by Ryan Dunlap
“Imagine being able to stop your enemy in their tracks like that.” He snapped his fingers, “But we’ve taken measures to safeguard ourselves…with you.” He continued to pace around the line of soldiers. “You are all the first in the line of Time resistant soldiers. We weren’t able to extract the essence of the girl, but even if we can’t get into The Wild, she will suffice. Your mission is to find Calista Tourbillon and bring her back to me, as unharmed as possible. We already have what we need from her companion, and now you do too.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
The Demons
The speed at which the world zipped by the locomotive’s windows belied the train’s smooth glide. Callie knew better than to question the idiosyncrasies of her dreams, but the experience left her curious as to whether riding on a train truly felt like being whisked away on the wind.
She felt two sizes too small next to the other passengers, which remained a consistency in every dream. Standing on her seat only allowed her to peek out the window of the train at the blurry, lush landscape.
Something was different about the cabin this time. The faces of the other passengers remained blurred, but other details beckoned for her attention. A pattern comprised of crisscrossing diamonds was etched into the ceiling, and the carpet below mirrored the design in ornate threads of gold and maroon.
She tried to recall the paintings back on The Kingfisher, wondering if perhaps one of the works of art lining its halls might have spurred a deeper level of imaginative detail.
A giant man in a dull gray uniform walked up to her seat. The man was the only one whose face wasn’t obscured. His expression remained sad yet kind, and his smile flared out his mustache the way it always did in her dream. However, when he spoke, Callie couldn’t understand his gibberish.
“Could you maybe write down what you’re saying?” Callie asked. She had never thought to go that route before.
The muddled voice of the caring man accompanied a bewildered expression. He patted Callie on the head with a large hand, then moved on to speak with other passengers.
Callie looked back out the window at the green scenery. Suddenly, all went dark.
Callie opened her eyes. The world was a blur, but the familiar wooden ceiling coming into focus told her that she was still in the Captain’s quarters of The Brass Fox. Absolved of her headache, she tried to sit up but found herself mildly restrained by bedsheets. An absence of light from the porthole let her know she hadn’t slept through the night.
She was still fully dressed except for her jacket and boots, but there was no sign of Ras anywhere. Peeling away the sheets, she swung her feet over the side of the bed, connecting with something decidedly not the floor, as floors didn’t say, “Ow!”
Callie jerked her legs up, sliding them back onto the bed. From the floor she heard a man’s voice groan. “Ras?”
“You’re up,” he croaked. “How’s your head?” The question was flat and lifeless, as if Ras had asked it more out of duty than anything else.
She peeked over the edge of the bed, looked down at Ras, then glanced over to the table in the middle of the room. His letter sat out in the open. “I’m all right now. It kind of came out of nowhere again,” she said, trying desperately to maintain some degree of nonchalance.
Ras got up and wordlessly made his way over to the chair where his jacket was draped. He grabbed it, slung it over his shoulder, then turned to exit. “When you’re ready, we could use a heading,” he said curtly.
Callie began to speak, but the slamming door stopped her.
The Brass Fox slid above the starlight-bathed cloud layer, its balloon peeking out first, then its whole body. Up on the bridge, Ras worked the controls using more force than necessary to restart the working engine, then half-folded, half-crumpled his star map. He heard noises from the Captain’s quarters and assumed Callie was moving about. First shuffles, then clanking sounds.
An hour passed before the quarters door open and Ras watched Callie as she made her way up to the bridge.
“Where are we?” Callie asked, beginning with a safe topic.
Dixie peeked her head up from the hold before climbing onto the deck. “Look who’s finally awake! Evidently The Collective had the same idea as you guys and headed east while we were aboard. Are you feeling any better?”
“A little, thanks,” Callie said. “How much time does that save us?” She aimed the question more at Ras than Dixie.
“At least a day,” Dixie said, allowing Ras a continued respite from speaking. “Assuming they were heading in the right direction.”
