by Nico Rosso
Hints of anger and defiance flared in his voice. “You and me will deck out in the sharpest fineries, polish our bullets, and walk arm in arm up to the Grand Opera House in San Francisco.”
Operas were held in the winter. She imagined the cold looks of the men with their silver-tipped walking sticks and the women in well-cut furs. “They don’t want either of us there.”
“That’s why we’ll do it.”
He sounded so sure. She almost had to believe him.
A new angle caught in the light of her torch. She put an elbow into Jack to slow him. He saw what she did and moved more cautiously.
“Another door?” she asked.
Sticking from the soil was a piece of wood, about a half-a-foot long. As they came closer and the torches illuminated it, she saw that whatever had cut the path had also sawed through the wood. Splinters were torn out from one edge in a fringe. The other side of the wood was darkly lacquered.
Jack picked at the wood with a fingernail, pulling off a chip of the finish. “The door to the afterlife.”
“I thought you didn’t believe in that.”
“One thing’s certain, once you get in here, you ain’t coming back.” Knocking his metal knuckles against the wood, it thunked slightly hollow. “Coffin.”
Swinging the yellow circle of her torch over the walls, she saw the soil had settled in patches. Holes dug and then filled again. “We’re under the cemetery.”
“And I was starting to like this place.”
They left the shard of wood behind, continuing toward the unknown end of the path.
Any second, she expected bony hands to tear through the dirt and into her skin. “I might find some old friends down here.”
“I put a few people in here myself. Think they hold grudges?”
“Wouldn’t you?”
He nodded. “I’m not the forgiving type.”
“Makes for a good hunter.”
“You sure make a potent spirit.”
“Not dead yet.” Though their surroundings could convince her otherwise.
“Even alive, Anna, you haunt me.”
“Don’t mean to.” But to know she snagged his attention the way he did hers made the darkness a bit less dangerous.
“Sure you do. Every woman knows how an ether-powered Winchester and a horn-handled knife in her miner boot affects a man.”
Their pace slowed. Dim outlines showed in the yellow light ahead. Hard angles and small glints. Metal machinery. Jack put his torch away and drew his other gun.
She whispered, “If this is a trap, it’s gonna be a long run back up top.”
“I don’t smell any fuel or oil. Whatever that is might be as dead as whoever’s resting in these caskets.”
Inching forward, her senses strained for any hint of action. At the first tick of metal, she’d pull the trigger. Jack seemed to be wound just as tightly. He stalked with her, a gun in each hand, one pointing at the machinery, the other aimed back where they came from.
The light shined off rows of jagged metal teeth. A mechanized predator. More shapes emerged. The teeth were set into circular saw blades, about six inches around. The blades were lined up in jointed arms that spread out from the center of the machine, linked to a central gear with drive chains and pistons. The whole thing was the size of a barrel, and rolled on small metal wheels. Seeing it fully, the device seemed like a fat metal spider.
With the arms drooping against the ground, the machine seemed dead. But nothing was certain with the incredible technology devised by these inventors. It could spring to life any moment and cut them to ribbons.
She and Jack came to a stop, about ten feet from the device.
He tipped his head to just beyond it. “See what it’s blocking?”
The path stopped on the other side of the machine. But there was a small steel ladder leading into a vertical passage.
Imagining the device alive, teeth extended, she saw that when spinning, the arms would fit the walls perfectly. The center of it was a short, wide tube that turned with turbine fins.
“This thing cut the tunnel.” She closed the distance and tapped her gun barrel on the central tube. “This pushed the dirt back.”
Jack glanced into the darkness behind them. “There must’ve been another device that cleared all that soil out.”
“Or a shovel.”
He groaned. “I’ve done that labor. Two bits a day, me and my pa clearing drainage trenches beside a road.”
“Family still around?” She’d never cared to ask anyone else.
