Ashton thought better of arguing. A final crank set the small engine going and he stood, arms crossed, as Berkley typed a message and hit the deliver button.
The older man then ripped off the copy of the sent message and put it in his pocket.
The move piqued Ashton’s interest, but an incoming aether missive sent the machine going again and he didn’t ask to see the distress signal’s wording.
Wondering at the incoming note, he squinted at the paper, trying to read between the etching wands. They bounced, quivering as they burned the message onto the rolling paper tape. The miniscule arcs of electricity glowed blue in the dark. The machine stopped after only a few seconds and Ashton looked to Berkley, surprised.
“Do we need to find a repeater?” Charlotte asked.
“No, no,” Berkley answered. “The message is coded. It is short.” He ripped it from the machine and carried the tape in his weathered hands back into the wheelhouse.
“Coded?” Ashton followed behind, pulling Charlotte with him. Her cold hands gripped his and he pulled his gloves off with his teeth as they went. Handing them to her, he looked over Berkley’s shoulder. “From Lizzie?”
The tinkerer pulled back his sleeve, revealing a small, enumerated wheel on his wrist, a deciphering device.
Ashton had one himself.
Berkley did not answer, instead reading the symbols on the aethergraph tape, he found its partner on the wheel. Pulling an ink bottle from the many cubby holes on the small desk, he dipped his pen and then wrote a letter underneath the symbols.
Charlotte stood next to him, flexing and relaxing her hands.
“What is it?” Ashton asked and looked at the message. “It is from her, isn’t it?”
“Yes, of course,” Berkley said, his tongue peeking from his mouth as he concentrated.
“What does she say?” Charlotte asked.
Berkley nodded, finishing his writing. “It appears she has uncovered information on Collodin.”
“What is it?” Charlotte’s face lit up with hope.
“Something about grates?” Berkley shook his head, scratching out the message. “That cannot be correct. I will attempt to decipher the code again.”
“No…” Charlotte bit her lip, stilling Berkley’s writing with her hand. “My father started to say something about that to me, I think, but we were interrupted by the Union Soldiers. What does she say, exactly?”
“It is unclear, Miss Blackburn,” Berkley snapped. “Please step back and give me room to work.”
“What is it? Is something wrong?” Ashton noted the sudden angry shift to Berkley’s demeanor.
Charlotte leaned forward the moment Ashton surmised the rest of the message, too late for him to stop her. “Charlie, wait…” Ashton tried.
“Aunt Sadie?” Charlotte gasped, as looked up at Ashton with sorrow bringing tears to her eyes. “The metal-clad she was on…it sank. S—she drowned.”
“Pirates,” Berkley explained. “The Shore Patrol has her body.”
“I am so sorry, Charlie,” Ashton began.
“There is more,” Berkley whispered. “There has been a warrant issued for you, Miss Blackburn.”
“Me?” Charlie trembled next to him. “They want to arrest me?”
“Yes, for collusion with your father in a plot against the Peaceful Union.” Berkley looked up at them, his face tight. “If found, you are to be arrested for high treason along with him.”
“That is where they took him? To prison?” Charlotte stammered, eyes filling again. “With what proof?”
“Is there a bounty?” Ashton asked. His gaze flitted to a pale Charlie as he nudged Berkley. “What price did they put on her head?”
“One hundred thousand in silver for whoever delivers her to the Governors.”
22
I shuddered as I sank further into the galley seat, my breath coming in painful wheezes. It seemed I could do nothing but stare and cry in turn. I was without bearings, my world in ashes.
Ashton stood at the hatch, his face set with a grim expression made all the more ominous by candle light.
“Poor Aunt Sadie. She cannot be gone.” Tears burned my eyes. “How can this be true? She was…when my mother died she was…”
“I am so sorry.” It was all he had been saying for a while now.
“And my father. If they want my head then surely they will take his,” I moaned. “How can they do this? He has done nothing but serve his country. He lost his leg for it and nearly his mind when he returned. He would not do anything to hurt our nation!” I stopped, hugging myself, trying to keep from falling to pieces. “This is absolutely ludicrous. I must do something. I can’t just…I can’t just…”
“Shh.” He slid next to me, his arm around my shoulders. “Just breathe.”
