His fingers were bone-cold as he grabbed the two levers most likely to help him fly. He moved one and his heart somersaulted as one of the wings dipped sharply to the right.
“No,” he growled at it, understanding now. He was the Time Mechanic and he could figure this out, he told himself. There were two thinner levers beside the steering ones. He moved one an inch and he saw the corresponding wing respond along its tip. To his surprise that side of the Eagle lifted a tiny bit.
Of course! Didn’t real birds lift and soar? Now that he didn’t fear releasing the poison if he pulled one of these levers his mind was put to full use learning to fly. He bumped along until he found a coursing air current to slip into. He laughed as the rounded streets of Tonturin began to be left behind. He could do this! He was barely sinking now at all or slowing down too much! He knew he could get the Steam Eagle beyond all the farms.
There was one last problem and as he realized it his laughter faded. He was going to run out of room in the sky. Beyond the farmland of the city and the hidden fields they’d grown the poison in was a line of mountains. They towered higher than the elevation that he was gliding in. He was going to strike them unless he tried to land before then. But landing was a mystery to him. He could either glide into the mountain range or crash and burn.
Why was he flying so fast? The terrible choice knocked into him along with his heartbeat as he knew he had to keep going as far away from farmland and people on the road as possible. Smashing into the mountain range, splintering the Steam Eagle, releasing all that purple poison in a burst against the rocks, and himself tangled up in it for his friends to find broken later. That was going to be his fate.
For a moment he accepted it. He should try to be brave for after all, not all of the Time Mechanics of the past, although they had completed their missions, had come back alive.
Below him he was now passing over the miles of farmland. He didn’t have much time. And what was time, really? Was it a commodity like Serrin said? Were moments like currency and some people destined to have a wealth of time while some struggled with the poverty of dying young? He thought of the steam wall beneath Tonturin and how it deciphered the memories of the community that lived above it. That’s what all the visions he’d seen were, he knew. All memories that people had lived through before.
At the thought of his own past, the wretched memory that he kept locked away came to him like a flood. He didn’t allow it as a vision, but at last he let himself remember it without pushing it away.
He saw Uncle Tov’s wife, leaned over him with desire in her eyes. He was just a boy back then but he understood what she wanted. It wasn’t for a moment of passion that she’d done this to him.
It was validation. He was supposed to desire her too and find her irresistible- to hold back the oncoming old age she was dreading. She saw the truth in his eyes that he was uninterested in being touched by the wife of his uncle. He was shocked and embarrassed by her desire. It affected her unstable mind as if he’d struck her with a rock; like she did to him shortly afterwards.
She’d slammed him back onto the ground and lifted her weapon to hit him with but she spewed out her painful words first.
“It was your fault, don’t you know?” she’d cried. “Your parents’ deaths, I mean. Your Uncle Tov told me their symptoms hadn’t been reported in time. You could’ve saved them if you’d been paying any attention to how they were behaving but you ignored them and they died! It’s because you’re a selfish child— a tiny, scared brat! My husband took you in because he knew no one else would want you!”
That was the knowledge he’d woken up with in the hospital. It wasn’t true that people didn’t want him; he knew he had friends and that Tov cared. Her need to wound him by saying the worst thing she could imagine also could be set aside and moved on from.
But the fact that his parents had symptoms he should’ve recognized? It wasn’t until that moment the truth settled in and shattered him. It was like she’d said; he was an immature child who didn’t see anything beyond his own selfish moments. Everyone said he was so smart, but, his intelligence had failed the ones who’d loved him the most.
From that moment on he’d accepted the woman’s truth as fact. He didn’t deserve to live when they had died. Jeremy was shaking as he watched the mountains draw closer.
Mars was right, too, he thought. Jeremy had stopped valuing himself long ago. That’s why he didn’t go to college. That’s why he let Fiasca walk all over him. That’s why he’d pushed Mars and their plans to open a shop together away. Living his solitary life in the small gray room at the Manse had felt right and he’d gloried in it. It was what a prisoner— someone paying for their crimes, deserved.
