The Tremblers

by Raquel Byrnes

  “I never had a chance to speak with him about it. We were attacked almost as soon as I arrived home.”

  “You have no idea what your father has been doing these past weeks,” he muttered.

  “No.”

  “Then you truly are a dead end.”

  All the fright and frustration of these past few hours boiled over. “Well, imagine what you are to me at this moment,” I snapped and caught his surprised glance. When he reached for my arm again, I smacked it away, eliciting a raised brow.

  “What?”

  “You drop out of the sky, haul me onto your woefully decrepit machine, and inform me that despite dragging me to an abandoned railway…you actually have no idea what you are doing. And you will not do anything to help my father.”

  “Decrepit…really? You just credited it for saving your life, if I remember correctly.”

  “Well, now that has worn off, as has your heroic first impression.” I bit my lip to stop it from trembling. “Now you’re just hurtful. You’ve discarded my father as if he did not matter at all.”

  “Well…” Ashton looked at me, his lips in a tight line, dark hair brushing his eyes. “I did not mean to be callous.”

  “I do not know you, nor do I trust you, and I certainly don’t intend to let you ‘stash’ me anywhere.” I started walking once more, only to stumble on a piece of debris.

  “Wait.” He caught my elbow, halting my progress. “Don’t move.”

  “Stop ordering me around.”

  “Then stop stumbling about,” he said, but his expression tempered. “One moment, Miss Blackburn, please.”

  I closed my mouth on a retort as he walked over to a burned out conductor’s shack. A cool wind shook the surrounding trees and I stifled a shiver.

  “Forgive my gruff manner. Now is not the time to discuss this. We should be more concerned with staying ahead of the security soldiers.” He reached for the lantern that dangled from the pole near the entrance, and returned. Pulling an igniter from his coat pocket, he lit the wick within, and adjusted the flame. Ashton held the lamp aloft. Brow raised, he looked at me. “Better?”

  “Yes, thank you.” I said, bewildered at how he could go from callous to chivalrous in the space of a minute. Something told me his behavior was a deliberate shift in tactic, and I did not trust his sudden gallantry.

  “Are you warm enough?” His eyes reflected the flame of the lantern. “Would you care for my gloves?”

  “I—I am fine.” I crossed my arms under the cloak, flummoxed. I did not enjoy the emotional whiplash his mood changes wrought. “See?”

  “But you are clearly cold.” He tugged at the end of one gloved finger with his teeth. “Take them.”

  “No.” I pulled the cloak tighter. “I don’t want them.”

  “You would brave ice-cold fingers,” he quirked his brow. “Because you are angry?”

  “Yes. I don’t want anything from you at the moment, thank you.”

  “Well, then,” He said after a few seconds. His gaze lingered on me for a moment longer than was comfortable. “We should be on our way.”

  “I said I do not plan to be stowed—”

  “Do you mean to stand in the dark all night? Here?”

  “No…I don’t know, actually.” I looked around, sure I’d heard another noise beyond the brambles.

  “Then consider accompanying me to a less dangerous area, at the very least.” Holding the lantern ahead of us, Ashton reached into the pocket of his vest and withdrew a timepiece on a fob. “My transportation should be on its way.” He stepped over a battered rail tie and turned, offering me his hand. “Mrs. Frances treads these dark skies this time of night.”

  “I don’t—”

  Ashton moved quickly, covering my mouth and pulling me to his chest when a rustle sounded in the weeds nearby. I stilled in his grasp, my eyes widening as a shuddering moan warbled out of the darkness. The wail sent terror snaking through my chest. What would make such a hideously tortured noise? He let go and extinguished the lantern’s flame, his finger going to his lips. I nodded, panting back the panic. I knew that sound.

  Ashton stepped forward, his hand at the weapon on his hip.

  I pulled the opera glasses from the pocket of my gown, adjusting the colored lens down over the eyepiece. Muffling the motor whirs with the material of my dress, I held the glasses to my eyes.

