Jed and the Junkyard Wars

by Steven Bohls

  “Clouds fly higher than any mouse’s wings ever. Even over sky stacks.”

  “You mean into the fringe?”

  She shrugged. “Maybe.”

  “Looks like it’s over.” Captain Bog nodded to Sprocket. “Take us in.”

  The propellers hummed and the ship lurched forward. The inky darkness had drained from the clouds, and they were again a puffy white.

  “Okay,” Kizer began, “you know the drill. Once we land, Pobble clears stock space in the bay. Mess storage is packed eleven cans deep, deck to ceiling, so don’t stop for cans. Batteries and ship repair, nothing else unless you see—what was it called again, Jed?”

  “Smoked rattlesnake.”

  Kizer nodded. “Smoked rattlesnake.”

  Originally, he’d only cooked rattlesnake up out of curiosity, but the crew had loved it. Admittedly, it wasn’t half bad out of the can. It had been years since he’d eaten rattlesnake. He thought of the desert camping trips he used to take with his dad. They’d roast a snake over the fire, then lie on the cracked earth and watch the sky change from a deep blue to—

  “Volley incoming!” Kizer shouted.

  A bowling ball punched through the freshly white clouds and soared toward Bessie. Sprocket kicked a lever, but it was too late. The ball slammed into the deck and went straight through the ship as if the hull were made of paper.

  “Everyone all right?” the captain asked. “Let’s take her in a bit slower, Sprocket.” He searched the clouds. “Still a few stragglers.”

  “Aye.”

  Sprocket cranked another lever. A terrible whine whistled from the engine. She repositioned the lever and jiggled it. The screech worsened.

  Riggs yelled something from below. His feet pattered up the stairs to the main deck, and his head peeked up at them. “What the clunk just happened?”

  Kizer pointed to the sky. “Bowling ball. Went straight through Bessie.”

  “No.” Riggs shook his head. “It went straight through her engine!”

  Captain Bog spun around. “It what?”

  “I need to shift power to the defluxor core,” Riggs said.

  “Will it hold?” the captain asked.

  “A brand-new one? Definitely. One that’s been on its last mile for the last two thousand two hundred and thirty-eight miles? I don’t know.”

  “Any other options?”

  Riggs shook his head.

  “Do it,” the captain said.

  Riggs hurried off to the engine room and paused at the staircase. “If you hear something snap, or see even a little green smoke, then, well, we’re all going to die. So”—he gave a two-fingered salute—“it’s been a pleasure. Mostly.”

  The crew waited in silence. Sprocket sat frozen in the command chair, gripping the ship’s controls. Shay chewed her bottom lip. Kizer paced in erratic circles. And Captain Bog—emotionless as ever—lifted his chin a few degrees, hands clasped behind his back.

  Nothing happened.

  No sound.

  No smoke.

  “The core’s connected!” Riggs shouted from below. “And it’s taking the added payload!”

  The crew cheered, and the corner of Captain Bog’s lip turned up. He nodded to no one in particular.

  Then a snap echoed inside the belly of the tug. Metal clanged and rattled below their feet.

  Another snap.

  And another.

  Each snap louder than the last.

  Everyone stared at the deck as ghostly tendrils of green smoke slithered through the metal planks. The strands of vapor joined together until the entire deck was bathed in green mist.

  Sprocket pulled a lever. The engine snarled and sputtered.

  “Land the ship!” Riggs shouted. “Now!”

  Sprocket tugged and shoved levers. “The helm isn’t responding!”

  A final piece of metal snapped. The hum from the engine fell silent. Bessie was dead.

  “We’ve lost propulsion!” Sprocket yelled.

  “Sky prop, now!” Captain Bog called.

  The nose of the ship tipped forward.

  They began to fall.

  Sprocket jammed a lever, and the sky propeller blades flipped into place. They started spinning, but it was too late.

  Wind rushed against Jed’s face.

  We’re going to crash. We’re going to die. I’m going to die.

  “Brace yourselves!” Captain Bog wrapped his arms around the railing.

  The sky prop whirred faster. Jed anchored himself to the smokestack. The once-blurry brown of junk was now rich with detail.