“They stayed in Fort Collins. Don’t work shit jobs like that anymore. My pa’s a tinsmith, and they’ve got a little shop.”
She knew the place. Not specifically, but she had seen plenty of family stores with counters built by the man and woman behind them. “They keep newspaper clippings of all your exploits?”
That got a chuckle out of him. “Sure do.” The laugh soaked quickly into the dirt walls. He was quiet for a moment. “I’m sorry there ain’t people to put up your mentions.”
“Don’t be.” She shrugged off the familiar absence. But Jack’s real concern for her wasn’t familiar at all. “You can’t miss what you never had.”
The device was half as tall as the tunnel. She holstered her gun and tested the front edge of the metal with her foot. Jack put a pistol away and extended his hand. She balanced on him, climbing on top of the machine.
The ceiling kept her crouched until she got to the other side of the device. The upward passage opened up, extending a dozen feet toward the surface. Polished with use, the rungs of the ladder looked stable.
She shined the torch higher, but it barely penetrated the darkness. Yet there was another light coming from above. Faint lines drew a square.
“There’s a door up there.”
Jack quickly climbed over the machine and stood close to her, peering up the passage. “Single file up the ladder. I’m first, you’re covering.”
Professional pride flared. “I’ve busted through plenty of doors on my own without you.”
“Don’t I know you have? This ain’t about me doubting your skills.” Even in the dim light, she saw how serious his face was. “There’s no way I’m sending you up there first.” He holstered his gun and pulled the quad shotgun off his back. “And there’s no one I trust other than you to back me.”
They stared at each other. It was all too complicated for her to unknot.
He continued, “So give me a kiss and cock your pistol.”
She clicked back the hammer to her .45. Then she leaned into him, bringing their mouths together for a kiss. Even with what happened in the lodge, their hunger hadn’t dimmed. It seemed stronger, now that she’d gotten a taste of what they were together.
Wrapping her hand in the leather harness on his shoulder, she pushed him back, away from the kiss. It wasn’t worth fighting him over who climbed first. But she wasn’t going to let him completely run the show.
“Don’t worry,” he said. “I could never forget what you got.”
He turned and started climbing the ladder. With the quad shotgun in his half-mechanical hand, he moved from rung to rung with his left. As soon as he was a few feet up, she got on after him. At least she had a fine view of his ass.
With only about a body length between Jack and the door in the ceiling, a sense of dread shot through her. Sweat slicked her palm as she gripped the metal ladder. Something bad was coming. She tapped the side of his boot with her pistol. He looked back down at her with a question on his face.
She had to find the breath. “The metal plate.” The small device was alive in her shirt pocket. “It’s buzzing. The Man O’ War is here.”
Chapter Nine
* * *
ANNA’S TENSION RAN right up the steel ladder like electricity, filling Jack’s body. It was better climbing toward the unknown. But with the knowledge that the Man O’ War was up there, the last few feet seemed like a mile. Jack was still troubled by how damn fast the
part-metal ship captain was. But he wasn’t all metal, and that meant he could die.
As quietly as he could, Jack climbed up to the end of the ladder. Anna didn’t back down, staying right behind him. Her presence was more reassurance at his back than he’d ever known. The trick now was keeping them both alive.
The door was just above his head. Beyond it, he heard the sound of feet scuffling, muffled voices. Using the barrels of his quad shotgun, he slowly pushed the door up half an inch. Just enough to let more light into the passage and give him a sliver of a view.
Only a corner of the room was visible. Men struggled. Most of them had their calves wrapped in strips of cloth, or sported ragged pants. One wore the wide Chinese trousers Jack had seen in the little neighborhood. He must be Song. The thousand dollars seemed like enough fuel to get Jack through the door and into the fight. But the heavy tread of the Man O’ War slowed him. The captain wore tall boots, stalking around the melee. It didn’t last long. Song was surrounded. And Jack and Anna were outnumbered.
