“What’s that?”
He drew a set of keys out of one pocket, staring at them with evasive intensity while he answered. “A few things you might need to care for him. Some morphine, some clean bandages, and a few other medical supplies.”
Unease pricked at the back of her mind and her mouth went dry. Something wasn’t right. Wells had been holding something back. “For his hand?”
“Yes.” He shifted his feet and avoided her attempt to catch his eyes.
A sick feeling began to swell in her gut. “How bad is it?”
“I thought it might be easier to show you.” He slid back a panel in the door, revealing an observation window.
She peered in and caught her breath. Horror tightened her chest.
Chaff lay on a camp bed, his wrists and ankles bound down with wide straps, his eyes closed and his bare chest barely moving. He looked gaunt and sweat beaded on his flushed skin. The hand that had been shot was wrapped, but the skin on his wrist and arm above the wrap was swollen and turning a dark red, almost black right above the wrap.
“What did they do to him?”
Wells winced. “When he refused to give them information about the Pirates—“
“He didn’t know anything about the bloody Pirates. He was only there because of me.”
Wells put a hand on her shoulder. “Easy. Keep your voice down. We don’t want to draw attention.”
She shoved his hand away. “You said they’re asleep.”
“No point taking chances.” He looked around once, held his breath to listen, then exhaled softly, turning a pitying expression on the still figure beyond the window. “He said he didn’t know anything, but they didn’t believe him. When he refused to give them any information, they told him they would stop treating his hand until he either changes his mind or the infection kills him.”
“He was just trying to help me.” A surge of bile in the back of her throat forced her to swallow hard. How he would resent pity from a Lit. “Why is he so still?”
“He was shouting and moaning a lot, so they started giving him heavy doses of morphine and the occasional application of chloroform to keep him quiet.”
Rage welled, the edges of her vision turning red. She gave Well’s a furious look. “Are they trying to kill him?”
The officer’s jaw tightened convulsively and a hint of anger narrowed his eyes. “If he doesn’t give them any information, I believe they do intend to let him die this way. I found an undated entry in the back of his file that reads ‘died of unpreventable complications.”
How could anyone watch someone die this way? She drew in a deep breath to combat the agony that twisted in her chest. Her throat hurt. I did this to him.
“Why is he strapped down?”
“The file says he has been very hostile throughout his stay here.”
That was probably an understatement if she knew Chaff. She gave a wry and distinctly unladylike snort.
“Hostile. What did they expect? They’re leaving him to die from infection.” She nodded to the keys dangling from Wells’ fingers. “Let’s get him out of here.”
“The smell from the infection is rather unpleasant.” He warned, then added, “be careful when we undo the restraints. He’s feverish, and they've got him drugged up. He might not recognize you right off.”
“He’ll recognize me.”
Her hands had started to shake. She balled them into fists by her sides to try to keep them still while Wells unlocked the door. When the door was open, they were greeted by the gagging stench of infection. They rushed in against that overwhelming stink. Chaff didn’t stir, though his breathing changed ever-so-slightly for a few seconds. Wells went to his ankles to start unbuckling the straps. Maeko hastily went to work on the strap on his injured arm, feeling intense heat in his skin as she unbuckled it, then she darted around to free the other one.
Bastards!
The moment the healthy arm was free, his hand shot up and closed around her throat. Chaff sat up part way, his glassy, unfocused eyes staring into her face, lips twisting in a grimace. The hand tightened, trying to crush her windpipe. She clawed at the fingers, remembering the crude fake arm of the thug who’d attacked her in the alley and how impervious it had been to her struggles. Chaff had saved her then. Now, drugged and feverish, it was his hand choking her, impervious to her desperate struggles.
Chaff.
Wells rushed over and joined her effort to pry his fingers away from her neck, fighting against that delirium-strengthened grip. Maeko saw flashes of light in her vision, the blood trapped in her head started pounding in her ears. Tears welled in her eyes, both from physical pain and from heartache. Then Chaff sagged suddenly. The hand loosened and fell away as if the effort had become too much for him. He sank back to the table with a groan, his eyes slipping closed.
