Blood Ties

by Quincy J. Allen

  “Help me back up, god damn it!” Jake shouted at the top of his lungs. He turned his head to see the black zeppelin turning sharply and accelerating away into the darkness. Even with his eye, he found it difficult to see it against the backdrop of the night sky.

  All of the men in the cargo hold moved as one, disappearing for a few beats of Jake’s pounding heart. And then a few more beats.… And a few more.… “What the hell are y’all doing up there? Having a conference?” he shouted.

  Suddenly Jake lifted up a few feet and dropped back down. Then back up a few more feet, holding there for a few seconds and back down again. He tried to imagine what they could possibly be doing and then remembered that he weighed over three hundred pounds. Jake was suddenly terrified that they wouldn’t be able to lift him back up.

  He rose ten feet and then stopped once again. “Will you quit screwing around?” he screamed into the night.

  Cole stuck his head out of the cargo hold once again and looked at Jake, grinning like an idiot. He raised his right hand, gave the OK sign, and then disappeared. The rope slid from the left hand side of the cargo hold to the right and Jake rose almost as fast as he had fallen. The hold door loomed, and Cole peeked out once again, checking on Jake’s progress. When Jake was a few feet from the lip of the hold, Cole turned his head back over his shoulder.

  “Okay, hold it right there!” he hollered.

  Jake’s progress slowed and then stopped. His left hand, gripped like a vice around the rope, was right at the edge. Jake heaved with his left arm, pulling himself up and over the lip enough for Cole and the big steward to grab his right arm and yank him onto the safety of the cargo hold floor.

  Jake lay on the floor, panting and cold. He turned his head and looked where the rope led. It tracked down into the stable area and beyond into the next cargo bay. He could see a loop of it tied around Lumpy’s horns.

  “Cole,” Jake managed to get out between breaths.

  “Yeah, Jake?”

  “I think I love Lumpy.”

  Cole thought about it for a minute. “I can see how you might. Check your leg, Jake … and your boot.”

  “What?” Jake asked and looked down at his legs. A rip in his right pant-leg exposed the intricately pattered brass metal of his thigh, sigils and characters gleaming across the surface. A gouge about three inches long interrupted the complex patterns. There was also a hole in the top of his boot, and he could see the glint of metal inside. “Aw, damn it! These were brand new boots!”

  “You okay, Jake?” Cole asked, wondering if his partner was insane.

  “Yeah,” Jake almost whined. He slapped his leg once and rubbed the toe of his right boot over the hole in his left. “The metal will repair itself after a while,” he said to Cole and then started fretting over his boots again. “Man, would you look at that?”

  The big steward stepped into Jake’s field of vision and stared down at him, looking upside down to Jake, holding the same Winchester he had in the salon.

  “I hate to break this up, but you boys wanna’ tell me just what in tarnation happened in here and why one of my men is dead?” Anger filled his voice, but it didn’t sound like it was aimed at Jake … not yet at least.

  Jake turned the lens on his ocular, shutting out the light to his left eye, and got to his feet. He faced the big steward, with a pained look on his face. “Bear?” he asked sympathetically, feeling ashamed about whining over the hole in his boot.

  The steward nodded slowly. Jake looked over in the corner and saw that the first chaingun burst that had been aimed at him caught Bear in the chest. Bear went down exactly where he had been standing, and it looked like he’d simply fallen backwards, stiff as a board. He still held his arm out to his side, halfway to his pistol.

  Jake noted that while the big steward’s Winchester wasn’t pointed at him, it wasn’t necessarily pointed away from him either. Jake certainly couldn’t blame the man for being cautious, considering what had just happened. Jake heard another one of the stewards closing the cargo bay door and turned to see the man securing it with a large, heavy-gauge latch.

  Cole handed Jake his Peacekeeper, and Jake slipped it home.

  “My name’s Jake Lasater, this here’s Cole McJunkins, and frankly, we ain’t got no idea what’s going on.” Jake held out his hand.

  The big steward took it in an iron grip, his massive paw of a hand making Jake’s disappear. “Tyler Jones,” the big man replied, the edge still in his voice.