“We passed Solaria,” Ras said quietly.
Callie leaned in and whispered, “Can we please talk?”
Ras watched Dixie watch him and Callie. “Just let me know when you get a heading,” he said.
“I thought we were going to pick up parts in Solaria,” Callie said. “What happened to that plan?”
“Solaria isn’t where we thought it’d be,” Dixie said. “We checked.”
“It must have moved before it crashed, and we don’t have time to go searching for it,” Ras said. “We’ll have to limp around The Wild as best we can.”
“But we’re a day closer than we thought, so that’s good, right?” Callie asked.
“Why did you read my letter?” Ras asked, his tone harsher than he had intended.
Callie stood stunned for a moment. “I was just cleaning up the cabin and I accidentally saw part of it.”
“Then you accidentally saw all of it?” Ras asked, hurt.
“I’m sorry, I had to know.”
Dixie raised a hand. “Can I interject?”
“Not now, Dixie,” Ras said. He turned back to Callie. “What, you had to know that I’m a Lack?” His eyes welled up. “That I’m practically wired to make life harder for others?”
“That’s not true!”
“Who don’t I make things harder for?”
“Guys?” Dixie asked.
“What?” Ras shouted.
“Now might not be the best time, but I thought it worthwhile to mention that we’re sinking. Just saying.” Dixie pointed down to the hold. “Maybe I should go check on the engine?” she asked as clouds began to spill over the railing.
It dawned on Ras that the silence of the night had come at the expense of the other working Windstrider. He flipped the switch to restart the engine, but nothing happened.
“Me,” Callie said, “You don’t make things harder for me. I’ve had a theory for a long, long time, and that letter confirmed it.”
“You thought I was a Lack too?” he asked. The instrument panel noted that the scoop wasn’t taking in any Energy and automatically shut down to avoid damaging itself. He lowered the collection tube and the sensor indicated a Level 3 potency.
“No, think about it, Ras. Have you ever seen me with a headache?”
The ship shifted to port and their descent quickened to a pace that promised an unpleasant and hull-damaging landing. It was too late to engage the Helios engine since they were no longer above the clouds. It was a perfectly acceptable time to panic.
“Cut the ballasts! We’re sinking!” Ras shouted. He couldn’t see Dixie, but he could hear her swearing a blue streak.
“Maybe the headaches come because I can’t escape Time,” Callie said, “Maybe you keep me from overloading by dulling that sensitivity.” As they cleared the cloud layer, Ras saw her beginning to tear up. “And I’m sorry that you’re stuck with me.”
He didn’t have time to mull over a lifetime of memories to weigh against her theory, but he needed Callie to keep a level head. “Callie, I’ve never considered myself stuck with you, but if we don’t offload enough weight, we’re going to be stuck without a ship.” Ras dashed over to the side railing to the nearest of the ballast bags. “We can talk about this after we don’t crash, deal?” He fumbled with the rope, untying it as Dixie and Callie moved to other bags and did the same.
As the weights dropped, The Brass Fox’s descent d
idn’t slow noticeably. They needed to drop something far heavier.
“Open the bay!” Dixie shouted, and without much time to question why, Ras obliged, running back up to the console, and jamming the new button Tibbs installed. He looked up to see a frightened Callie and no sign of Dixie.
The whinnying of an unfamiliar engine trying to cycle from beneath the deck caught his attention.
“Dixie!” Ras shouted. The howl of the wind flowing into the hold drowned out his voice. “Callie! Tell her it’s not ready!”
“What?” Callie shouted back.
“The jetcycle isn’t ready! Tell her to dump it!” Ras mimed a pushing motion.
Callie nodded, then descended into the hold as Ras did his best at the helm to stave off their descent by redirecting the collection hose and expelling the air in the tank.
The roar of an engine cut through the wailing wind and disappeared with a quickly fading exclamation of joy or despair as The Brass Fox’s descent tapered to a glide.