  In the distance, bathed in violet shades of the filter, the brambles shook with staggering force. A figure lurched within them, tangled in the branches. Fighting the urge to run, I nudged Ashton with my elbow, handing him the lorgnettes when he turned. He took the opera glasses, jaw tight as he gazed through them. I cowered next to him, breath caught in my throat.

  Another moan drifted across the night air, a strangled, pain-filled cry.

  Ashton stepped in front, his arm easing me behind his large frame as he put himself between me and the unseen creature.

  “Is it one of those…those things from before? The one that attacked my carriage?”

  “Quite possibly.”

  “What do we do?”

  “Go the other way,” he said with more calm than I could understand. We veered away and around a passenger car on its side. He handed back the opera glasses. “Your design?”

  I nodded, struggling for breath.

  “Maybe we should return to the city.” I regarded the desolate landscape. Save for rusting and abandoned railway cars and various overgrown bushes, I did not see a steam carriage or even a horse-drawn taxi. The glow of the Tesla Dome shrouding the heavens seemed muted, the sky hazy. “There’s a reason we are warned not to venture outside the secure zone.”

  “The security soldiers will no doubt continue their search for you, Miss Blackburn. We need to put as much distance as possible between us.”

  “Where would that be? Everyone knows that outside the Tesla Domes is nothing but ashen wasteland. I haven’t even a mask. And you said the Union Security Force is everywhere.”

  “Not everywhere.”

  “You can’t possibly mean…”

  Ashton made to answer, but turned when a low horn sounded from across the field. A magnificent airship hovered above the treetops, grazing their ragged reach with its dangling ropes. The vast blimp reflected the moonlight across its swollen skin. Ashton relit the wick, then dimmed and brightened the lamp in answer.

  “We’re going up,” Ashton said and grasped my hand. “To Outer City.”

  The realm of outlaws and madmen. A city unprotected by the filter of the Tesla Dome’s grid.

  I shook my head, trying to pull from his hand. “That is your idea of a safe place?”

  “What would cause a government force sworn to protect to suddenly turn on one of its most wealthy and well-known citizens?”

  “I told you…I don’t know,” I cried, voice breaking. “But I can’t go up there. My father is down here.”

  “They will not—,” he shook his head. “They did not hesitate to fire upon you. I cannot keep you safe in New York and I am sure they will be watching the electro-rail and ship ports for your movements.”

  “But there are stories.” I stumbled with him toward the lowering lift cage of the craft overhead. It slithered through the dark air on a taut coil of cable. Its glass panels reflected the Tesla Dome’s faint glow.

  “They are just stories.” Ashton leapt onto the lift and extended his hand.

  “Truly?”

  He helped me aboard the cage, shut the door. “Well,” he said and shrugged. “Mostly.”

  Another cry pierced the darkness, and I spied movement across the yard. Two snarling figures lurched through the weeds toward us. Their jaws snapped on pitiful moans as they grasped at the air.

  “Hurry!” I held the handle of the door with shaking hands. “They’re coming.”

  Ashton slammed his palm on the ascent button. It yanked us upwards with a jerk just as the first creature crashed into the glass panel.

  I stumbled backwards into him, hands
over my mouth. What was happening?

  7

  My ragged breaths fogged the windows of the lift as the ground fell away.

  Below us, the creatures flailed at the sky with quaking arms.

  We rose through the dark toward the airship, its silver foil balloon glistening in the moonlight. The tail rotors swooshed lazily through the night.

  I gritted my teeth as the lift’s tether sent us in a swinging arc. Exactly how many ways was I to hurl through the sky this evening? Aunt Sadie’s protests rang in my head. “Air travel is not a proper mode of transportation for a young lady. It’s too new, suited for soldiers and pirates willing to plummet to their deaths at a moment’s notice.”

  Though I explained to her the use of airships for cargo went without incident for the past decade, I could never convince her to allow me one of the short tours over the city. Now, as I fought to keep from shaking to pieces from sheer fear, I pondered the wisdom of my aunt’s words. The wind buffeted the lift forcing us into a spin. I moaned, dangerously close to fainting.

  “They can’t reach us.” Ashton soothed a hand down my back. “Try to calm down.”