  “New Mexico, right?” Cole spoke up, recognizing the mild accent. Tyler nodded, turning his big bright eyes to Cole. “Santa Fe?” Cole asked.

  Tyler shook his head. “White Rock,” he said, the anger in his voice smoothing out just a bit, “but that’s a stone’s throw from Santa Fe.”

  “Roswell,” Cole said and held out his hand. Tyler got a curious look on his face and then smiled, his shoulders easing noticeably.

  “So what the hell happened in here?” Tyler asked. “Who were those guys?”

  Jake started his story with seeing the flashes outside the zeppelin and wanting to check it out. He mentioned Szilágyi but deliberately left out what the Colonel had said about killing him later. He finished with getting pulled back on board.

  Tyler spoke up. “And you don’t have any idea who those foreigners were or where they were from?”

  “Not a clue, and that Colonel, he sure as hell knew me. The first time I ever saw him was tonight at the poker game.”

  “The poker game?” Tyler asked.

  “Yeah. He left shortly before the ruckus with that cowboy.”

  The Steward’s eyes narrowed. “O’Malley!” He shouted as he turned and faced the small Irishman.

  “Yeah?” he replied, stepping up with a lightweight salute.

  “Did you see any of these men?”

  “I got a brief look at one of them, the one that pushed them crates on top of Mister Lasater, here. But we high-tailed it out to get help when he told us to.”

  “I want you to go talk to Bobby and Mister Grimes, the ticket taker. See if they remember seeing these.…” he paused and turned to Jake. “How many did you see?”

  “There were three of them at the poker game. I can’t say for sure if there was more of them in here. Oh, and that foreigner with the sash and the saber, Colonel Szilágyi, I suspect he doesn’t take that thing off. Make sure you mention it.”

  Tyler turned back to O’Malley. “See if they remember seeing these three guys, and find out where they got on.

  “But what if Bobby and Grimes are asleep?” O’Malley asked.

  Tyler shot O’Malley an Are you dumb? look. “You think anyone is asleep on this crate after all the shooting that just happened in here? Now get going!”

  “Yessir,” O’Malley replied and turned.

  “Wait a minute,” Tyler blurted at O’Malley’s back. O’Malley stopped and turned around. “How the hell did they get by you?”

  “Sir?” O’Malley cocked his head to one side, not understanding the question.

  “Well, think about it. You and Bear were on duty from eight o’clock till now. Them foreigners were at the poker game at just shy of midnight and sending these signals sometime after. They had to have gotten past you.” It was a bewildered accusation.

  O’Malley got a confused look on his face. “I don’t know. I see what you’re saying, but we were at our post until Mister Lasater and his friend showed up. I don’t see how they could have.”

  “I think I can answer that,” Jake said confidently.

  Every head in the cargo hold turned as Jake strode over to Bear’s body. He reached down and picked up the bottom portion of a shattered glass vial. There was still a droplet of gray liquid in the bottom. Holding at arm’s length, he walked back to Tyler, who took it from him carefully.

  “What the hell’s this?” Tyler asked and moved what was left of the vial up to his nose.

  “No! Wait!” Jake shouted just as Tyler sniffed at the vial.

  Ty
ler’s eyes blinked several times, and then his eyes rolled back into his head. He stood there motionless, breathing slowly.

  “Aw, shit,” Jake mumbled.

  “What happened,” asked one of the stewards.

  Jake reached into his vest pocket and pulled out his father’s pocket watch. He opened it and noted the time. He handed the vial to Cole who held it at arm’s length.

  “Don’t worry, if I’m right about this, he’s just fine, but it’ll be a bit.” Jake stepped away from Tyler and walked over to where his hat had landed. He picked it up and placed it back on his head. Lumpy had turned around and bumped Jake’s arm. Jake looked the big bull in the eyes and patted his head fondly. “That’s two I owe you, Lumpy.” Jake pulled the rope off Lumpy’s horns and dropped it on the floor. “Get back in your stall, boy.” Lumpy looked at him, blinking his big brown eyes. “Go on, now, get in there.” Lumpy snorted once, bumped Jake again and clomped into the stall. Jake closed the door behind him and walked back to where Tyler still stood, frozen in the same position. He looked at his watch again and then stood there waiting.

