by Darrell Pitt
‘Shut up.’
‘Love always finds a way, Jack.’
‘I’m going to kill you.’
‘Marriage. Children. Keeping a home.’ She sighed. ‘It’s every woman’s dream.’
‘We’ll talk about this later,’ he hissed.
‘Before the wedding?’ she asked. ‘Or after?’
Someone shoot me, he thought. Please.
Carl piped up. ‘Best get some shut-eye,’ he told them. ‘We’ve got a long night ahead.’
Jack closed his eyes. Perhaps he and Scarlet could slip away from the others when they weren’t looking. Then they would get help and make contact with Mr Doyle—providing he was still alive. Jack would close his eyes. Just for a moment…
When he next awoke, the vehicle had stopped. Someone was shaking his arm. ‘Wake up, Jill.’ It was Tom. ‘Time to build a new nation under God.’
‘Sure.’ Cursing, Jack realised he had used his ordinary voice. Clearing his throat, he raised his pitch. ‘Let’s go.’
Scarlet was already out of the vehicle, talking to one of the men. It was cold, and Jack shivered as he climbed from the rear of the truck. The sky was clear and filled with stars. They had stopped on a road at the edge of a wood.
‘Where are we?’ he asked.
‘About a mile from the tracks,’ Mark said. ‘We’ll walk from here.’
Mark turned to the others. He told Sam and his brothers to stay with Scarlet and the vehicle. He, Tom, and Jill would set the explosives on the track. He expected they would be away for about an hour.
Jack caught Scarlet’s eye. She gave him a small nod. It communicated a whole conversation. He would have to play along with this charade until an opportunity presented itself.
William sidled up to him. ‘Be careful,’ he said. ‘I don’t want you getting hurt.’
‘Neither do I.’
William winked at him.
Jack forced a smile, but he felt like his face was breaking.
Mark lit a lamp. Tom and Jack picked up a box, and followed a narrow path through the woods. Jack could not see any life from any nearby farmhouses. The whole world was asleep.
‘Good thing you’re strong,’ Tom said.
‘Kitchen work can be hard,’ Jack replied. ‘You know…lifting all those pots.’
‘So…you got a boyfriend?’
Not again.
‘Yes,’ Jack said, a shade too forcefully. ‘We’re getting married.’
‘Married? Aren’t you a little young to get hitched?’
‘No.’ This was getting worse by the minute. ‘I love him. He’s the apple of my eye.’ Bazookas, Jack thought. How do girls do this?
The walk through the forest seemed to take forever. Starting up a small hill, Mark turned to Jack with an apologetic look.
‘Those guys back there are jerks,’ he said. ‘They should have been nicer to you. Especially seeing how you’ve come all this way to help.’
‘They were nice…enough.’
‘The president discovered a spy a few months back. Took him up in his airship so he could see the view.’
‘The view?’
‘From the outside. Threw him off the ship.’
‘Goodness.’
They continued traipsing through the woods, following a gentle rise until the forest thinned away. The crest of a hill lay before them.
‘I’m not getting you to set the explosives,’ Mark said. ‘This dynamite’s a little tricky.’
‘Tricky?’
‘It’s been sweating. Old dynamite leaks nitroglycerine. It could blow early if it’s not handled properly. Both of you wait here and I’ll set it.’
Mark disappeared over the rise. This was probably the time for Jack to make his break. But how was he going to escape in the dark? He couldn’t see five feet in front of himself.
‘What’s that?’ Tom whispered.
‘What’s what?’
‘That sound.’
It was a distant throbbing. At first Jack thought it was a car, but it was coming from above. It was an airship, closing in fast. Lit up on all sides, the ship was steel grey, the gondola armed with guns and cannons, and it zoomed straight over their position.
This couldn’t be a coincidence. The American flag was emblazoned on one side; the airship was a military vessel on patrol. Maybe Gabrielle and the others had gotten through to the authorities, or maybe there was a leak in Ashgrove’s network. The ship began a slow turn.
‘Run!’ Jack yelled.
He grabbed Tom and started to drag him out of sight. The boy resisted him. ‘My pa!’ he said. ‘I’ve got to save him!’
A series of shots rang out. Jack saw the figure of Mark making his way down the slope. ‘Wait here,’ Jack said. ‘I’ll look for your father.’
Jack scrambled off through the undergrowth towards the tracks. The men on the airship might have interrupted the plan to disrupt the rail network, but they had no idea about the dynamite on the tracks. Jack raced up the incline. The airship was shining a great bright light on the woods.