  “I am fine,” I said and shrugged off his touch. Indecently close, I refused to take comfort in his deep, assuring voice.

  “Well, then, you must be gripping the door that tightly to keep the side from falling away,” he said and the hint of amusement in his voice irked me.

  I held his gaze and forced my hands to drop. He chuckled, looking out over the landscape awash in a pale glow; wild in a fundamental way I couldn’t quite understand. I turned my gaze to the ground below, and scolded myself. What would my father think of all this cowering? Hadn’t he told me adventure was in my blood? That my heart beat for battle? Where was the Blackburn courage I so confidently thought would get me through camel chases in the Sahara?

  We ascended and it became clear that the dirigible was attached to an old railway car, the kind used to travel great distances back when we still moved freely over land. Bold brass trim set off a deep, almost black, finished mahogany. The old passenger car rocked gently beneath the bulging mass of the dirigible’s air bladder. Our cable reached its end and the lift cage rattled to an abrupt stop just underneath the structure. Overhead, a hatch swung inward and light from the railcar blinded me.

  A figure leaned out, a woman, who reached down her hand.

  “Come now, Ash! Before we call attention.” She paused when she saw me, her face going tense. “Who is this now?”

  “I—I’m Charlotte.”

  Below me, Ashton moved. “Forgive me for the familiarity, Miss Blackburn, but it cannot be avoided,” he said and without another word, he hefted me up toward the roof of the lift. I yelped as his hands pushed me upward into waiting arms.

  “Ah, what have you dragged me into, Ash? Grab hold, lass,” the woman shouted and strained as she dragged me up and into the railcar.

  Panting, I fought with my skirts and cloak, trying to right myself in the blinding light of the inner car. I pushed hair from my face and glanced at the older woman.

  Clad in a leather bodice and black skirts ruched up past her knees, the wild-haired rescuer pushed a pair of brass goggles up onto her mop of red locks and squinted. “Well, this is a fine mess,” she said.

  Before I could answer, Ashton pulled himself into the car and slammed the hatch door shut. He frowned and stood, offering his hand and helping me to my feet. “This, Lizzie, is Charlie Blackburn.”

  “Oh, Ash, were you involved in all that?” Lizzie paced, her hands tugging on a russet ringlet. “It’s all over the aether. Some sort of fire fight with the Union Security Soldiers?”

  “I went for Blackburn and ended up with his daughter,” Ashton said and strode the length of the railcar to the helm.

  “Did you speak with Blackburn, at least?” Lizzie asked, not even glancing in my direction. “Did he tell you—?”

  “Nothing. I have nothing,” Ashton muttered, his jaw tense.

  “We should have known better than to trust that man.” Lizzie shook her head, lips twisted in disgust. “When he said he would agree to meet with us, it was probably a ruse to root out sympathizers.”

  “I assumed he didn’t meet with Roland for a security reason.” Ashton shook his head. “That perhaps he was followed. But to root out sympathizers? The Colonel knew about the connection Roland and I have with your lot, Lizzie. I do not think that is it.”

  “Either way, you risked your life for nothing.”

  “Nothing?” The mention of my father in such a disdainful way set off my anger and I stiffened. “How could you speak of him so dismissively? This very night, he…he…” I could not finish, my voice cracking as I swallowed against the ache in my throat. “What if they torture him?”

  “Miss Blackburn,” Ashton spoke. “She only meant—”

  “Does this have anything to do with the traitors?” I asked. “The lawless horde wreaking havoc?”

  “The what?” Lizzie’s face whipped toward me. “What did you say?” Her anger was so palpable that I took a step back.

  “Lizzie,” Ashton stepped between us, his hands up as if to stop us from flying at each other. “She doesn’t know what she’s talking about.”

  “I know you are one of them,” I said evenly, my gaze deliberately falling to the blue bandana tied around her neck. “Did your dealings with my father somehow bring this down on us?”

  “And what do you know about dealings?” Lizzie snapped.