  More time passed and then Tyler blinked his eyes a few times. “Hey! Where’d it go?” he asked, looking at his empty hand and then at the floor.

  “Two minutes thirty-five seconds,” Jake said.

  There were mutters and a few “god damns” from the men standing around Tyler.

  “What?” Tyler asked bewildered.

  “That’s how long you were out. Two and a half minutes.” Jake pointed to the vial in Cole’s hand and then tipped his hat. “You don’t remember anything, do you?”

  “Any of what, and where’d your hat come from?”

  A few men chuckled, but Jake had a sober look on his face.

  “This stuff, whatever it is, is one hell of a cocktail. I ain’t never heard of anything like it. Paralyzes and knocks out all in one fell swoop. Somehow them foreigners hit Bear and O’Malley with this stuff while they were on guard.”

  “But we would have seen them open the door, just like when we spotted Mr. Lasater,” O’Malley protested.

  “Maybe they sprayed it under the door or something,” Cole offered.

  “Probably,” Jake concurred. “One of them had a satchel when he left the bar. Lord knows what was inside. These guys are well-equipped, whoever they are.”

  “You ain’t kidding,” Tyler agreed. “Those guns they had—”

  “Szilágyi called ’em chainguns.…” Jake injected.

  “Those chainguns are the devil’s own peashooter. You’re lucky to be alive, Jake.”

  “I sure would like to know who the hell they were,” Jake said.

  “You and me both,” Tyler added. “O’Malley, you go on and talk to Bobby and Grimes. Find out what they know. And tell the engineer to check the envelopes for holes. That last burst from the guy on the zeppelin may have hit something important.”

  “On my way,” O’Malley replied as he turned and walked out.

  Tyler turned to his men. “I gotta report all this to the captain. Kelsey, Biggs, heft Bear on outta here and put him in the freezer.” O’Malley headed out of the cargo hold while two of the larger men stepped over to Bear’s body. “We gotta take him back home, and I’ll have to let his wife and kids know what happened, damn it.”

  “Jake, Cole, why don’t you boys head back to your cabin. I reckon you’re fair tuckered out after tonight. It’s possible the captain will want to talk to you before we land in Carson City, but maybe not. I’ll give him the whole story.”

  “Thanks, Tyler,” Cole replied.

  “Yeah, thanks,” Jake added. “I’m bushed … and I think my heart has finally slowed down.”

  “If either of you thinks of anything that might be helpful, let me know, would ya?” Jones asked.

  “Actually,” Jake spoke up, “there is one more thing.”

  “The code!” Cole said, reaching into his pocket.

  “I managed to get some of what they were saying to each other, but I don’t know what it says,” Jake added.

  “How do you mean?” Tyler asked. Cole held out the bill and showed it to Tyler. “Looks like Morse.”

  “Well, if it is,” Jake said, “the letters don’t make any sense. I’ll see if I can put it all together and get it for you in the morning.”

  “Thanks, Jake,” Tyler said, tipping the brim of his hat. “Goodnight, boys. We’ll clean up in here.”

  Jake and Cole walked towards the door.

  “And Jake—” Tyler started.

  “Yeah?” Jake said turning.

  “The only reason I’m trusting that you aren’t a part of all this is that stunt you pulled diving out the door like you did. You’re one crazy son-of-a-bitch, you know that.”

  Jake smiled and shrugged.

  “You don’t know the half of it, Tyler,” Cole added.

  Jake tipped his hat. He and Cole walked out silently and made their way up the stairs. When they opened the door, they passed between two stewards guarding the entrance to the cargo hold. They stepped into a narrow hallway lined with crew quarter doors and some access panels. They walked through the door to the aft passenger area where most of the people were awake in the open seating area. A few milled about here and there, chattering quietly about what might have happened below.

  At the far end of the passageway, Jake spotted Ghiss talking to the tall woman in the maroon dress and veil. Ghiss was rolling down his left sleeve, the gleaming brass of his skeletal forearm exposed. The woman nodded her head and then turned the veil towards Jake. She said something to Ghiss and walked quickly through the far door into the dining room.

  Ghiss turned and walked toward Jake and Cole as casually as is possible for a half-machine mercenary.

