by Nico Rosso
“The problem is that you’re too good a sheriff.” He fired his rattler at a Whisperer who was bringing his shotgun around to bear. The man dove away, unhurt. “Keeping the citizens safe, so they don’t know how to fight for themselves.”
“It’s never supposed to get this bad.” She slid the Gatling rifle from its scabbard and used the key to wind the mechanism. “This is worse than any nightmare.”
He ducked them low, under the aim of the iron coach. “After getting into the war, I started looking forward to my nightmares for a little relief.”
The ammo belt snapped into the Gatling rifle. She tried to steady her breath and brought the weapon to her shoulder. But aiming at the iron coach was nearly impossible as Tom flew in his erratic, evasive pattern.
“Set me down.” A quick glance around the town told her there was nowhere safe. “I can’t line up from up here.”
“Remember dancing the waltz with me?” He reached back and gave her leg a quick squeeze. “Put your hips into it.”
Everything seemed to slow down. She allowed the movement to take her again, rather than fighting it. The rifle was an extension of her, sights zeroing in on the iron coach. A pull of the trigger set the rifle into quick action. The barrels spun and bullets flew, charged with the ether.
A line of dents appeared on the side of the coach where her shots hit. More bullets sparked off the driver’s armor. He veered away, disappearing between two buildings.
“It didn’t stop them,” she said, “but I scared them.”
He flashed her a brief smile. “You’re dancing great.”
“To be honest, it wasn’t dancing I was thinking of.”
Tom brought the charger to an abrupt stop and fired his pistol twice. A Whisperer fell backward, firing his shotgun into the air as he went down. Tom took the charger higher again. “Keep at the iron coach. You’ll get a shot into the slot eventually and hit the gunner. He’s the one we really need to worry about.”
There was no sign of the coach in the town.
“Where the hell is it?” she demanded.
“Could be on the other side of the machine.” He started to bring them around the device as it finished consuming the stable. Its heavy treads crushed any part of the structure that wasn’t ground to dust inside the machine. The blacksmith’s shop and everything else in town would go that way if they didn’t do something soon.
She just caught sight of the iron coach when a sense of danger flared through her like a thousand lit matches. And it all started with a smell.
“Potatoes.”
Luckily, Tom knew just what she meant and jerked the charger to one side as a bullet whizzed past them. Two Whisperers wearing ether packs streaked out of the sunshine. They were damn close. Tom swerved again so they couldn’t get a shot off with their ether pistols.
“At least the iron coach’s Gatling can’t shoot at us while they’re up here.” He turned his head from side to side, trying to track the flying Whisperers, but they were moving too fast for him to shoot.
“But the mining machine ain’t stopping.” It rolled toward the blacksmith’s, surrounded by the armed Whisperers. The townspeople backed further and further away, helpless to defend their property.
“Now might be the time for that TNT—”
His sentence was cut off as a flying Whisperer blindsided them, slamming into the charger. She fought to stay on the craft and tried to grip Tom, yet he was ripped from her hands.
But he didn’t fall. He was lifted higher, locked in a struggle with the flying Whisperer. Leaving her alone on the charger.
“Whoa! Whoa!” She instinctively called out, but the machine paid no heed. It spun wildly, unbalanced and unpredictable.
It was a challenge just to move forward into the saddle while slinging the Gatling rifle over her shoulder, but taking up the reins didn’t solve her problems. Tom had been right—this was no ordinary horse. It was like trying to sit astride a dust devil. There were two levers at each of her feet and a set of valves at the base of what would be the horse’s neck. Yanking the reins, she managed to slow the spin a bit, but the bottom of the craft swung from side to side, threatening to throw her.
And there was still a Whisperer with an ether pack trying to catch her. If she did lose control and fall to the ground the impact might end her, or the guards below would. Tom continued to speed away with the other Whisperer. All she could do was pull the reins, kick the levers and hope to slow things down enough to pull her pistol and shoot back at all the men trying to kill her.