I sobbed, clutching onto him for fear that I would crumble. Anger flew through me only to be buried under a wave of sorrow that tore at my heart and took my breath away. Everyone I knew and loved was dead or in danger of dying, for what? I did not even know what it was they were after, not really. The journal sat on the small table and I glared at it. “I cannot simply bob about out here and do nothing while they plot to take his life!”
“You’re not doing nothing,” Ashton countered. “You’re keeping the journal safe. You’re doing what he wants, Charlie, I promise.”
“It’s just swirls and divots,” I screamed, surprised at my own shrill voice. “It’s unreadable. I may never know why it was worth the lives of everyone I loved.” I pulled from his embrace, the anger and loss shuddering through me, my chest impossibly tight. I fought for air. “I don’t want to do this anymore. I can’t do this anymore.” I doubled over, stomach lurching, as images of my father’s anguished face flashed behind my eyes.
“Charlie…”
“You have it now. Take it to Collodin or give it to Berkley. He says Lizzie can find him.”
“We can’t trust Berkley. He appeared out of nowhere. Lizzie never spoke of him.”
“Just paper and binding…I can’t…I have to go back, and if you give it to me I will use it to try to get my father back.” I wiped at my face. “I can’t be strong like you. I would choose my father’s life, I know it.”
“You are wanted and a threat to the government. They will shoot you on sight.”
“No, they would want me alive, would they not? To question?”
“Charlie…”
“I have to try to help him.” I took a step back. “If I go without the journal, I will try to resist their interrogations for long enough for you to get it to Collodin.”
“Do not do this. Do not give up,” Ashton urged, his voice tight.
“I’ve made up my mind—” I tried turning my back, but Ashton whirled me around to face him.
“Think, Charlie. Really see the situation. Stop shutting your eyes to what you don’t want to face. Your father’s contact and my friend, Agent Roland Cavendish, reported what I now believe to be one of the first Tremblers months ago and enlisted your father to investigate with him. I am certain your father discovered the cause of the Trembling Sickness. In his last missive to Roland, your father said that what he learned was ‘far darker than he believed.’ Whether it is a person or pestilence, he knew something. I believe that completely. If I am right, then we can stop this death, Charlie, this terrible affliction.”
“What about his death?” I yanked from his grasp. “Will I ever see him again before they take him from me for good? And even then, will it be at his last meal or through bars that we share? Can we not even stop for a moment to mourn?”
“You’re not mourning, you’re giving up,” Ashton said. “He never wanted you to use the journal to save him. He wanted you to use it to save all of those wretched, hurting people dying at this moment.”
“Everyone I had in this world is gone.” I shook my head, incredulous. “You can’t just expect me to carry on. I’m not a spy or a soldier—”
“You are now, Charlie.” Ashton cut ac
ross me. “You were the moment your father put that journal in your hands. For whatever reason, he trusted you, and only you, to deliver it. To decipher it.”
“How can you—”
A tremendous sucking sound echoed through the galley as we rode a swell. The ship rocked up.
I braced myself on the counter. We dropped back down and a rush of water pushed through the cracks of the floor, whooshing over our boots.
Ashton stared at the rising flood. “Oh, no.”
“Sinking?” My heart faltered as the water rose over my ankles in less than a minute. “We are sinking?”
“Remain calm, Charlie.” He bent down. “It’s nearly six inches. We were in the other room with Berkley not ten minutes ago and it was dry. I’d say we have at least fifteen minutes before we go under.”
“How can I remain calm after what you just said?” I struggled to take a breath. “This is not fair. We only just escaped dying!”
“We will not die,” Ashton took my hand and pulled us out onto the deck. “Berkley!”
“Do we seem lower?” the old tinkerer asked as we approached. He smoothed his wiry hair as he held a candle just over the boat railing, squinting into the sea. “I do not remember how she sits on water.”
“We most definitely are.” Ashton gathered his belt and bag, strapping them on.