But now he began to allow another thought to come in.
Selfish or not he wanted to live. He wanted to walk down the street in Tonturin greeting people and he wanted his old job under Nemeth back. He wanted to have friends. And he wanted with a sudden flare of emotion, to see Ffip’s funny dimple over her mouth again.
Wasn’t Mars right about that as well? Shouldn’t he allow others to also dictate his value to him? His parents had loved him and wanted him to flourish; even on their deathbeds they’d given him messages of a hopeful future. Uncle Tov was still solidly behind him. Mars— it was so clear now he was amazed he hadn’t seen it himself. Mars was furious every time he wasted his time by shutting down. Mars wasn’t going to invest any more into their friendship until Jeremy decided to invest in himself.
The burden of that lie Uncle Tov’s wife had told him began to crack. She’d said it was his fault, but that wasn’t true. He wasn’t the one who’d made them sick. His parents had also ignored their own symptoms for too long. He wasn’t an adult at fifteen years old. He wasn’t aware with the maturity of life experience to watch for warning signs. He’d been just a kid. Yes, he was smart and he should’ve seen it. He didn’t. He’d lost them. It was crushing but somehow he was going to have to live with his mistake. The best way to cherish his parents now was to honor their sacrifices for him; to show that their love mattered by caring for himself so their efforts weren’t wasted. He should become a good man, kind like they were, and his Uncle Tov. He would start living, right now.
He cleared the realizations from his mind and tried to find options for his current situation. In looking down he realized with surprise that the Eagle was just soaring up to those wretched hidden fields that had begun his journey as a Time Mechanic. He froze as an option occurred to him. That balloon above him was barely aloft but it hadn’t torn all the way down like Ffip’s had done. It still had some steam in it.
He reached down into his side pocket and dug out the knife he vowed to always carry since being tied to a chair in an empty building. He dug it out now and began cutting the ropes attaching the balloon to the Steam Eagle. As he separated each rope he wrapped the dangling end around one of his wrists. When all four were connected to him instead of supporting the Steam Eagle he felt a lurch that almost sucked him out of the hole of the head compartment.
“Ahh!” he gasped.
Standing upright his eyes widened in surprise. The mountains seemed like they’d taken a huge step forward. The rocky surface rose up right in front of him. He held tight to the sagging balloon, climbed out of the hole, stood on top of the Steam Eagle’s back, and leaped to the side.
The balloon and he dropped right down. He’d allowed a disruption of the air that had filled it’s lagging inner curvature and the balloon caved in and tilted. He estimated that he was closer to the ground than he’d been before, but still it felt like he was jumping off of a second-story building with nothing to slow his fall but an inflated bedsheet. He tugged the weight of the material close to him in desperation, trying to capture the last steam in a smaller float.
At that instant the Steam Eagle flew into the side of the mountain wall with a shattering crash. Jeremy himself, not long after, hit the hard surface of the ground with too much force.
Whump!
The air was knocked out of him like the flapping material of the now empty balloon. His eyesight banked, for just here the sun had dipped behind the mountain. Sunset over Tonturin was a peaceful one for its citizens; however out here the wind drifted by Jeremy’s half-conscious face. He breathed in some fumes of dust and a slightly fruity scent. His eyes flew open when he realized what it must be.
The poison had sent out one last dose of its deadly vapor before it settled into the dirt. Jeremy found he was able to shake his head, a little. He moved but shearing pain struck him from several places. He thought his leg was broken and he could never walk home. One of his arms was throbbing too. But with the other he expended the effort to move it. His hand cooperated and he dug into his pants’ pocket. Pulling out the bottle he’d stored there seemed to take more of his strength.
“Surebelow,” he whispered, tugging out the cork top with his teeth.
Holding up his head was hard but he managed it. He guzzled down the antidote and then dropped the empty bottle on his chest.