TOM HAD BEEN in enough fights to know how to punch a man. But to do so while dangling thirty feet over the ground was another matter altogether. Both he and the Whisperer had lost their grips on their pistols, and they dangled on their lanyards. The other man was strong, his fingers digging into Tom’s shoulder as he tried to shove him off.
“Best give up your fight now, before you get hurt.” Tom jabbed his elbow into the man’s ribs, but the mask obscured any expression of pain.
Every passing second burned Tom. He could only steal glances, but knew Rosa was alone on the charger, whirling through the air as she struggled to control it. Either she’d crash or make an easy target. He had to get to her. Now.
But the Whisperer had no intentions of making this easy. He brought his knee hard into Tom’s side, nearly knocking the wind out of him. Tom grabbed the control lever for the ether pack and twisted it, sending them into a tight spin. As the Whisperer struggled for control, Tom was able to get a hand free and balled it into a fist. It was a quick uppercut, without a lot of room to develop, but it felt good planting it on the man’s jaw.
The mask flew off while the guard was in mid-whisper. Tom’s spine froze. The man wasn’t speaking English. His words came out in a stream of German. It all made sense. The advanced weapons, the military technology.
“You’re a goddamn Hapsburg.”
The man’s eyes went wide, shocked to be found out.
Tom cocked his fist and punched the man in the face. But the Hapsburg soldier maintained his grip on Tom’s shoulder. And somewhere below them, Rosa still twirled, barely controlling the charger. He had to get to her to tell her that these weren’t ordinary evil mining company goons—these were soldiers and saboteurs.
The man spit German words out, trying to dislodge Tom. This fight wasn’t going anywhere, and time was in short supply. Letting the soldier punch him in the ribs, Tom tried to ignore the pain and reached down to his boot. His hand wrapped around the oak handle of his bowie knife, and he drew it from the sheath.
Sunlight glinted off the blade. The soldier fought harder to push Tom away. The man was obviously trained in combat and blocked Tom’s wrist, keeping Tom from stabbing him. But Tom wasn’t trying to cut him. Instead, Tom dug the edge of the blade into a leather strap that held the man to his ether pack.
The strap split. The man slipped downward, but caught hold of the very bottom of the ether pack. Tom wrapped his hand in the leather strap and kicked down into the solder. The man’s grip broke. He fell away from Tom and the ether pack. Thirty feet later he hit the roof of the hotel and lay there, motionless.
Tom sheathed his knife and wound himself into the remaining ether pack strap. It was off balance and awkward, but he was able to grab the control lever and take himself toward Rosa.
She seemed to be doing better on the charger, leveling it out. Riding it was one thing. Riding and fighting was a whole other skill. The remaining Whisperer in the ether pack orbited her, trying to get a shot off with his ether pistol.
“Right heel slows her down,” Tom shouted to her, still not close enough to help.
The charger’s bucking eased. Rosa swung around in the saddle and took a shot at the man in the ether pack. The bullet barely missed him. She cocked her pistol and fired again. This shot came even closer, and the man had no interest in testing her a third time
. His tetrol engine whined. He sped away, slipping to safety on the other side of the mining machine.
Lurching in the air, Tom managed to get about ten feet over Rosa and the charger. “Steady her,” he called down.
“What do you think I’m trying to do?”
“Clear the saddle.” He had to time this perfectly. The charger slid back and forth beneath him and he swung, barely hanging onto the ether pack. Rosa shifted backward. He had to make his move now.
He held his breath and let go of the ether pack. It slipped quickly up and away from him. Falling free, he tried to aim for the moving charger. His boots hit the saddle just as the craft turned away. He nearly bounced completely off the charger, but at the last second he managed to get a leg over the saddle.
Rosa lurched forward, gripping his shirt. His fall halted, together they righted him in the saddle. The charger calmed under his control. They were soon flying straight and level—making them the perfect target. Shots chattered as the iron coach came around from the other side of the mining machine. Tom steered the charger evasively.