  Sprocket yanked levers and stomped pedals, but nothing responded.

  The sky prop reached full throttle, and the tug began to slow.

  Lift. Lift.

  Shay squeezed her eyes shut and curled around the cable next to Jed. She looked like a frightened mouse with nowhere else to hide. Sprocket released the controls and strapped the helm belts around herself.

  The sky prop shrieked as it struggled to slow the ship. It wasn’t enough. Bessie rammed into a pile.

  One second Jed’s arms were wrapped around the smokestack, and the next they weren’t. Where had it gone? Where was it?

  He was staring at the sky.

  Then at the deck.

  The sky.

  The deck.

  His limbs flopped around his body. Weightless. He reached out. Grab something! You’re going to die. Grab anything!

  His head smashed against something dense, twisting his neck in a way it had never twisted before. A pop echoed in his ears. His eyes shook, and the world became a splatter of borderless color. Nothing made sense. Nothing fit together.

  He tried to lift an arm, a finger. His body wouldn’t respond. Stillness crept through his veins like venom. Pressure squeezed the air from his lungs, and the swirl of color before him faded into black.

  The sky was the color of uncertainty.

  No, Jed thought. That doesn’t make sense. He studied the sky. Stared at the black splotches breaking through the clouds. They were bulbous and foggy and made his stomach feel like eggs.

  Eggs? That’s not right either. What’s happening to me?

  He tried to stand. His legs wouldn’t respond. He looked down at his body, and thick horror oozed through his chest.

  They’re—they’re—

  They were gone. Legs gone. Arms gone. Everything gone.

  He screamed.

  The clouds darkened and roared. Black rain poured down. But it wasn’t rain. It was oil. Splashing against him. Covering his face—his eyes.

  My legs! I need my legs!

  More oil.

  I can’t stand up! Somebody help! I’m going to drown!

  The oil poured from the clouds in great sheets. Jed coughed and choked.

  So much oil—too much.

  It was heavy and thick and rose like water in a sink. It rose past his ears. Past his chin. He clamped his mouth shut, and it poured over his face—over his eyes. Its weight pressed against him like a slab of stone. A dizzy blur seized his mind, and his consciousness faded.

  • • •

  When Jed awoke, his skin felt slick and cold. His heart hammered against his chest. He swiped at his arms, trying to wipe away the liquid.

  Sweat. It’s only sweat. His heart slowed, and he drew in a breath. I was dreaming. He checked each arm and each leg. They were where they belonged. His vision cleared. There was a woman in a red dress dancing in the rain.

  A painting.

  “About time,” the captain said. “Been wondering when you would get your lazy backside out of my bed.”

  Jed sat up. His vision swirled like a kaleidoscope. “What happened?” He rubbed his head. “We were crashing…and then…”

  “And then we crashed. And then you lazed about in my bed for two hours.”

  “Is everyone okay?”

  “They’re not a bunch of scrawny babies who need two-hour naps after Bessie has a bumpy landing.”

  “And Shay?”

>   “Banged up. She isn’t complaining, though. You get one scrape and you’re out cold.”

  Jed rolled his eyes. “Yeah, I get it.” He rocked his head from shoulder to shoulder. It had popped so loudly when he’d hit…well, whatever it was that he’d hit.

  The porthole revealed that they were still grounded. “I’ve been out for two hours?”

  “At least.”

  “But”—sweat beaded his forehead—“what about the iron? And the copper?”

  “We’re patching up as fast as we can. Crew’s still looking for parts.”

  Jed’s heartbeat thudded in his cheeks. “One hour—two at the most. It’s what you said! We have to get out of here. We have to hide.”

  “I’m not going anywhere anytime soon.” The captain patted his thigh. A pool cue and a yardstick wrapped with an orange scarf splinted the bone below his left knee.

  “Is it broken?”

  He shrugged. “I’ll bet you thirty batteries I could still climb a ladder faster than you.”

  Jed gave a sympathetic smile. “How long before we’re found?”

  “I was expecting visitors a half hour ago. We’ve been lucky to make it this long undiscovered.”