It was dark at the top of the ridge. Jack found the tracks by falling over them. He tried to stand, but got tangled up in his dress again. The track moved beneath him.
No. It wasn’t possible. He felt the rail line. It was vibrating, which could only mean one thing.
A train was coming.
Somehow, Mark’s group had gotten it wrong, or this was an unscheduled train. The plan may have been to use a timer to detonate the explosives, but Jack was sure a train would do the job for them. He had to get the box of explosives off the tracks—though first he had to find it.
It was black down here. Not even any moonlight. Then he glimpsed it—a hard, rectangular form silhouetted against the murkiness. Jack crept closer. Was it attached to the sleepers?
The tracks gave a high-pitched whine. The train was drawing near. A tiny light appeared in the distance and was growing larger by the second. Jack examined the box. A timer, an old-fashioned clock, was attached to the top with wires disappearing into a pile of paper-wrapped sticks, about a foot in length. It should be possible to move the bomb without detonating it, Jack thought—as long as he was careful.
Very careful.
Jack gripped the box on both sides. A smell was coming off the box. It was sickly sweet, like bananas or corn syrup. The track continued to shake. The train let out a blast on its whistle—a long, mournful sound that broke through the night like an enormous bird. Jack knew the driver could see him on the tracks now. It was useless trying to get him to stop. Too little time and not enough track.
Lifting the box, Jack felt his heart pounding like the piston of an engine. A river of sweat tangoed along his back. He carried the box one step, then two, then three steps away from the tracks.
A rush of air struck him as the train arrived. His left foot slipped and he almost tumbled down the embankment. The train thundered past like an avalanche, the noise deafening. The ground shook as the carriages clanked by, one by one, and the express disappeared into the night.
Thirty seconds passed. A minute. Two.
He had saved the train.
Jack sat the box down with a gasp. He felt sick. The candied smell from the dynamite was horrible, making his head ache.
The airship was returning. The searchlight passed over him. Jack’s legs were still shaking, but he staggered back and pointed. Look at the box. Did they understand? This is dangerous. He tried to mime, but he might as well have been dancing a jig. The airship was almost upon him.
Then a bullet ripped into the ground. Jack turned and ran. He tripped on his dress and fell. Rolled. Tried to grab hold of a branch, missed it and somersaulted out of control, slamming into a rock. Another shot rang out.
Ka-boom!
It was as if a volcano had arrived out of nowhere. The entire top of the ridge lifted in a single eruption, sending dirt and pieces of rail in all directions. A bullet had detonated the dynamite.
With debris raining down around him
, Jack struggled to his feet and ran, still deafened by the blast. Branches slapped at him, tore at his face. A low ringing sound filled his head. He raced past the darkened trees. Tripped. Fell again. He picked himself up. The airship’s lights had gone out in the explosion. The vessel plummeted out of sight on the other side of the hill. Fragments of rock and track must have punctured the balloon, releasing the combustible hydrogen. The sound of a crash followed.
Somehow, the airship did not explode. The men on board were lucky to have not met a fiery end. Jack checked his petticoat. Good. He still had the Whip of Fire. The ringing in his ears began to subside.
‘Jill!’
The voice was so close that he almost jumped into the air.
‘Mark?’
Mark and Tom loomed in the darkness, catching Jack in the glow of their lantern. He was about to run when Mark slapped his shoulder. ‘You clever girl,’ Mark was saying. ‘Did you cause the dynamite to blow? Did the Northerners move it off the tracks?’
‘Yes. They moved it…and I…’
‘How did you set it off?’ Mark asked. ‘Was it a rock? Did you throw a rock at the dynamite?’
‘Yes…a rock…’
‘What a girl!’ Mark said, clapping his hands together with excitement. ‘Wait’ll I tell the others.’
He pushed Jack and Tom forward, and the three of them made their way through the forest where they encountered the road and their steamtruck parked down a hill. Mark waved them into the vehicle. Jack was relieved to see Scarlet was already on it, waiting for him. The vehicle started.
Mark spent the next few minutes telling his story. They had become separated in the dark. The airship had chased Mark and his son through the forest. ‘And Jill,’ Mark said enthusiastically, ‘went back to set off the dynamite!’
Jack shot Scarlet a glance. I’ll explain later.
Scarlet gave him an enthusiastic hug. ‘Well done,’ she said. ‘You’ve struck a blow for freedom.’
‘I’m man enough to admit when I’m wrong,’ Carl said. ‘I was wrong about you, Jill. You’ve got the courage of a Southerner. No doubt about it.’