Wells was panting. “I’d say that arm works fine.”
Maeko put a hand to her throat and backed away until she bumped into the wall. She felt the tears burning in her eyes.
Wells reached out to touch her forearm lightly. “Don’t take it personal. I’m sure he’s wanted to kill every person he’s seen since they brought him here. I doubt he even recognized you with the fever and all the drugs in his system.”
This is my fault. How could Chaff not hate her after what she’d brought him to?
“Are you sure?”
Wells didn’t answer. He handed her the satchel. She took it and stood back out of the way while he released the final strap. When they were all off, he shook Chaff’s shoulder gently, standing back far enough to leap out of the way if the lanky street rat attacked again.
Chaff mumbled something incoherent his eyes opening a small fraction. Wells crouched next to the bed and worked his arm around under Chaff’s shoulder on the good side, slowly propping him upright.
“C’mon. We’re going to get you out of here.”
Chaff’s eyes opened more at that, focusing a little. He nodded, though it was more of a wobbly bobbing of his head than an actual nod.
Wells lifted then, grimacing with the effort.
For a moment, the lean officer was forced to carry all of Chaff’s weight, half-dragging him the first several steps, then Chaff managed to get his feet under him. They were about the same height, though Chaff had lost a fair bit of weight in the short time since she’d last seen him. Well’s started toward the door, Chaff leaning heavily on him. His feet scuffed across the floor, his steps slow and uncoordinated. Maeko followed behind, staying out of Chaff’s line of sight for the time being, just in case.
How would they ever get him up to the rooftop? How would they get him into the ship?
One thing at a time. “They’re picking us up on the roof of the next building over. Is there another way to get up there? He isn’t going to make it up the ladder like this.”
Chaff lost his footing and Wells stumbled, crashing into the wall to catch himself. He leaned there for a moment, supporting Chaff while the lean street rat struggled to get his feet under him again.
“There’s a stairwell inside the other building that will get us up to the roof. There’s not much going on in that building yet so they assigned me duty there as one of the newer officers to the facility. There is one other guard though. I told him I was going to get some food in the commissary when I left.”
“Can we get past him?”
Wells pushed away from the wall and resumed the slow trek. Chaff’s breathing sounded strained, far more so than that of the officer trying to support him.
“I don’t see that we have much choice,” Wells muttered.
Maeko moved in front so she could sneak out and make sure the area was clear. Chaff didn’t look at her. His eyes were mostly closed, all of his energy focused into making his feet move.
The slow trek between the buildings set her nerves on fire again. Not only did their sluggish pace increase the risk of being spotted, but it also ate up time they didn’t have. They had to get to the airship within
an hour, and it felt as if several had crawled by already.
Maeko opened the door to the adjacent building and peeked in. No sign of the other guard. She held the door for Wells and Chaff, then went ahead of them again, staying close enough to look back at Wells for directions whenever they reached a branch in the corridor.
“The stairwell is just around the corner at the end of this hall,” Wells whispered as they rounded the third corner.
So close.
They’d made it about halfway down the hall when a door opened in front of them and Officer Tagmet stepped into their path. He leveled his gun at her head.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
“I’m more than a bit disappointed in you, Wells.”
Maeko stared down the gun barrel, a view she’d hoped to never have again, and yet, it kept happening to her. The price of all the risks she’d been taking. Maybe Chaff and Ash had a point there.
Wells was armed, but he would have to drop Chaff to get to his gun, and the mere act of doing so would give Tagmet plenty of warning as would any attempt by her to run for it.
“Don’t give me that,” Wells looked at Tagmet, his voice steady but laced with burning fury.
Maeko didn’t think she’d ever heard the younger officer sound quite so angry and Tagmet’s startled look suggested that he hadn’t either.
Wells spoke again, taking advantage of the moment of surprise. “It’s the Literati you should be disappointed in. Look at what they’re doing here, Tagmet. Look at what they were doing to this boy.”