He lay there and tried to be brave. Night was falling and he didn’t even know if Ffip had managed to land her Steam Eagle successfully. She, Halbernon, and Mars might all be lost to him like his parents. He tried to push down that fear. She was smarter than he was and had designed the contraption. She’d managed to land it, surely.
He closed his eyes and although he hurt everywhere he was surprised to find a lessening of tension coursing through him. Being the Time Mechanic hadn’t been fun. He’d had to stand up to all sorts of people and force them to obey his dictates when he hadn’t even been certain he knew what was best to do. He’d been frightened he might fail for weeks. Although he might be dead by morning he allowed himself a slight smile now.
His peace was short-lived. A rolling pain clutched his stomach. He’d been poisoned, after all. The antidote was taken but he was broken here on the ground and it was cold. He couldn’t move to help himself and in his weakened condition he might not survive.
But there was one thing he could do. He closed his eyes and concentrated, pulling from inside himself one of the benefits to being a Time Mechanic. He began to play over the easier visions he’d seen, for each one froze him while it played and he felt no movement or discomfort. Especially he played the visions of the previous Time Mechanics and the earlier teams. He saw the line of the past heroes standing in their groups, and he studied the faces of all the numerous past helpers— the hair styles and the vintage clothing and the soul in their eyes. He felt a strong kinship with their faces now. He did this until he was too far gone to make choices. Somewhere in the middle of the night his fever and pain took over until his body decided who would win the fight. His consciousness faded away in the middle of it.
Chapter Forty-One (In Which Jeremy Has Tardy Friends)
Mars was angry. The constables were listening to Halbernon instead of him.
“We need to get out there and find Jeremy!” Mars insisted again.
“We can’t go near that crash, I’m telling you!” Halbernon said for the fourth time. “It’s full of poison!”
“Maybe it didn’t crash,” Mars stressed. “Maybe…”
“What?” replied the man; “If it didn’t crash then where? Do you think Jeremy is still flying it around somewhere? If he’d landed it safely he’d be here by now, don’t you see? The fact that he and the Eagle are missing means it must’ve crashed!”
Mars glared at him. Hours ago Jeremy had leapt off of Ffip’s Steam Eagle and attached himself like a leech to QuRellon’s. Mars had tried to see what’d happened to him for just a few seconds. Then his own dilemma had engrossed him.
Ffip, trying to land her Steam Eagle without the safeguards she’d designed, was a terrifying person to watch.
“Eep!” she kept saying, every time the Eagle dipped and she felt she’d controlled it wrong. The flapping balloon kept throwing her off balance.
“Get rid of it!” she’d panted, and Mars and Halbernon had moved to help. They detached the deflated balloon and separated it from her Steam Eagle. In the end, although Ffip got the bird down, she herself was injured.
“EEK!” she’d cried as they jolted and bumped along the ground, skidding and tearing the bottom compartment door off the underside of the Eagle. When they came to a stop Mars roared.
“Are you all right!” he exclaimed to Halbernon. Fortunately the old man was fine. Next he’d turned to their pilot. “Ffip!” he shrieked a moment later. She had a bleeding cut on the side of her head and was holding her arm.
It was a long walk to get her to a place where she could be helped. Mars ended up carrying her piggy-back. At last they reached the Pinafore Inn and the constable that was still on duty there; who’d meanwhile searched QuRellon’s room and found a lot more evidence against the man. QuRellon, like a fool, kept a diary. It was amazing really, but the journal left no doubt. It described everything. It reinforced not only the man’s plan to crush Tonturin, but also his dreams of then using the poison to hurt the other ten cities.