The boat pitched, angling over on the port side and taking on water. It washed over the deck with a surge. I clung to the mast with trembling arms.
“Please, do something,” I pled. “The galley is flooding.”
“The sea may have eaten through the hull, a lava geyser, I mean. Or perhaps we hit an upcropping.” Ashton said, holstering his weapon. “Either way we are sinking fast. I give us ten minutes, perhaps less.”
“I thought you said fifteen!” I shivered in the cold of the water and air. Struggling to control the palpitations of my heart, I took a deep breath, steeled myself, and nodded. “I can do this. What do we do?”
“We get off the ship before she takes us down with her.” Ashton turned to Berkley, a question on his face.
“Yes.” Berkley frowned. “And quickly.”
“Have you a tender?” Ashton asked. “A small boat to get to shore…anything?”
“This is not a sea vessel,” Berkley said, his face falling. “I’ve nothing of the sort.”
“What if we finish the sail and head for shore? She’ll hold,” I offered hopefully. Their grim faces sent me nearly to faint. “Please. I cannot imagine we would survive out on the open sea. Can we signal for help? For Lizzie?”
“Her missive was on a loop, going out until Berkley collected it. She could be miles from here.”
“We can try!” I paced, frantic to stay aboard.
“No, there is no time. It is probable something dislodged beneath the surface,” Ashton argued. “Recently. We’ve not been taking on water this entire time. Perhaps the heat or some sort of debris?”
“It could be any one of those things,” Berkley said. “And I already sent out a distress call before Lizzie’s message came in. It was a general call and there is no way of knowing if anyone received it.”
A strange noise; splashing just below the railing caught my attention. “What is that?”
“I see the Tesla Dome,” Ashton said evenly. “We can make it if we try.”
I looked around the deck in the meager candlelight, my heart sinking. Of debris, we had plenty. Broken glass, split wood, melted balloons…but something that would keep the tempestuous sea from taking us? That I did not see.
“We must move,” Berkley said, scooping up a pile of rope. “Agreed?”
“I do not agree,” I shouted as the two men ran about the ship grabbing tools and wood. “Ash?”
“A raft. Hurry.” Ashton handed me the journal and grabbed a mallet. He swung, knocking the lid off a crate with one powerful blow. “Help me, Charlie.”
“I am sorry that I ever despaired for adventure,” I said as I ran to him. Spying an oilcloth sack, I shoved the journal into it and wrapped it tight. I secured the pouch to the chain circling my bodice waist.
Together we pushed the crate over, emptying the contents on the deck. “I do not want to ride camels. I do not want to fight Bedouins!” I kicked at the broken vases and jars, clearing a space. “And I do not want to ever again board a vessel that does not do what it is told!”
“No camels,” Ashton panted as he knocked apart another side. “In that, we are in agreement.”
“What?” Another rush of water bubbled at the hatch and I gulped, trying to remain calm.
He looked at me, his expression earnest. “They are ill-tempered animals,” Ashton said, throwing another piece to the pile. “I shall never make you ride one.”
“Ash,” I whispered, nearly losing the tenuous grip my panic. “We will make it to shore, right?”
“Of course,” he said, wiping sweat from his brow and giving me a tired smile. “We have to.”
I clung to his resolve and it steadied my nerves.
We worked feverishly, hammering together pieces of the cargo crates into a flat deck. Berkley took a knife to the ropes securing the remaining inflated cluster of balloons. He dragged them over, fighting the wind as he affixed one on each side of the raft. We had the makings of our salvation just as a wave of water flooded up from the galley and through the hatch. It rushed along the deck in a giant wave, pushing me across the planks.
“We’re out of time,” Ashton shouted, reaching for me. “We move or she pulls us down with her.”
“Now?” I tried to stand, staggering as the ship listed heavily, water pouring over the railing. Coughing, I fought the deluge as Ashton pulled me with him.
“Berkley, help me push it over,” Ashton yelled. Turning, he said, “Charlie, listen to me. I know you have been through so much tonight, but I would not ask you to do this if your life did not depend on taking action. You are strong enough to do this.”