  “Well bless my stars. Mister Lasater, what brings you out at this ungodly hour?” Ghiss’ voice was molasses-sweet as he stepped up to Jake and held out his hand. “Don’t tell me you were involved with that frightful exchange of gunplay downstairs.”

  “Ghiss,” Jake said quietly, nodding as he threw on his best I-don’t-have-a-thing-in-my-hand poker smile. “We heard the gunfire same as you.”

  “Of course you did.” Ghiss turned to Cole and held out his hand. “I’m sorry, sir. Please forgive me my manners. I neglected to properly introduce myself at the poker game before that cretin got so carried away.” Jake saw Cole hesitate for just a moment and then shake firmly. For a moment Jake worried that Ghiss might overdo the grip, but only for a moment. Ghiss was a mercenary and a coldblooded killer if the job called for it, but he was still a southern gentleman, and Jake had never heard of the man being deliberately rude.

  “Cole McJunkins, Colonel … err … Mister Ghiss.” There was an edge in Cole’s voice, but he was covering his loathing for Ghiss fairly well.

  “You comported yourself quite well back in the salon, sir. I wanted you to know I respect your restraint. I suspect you may be as much a gentleman as Mister Lasater here.”

  Cole got a slightly confused look on his face, not prepared for what seemed to be a sincere compliment. “Well, thank you, Mister Ghiss.”

  “So who was your friend?” Jake interrupted.

  “I beg your pardon?” Ghiss replied.

  “The lady in the maroon dress.”

  “Ahh, yes. Actually, I just met the … woman. Charming creature. Quite bright, in fact, with a distinctly youthful exuberance. She expressed an interest in my prosthetics and I was more than happy to oblige her. A most clever young woman.”

  “So who is she?” Jake asked. “I’d swear I know her from someplace.”

  Ghiss chuckled, and the metallic coldness of it sent a shiver up Cole’s spine. “In our lines of work we meet so many people, Mister Lasater. One never knows when familiar faces might make an appearance. Why just look at me showing up here and us having our own little reunion.”

  “I agree, but that doesn’t really answer my question, does it?”

  “I believe I’ve answered it as much as I care to, Miste
r Lasater,” Ghiss soothed, and the smile was back in his voice. “After all, what’s another familiar face, or veil in this case, after such a long line of faces?” Jake could tell Ghiss was holding something back but didn’t know how to press him on it without being obvious. “Now, if you gentlemen will excuse me, it seems that the entertainment is done for the evening. I believe I will retire. I am positively exhausted. You two should probably do the same after all the excitement you’ve had to endure. I’m sure you must be simply dead on your feet.” The laughter that came from Ghiss’ respirator made Cole shiver again. It definitely wasn’t friendly laughter, but he didn’t know what to make of it. He just hoped Ghiss was not being prophetic.

  “Now that you mention it,” Jake said, “I do feel plenty tuckered out.”

  “Goodnight, gentlemen,” Ghiss nodded, tipped his hat with a flourish and headed back towards the door to the dining room.

  “Jake!” a voice called from behind them. Jake and Cole turned and spotted Tyler walking towards them. “I’m glad I caught you.”

  “What’s up?” Cole said, happy to see a friendly face.

  “I thought you should know that near as we can tell, none of them boys boarded the Jezebel in Denver or any other of our stops.”

  “No shit?” Jake asked, but made it sound like a statement, because he already knew the answer.

  “No shit,” Tyler concurred.

  “Which pretty much can only mean one thing. That outer cargo door was locked from the inside when we left Denver, wasn’t it?”

  “You don’t miss much,” Tyler said, raising an impressed eyebrow.

  “So, someone on board opened the door from the inside,” Cole concluded.

  “Sure looks that way,” Jake said, a concerned look on his face.

  “Ghiss?” Cole asked.

  “What the hell’s a Ghiss?” Tyler asked, confused.

  “Well, he’s sort of both a ‘what’ and a ‘who’,” Jake said. “Mind you, there’s no proof, but he’s the right sort of man in the right place when sneaky shit is going on.”

  “What’s he look like?”

  “This boy’s hard to miss,” Cole spoke up, “and you already met him.”