Still gripping him close, Rosa spoke over the din of the machine gun. “You’re gonna have to teach me how to ride this thing.”
“That was lesson number one. Did mighty fine. Better than me the first time.”
It felt like he was fighting a headwind, but other than the bullets, the air was calm. Damn ether tank damage was making the charger sluggish. A quick glance to his fuel gauge didn’t boost his morale, either.
He searched for a safe place to put them down. The Whisperers were out in the town, breaking windows and scattering the citizens. Screeching with smashed wood and crushed metal, the mining machine ate into the blacksmith’s. There was nowhere safe.
“Gotta land.” A small pocket of quiet behind one of the fruit cannery buildings looked like the best place. “Need fresh water and tetrol.”
She let go of him and unslung the Gatling rifle to fire back at the iron coach. Her bullets pinged against its side. The driver yanked on his levers, turning the metal wheels and kicking up dust in the opposite direction.
It bought Tom enough time to make a straight approach from behind the building. But things weren’t quiet for long. A group of five Whisperers charged through the area, firing their shotguns into the high windows of the cannery and flushing out some townfolk from their hiding places.
Most of the people made it to the safety of the forest, but two of them were exposed, and they hesitated at the edge of the thorny blackberry brambles. Rosa’s parents.
“Dios mio.” She opened up with the Gatling rifle at the enemy. Dirt flew and the Whisperers ducked for cover behind crates and nearby trees.
They were still ten feet off the ground, but Rosa wasn’t waiting. She swung off the back of the charger and landed with a roll. Part of Tom wanted to just watch her incredible body and fighting spirit. But this wasn’t the time to be idle.
She ran, firing at a Whisperer behind a crate, until she was next to her parents. Tom brought the charger down fast, landing hard next to a tree and pulling his pistol. Firing twice on the run, he tried to pin down the Whisperer behind the crates. Tom waved Rosa over to a large tree and tried to shoot at a guard who came around the side of the canning building.
Click. Tom’s gun was empty. He sprinted for the tree just as the Whisperer opened fire with his rotary shotgun. One blast missed, shredding the air just behind Tom. The next shot dug into the tree as Tom ducked behind it.
“Did you hit any?” Rosa and her parents squeezed behind the tree with him.
He quickly reloaded his pistol. “No. You?”
She wound the clockwork on the Gatling rifle. “Not yet.”
Tom gave her father a quick pat on the back and pinched the brim of his hat for her mother. “Howdy, Señor and Señora Campos.”
They pushed through their fear to smile weakly back at him. Her father could only manage, “Hola.”
“Still mad I’m back?”
Rosa shot him a look. “This ain’t the time.”
He stole a glance around the tree and saw a Whisperer break cover to join the other one behind the crates.
“But we’re here, all cozy like.” He holstered his pistol, and Rosa handed him the Gatling rifle. “Two at the crates. That means there’s three more running around.”
She nodded, checking her pistol to make sure it was completely loaded.
He continued to her parents. “It’s funny. If you’d asked me three days ago when I was setting out from the front, I’d have told you I was coming to Thornville because it was home. But that ain’t right. Like you said, I got no property, no claim. I came here because Rosa’s here.”
A blush glowed on Rosa’s cheeks. He felt his own heat rising. Damn if, in the middle of all this, he didn’t want to find out how far across her body that blush traveled.
He had to clear his throat. Speaking like this was easy. The bullets were flying, and there was no time to think. “Now, I don’t know if she’ll have me, but it’s my intention to spend every minute I’m not fighting at the front with her. And there ain’t a thing you can do to change my mind.”
Shotgun blasts rang out and leaves shuddered free from the tree. On the other side of the building, the mining machine continued to chew into the town.
Rosa shook her head, unbelieving, at Tom. “I told you this wasn’t the time.”