I tried to focus on his words, but the water glowing just off the bow erupted in a slew of steam and bubbles.
A lava surge sent a red-hot spray of molten earth flying into the air feet from the ship. Hissing and spitting as the heated rock hit the frigid water, steam hovered over the surface. Another wave sent splashes across the deck, shattering the glass of the lanterns and snuffing the flames.
I stood in pitch dark, the rise and fall of the ship sickening.
Berkley’s form neared. “I have gas masks and my rifle,” he panted. “Not many filter canisters, but we’ll make do.”
“Good man,” Ashton said, his voice somewhere in the night next to me. “Charlotte, grab the oars.”
Feeling around on the deck, my hands closed around the handles. I staggered, losing my balance when the ship shifted under my feet. “I have them.”
Ashton and Berkley heaved the raft over the railing, their muffled grunts my only connection in the inky black surrounding us. A final splash sounded below and Ashton’s hand enclosed mine. “Are you ready?”
“Into the deep,” I said with more bravery than I felt.
His lips touched mine for a second, his breath ragged. “We will make it, Charlie.”
“We have to,” I echoed his words from earlier.
Ashton dove, landing with a splash in the water. He struggled to heave himself onto the raft, his form barely visible in the moonlight.
Berkley followed, trying to steady the makeshift craft with the oars as Ashton did the same. He gestured from the raft. “Jump!”
“I can’t see,” I quaked, panic rising as the vessel dipped terrifyingly, water rushing onto the deck, spilling over with such force that I struggled to move against it.
The ship listed to port, completely rolling to the side with a shudder. I floated free of the railing. It disappeared below the surface as bubbles threw debris up all around me. I felt the ship bob with a gasp and then the water was around my neck, the pull of the sinking vessel dragging me with it. Flailing, I tried to swim, to surface against
the flow. My leg brushed something soft, not detritus, and I jerked away.
I can’t… I gasped, gagging on the briny water. Please!
Ashton’s hand closed over mine, hauling me upwards.
I kicked with waning strength. Up and over the side of the raft, I collapsed on the rough wood in a fit of wracking coughs. I reached for Ashton, my mind a bog of fear and relief.
He held me tightly, his heart hammering against my cheek.
“There is something,” I panted, struggling to speak. “There is something in the water.”
23
I knelt on the raft, clutching the ropes, my breath coming in puffs that clouded the glass shield of the gas mask. A steam bubble erupted next to me and I jumped. I squinted in the meager light, tensing at every slosh and ripple of water.
Strange shapes bobbed and sank in the ocean and a far off silhouette appeared ominously in the vapors hovering over the swells. Stories of pirate attacks and strange, mutated sea creatures tore through my mind.
“It could have been pieces of the boat itself, or any manner of debris from Port Rodale or the aero ships,” Ashton said. His muffled voice sounded far off as he paddled next to me.
“It did not feel like wood or anything else.” I held up my hand and in the moonlight could make out the minute tremors still moving through me.
“Nothing lives in these waters,” Berkley said, straining to keep pace with Ashton’s paddling. “At least, not this close to shore.” His labored breathing worsened by the mask, sounded as if in a tunnel.
“Maybe a fish?” Ashton offered. “The decay would cause it to float.”
“Please stop offering suggestions,” I said. The idea of a rotting carcass wrapping around my ankle, sliding against my skin, sent my stomach tumbling.
On shore, a radiant beam of light swept the water’s surface, the shaft of illumination whipped around and passed once more just ahead of the wreckage.
I stilled, watching the lighthouse’s search of the waves, but we’d gone down too far inland for the Shore Patrol to see the floating debris.
The enormously heavy metal-clads and pirate vessels did not come this close to the jagged edge of the land. Three warbling horn blasts sounded and a response from a vessel shrouded in the night answered back. I squinted, peering at the hulk as it passed so far off I could not even hear the chug of its engine. I thought of my aunt then, her fear and pain as the sea took her vessel, and the sting of tears blurred my sight.
The Tremblers Page 18