by Nico Rosso
Hawkins must’ve seen the scowl on her face as she gazed at the buzzing metal plate. “What is it?”
“I found this in a fake bird tied to the telegraph pole.”
“I spotted that bird. You got to it first.” He approached, eyes fixed on the device in her hand. “What’s that thing doing?”
The metal shook with more intensity. “I don’t know.”
Both of them drew their pistols. The metal plate buzzed harder. Something was coming.
The fog over the sea darkened. A black shape formed, like a deadly thundercloud. It moved faster than the wind. Forty feet long and as tall as a two-story building. Anna was reminded of the two-mast sailing ships in San Francisco Bay. But this craft didn’t glide through the water. It flew fifty feet above the ground.
“That’s a goddamn Man O’ War airship.” Hawkins drew the weapon strapped to his back. Grasped in his half-mechanical hand was a four-barreled, twelve-gage shotgun pistol.
“What the hell is it doing out here?” The metal plate moved like a mouse trying to get out of her grasp.
As the ship neared, the wooden sides and propeller fans became visible. A large vertical center piece stretched from nose to tail, supporting ether tanks. Crewmembers were on deck, manning equipment and long guns. It was amazing for something so massive to be light enough to fly. Air moved out of the way as the ship plowed through and circled over the area.
Hawkins melted into the shadows of the trees, keeping his eyes on the craft. “They’re not flying any colors. The country markings are burned off.”
Sliding into the trees with Hawkins, she saw the charred patches on the wood where words were once cut in. As the ship made another turn, one figure on the deck stood out. The captain. The Man O’ War. His long oilskin coat billowed behind him. He was shirtless beneath it, revealing glimpses of a metal plate fused to his left shoulder.
“A real Man O’ War.” She’d overcome every obstacle in her life up to this point. But that man-machine hybrid was like a constellation come to life. “You ever see one before?”
“Already fought my way out of one war. That was enough.”
The metal on the captain’s shoulder had the same dull sheen as the plate in her hand. As the ship circled, the plate buzzed harder when the Man O’ War neared. “It’s some kind of detector.” She held out the plate and Hawkins took it from her hand.
His fingers brushed against her palm. Both of them had hard skin from years of work. But his touch got through all her calluses, flaring her nerves. He pulled away quickly. She didn’t know if the tingling in her flesh was residual from the vibrating plate or Hawkins’s fingers.
He transferred the device to his half-mechanical hand, rubbing his fingertips where he’d touched her. If something as simple as that touch burned them both, imagine what their whole bodies would do.
If they ever got the chance. The Man O’ War ship continued to circle. The captain stalked over the deck, his long black hair tied back from his forehead with a broad blue bandanna. Keen eyes searched the ground. His frustration seemed to be growing.
Hawkins whispered, “He’s a rogue. That explains why no colors, no insignia.”
She snatched the metal plate from his hand quickly, before skin could linger on skin. But not quickly enough. Again she felt the burn of his touch. These kinds of distractions could get her killed.
“Someone left this here for me to find.” The plate still pulsed faster whenever the Man O’ War neared.
“For us to find,” Hawkins corrected her. “We both got that telegram.”
“Maybe the Man O’ War also got the telegram.”
“Or he intercepted it.” He kept his wary eyes on the circling ship. “That little detector is a warning for us.”
The ship slowed. Men massed on one side. The captain leaned against the side rail, both hands clutching the wood as if he could splinter it with ease.
The gun in her hand felt like it was made out of thin clay. The bullets small. “If he’s all the way out here, risking getting caught by our Home Guard, this is a hell of a lot more important than one thousand dollars.”
Hawkins tensed next to her. “We’re about to find out how important it is. He just spotted us.”
Chapter Four
* * *
THE MAN O’ WAR’S gaze bore through the darkness of the trees into Jack. Fog-softened dusk light glinted off the metal plate on the captain’s shoulder. He seemed a wild predator, ready to destroy anything between him and his goal.
But what the hell did he want?