  Jed stumbled from the bed and made his way to the main deck. The impact had shredded the hull, and two of the main propeller blades were cracked.

  Riggs stood near a pile of gears and scavenged parts, flipping through his notebook.

  “What can I do to help?” Jed asked.

  “Got any magnetic couplings or platinum fuses?”

  “I don’t know what those are.”

  “Didn’t think so.” Riggs sighed. “Go find a car horn, three feet of copper tubing, and a pickax. Check the backsides of refrigerators for the tubing.”

  Half the items in his notebook still hadn’t been crossed off. “We’re not even close to getting in the air, are we?” Jed asked.

  “Closer than it looks.” Riggs scratched four items off the list and drew a few arrows. “We don’t need everything on here to lift her off the piles. Just get me that tubing.”

  Jed pictured the steamboat war zone. “Copper and iron will be here any minute.”

  Riggs gave a single laugh. “Of course they will! What do you want me to do about it?”

  “We should hide.” Jed scanned the skies for movement.

  “Are you crazy? I’m not leaving the ship! Do you know what they’ll do to it? Strip it bare and turn it to scrap!”

  “Better than iron prisons. Or dying.”

  Riggs tapped the list. “We have time. We can make it.” He crossed another item off the list. “Maybe if I pull turbine fans and swap the coolant generator with—”

  “It’s not worth it.”

  Riggs snapped his notebook shut. “This is my home! I’m not leaving my home!”

  Jed pointed to the skyline. “If warships start showing up, you could easily jump down and hide under some bucket, but what about the captain? He won’t be able to run.”

  Riggs rubbed his eyes. “If I can just find…” He lifted a sheet of metal.

  “How sure are you that she’ll even get off the ground?”

  Riggs looked at the cracked smokestack, broken propellers, and fractured hull. “I don’t know.”

  “We need to get the captain and find a place to hide,” Jed said. “We’ll fix her up as soon as the warships leave.”

  Riggs reread his list before kicking a copper pipe sticking out of the deck. “Fine. Start gathering cans. I’ll get the captain.”

  Jed hurried to the mess and grabbed a hiking pack. Sorry, Pobble. No berries and syrup if we’re going to last longer than a day. He filled the pack with corned beef hash, beef stew, chili, sweetened condensed milk, and tuna with oil.

  He hefted the pack on his shoulders and marched up the stairs.

  “Here, take the captain,” Riggs said. “I need to find the others.”

  Riggs took the bag of food, and Jed replaced him as a crutch. The captain leaned against Jed and hopped on his uninjured leg. Jed stumbled against the weight.

  “Of course they send the runt to carry me,” the captain said. Despite his effort to lighten the mood, apprehension bled into his voice. “You doing okay there?”

  “Riggs is gathering the others,” Jed managed to say between steps. “I’ll be fine. Just keep moving.”

  “The stowaway hatch is buried. We’ll need to jump from the main deck.”

  Jed paused to catch his breath. “The main deck?” The stairs in front of him looked twice as long as they normally did. “Okay.” He sucked in a breath and lifted under the captain’s arm. “Come on.” His words left his mouth in labored bursts. “I can climb ladders faster than you can walk.”

  Jed half carried, half dragged the captain up the stairs. When they reached the main deck, they both collapsed onto the floor. Jed stood and stared at the junk below them.

  “We’re going to need help,” Jed said.

  The captain didn’t respond; his eyes were frozen on the horizon. Dark clouds billowed in the distance. They bubbled and churned, swirling together like a junkstorm.

  Jed checked his wrist. The watch hands were still.

  Captain Bog shook his head. “That’s not a storm.” Jed looked closer. The black clouds hovered, dense and impenetrable in the distance.

  “Falcons?” Jed asked.

  Captain Bog shook his head again.

  “Dreadnoughts. Hundreds of them.”

  “Oh, little Sprooocket.” Spyglass’s singsong voice sounded like shattering glass. “I told you I was patient. My legs are coming, and I’m so very hungry.”

  Adrenaline surged through Jed. He hooked the captain’s arm around him. “Move!”

  They limped forward.

  “Don’t go far,” Spyglass said to Jed. “I’ve got plans for you, too.”