  “I know you’re bombing the very machinery that keeps our world from suffocating,” I spat, the fear and anger of the night’s events finally catching up with me. I trembled, tears threatening. Lizzie took a step toward me, but I stood my ground, my chin tilting up. “How could you do that after all we barely survived? We’re just trying to move on.”

  “Did your mother tell you that?” She spat. “Because those exact words seem to dribble out of every other debutante content in her oblivious life. The Governors had a chance to do it better. To remake this broken country after the quakes into something worth the blood spilled winning it from England. Worth the lives of boys spent fighting their own countrymen in the war. Instead they clung ever tighter to the old ways. Using others. Keeping what is rightfully all of ours to a few. They horde power like they horded land before.” She ripped the pin Cornelius gave me from my sleeve, shaking it between us. “Do you even know what this means? Do you understand how little of a say you have over your own life? And don’t believe everything your government says about those bombings—”

  “Lizzie,” Ashton tried, but I cut across him.

  “Tell me why?” I shouted back. “Tell me why you are so intent on destroying the very government that kept us from falling to our baser selves? They stopped the killing and the riots, the looting—”

  “At what cost?” Lizzie retorted. “Look what we’ve given over just to feel safe. All our freedoms, our liberties, they’re being etched away in the name of security.”

  “I want to feel safe! I don’t care what it costs!” I cried, a sob erupting from my chest. “I’d give anything to feel that again.”

  “Even if they decide everything for you?” Lizzie snapped. “What you know, who you fear, what you believe?”

  “You are mad!” I shook my head, thoroughly confused. “I am free. I am a citizen of The Peaceful Union.”

  Lizzie opened her mouth, blinked, and then closed it, her face a mask of frustration. She turned from me and stalked back to the helm. “We should go,” she said quietly after a few moments. “The Security Bureau will pulse the grid’s power and we’ll lose our escape hole if we dally longer.”

  I looked at Ashton. He regarded me with a strange look, his expression unreadable. I did not know if he was angry, disappointed, or justified in whatever he thought of me. He blew out a slow breath and joined Lizzie at the wheel. “We still have time to slip out of the area undetected. They can’t search the entire sky at once.”

  The cabin lights dimm
ed and I stood there, panting and shaking and completely lost. I looked around the railcar desperate for a place to go. Anywhere but with these two strange characters with whom I now found myself entangled. The sway of the aircraft made my steps uneven as I passed the polished leather benches used by the railway passengers to dine. Sconces, carpet, and neat tables lined the cabin, pristine despite no one having used the rail system for a decade. I put a palm to my bodice, and the feel of the journal pressed against my chest was reassuring. I had a purpose, a direction, despite my confusion in everything else that was happening.

  “So this is what you’ve dragged me into,” Lizzie murmured to Ashton as she poked at a bank of levers. Her fingers seemed to be idly going to every dial and knob in her anger. She pulled a strip of paper from the aethergraph machine and showed it to Ashton. “They’re sending out missives already.”

  “This involved all of us long before now,” he said and leaned against the counter, his arms crossed. “The power-cycle took a hit. It’s unusable. I need to hide her at Port Rodale, that’s the closest, and connect with The Order.”

  “The Order,” Lizzie snorted. “They would spin in their graves if they knew you consorted with us.”

  “Truth is truth,” Ashton said shaking his head. “That has to count for something.”

  “You take a dangerous risk with that sort of thinking. The days of knights and castles are over, Ash. It is a new world up there. Your noble ideals are out of place now. We’ve seen that clearly over the past months.”

  “Doing what is right will never be out of place,” Ashton said quietly.

  Lizzie tilted her head, her expression filled with disbelief. “Not everyone falls under your precious mandate, Ash. Not everyone plays fair.”

  Watching their exchange, I wondered at their familiarity. Lizzie looked to be some years older than Ashton; time already etched the softest crinkles at the corner of her eyes. Her manner of speech, the way she moved so loosely, reminded me of my long ago nursemaid. They seemed easy together and when Lizzie patted Ashton’s back, he leaned ever so slightly into the gesture.

  “I’ll drop you at Port Rodale, but that is the extent of my involvement with your Order. I won’t risk my ship being recognized.”