Shouting in a language Jack didn’t understand, the Man O’ War gave orders to his crew. They readied rifles and a mounted Gatling gun.
Pistol in one hand, quad shotgun in the other, Jack positioned himself next to a tree. Anna, though, still stood in open ground, looking like she was about to make a bad decision.
He called to her, “It’s gonna start raining lead.”
In his line of business, all over the West, he’d seen a lot of people get shot. Usually, he was the one doing the shooting. But right now, the last thing he wanted was for Anna to take a bullet. Sure, she was a fine-looking woman, and no one wanted to see any woman hurt, but there was more. He was starting to appreciate having her raw energy near him. There was no fear or judgment from her. They shared an understanding he’d never had with anyone else.
So when she ran from the safety of the trees, he instinctually chased after her. Then the crew of the ship pulled their triggers and sent a storm of bullets down. Dirt flew and the trees shook. Gunfire crackled and thundered from above. Jack sent wild shots back with his .44 as he kept pace with Anna. He knew he wouldn’t hit anything, but he might throw their aim off a little.
Anna reached her trike, pulled her Winchester from its scabbard, and kept running in one fluid motion. Three steps and a dozen near misses, and she and Jack were back in the cover of another stand of trees.
He quickly reloaded his pistol. “You had to have your Winchester? What about that fancy sight on your .45? I can’t see it aim, but I know you can.”
She turned the valve on the slim ether tank strapped to the side of her rifle and cocked the lever. “Not enough sunlight. The prism on the top of the sight catches the light and throws it forward. I’ll do more damage with this.”
“Well, I doubt it can knock an airship out of the sky.”
As the craft circled, the crew moved to keep their firing positions. The Man O’ War was always in the middle of the group. His intense focus seemed more dangerous than the bullets.
“Maybe not,” Anna replied. “But I ain’t gonna lay down with a handful of daisies and wait to die, neither.”
She shouldered the rifle and braced herself against the trunk of a tree. Shots still came down from the airship, but she didn’t flinch. Her rifle fired, with the smallest hiss of ether released into the chamber at the same time. The bullet streaked up and struck one of the crewmen at the rail. He fell backward with the impact. His rifle spun from his hands, knocking into the head of the man next to him.
There was a moment’s pause in the firing. Jack barked out a laugh. “Hell of a shot. That’ll make them think twice.”
Anna didn’t take her eyes off the ship, levering another round into her rifle. “Told you, four hundred yards. Imagine what I could do to you at point blank.”
The ship made another turn. The crew moved to the closest rail again, this time with a little more caution.
Jack had a Winchester of his own on the cycle, but it didn’t have an ether boost. And with his rebuilt hand, long guns weren’t his strength.
“Don’t do it point blank, sweetheart. Close enough to touch—that’s when I’m most dangerous.” Seeing her lean and strong body braced against the tree, he wasn’t thinking about fighting at all.
She fired again, hitting one of the Gatling gunners in the shoulder. “The mechanical revolution’s been good for us sisters. Women sheriffs, mayors, carpenters and such. I’m for it, but do I have to do al
l the work here?”
Jack saw the frustration growing in the Man O’ War. He coiled at the edge of the ship’s railing. “Here’s where I do my business.”
But it was nothing like anything Jack had to take on before, and he’d handled everyone from crooked railroad detectives to cornered outlaws. The Man O’ War leapt over the rail of the ship. Thirty feet, he fell. The landing would break a normal human. But this man was more than human. He hit the ground and rolled, springing easily to his feet.
Anna whispered, “Holy God.”
The Man O’ War was fifty yards away and coming on fast. He drew a short cutlass from a sheath on his belt and rushed the trees where Jack and Anna took cover.
“No God,” Jack replied. “He’s man-made.”
When he was ten years old, war had shattered the land all around Jack. He’d been afraid. But it couldn’t last. There had been a job to be done. His family had to run. He had to fight. It started with a hunting knife in his hand. Then a huge Colt Navy revolver taken from a dead Reb soldier. Fear had burned away like gunpowder with each bullet shot.