“Dixie! You did it!” Ras shouted to no response. With both engines dead and the Helios engine in danger of overloading underneath the clouds, the ship sat eerily silent save for the usual creak of wood and rope. “Callie?”
Callie climbed from the hold to the deck, her expression blank.
“It worked!” Ras said. “We’re not falling nearly as much.”
“She dumped the jetcycle.”
“I suppose that’s better than losing The Fox.”
“She was still on it.”
Ras’ eyes hurt from squinting, trying to make out movement in the inky night after his KnackVisions gave no indication of anything Energy-fueled beneath them.
“Maybe she got it working before it crashed?” Callie asked.
Ras shook his head. “She’d have flown back up here if she did.”
“We should at least look for her when we touch down. Maybe the trees softened the fall enough?”
The thought of what they might find disturbed Ras. He nodded and trudged back up to the helm to steady the ship’s slow and graceful descent.
The sun began to peek over the horizon, lending a bit of light to the world, and Ras could see they were floating high above a dense forest outside of a town built around something chillingly familiar. “I think we found Solaria,” Ras said. Aside from some superficial architectural differences, the crashed structure reminded Ras of Verdant, giving him a glimpse of his city’s grim future.
“Torches!” Callie said, pointing down. Beneath them, a moving line of two dozen twinkling lights blinked through the dense foliage. “Maybe they’ll help her if she survived!”
“They’re probably Remnants,” Ras said, searching for a clearing big enough to land the ship.
In a matter of minutes, The Brass Fox settled neatly into a nearby clearing. Ras lowered the anchor out of habit, as though the ship might somehow take off without them.
Callie packed the leather satchel with provisions while Ras holstered his large wrench and strapped on the grapple gun, thinking it wise to bring even though they had no places from which to fall.
With a general idea of the direction of where they needed to go, Ras stepped off the gangplank and shortly realized he heard only one set of footfalls. He turned and saw Callie standing on the edge of the gangplank, satchel strapped across her body.
“If we’re going to find her before the Remnants do, we’re going to have to hurry,” Ras said.
“It’s just…” Callie began. “I’ve never touched the ground before.” She gently lowered one foot forward to the grass. She tentatively shifted her weight, then took a few experimental steps, unsure of her new sensation. “It…doesn’t move.”
Ras nodded before turning around to head back into the woods. An hour of trudging through the forest only offered up the clue of a scraped chunk of metal that Ras recognized as part of the jetcycle.
“We can’t do this all day. Maybe she made it into town,” Ras said.
“But what if she’s still out here and we gave up on her?” Callie asked. “Dixie!” she shouted, cupping her hands to her mouth.
“Shh! What if Remnants hear you?”
Callie sighed, looked about and continued walking. “Just ten more minutes.”
Ras wanted to protest. He wanted to remind her that Verdant was still sinking as they searched; that he had no idea how they were going to avoid Remnants, find Dixie, and fix their engines; and that even if they were to successfully make it into The Wild, they still had Elders to dodge and a return trip filled with most of the same obstacles to navigate.
“Ras?” Callie crouched about fifty feet ahead, inspecting something.
He quickly closed the distance and saw what interested her.
Blood.
Formerly white strands of hair lay matted in the small pool. Nearby, multiple sets of tracks headed off in the direction of the town.
“I don’t know why they’d take a dead body. Maybe this is a good thing?” Ras asked. According to Dixie’s theories, he actually had several gruesome ideas as to why they might take a dead body, but didn’t feel it an opportune time to share.
“We’re too late.” Callie said, looking up at Ras, then past him. “Maybe not…”
Ras turned to see what she was looking at. The jetcycle hung lodged high between a couple of close growing trees. Still, it would have been a long way to fall. “There’s no way I’m getting up there without that thing falling on me,” he said.
