eSteampunk Vol. 01 No. 02

by Anthology

  Oleg and Giles retreated to the opposite corner from the others. Giles crossed his arms sullenly while Oleg lay the revolver across his lap and played his finger across the finish. All around they heard the sound of Draggers laughing as they ransacked the town in search of live humans. Meanwhile the hungry Mist wrapped its ethereal tentacles around the legs of the tower and began to creep upward.

  Chapter 2

  Tom smiled at the girls. “Oleg is an all-round muddle when it comes to introductions. I’m Tom, Tom Cain.”

  Revolver Girl met his gaze with steel in her brown eyes, and her nostrils flared. “Agatha West.”

  Tom crouched by Willow, who had buried her head in her sister’s chest. “And you are Willow and Nikki Keats of course.” Willow turned to look at him. “Pleased to make your acquaintance ma’am, who’s your furry friend?” Tom shook hands with the quilted bear.

  Willow giggled, buried her face again, and tucked her bear tightly to her chest.

  Nikki laughed. “She’s had him since she was a baby. I actually named him as a joke when I was five.” She blinked and lowered her gaze. “He’s called umm.…” She coughed into her hand.

  Tom tilted his head to the side with a grin. “I didn’t quite catch that.”

  Willow peeked out at him. “Sir Furrybottom, she named him Sir Furrybottom.”

  She held the bear out to Tom and he shook hands with it again. “Pleased to meet you.” He glanced at Nikki. “Do I have to bow or something, if he’s a knight of the realm and all?”

  “No….” Nikki blushed. “He’s just a toy.”

  Willow playfully punched her sister in the shoulder. “Is not! He protects me from bad men.” She glared in Giles and Oleg’s direction.

  Oleg laughed. “We’re not bad, little lady, just misunderstood.”

  Agatha faced Oleg with a tight-lipped smile. “That’s what they all say.” She held a pretend noose around her neck. “You’ve got it wrong sirs, I’m not a bad man.” Then she made a noise like a trap door falling away and mock-hanged herself.

  “Not funny.” Giles deepened into his sulk.

  The screams below faded, but the maniacal laughter of the Draggers continued as the sun faded from the horizon. The Mist came most of the way up the tower and obscured everything in the town below. In the distance other towers, islands of refuge, protruded above the Mist, and way on the other side of town, a half-dozen trade zeppelins floated, among them the Myrmidon, Tom’s home for the past two years.

  Tom wrapped his jacket around Nikki and Willow. Oleg broke a bit of wood from the tower wall and began whittling with his knife while Giles and Agatha stared sullenly at each other.

  After some time, Oleg looked up from his carving. “All you might as well rest. Me an’ Giles‘ll keep watch. Mist’ll be gone by mornin’ most like.”

  Willow and Nikki curled up together in his jacket to rest, but Tom didn’t feel like sleeping. The cold mountain air bit through his linen shirt, and the constant laughter below set his teeth together like a vise. He sidled over to Agatha. “So what brought you to Milton? Don’t see too many Indians in these parts.”

  “Passing through, like yourself.”

  Tom nodded. “It’s that kind of town.”

  “Uh huh.” Agatha rolled her eyes at him. “Look, enough of the small talk. When are you gonna get my gun back for me?”

  Tom blinked in surprise. “Oh… I wasn’t plannin’ on it. Oleg seems to know how to handle it. He’ll do any shootin’ we need done I suppose.”

  “He can’t shoot like me.”

  “Yes, I’m sure you’re a very good shot for a girl and…”

  “And what? Go on. And an Indian? Like we don’t know how to use guns? What, I should carry a bow and arrows around and slap my mouth while I holler and carry-on?” She demonstrated. “Woo woo woo! Dance around a campfire for your entertainment?”

  “Hey, keep it down over there.” Giles said, then closed his eyes and turned his back on them.

  Tom grimaced. “Whoa, no need to be sore about it Agatha, I didn’t mean no harm.”

  “You’re as bad as them if you don’t get my gun back, Thomas Cain.”