Jack now broke away from the trees to face the coming Man O’ War. A quad-barreled shotgun with special high-compression shells he loaded himself against a three-foot blade. Good odds.
Even with the shotgun pistol’s grip in his half-mechanical hand, the recoil was intense. He braced himself and twitched his wrist to make his metal finger pull the trigger.
The blast bloomed in a ball of fire. Usually, this was where Jack’s target, be it man or reinforced door or moving stagecoach, fell. But there was nothing usual about this enemy.
With incredible speed, the Man O’ War dodged to one side as he ran. Instead of the shotgun slug hitting him square in the chest, it merely grazed the side of his ribs and punched a hole in his flowing coat.
Jack pulled the trigger again, rotating the firing pin to the next barrel. The Man O’ War was closer for this shot, and should’ve been sent back to his family tomb in whatever godforsaken country he was from. But he was just too fast. He dove low and the slug streaked over his head. And he kept coming.
If one slug wouldn’t do it, maybe Jack needed volume. He wished he had one of those army-issued Gatling rifles like Tom sported. Instead, Jack slung his shotgun pistol behind his back and filled both hands with his .44s.
Anna called out from the trees, “Drop him fast. There are more coming.”
A glance to the sky showed a small metal boat descending from the belly of the ship. It glided down, filled with at least eight armed men.
“Believe it, there’s nothing I’d rather do on this Earth than put this son of a bitch down.”
Unleashing both the .44s, Jack sent a barrage of lead at the Man O’ War. This technique had scattered groups of men, sometimes knocking out one or two. The Man O’ War spun through the sheets of lead. Jack cursed. The enemy wasn’t hit, but at least he had second thoughts about a full frontal attack.
The Man O’ War angled away from Jack and Anna, finding temporary shelter in another stand of trees. Jack backed into the cover by Anna, cracking open his pistols to eject the spent rounds. A quick swipe upward brought the cylinders against the fresh shells in their holders on his belt, reloading the guns. He snapped them shut and stepped close behind Anna.
She kept her sights on the coming boat, but they weren’t firing yet. Even the guns from the ship were quiet. Her breath was slow and even. Calm, despite the death swirling all around. Jack knew that a hellstorm of fires must’ve forged her into that kind of cold steel.
“Like your style, Anna Blue.” He kept his eyes on the trees where the captain had disappeared.
Her lips barely moved. “I’d like yours more if you’d killed that Man O’ War.”
“It wasn’t for want of trying, honey.”
She conceded a nod. “He was faster than a jackrabbit.”
“He’s still out there.” So far no movement in the trees.
But the small boat was getting closer.
Anna adjusted the rifle against her cheek. “Let’s turn these fools back.”
Her first shot knocked a man to the floor of the boat. Jack opened up with both pistols, hitting one man and grazing another. The sailor at the tiller wove the boat through the air, making a harder target. A couple of the men fired back, keeping Jack and Anna pinned to their cover.
Then the Man O’ War broke out of the darkness and started his charge again. Instead of the short cutlass, he now held a glass device with brass fittings. He slammed one metal end against his palm and some sort of chemical reaction started within the glass.
Brilliant white light cut through the fog, brighter than the sinking sun. Shadows lurched away from the glow when the Man O’ War threw the device at Jack and Anna. They turned as one, both firing and shattering the glass.
It burst like a Chinese firework, lighting up the whole area. The Man O’ War’s probing gaze took in Jack and Anna. He continued to scan over the area as the light dimmed from the small blast.
The last thing Jack saw before the dazzling light faded was frustration and rage on the Man O’ War’s face. The captain shouted orders to his men in a foreign language and the small boat swooped down toward him. With an incredible leap, the Man O’ War jumped fifteen feet and grabbed hold of the side of the boat. It rocked with his weight, but kept a steady pace up toward the larger ship.
Anna cocked her rifle.