Tagmet’s eyes shifted to look over her shoulder at the two behind her. “He’s a bloody Pirate and a kidsman. He’s getting what he deserves.”
Fresh rage welled in her. Could she move fast enough to shove his arm away before he fired on them? Did she have the conviction to shoot him if she could get his gun away?
Wells grunted behind her, perhaps shifting Chaff’s weight. “He’s not a Pirate and even if he were, no one deserves to be tortured like this. They were letting the infection slowly kill him. Can you even begin to imagine the pain he’s going through?”
Tagmet’s finger lifted from the trigger just a little and Maeko hesitated. Did the angry officer actually have a conscience?
“I can’t just step aside and let you walk out of here. They’d have my head.”
Crimson stepped around the corner behind Tagmet without a sound, her gun in hand. Wells had to see her too. Maeko kept her eyes on Tagmet’s gun, determined not to betray the woman’s presence.
“Yes,” Wells countered. “You can let us go. Better yet, you can come with us.”
Maeko bristled at the idea of Tagmet joining them. Fortunately, so did Tagmet.
“I’m not throwing in my lot with a bunch of Pirates and street rats. But…” He drew a ragged breath. “…I can’t say you’re entirely wrong.”
He lowered the gun and Crimson paused, no more than a foot behind him now.
“If someone was to bludgeon me from behind though, I could tell them I never saw it coming.” He met Maeko’s eyes then and she realized that, somehow, he knew Crimson was there. “Mind you, I’d prefer if you try not to do any real damage.”
Crimson met her eyes as well, looking a little disappointed at the failed stealth. Then she shrugged, flipped her pistol and used the grip to strike him behind the ear. Tagmet crumpled.
She stepped around him and hurried over to help Wells with Chaff. “Let’s get moving. I didn’t hit him that hard. He shouldn’t be out long.”
“How did you…?”
Crimson glanced at Maeko. “I saw you three enter this building from the rooftop and came down to help. Run upstairs. Ash should be dropping into range any minute. When he does, climb up and tell him to bring the ship down to the roof. Your friend is barely conscious enough to walk, let alone climb a rope ladder.”
Maeko nodded and turned, sprinting around the corner and up the stairwell. She burst out through a door and onto the roof in the pouring rain. The ladder was there, hanging probably longer than it should have given no one had been there to signal Ash. Running to it, she grabbed the lower rung and yanked hard three times, then she pulled herself up and started to climb.
The slippery surface made for a miserable ascent, but she wrapped her arms and legs around the side and went as fast as she could. She was gasping for breath when she felt Ash reach down and grab her arm. He hauled her in and she stumbled into him, grabbing his shoulders for balance. His arms went around her, squeezing her tight for a few seconds before releasing her.
“You made it back.” The front of his shirt was now wet from hugging her.
Her chest tightened. He wouldn’t be so happy when she told him about his father.
“We have to drop down to the roof. Chaff can’t climb.”
Ash bobbed his head in affirmation and went to the controls. Maeko crouched down and began to pull in the ladder. Her arms were tired from the climb, but it needed doing and it kept her from fretting. It was risky dropping down, but they still had the heavy rain and dark to hide them. If they were quick, they could get down, pick the others up and set off again before anyone noticed. She got the ladder in and tucked away just as they reached the roof.
Crimson and Wells staggered in with Chaff, barely aware, supported between them. They made a quick decision and lowered him down in a corner instead of risking him falling out of one of the chairs. He slumped against the wall, his eyes sliding shut.
Ash gave Chaff’s arm a startled look, then he turned to stare at the hatch. His look of confusion wrenched at Maeko’s heart. Crimson went to the controls and Wells reached to pull the hatch shut. Ash grabbed his arm.
“Where’s my dad?”
Wells met Maeko’s eyes, but she couldn’t find her voice to answer. Ash turned to face her, his features slack with dread. Wells jerked the hatch shut and turned the handle to latch it.
