This was the right path.

  The plane rocked. The joystick quivered in her hands. Victoria let out a small cry and gripped tighter, struggling to maintain control. The sky was clear and azure—her sky, the way she liked it best. But the wings swayed back and forth through a patch of turbulence as though they’d encountered severe storm clouds.

  The vivid blue sky blanked out, turning starkly white. Not again, Victoria thought in a panic. Every one of her joints stiffened, her pulse skyrocketing. But otherworldly images didn’t fill her vision.

  Victoria squinted against the brightness, working to keep Elsie steady, when the air itself warped. She gasped for breath. Her internal organs felt as though they were being squeezed through a tube. Graham called something from behind her, but she couldn’t quite make it out.

  Her vision cleared. Color returned to the sky, painting it as translucently blue as ever and completely cloudless. But the fields had vanished. Instead, a tumultuous ocean lapped angrily against the shore.

  Twenty-one

  Victoria blinked, willing meaning to settle into her brain. This was no memory malfunction. Down Street faced them, complete with its various shops and the signs of destruction that had not yet been repaired.

  “Uhh—” Graham’s confusion was evident.

  Victoria’s pulse pounded in her ears. The sky, the farms, all had disappeared.

  She checked her gauges. The coordinates read 45 degrees latitude, 79 degrees longitude, the exact location she’d entered for Wolverton.

  But they weren’t in Wolverton. They’d arrived back in Chuzzlewit.

  “I could have sworn we were at least forty miles away,” Victoria said, fiddling with a few switches, trying to jostle the readout and see if it would change. Chuzzlewit’s coordinates were 113 degrees longitude. How could the coordinates for two different towns bring her to the same location?

  “It’s like this place is a tiny globe and we went all the way around it and ended up back here. You sure Wolverton exists?”

  “Of course I am,” said Victoria. “My—well, Cordelia and Jane Baldwin just came from there. And . . . and Oscar Radley recently returned from attending the university.”

  Victoria didn’t have enough fuel, otherwise she would complete the same course of action and try again. It wasn’t possible. To blink and end up in the place they’d started from? It simply wasn’t possible.

  “Have you been to Wolverton?” Graham asked.

  Victoria pressed her mind, willing it to bring the memories forward. “I have. I visited there once with my governess to see a traveling circus. I was there, my father had a carriage accident there, I—” But something was off. Though she remembered remembering them, the actual memories didn’t surface.

  “I thought I had . . . this makes no sense.”

  She ensured her wheels were down before lowering the craft onto the landing pad and edging around to back into her hangar. She cut the ignition and opened the hatch. The smell of exhaust filled the space, and she inhaled deeply.

  Graham offered her his hand as she climbed from the cab and lowered herself to the ladder. His touch scorched straight through her gloves, adding sweat to her palms.

  After securing things for the night and closing the hangar door, they walked side by side in the moonlight. Victoria felt lightheaded, and there was a continuous ringing in her ears. That wasn’t the first time something unusual had happened while flying, but unlike some far off memory trying to force itself into her mind, the landscape itself changed. How could that be?

  How could any of this be?

  A hovercarriage puttered past, but Victoria didn’t flag it down. Graham gave her a questioning look.

  “If you’ll forgive me, Mr. Birkley.” She tugged on her corset, wishing she could remove it. That she could breathe. “I’d rather not return to the Range just yet.”

  He shrugged and exhaled. “Fine by me. I take it that doesn’t happen often? That—warp, back there?”

  “No, it does not.”

  “What the heck was it, exactly? Has it happened to anyone else?”

  Her head spun. “I don’t know. And I can’t very well ask my uncle. He’s made it quite clear I’m not to stick my nose where it doesn’t belong.”

  “But this is your town, your life. Why shouldn’t you ask questions?”

  Victoria walked with him in silence a few moments. “Perhaps you could,” she suggested. “He promised to help you get home, after all.”

  Graham was already shaking his head, pulling his cra
vat loose so it dangled from his neck. “That’s the thing. If Wolverton doesn’t exist, then from what I can tell, right now Chuzzlewit is the only thing that does.”

  Victoria paused at this, staring straight ahead as if the answers would appear. It was too much to take in, too much to think about.

  The lake glittered, returning the sky’s reflection. Victoria walked with her arms folded, while an utter sense of betrayal settled in. Her sky had let her down, for the first time in memory. The only reliable thing Victoria had ever known. How could the sky have something to hide?

  Graham tucked his hands behind his back and kept his eyes on her. He didn’t speak, and for that she was grateful. She was too preoccupied with how something that should exist somehow didn’t. Plenty of people claimed to have traveled to Wolverton. Recently, in fact. Were they all lying? And what about her own memories?

  If it was true, and Chuzzlewit was the only place that existed, she’d just proven there was no way to leave it. Ever.

  Graham rested a hand on her shoulder. “You okay?”

  “You—you are from somewhere else.” She barely managed the words.

  “Yeah,” he said, puzzled.

  The thought eased the pressure in her chest. They weren’t completely trapped after all. Then what in heaven’s name was going on?

  “I was mistaken in what I said before,” she said.

  “What was that?”

  “We must speak with my uncle. Has anyone else tried to leave? We have to find out what is happening.”

  “Now?” Graham gestured.

  She grabbed his hand as if to stop him. “Not just yet. I need to walk. I need to think.”

  What a fool she’d been. A naïve, trusting fool. She felt exposed, as though she were on display for ridicule. The feeling etched into her heart, shifting it into something it hadn’t been before.