  “Hey, that’s layin’ it on a little thick don’t ya think? I tried to stop ‘em before they had a gun. I’m not risking my life so you can have your little pea-shooter back.”

  “It’s not a pea-shooter, it’s a custom-made thirty-eight Sturm model ninety, with vulcanized rubber grips, a flip-up pinhole sight and custom-milled cylinder.” She narrowed her eyes. “And it was my dad’s.”

  Tom knew a little about shooting, but Agatha was starting to get under his skin, so he decided to return the favour. “Way I see it, it’s a gun, like any other. One end goes bang and kills things. It’s best you to stay away from that end.”

  She growled in response and sunk her chin into her chest.

  “Yeah, good idea.” Tom sat down next to her. “Time for some shut-eye.”

  Between the laughter below, the cold, and the uncomfortable wood floor, it was a long time before he fell asleep.

  * * *

  Tom awoke to the smell of smoke. He sat up with a shock before his eyes were fully open. “Sorry Pa, I must have slept late. Is breakfast done?” He blinked and cleared his eyes. No campfire, no Pa… that chapter of his life was long past. That was a relief. His pa would have whipped him something fierce for sleeping in.

  Giles laughed. “Your pa’s not here to take care of your ass boy.”

  Tom sniffed again. No campfire, but there was a strong smell of smoke in the air. He looked over the side of the tower. The Mist below flickered orange where the Draggers had set the town alight, and in the distance two of the town’s fifty or so refuge towers were burning.

  Oleg stood beside him. “Must be a smart ‘un leadin’ them, usin’ fire like that.”

  Agatha snorted a laugh. “Too bad we don’t have a smart ‘un leading us.”

  Oleg grinned at her. “Now now, try an’ act civilized, Injun.”

  Agatha stood and stepped toe to toe with Oleg who was a head and a half taller than her. “Civilized, like stealing other people’s possessions?”

  “That’s for yer own protection little miss.”

  “Protecting us from what? Most dangerous thing up here is your damn snoring!”

  An uproar of laughter below broke the conversation. Tom peered over the side, but couldn’t see a thing through the Mist. “I don’t like it. What’re they doin’ down there?”

  Oleg whipped open the trap door and leaned through the hole. “Shit, they’re climbin’!” He pulled out the revolver and blasted a half dozen shots at the Draggers. The grinning mock-humans just continued their climb though, steady as ever.

  Agatha whistled, mock-impressed. “Where’d you learn to shoot like that, Ace? You couldn’t hit the ground throwin’ a rock!”

  “Shut up!” Oleg quickly reloaded, dropping several cartridges from shaking fingers as the Draggers came ever closer. They smelled of the wild, and leered up at the humans with hungry eyes, laughing and chuckling as they came.

  Willow screamed and Tom turned to see an arm reaching over the side of the tower wall. He ran forward as the perverted human face appeared and lashed out with a straight right, smashing the thing’s nose flat. She blinked, but continued to haul herself upwards. Tom grabbed a finger and pulled. It broke with a loud pop. He broke another, and another, but the Dragger threw her leg over the wall, ignoring him completely.

  The blast of the revolver next to Tom’s head deafened him. The beast’s head exploded, and she fell backwards off the tower. A fine mist of blood and gore settled all around.

  “See I can hit ‘em!” Oleg grinned at Agatha.

  Agatha snorted. “Well dog my cats, we should call you Captain Crackerjack with shoot
in’ like that. Two feet away and you didn’t even hit dead-centre.”

  At the trap-door Giles was busily kicking and stomping at fingers. Tom ran over and slammed the door with a satisfying crunch of broken cartilage and bone. “Take that!” He jumped on the door, causing a new wave of crackles and pops. “Hah! Try climbing with all your fingers broken!” He whipped the door open again and several grinning faces fell away, still laughing, only to be silenced when they finally hit the ground.

  The few remaining Draggers retreated, and that was the end of the assault.