Jack kept his eyes on the boat as it disappeared into the ship. “Don’t take the shot.”
“Only if they try something.”
The doors on the bottom of the ship closed and the larger craft widened its circles over the area. After one final pass, it swung higher and disappeared into the fog to the west.
Anna let out a long breath. Jack found himself doing the same as he holstered his pistols. She leaned her rifle against the tree and held up the small metal plate. It was still, no movement at all.
“They’re gone,” she said, sighing.
“And burning mad.” Seemed like Jack would never get the glowing image of the Man O’ War’s furious face out of his mind. “He didn’t find what he came looking for.”
“Did we?” She tucked the small metal device into the front pocket of her suede jacket.
“At least we got a way of knowing if that rogue Man O’ War is close.” He pulled his quad shotgun from his back, ejected the two spent shells from the break action, and reloaded the chambers.
Anna picked up her rifle and pushed fresh bullets into its feed tube. All the while, she stared into the darkening sky where the ship had disappeared. Night would fall completely soon, turning the landscape to black and gray.
“Maybe the Home Guard will pick him up.” She kept the rifle in her hands. “Or our British allies might step up. Hell, we send enough tetrol their way, they can send a couple of their Man O’ Wars to run him out of here.”
He reholstered the shotgun at his back. “You read a newspaper in the last week? The Brits are all tied up, fighting on their home turf. Those bastard Hapsburgs sprung a surprise attack. Liverpool is burning.”
She cautiously walked into the clearing and squinted into the dark sky. “I certainly don’t want to tangle with him again.”
“Just start singing next time that metal starts buzzing and we’ll be prepared.”
Turning from the sky, her stone gaze fell on him. “Mighty presumptuous to think you’ll be close enough to hear me.”
The thousand dollars hadn’t been on his mind during the run-in with the Man O’ War. “If we’re going to survive long enough—”
She cut him off with a flare of anger. “Enough we, Hawkins.”
His own frustration rose. “I don’t know how in hell a Man O’ War is part of this, honey, but you really think either of us has a chance at that money going against him alone?”
She almost fired off a response, then paused. Her mouth turned down as she thought. He’d seen her do this before, like she was chewing her thoughts as she chewed her
bottom lip. Something about it made a little extra pulse run through his veins.
Putting her hands on her hips, she blew out a sigh and shook her head. “Not going to get anywhere fighting each other. Especially with that part-metal freak out there.” She glanced at Jack’s hand with genuine concern. “No offense to you.”
He pushed his hat back with the metal hand. “Freak is one of the nicer things I’ve been called.”
It looked like she really did regret saying it. “Wasn’t talking about you.” She stepped closer. Usually when she moved, it was with the grace of a predator ready to strike. This time, some of her usual steel was gone, revealing a very human caution beneath. “You’re still a man.” She even reached out to touch the metal fingers.
For a moment, it seemed as if he felt her touch through the technology.
She continued, “The metal didn’t change you, like the Man O’ War.”
It was the closest they’d been without guns drawn. In fact, he felt completely disarmed. He looked over her face in the very last light of day. Her eyes were cool, her lips parted. A kiss, he thought. This is the moment.
Instead he shook his head to answer her. “You got that right. I was forged like iron long before I got this hand.”
The moment was gone.
The air chilled. Ocean fog dampened the ground, the trees, the back of his neck. Anna cooled as well. Her eyes searched over his face for a heartbeat, then she turned away and walked to her trike.
The mist softened her voice. “We both know the next step.”
“San Francisco.”
She secured her Winchester in its scabbard. “The bank that wired the money. I doubt the order really came from the state police.”
He was itching to move on, too, but the path seemed lined with nettles. “Banks guard information like they lock up their gold. We won’t get anything out of them.”
After considering what he said, she nodded. “I don’t do much of my work with city banks. We’ll go to Song’s lab then.”
With the last of the daylight gone, the whole area turned into shadow. Dim variations of gray and black shaped the trees, the land, and Anna.