He readied the rifle. “I’ll cover you to the crates, and hold ’em down.”
She nodded and they both took a deep breath. Before they broke cover around opposite sides of the tree, her father grabbed her arm and her mother placed her hand on Tom’s shoulder.
Her father spoke first. “Be careful, querida.”
“I’m doing my job,” she said. “Better than anyone else.”
Her mother shook Tom, emotion showing in her eyes. “We have to trust you now.”
“I’ll shoot straight. I’ll keep her safe.” But there were no guarantees. Any second could bring death.
This time, when they danced, Tom followed her lead. She gave a brief nod, and he swung around the tree, aiming the Gatling rifle at the crates where the Whisperers hid. He sent a stream of lead into the wood, keeping them pinned. Rosa sprinted away from the tree, rushing the crates.
Fluid and graceful, she really was a predator defending her territory from evil. She fired once with her pistol, cocked it and fired again as she neared the crates. Tom broke cover and ran toward her. She leaned down and picked up a rotary shotgun from one of the fallen Whisperers.
Just in time. The other three Hapsburg soldiers came out shooting. One of them burst out of the forest on Rosa’s side. Tom had to face the other two in the opposite direction as they sped around the corner of the canning building.
He unleashed the rifle, taking out the two men. Rosa’s shotgun blasted behind him, and he knew she took care of the Whisperer on her side. There was a brief moment of quiet. He quickly wound the clockwork in the rifle. She collected a shotgun shell bandolier from one of the fallen men and slung it over her shoulder.
“They’re Hapsburgs,” he told her as her parents cautiously approached from behind the tree.
Her eyes went wide. “Crandall Mining is hiring Hapsburg soldiers?”
“Don’t think they’re Crandall. More like saboteurs, trying to win the war the underhanded way. Shaking the morale of the people. I’ve heard of them trying to distribute fake newspapers in cities, just to scare the citizens.”
She cracked open the shotgun and reloaded the spent chamber. “That’s no way to fight a war. This is our home.” Anger radiated out of her, and Tom almost pitied the enemy. “There’ll be no mercy for those Hapsburgs.”
He picked up another shotgun from the ground near the crates and handed it to her mother. “Hold this area.”
She nodded, determined.
Taking her
father over to the charger, he pointed out the necessary valves. “Fill her with water and tetrol.”
“You got it.” Her father was already working on the machine when Tom rejoined Rosa.
They readied themselves at the corner of the canning building. The din of the mining machine continued. Engine whining, the iron coach still patrolled somewhere out in the town. And there were still Whisperers on foot.
He gave her a wink. “Three steps and we’re back in the battle.”
There was a vicious gleam in her eye. “They’re playing our song.”
They came around the building and rushed into the fight.
THE MINING MACHINE was impossibly large. A mechanical god bent on destruction. She hadn’t seen it from ground level in the daylight. The beast seemed to loom all the way to the clouds.
The blacksmith’s shop lay in smoldering ruins. The farrier’s next door was quickly being chewed to pieces. After that was the telegraph office. Anger welled in her, fueling the fight. It wasn’t a greedy mining company, it was the enemy of the whole country trying to destroy Thornville.
“If we don’t stop them, they’re going to roll over every small town in their way.”
Tom hadn’t strayed from her side. “Trying to break our backs. Setting fires through the country that could lead to anarchy. Cowards aren’t battling on the front line.”
There were no Whisperers between them and the mining machine. She ran toward it, hoping there were enough shotgun shells to destroy every last piece of the technology. Peeking out from above the device, the remaining Whisperer with the ether pack readied his pistol.
But he didn’t attack.
Tom turned in the street, searching. “That ain’t good.”
Engine screaming, the iron coach sped around a corner and bore down on them. Metal studded wheels flung dirt into the air. She slung the shotgun over her shoulder. Tom grabbed her arm to pull her back, but she tore out of his grip and dove forward.