Twenty minutes later and fifty feet higher, Ras was peeking out between green leaves for the first time in his life. Naturally, some part of his mind had decided that standing on the swaying branches was a sufficiently novel sensation to deserve an attack of the vertigo. He looked down at Callie, who stood near the base of the trees, and immediately regretted it. “I’d stand back. No sense in both of us being crushed if we can help it.”
She obliged.
Merely five feet away from the jetcycle, Ras lacked an actual plan on how to get the thing started. He imagined getting the machine to run, only to careen into another tree moments later. On the other hand, if the plan worked, they might have a chance at getting to the town before the torchlight party.
The awkward position of the jetcycle caused Ras to wonder about the merits of trying to start the machine while sideways to let the engine cycle. Letting the bike fall would almost ensure its inoperability, a state that Ras didn’t wish to share by riding it straight down to the forest floor.
Climbing the last five feet, he pulled within grabbing distance of the right handlebar. The key was still in the ignition.
“Will it work?” Callie called up.
Ras looked down to respond and immediately tightened his grip on the branch, shutting his eyes tightly. “Don’t know yet.” Retrieving the wrench from his holster, he used it to press the ignition button. The engine cycled but didn’t start.
He pressed the button again to the same effect. The sound reminded him of whenever The Fox’s engine scoop would clog. But with the intake on the bottom of the jetcycle, Ras realized he had climbed the wrong tree to access the guts of the vehicle.
After one last fruitless push of the ignition button to remind him that luck was not usually on his side, he climbed a bit higher than the jetcycle. The other tree offered a few branches to grasp, but none that looked likely to support his weight.
He set a foot lightly down on the side of the jetcycle’s seat. It shifted slightly, but settled. He didn’t know if Dixie could have survived a drop from this height, but if she did, she’d be showing meetings with every branch below, of which there were many.
Ras placed more of his weight onto the jetcycle, which now felt firmly lodged. He took a deep breath and pulled himself toward the opposite tree as the jetcycle rumbled to life beneath him. “No, not now!” Ras scolded the machine, but like a disobedient child, it throttled harder, shooting steam out behind it as Ras lunged for the controls.
The jetcycle shot free of its wooden prison and Callie gave a
yelp of surprise as it came careening down straight for her. Ras grasped the left handlebar, pulling it back toward himself to alter the jetcycle’s course. This also righted the vehicle, causing Ras to no longer be atop it but to dangle from the handlebar as the jetcycle picked up speed and leveled off just above Callie.
The sudden jerk upward caused Ras to lose his grasp and he spun like a ragdoll until he met the ground. Painfully.
The bike zipped off in the distance.
Callie came rushing to Ras’ side. “Are you all right?” She felt around, looking for any obvious wounds. “Anything broken?”
“I got it out of the tree. Yay,” said Ras flatly. He groaned. “I do entirely too much falling.”
“I was meaning to talk to you about that.” Callie smiled slightly as she brushed some of Ras’ hair out of his eyes, revealing a scrape on his left cheek. Suddenly Ras no longer minded falling so much.
“Where’s the jetcycle?” He tried to look around but the pain persuaded him to leave that to Callie.
Callie surveyed the area. “That’s funny.”
“I could stand to hear something funny.”
“The jetcycle. It stopped.” Callie stood, leaving Ras.
Ras fought to pull himself up to a seated position, but failed. His outfit was covered in leaves and dirt, and the nicks and cuts would soon be accented with bruises. He felt mostly unharmed, but experience taught him it was just the adrenaline. Rolling over to his side, he could see the jetcycle had come to rest mostly unscathed in a nearby clearing.
Its engine softly puttered as though inviting them to come play.
Carefully picking himself up, he approached the jetcycle. “Do you remember which way the torches went?” Ras asked as he slowly swung his leg over it, hugging its wide body for a respite.
Callie climbed behind him, pointing slightly to the left before gingerly wrapping her arms around his midsection. “Too tight?”
His head shook a negative although his tender ribs screamed otherwise at him. “Can’t have you falling off.” He gunned the throttle and off they went.