  Other than the Mist below, the weather was beautiful. The warm sun beat down, comforting at first, but as dehydration set in it became a curse. The Mist showed no signs of receding as it normally would. If anything it was thickening in the midday sun. The Draggers stayed on too, their cackling echoed from every corner of Milton.

  Three nearby towers fell to Dragger attacks that day. The six refugees in the tower did their best to shield themselves from the sun, but they were all burned and peeling by evening, throats raw and tongues swollen from thirst.

  As night approached the Mist grew thicker and taller than ever. It lapped around the walls of their refuge, as if searching for a way in. Several ropy tendrils snaked through the cracks around the trap door.

  Tom saw them first. “Mist coming in!”

  Giles turned and saw the smoky worm creeping toward him. He screamed like a little girl and scrambled up the side of the tower wall, where he stood balancing on the thin rail. Oleg followed suit, but lay down across a corner in the wall. It looked uncomfortable, but he didn’t risk falling like Giles.

  The others backed away and the wisps of Mist, deprived of their targets, scrambled uselessly for purchase against the walls underneath Oleg and Giles. Then they paused, as if sniffing the air, and turned toward Tom.

  It was extremely rare for someone to be turned before their nineteenth birthday, but Tom wasn’t taking any chances. He hopped up on a corner and imitated Oleg. Not as uncomfortable as it looked, although he sincerely hoped he wouldn’t have to sleep that way.

  With nobody old enough left to attack, the Mist tendrils seemed to give up. They returned to the trap door and slithered down through the cracks. Slowly the mound of Mist under their tower flattened out as if exhausted from the effort.

  In the distance, moonlight illuminated mounds of Mist attacking the other towers. Screams of fear from humans, and laughter from the freshly turned Draggers, told the story. The town of Milton was being overrun. Around midnight, clouds rolled in, obscuring the moon and rescuing the survivors from the morbid sight of the other towers falling, one by one. Shrieks of laughter and terror mingled together through the long night.

  In spite of their exhaustion, not one of the six refugees in the tower slept.

  Chapter 3

  The next morning broke cold and clear. A thick beading of dew had settled on the tower and the six survivors spent a few minutes lapping at the splintery wood with raw tongues to try to eke out what moisture they could. It wasn’t enough. Tom was lightheaded, his lips were chapped and bleeding, and his throat felt like it was packed with sand.

  None of the nearby towers showed signs of life, but at least the Draggers seemed to have moved on. Laughter still echoed in the distance, but it was quiet around their tower. Better yet, gaps had started to form in the Mist below, not big enough for anyone to dare leaving the tower, but a welcome sight nonetheless. It was the airship port that gave them the most concern. Except for a pall of smoke it was nearly empty. Only one airship remained, and it swung with the breeze with a single guyline holding it in place. If anyone aboard was still alive they surely would have fled, or at least secured the zeppelin with more lines. As it was, the tail swung dangerously close to a neighbouring mooring-tower every time the breeze shifted to the east.

  “Myrmidon’s gone and left without us.” Giles stared at the abandoned port.

  “Hey, maybe we lucky mate. We could have a ship of our own.” Oleg scratched his chin and gazed toward the remaining zeppelin.

  “Looks a little old and worn. Probably broke down an’ they abandoned it.”

  “Ship’s a ship. I wouldn’ turn down a free one.”

  Tom joined the two former crewmates. “If you can even get there. It’s at least a mile and a half away, on the opposite side of town. Somebody else’ll probably take it.”

  Oleg dug his fingernails harder into his chin. “Then we’ve gotta get there first, right mates?”

  Giles nodded. “Mist’s clearin’ up nice out there. If we wait ‘till it’s mostly gone an’ make a run, I bet we can get there first.”

  “Thought you were scared of the Mist?” Tom prodded Giles in the ribs.

  “No, not I… it, err, just caught me by surprise last night is all.”

  “I say we get ready. Way the Mist is clearin’ we can probably go in a few minutes.” Oleg narrowed his eyes. “Comin’ Tom?”

  “Me? I thought you didn’t trust me?”

  “I trust ye well enough once the girlies are outta the picture. Give ye a share in ‘er, whaddaya say?”