He turned down to her, shaking his head to let her know it was impossible. She coiled, as if she could go right through him and blast the door open. But it would be death for the both of them.
Looking back into the room, he saw the captain and his crew shuffle Song out a far door. Jack lifted the door higher, revealing a room paneled in white marble, lit by opaque glass set into an iron ceiling. The place was empty, so he opened the door completely and climbed through.
Anna was instantly in the room with him, hissing quietly, “What the hell? Song was just in here, wasn’t he?”
They didn’t look at each other, instead aiming their guns through the space.
“Busting into a room with five men is one thing, but taking on that many shooters and a Man O’ War would’ve wiped us both out.”
No disagreement came, but a glance showed the anger on her face. “Mausoleum would be a perfect place for it.”
She was right. The marble room was hung with plaques and brass baskets for flowers. The door they’d come through was what should’ve been used to take coffins below. But Song had made modifications to the space. Workbenches covered with half-completed projects lined the walls.
No time to figure out what all the machines did. Voices outside drew Jack and Anna to the front of the mausoleum. They gathered together, bodies close, to look out the partially opened door. In the cemetery, Song’s hands were being tied by the crewmen while the Man O’ War loomed over them.
Jack kept his voice low. “Think we can take them out in the open?”
“I count at least four ether pistols. Bandoliers, probably with sodium grenades. The Man O’ War has an ether rifle.” She grunted with frustration. “Then there’s that.”
The small metal boat skimmed out of the sky toward the group. On the prow was a stout swivel gun, a recent addition after the run-in they’d all had on the coast.
She was eager next to him, itching to move. He understood.
“They’re taking our prize,” he said. He could drop two of them before the real fight would start. But he knew how it would end from there. Maybe one or two more of the enemy would be killed, along with him and Anna.
“It ain’t for the bounty.” They could only watch as Song was loaded into the metal boat. He was a slim man, about five-and-a-half feet tall, with slick black hair. “No authority would pay a rogue Man O’ War for bringing a man in. He’s got a different need for Song.”
The crew and their quarry were all in the boat and it lifted off. The only one standing was the Man O’ War. He scanned below with his hawklike gaze. Jack pushed on the heavy brass door, swinging it open wider.
Anna grabbed his arm. “He’ll spot us.”
“Let him. This is our territory.” He stepped out into the sun. “He knows he’s being hunted, he’ll run harder. Make a mistake.” Jack stared back at the Man O’ War, who shrank further into the sky. “Then we’ll kill him.”
“We have to catch him first.” She turned, getting her bearings, then took off running through the cemetery.
Jack followed, keeping one eye on the small boat as it disappeared. Another shape rose into the sky near it—the airship. Soon the boat would be swallowed up and the Man O’ War would be on his way to whatever bad deeds he had planned.
The front gate of the cemetery couldn’t come fast enough. Rows and rows of tombstones blurred past as Jack and Anna ran for the tall wall that surrounded the space. She didn’t even slow down to unlatch the iron gate. Instead she kicked the center of the doors and they sprang open.
The airship was on the move in the distant sky. Jack pointed it out to Anna as they ran into the neighborhood of industrial buildings. “It’s heading east.”
“There’s Song’s place.” She directed them to the building with the fantastic devices on the top. And for all that security Song still got himself captured, away from home.
They rounded the corner of the building. Jack couldn’t help but smile when he clapped eyes on his old friend. The engine-cycle waited, right where he left it. Wasting no time, he adjusted the choke and pulled the ether tanks out and adjusted their valves. The catalyst hummed, soon drowned out by the roar of the motor.
Anna’s trike thundered. Between the two of them, it felt like they should shake the brick buildings to the ground. But they didn’t stay around long enough to find out. Streaking into the air as fast as their propeller fans could push, they turned east.
The airship was about the size of a .22 bullet in the distance. Jack and Anna leveled off at a thousand feet above the ground and pursued from a little over two miles away.