  The red light was back. Blinking steadily on Spyglass, as if it was winking at Jed.

  When they reached the railing, Jed peered over the side.

  “The ladder,” the captain said.

  Jed shook his head. “You won’t be able to make it down the ladder!” He spotted the crew in the distance. “Riggs! Riggs!”

  They were too far away. Even if they heard him, they couldn’t make it back before the dreadnoughts arrived.

  Captain Bog pulled away from Jed. “Get off the ship! Get to the others and hide!”

  “I’m not leaving you behind.”

  The captain drew his fist back and cracked it against Jed’s skull.

  Jed’s vision flickered and he stumbled.

  “Get off the ship!” Captain Bog yelled. “Go!”

  Jed pulled the rope ladder into the ship.

  “What are you doing?” the captain asked.

  “Shut up.”

  Jed looped its end around the captain’s waist.

  “Get this off me!” The captain pulled at the rope, then drew back to strike at Jed again.

  Jed kicked him in the leg between the splints. Captain Bog howled and clutched his broken leg while Jed tied the rope.

  Jed reached into the captain’s pocket and took his can opener. “Hide yourself when you get down there.”

  The captain looked up from his leg. “When I get down where?”

  Jed took a deep breath and shoved the captain over the railing. When he was about to slam into the junk, the rope ladder pulled taut. The captain grunted, and his body swayed above the ground.

  My turn.

  Jed stepped onto the ladder, but as he put his full weight on the rung, the rope began to tear. He scrambled back into the ship.

  “Get ready!” He pressed the blade of the can opener against the rope and began sawing. The captain’s weight helped the fibers tear easily. The strands snapped. There was a solid thunk as the captain hit the junk pile.

  Captain Bog groaned, then hollered, “You ever do something like that again, I’ll pull off your eyelids!”

  Fumes seeped into the air. The dreadnought fleet was nearly on top of them.<
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  “Jed, get down here!” the captain yelled. “Get off that deck! They’re going to see you!”

  Jed straddled the railing. It was too high to jump. He bolted to the lower decks and hauled the mattress from the captain’s bed. He’d spent all his energy carrying the captain, and now his breath was short and his muscles wobbled.

  Almost there.

  He lifted the mattress high and ran.

  “What are you doing?” Captain Bog called.

  Jed flipped the mattress over the edge and leaped from the deck. Air rushed over his face. His stomach dropped. He landed with a chest-shattering impact. The force was so powerful, Jed wondered if he’d missed the mattress and hit a boulder instead. He coughed and struggled to suck in air.

  “Go!” Captain Bog yelled.

  Jed crawled to his feet, barely able to breathe. He searched for the captain but couldn’t see him.

  “You trying to give away my location?” Captain Bog called. “Because if you stick around any longer, you will.”

  Jed stopped looking and ran. The sky darkened above him as dreadnoughts surrounded the tugboat: a fleet of ships, stained black from the smog lingering around the hulls like ghostly cocoons. An angry orange glowed through cracks and seams, as if inside each ship was a giant furnace.

  A pair of hands wrapped around Jed’s face and yanked him to the ground.

  “Get down!” Sprocket whispered. “Where’s the captain?”

  “Hiding by the ship. Where’s everyone else?”

  “Riggs sent Shay and me to find you two. Then those showed up.” She motioned to the circle of dreadnoughts.

  “Why are they all here?” Jed asked.

  Sprocket shook her head. “I don’t know. But the ground will be swarming with dread any second.”

  “We have to get to the captain!” Jed said. “They’re going to find him!”

  “If we step one foot out there, they’ll find us too.” She tightened her grip on Jed’s arm. “Right now you do what I say, got it?”

  “But he’s—”

  Sprocket squeezed, and Jed winced. “This is what I do. And I’m really good at it. Okay?”

  “Okay.”

  Like scampering mice, they ducked from cover to cover. Sprocket led the way over loose junk, avoiding gaps and unsteady footholds. Jed matched her steps.

  A sound echoed from below. “Psssst!” Shay smiled up at Jed from underneath a lawn mower. “Down here.”