  Tom shrugged. “Dunno … Who’s going to protect the girls?”

  Agatha shook her head. “I can protect myself if Oaf-leg would just give me my damn gun back.”

  Oleg grinned at her. “Not a chance sweetie. Gonna need it if there are any Draggers left about after the Mist clears.” He turned to Tom. “Twenty percent, final offer. We can crew her with two, but three’d lighten the load.”

  It was tempting. Twenty percent of even an old airship would be more money than Tom had seen his whole life. “No … ” Tom looked over at Nikki and Willow, still huddled in their corner. “I’ll stay till they sound all clear.”

  “Suit yerself. More for us.” Oleg glanced through the hatch. Mist still hung in clumps across the charred remains of Milton, but if they moved quickly they could make it.

  Giles took a knotted rope from the emergency supplies in the tower, tied it off and dropped it through the hatch. He punched Tom in the shoulder. “Sorry ‘bout chokin’ ye boy. You’re an all-right lad.” He swung over the side and began his descent.

  Oleg checked the revolver and let his companion hit the ground before he followed with a brief grunt of farewell.

  Tom saw the Mist react nearly as soon as the two men hit the ground. The nearby clumps started to drift toward Oleg and Giles, but they outran it easily. They disappeared between rows of charred buildings and were gone.

  A movement below caught Tom’s eye. He glanced down into the upturned face of a Dragger. The Dragger chuckled softly, looked up, straight into Tom’s eyes and winked. Then he darted after the departed airmen, followed by several other Draggers.

  “Ah hell.” Tom cupped his hands. “Oleg, look out! Draggers on your trail! Oleg! Look out behind you!”

  A moment later two gunshots split the air, and the Draggers broke into full throated laughter. There was a scream, cut off sharply, and then silence again.

  “Told ‘im he was a lousy shot.” Agatha grinned at Tom. “You heard me.”

  “Not amusin’, Agatha.” Tom gritted his teeth. “They were right asses, but men all the same. Nobody should go like that.”

  Agatha squinted back at Tom. “Yet year after year more die that way. Good men and bad alike, it don’t matter. Mist’ll cover everything one day the rate it’s goin’. Soon we’ll probably all die, just like them.”

  Nikki curled her arms protectively around her sister. “Stop it! Just stop it!” She sobbed against Willow’s dark curls.

  “Hey, it’s all right.” Tom walked over and put a hand on Nikki’s shoulder. “We’ll get out of this.”

  Nikki sniffed, her eyes red and puffy. “Our parents are out there.”

  Willow nodded. “They were. I think they’re gone now Ni
kki.”

  “Oh!” Nikki held her sister close. “Don’t say that Willow. There’s still a chance.”

  Agatha shook her head. “I think Willow’s right. There’s nary a sign of intelligent life out there. We’re on our own.”

  Tom blew out a breath. “Then maybe Oleg was right too.” He leaned over the rail, scanning the ground below for signs of Draggers. Down slope from Milton the Mist seemed to be gathering for another push upwards.

  Agatha raised an eyebrow. “What? That oaf?”

  “We’re all hungry, and another day up here, waiting for the Mist to clear is pretty much going to wipe us out thirst-wise. Looks like the Mist may be gathering for another push, so who knows how long we may have to wait for another shot. If the town is wiped out, our only chance is the airship, and we gotta go now.”

  Agatha shook her head. “You even know how to fly that thing?”

  “No… I was low on the crew, they rarely even let me on the bridge. But it can’t be that hard right?”

  Nikki snorted. “There’s about fifty dials, a dozen levers and perhaps two or three dozen buttons and switches. Some of ‘em will be labelled, but if the pilot’s had ‘er for a few years, it’s likely most of ‘em are not. If it’s a foreign airship they may not even be marked in English. Even so, would you know what to do with a lever marked ‘right aileron’? Can you even read a chart?”

  Tom shook his head.

  Nikki got to her feet. “Then you need me ‘an Willow. I can fly her, and Willow knows air charts.”