Jack tightened his goggles down, settling in for the chase. Anna maintained her throttle while quickly tying her hair into a ponytail with a leather thong. She pulled her hat low, focused on the airship.
He called over to her. “Told you he’d make a mistake.”
She craned her neck, checking the angles around the distant ship. “I don’t see any advantage.”
“He stayed on our turf.” There had to be a way to kill that bastard. Seeing him hurrying away Jack’s bounty lit a fire for revenge that would never burn out. “If he’d been smart, that airship would be over open water, somewhere we couldn’t follow.”
“He nabbed Song for a reason. Whatever he needs him for can’t be done over the ocean. It has to be done somewhere out here.”
“Song’s an inventor; maybe the Man O’ War wants to fix up his ship, improve the tech.”
“That Man O’ War is part technology himself. He could be the one getting the upgrades.”
Son of a bitch. “We didn’t do so good against him before. Hate to think about him with improvements.”
She found a way to wring a little more speed out of her trike. “So we find him, and we bury him before he gets the chance.”
Jack adjusted the choke, giving a little more fuel and picking up speed to pace her. They were past the city, over the bay. Soon the blue-green water slid past and they were over land again. Rolling hills gave way to flatland. Orchards and agriculture. Small farms and giant co-ops. Some had steam-driven mechanical harvesters, others the more modern tetrol models.
Vast cattle ranches spread out beyond the agriculture. The acrid stench of the manure even reached as high as Jack and Anna flew. Cowboys tended fences and maintained order, riding horses or smaller engine-cycles.
The green of the hills seemed different. Deeper, alive with potential. He took more notice of solitary trees, imagining what the shade underneath must be like.
He’d seen all this territory before. But not with someone who wasn’t shackled into his sidecar. Never with Anna. She made everything a little new, including him.
She brought her trike as close as possible without knocking their vehicles together. “At least the sun is at our backs.”
Time was measured by the lengthening of the shadows on the ground and the dropping of his fuel-gage needle. The airship was a dark smudge against a darker, distant range of mountain
s.
“How’s your tetrol?” He tapped his gage, but the needle didn’t miraculously jump up to full. “I’ve got an eighth of a tank. Won’t be good much longer.”
“Same here. Been pushing hot ever since we left that telegraph office.” He remembered the thrill of that run. Now that he knew what it was like to share a meal with her, share their bodies, he’d take that chase to the end of the world. “Didn’t think to refuel.”
“The Man O’ War is his own fuel. That’s how it works, right? His implants feed the batteries that run the ship.”
“Meaning that bastard can run as long as he’s alive.”
The air cooled as the sun sank. The chill whipped at any exposed skin and penetrated his clothes. He’d been through worse on a hunt. Though his quarry had never been entangled with something as dangerous as a Man O’ War.
He assured himself that he would not fail. “Then we’re just going to have to figure out how to end him.”
Late light cast her in a deep blue shadow, a piece of the sky come alive. “He’s fast, and cocksure. Opens him up.”
“Fake a left, hit him with the right.”
“We get him alone, without his crew making trouble on the flanks, we can take him.” It wasn’t a boast. She’d walked the same paths Jack had for years, breaking the hardest men in the territory.
He always rode alone, but just then, he wished they were sharing a saddle. “Hot damn, Miss Blue, there ain’t another woman as attractive as you.”
It was too dark to see if she blushed. But she did smile. “You’re nicely put together yourself, Mr. Hawkins.”
Night descended further, inking the sky a deeper blue. Jack and Anna eased off their throttles. The airship had grown to the size of a heavy bumblebee in the sky.
She leaned forward, trying to squint through the darkness. “They’re slowing, circling.”
The ship hovered above a plain that abutted some foothills. The only sign of habitation was four quartz lights demarking a group of buildings surrounded by a wall, about one-hundred-fifty-feet square. Glancing to the north and south, Jack collected his bearings.