They got things going then. Kannikey, Stedland, and Nemeth were glad to become one group again. Olpher was informed of all that’d happened between them and QuRellon. Unfortunately the family at the restaurant that Jeremy had dived onto was having some problems. Both the mother and one of the little girls had breathed in some fumes from the poison, apparently. Mars and Halbernon conferred with the doctor and with the constables about how to help but watching the family suffer was upsetting to all of them. The mother tried to be brave as she clutched her stomach in pain but the little girl cried. Fortunately Jeremy had prevented them from being poisoned far worse, and even more Kannikey’s quick thinking in providing immediate bottles of the antidote to them was praised. Ffip and the family were taken to the hospital. The rest of them left the Inn and went to the constable’s headquarters. Finally a report came in that both comforted and disturbed them.
QuRellon’s body was found in a back alley of Tonturin. It was shattered but recognizable. It was also reported that the other Steam Eagle had been seen flying over Tonturin hours ago. The constables had learned what direction it had been going and where it was likely to have landed.
But then Halbernon had intervened.
“No,” he’d insisted. “It can’t be approached. Jeremy wouldn’t want you to try, either.”
“Jeremy’s wishes don’t matter,” Mars had growled.
“For eight hours, at least!” Halbernon went on. “Not until then can we be absolutely certain that the poison will no longer be dangerous.”
“It’s already dark anyway,” Olpher had put in. “I’m sorry to have to wait to help your friend, but a search party wandering around in the depth of the night, stumbling upon a field of poison… no. I must listen to this expert from the college and protect my men.”
“Fine then,” Mars said. “I’ll go.”
But again he was met with protest. Kannikey said she’d go with Mars and locate Jeremy. Even Nemeth put his willingness in.
But Olpher got authoritative. “If you three try to leave on that mission,” he said, “I’ll arrest you for your own protection. We constables don’t need to have to search for you as well when we go.”
“Wait till morning, young man,” Halbernon added. “Then we can approach safely. The poison will be defunct. We can see what we’re doing. Jeremy would want it that way, I’m telling you!”
At last Mars gave up the argument. Olpher was gracious as he offered them hospitality, food, coffee, and the run of the front rooms. The darkness outside deepened with the slow crawl of time. Eventually everyone else deserted Mars to his agitated pacing in the back of the main commons, the civilians among them trying to find some rest in a small lobby set aside with a few beds. The constables stood conferring at their desks, setting up for the morning and making plans.
Mars fumed and thought. At least the doctor had said he believed that Ffip would be all right although she’d fainted for a short while and gotten sick in a bucket. The constables
said they’d had gotten a recent report about the family too. Surebelow was working. Both the mother and the little girl were showing improvement already. Now if Mars could just go find Jeremy…
Mars frowned and kicked the leg of a chair that was set near the back of the room. Like a Time Mechanic’s vision, a scene played over in his mind for him; clear as the daylight that seemed never to arrive. He saw Jeremy dying alone in the wreck of a Steam Eagle, tossing in pain from an overdose of poison. That this wasn’t actually a vision but his own imagination didn’t mean that the image he pictured hadn’t happened. Mars’ face crumpled as he fell into the chair with a groan.
Over the last few weeks as he’d had his old friend back in his life he’d done nothing to take Jeremy’s declaration seriously. He’d insisted he was the new Time Mechanic and Mars had thought he’d turned some corner. Despite the vision Jeremy had shown them early on, the fact that he’d felt such a strong compulsion, and the addition of the others who’d been compelled to stay by Jeremy’s side he still hadn’t believed it. He was angry about the past and had forced Jeremy to prove his new identity to him over and again.
But now he felt it in waves of frustration.
Jeremy really was the Time Mechanic, he thought. Mars had blamed him for refusing to live up to his potential. But his friend had stood up from the dirt and put his anger to shame. One by one Jeremy had knocked down every objection. He’d forced Mars to accompany his every move. He’d changed Kannikey’s course from self-destruction to making new friends. He’d outright saved Ffip’s life. He’d ferreted out Serrin and brought down a massive plan that had taken years for their enemies to put into practice. He’d convinced Nemeth, controlled Stedland, and finally downed QuRellon in some fantastic battle in the skies.
The Time Mechanic Page 29