“We couldn’t get to him, but he’s okay,” Maeko finally said. “He’s doing engineering work for them. They’re not going to hurt him.”
Now his face flushed. “I don’t bloody well care if they’re going to hurt him. We have to get him out.”
Ash spun and charged at Crimson who was taking the ship back up. Wells dove for him and the two slammed to the floor together. Ash aimed a kick at Wells’s side, but the officer deflected it reflexively. Wells blocked Ash’s next punch and grabbed his wrist. He twisted the younger boy’s arm back and forced him to the ground, pinning him there with a knee in his back. There was the clatter of handcuffs, then Wells got up, dragging a cuffed Ash up with him.
“Your father is beyond our reach. All of us would end up in their hands if we tried to get to him now. I’m sorry. As soon as you calm down,” he nodded to the cuffs, “I’ll take those off.”
Ash turned away from Maeko and stepped over to drop into one of the chairs, his posture rigid and forward because of the cuffs binding his wrists behind him. In the sudden silence, the whir and click of Macak’s leg became the loudest sound. The cat trotted across the floor of the gondola to where Chaff sat, his head back against the wall, his eyes still closed, breathing shallow. Macak rubbed against his healthy hand and he jerked, moving the hand into his lap. Not one to be discouraged, Macak circled around once and curled against his hip. Chaff’s eyes flickered open, then his head turned away from them and the cat and he closed his eyes again. A few seconds later, his hand sank down to rest on Macak’s warm back.
What could she do? She couldn’t bring Ash his father back. She couldn’t undo the injury that had been done to Chaff, the suffering he’d gone through and the pain still in store for him with treatment of the infected appendage. Fresh tears stung her eyes and she closed them. She started to sink to the floor and someone’s hands clasped tight on her upper arms. Wells guided her to a chair then crouched down next to her.
“At least it was his left hand,” he said in a hushed voice.
Maeko didn’t open her eyes. She couldn’t bear to look at any of them. “He’s left-hande
d.”
“Oh.” Wells squeezed her shoulder once, at a loss for anything more to say.
She heard him walk away.
The engines engaged. They were high enough up now to make their escape.
Hanging her head, she curled her legs into the chair and a few tears slipped through, dropping onto her hands folded in her lap. She would have welcomed Macak’s company, but the cat had decided that Chaff needed him the most. Perhaps he was right.
#
When they had left the estate, the grounds were dark with only a few lanterns lit outside some of the buildings. Now the entire place was lit up brighter than an evening market. Drake was going to be furious, but what could he do to them now that it was done? She couldn’t believe he would hurt them, or not Crimson at least. She hoped some of Crimson’s influence would ease the punishment for the rest of them.
“Land in the center courtyard. It’ll be easiest and they already know we’re coming. We need to get your friend some medical care immediately.” Crimson sounded worried, but determined.
Ash had calmed enough that Wells had let him go and he had gone back to piloting with Crimson at his shoulder. He started the descent. They would have to drop all the way down to get Chaff out. As they sank down closer to the ground, men moved out towards the airship, some of them carrying the anchor ropes, others carrying brandished guns. The ship touched down and the men with the anchors went to work.
Maeko kept a wary eye on the guns as the men trained them on the door. “I guess Drake’s pretty miffed.”
Crimson gave her a cynical glance and went to help Wells lift Chaff, who sagged on them, moaning. A tremor of fear swept through Maeko. He was in bad shape. Crimson was right, he needed medical attention now.
“It’s the pain,” Wells offered, making a weak attempt to be reassuring.
When they exited the airship, the brandished guns remained trained upon them. Drake came storming out of the manor with Tomoe and Ash’s mother close behind. His dark eyes flashed in the lamplight, his wolfish countenance looking more predatory than ever as the rain slicked down his black hair. He stopped a few yards away from them, putting up an arm to signal Tomoe and Julia to stay back. With a quick glance, he took in the five of them, his expression unreadable.
The Girl and the Clockwork Crossfire Page 8