‘Thanks. I’m…proud to be here.’
William grinned. ‘You’re a girl in a million,’ he told Jack. ‘You’ll make a fine wife one day.’
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
They drove all night, arriving as the sun rose at another Ashgrove estate. Sam explained to Jack and Scarlet how the leader kept changing locations so the authorities could not track him down. All the drivers had cover stories in the unlikely event of being stopped and questioned.
Like Ashgrove’s other properties, this house was huge, flanked by two enormous barns. Jack wondered if one of them contained the Excalibur.
Is Olinka Slate being held prisoner here?
The steamtruck headed past the house towards a hill—and, to Jack’s surprise, drove straight into it! The entrance had been camouflaged with a mottled green curtain. The vehicle continued into an underground cavern, an assembly area for the SLA, filled with other trucks. Flags covered the walls. An alcove was crowded with people eating around long timber tables. Some were laughing. A few were cheering.
‘Let’s get some chow!’ Mark said as they climbed from the truck.
As their group merged with the crowd, Jack and Scarlet managed to slip away. The last thing Jack wanted was to be surrounded by a table of men praising his exploits.
‘What on earth happened back there?’ Scarlet asked as soon as they were out of sight.
Jack explained. ‘They thought I was some sort of heroine,’ he added.
‘You’ve won several hearts tonight.’ Scarlet smiled. ‘Don’t turn your back on love when it calls…’
‘You are truly rotten.’
‘Just letting you know what it’s like being a woman.’
‘I get the idea. It’s hell.’ Jack scowled. ‘Let’s find Mr Slate and the meteorite. But first I’ve got to get out of this dress. This petticoat is killing me.’
Escaping proved difficult. There was a team of security guards positioned around the doors. ‘Where are you going?’ one asked.
‘Outside,’ Scarlet said. ‘We need some fresh air.’
‘Not now. There are Air Force patrols searching the area. No-one is allowed outside unless they’re on official business.’
They returned to the throng in the underground shelter. People were everywhere, eating and celebrating. A few, however, seemed despondent. Maybe their missions had failed, or perhaps they were only now realising the path they had taken—treason against their own nation.
Jack and Scarlet sat near a man at a small table. He peered gloomily at his cup of coffee.
‘Bad night?’ Scarlet asked.
‘Who wants to know?’
‘We had a pretty rough time of it.’ Scarlet pretended not to notice the stranger’s animosity. ‘We were able to destroy a train line, but an airship attacked us and we were almost caught.’
‘There was a road.’ The man stared into the distance. ‘We had to block it so we cut down a few trees. Everything was fine, but then a car came racing around the corner. A family was inside…’
The man stopped talking, tears in his eyes.
‘There’s food at the tables,’ Scarlet said gently. ‘Try to keep up your strength.’
Moving on, Scarlet nudged Jack, pointing out a woman with grey hair who was clearing plates onto a trolley. She was taking them back to a kitchen.
‘Kitchens need water to operate,’ Scarlet said. ‘As well as exhaust systems to take away fumes.’
They got up and helped to stack dishes onto the trolley. The woman, black rings under her eyes, thanked them for their help. When the trolley was almost full, they grabbed another pile of dishes and headed towards a side passage that opened onto an area where more women were preparing food. One glanced up at them and pointed to an enormous heap of metal plates and cups next to a sink. ‘Over there,’ she said. ‘They’re piling up faster than we can wash ’em.’
Jack and Scarlet started cleaning. Within minutes they had spotted another doorway. When no-one was watching, they snuck through it. Cold air flowed towards them.
They turned a corner and found a grilled gate. It was locked, but Scarlet had a piece of wire on her and had it open in seconds. Now they were in a small cave on the side of a hill. Beyond a low rise was the roof of a house.
‘We should get out of here,’ Jack said. ‘Try to find a way back to Mr Doyle.’ Assuming he’s still alive, he thought.
‘We can’t do that,’ Scarlet protested. ‘Not yet. We promised Gabrielle we’d complete her mission.’
Scarlet was right. Gabrielle could be dead by now, but a promise was a promise. And the meteorite and Mr Slate could not be left in Ashgrove’s hands.
But how were they going to get in the house?
‘Wait here,’ Scarlet said.
She spun around and went back down the corridor, returning a few minutes later with a pencil and paper in hand.
‘What are they for?’ Jack asked.
Without answering, she wrote on the paper ‘President Ashgrove’ and folded it so the words were showing. ‘We’ll pretend to be delivering a message,’ she said. ‘It should get us past security.’
‘And if it doesn’t?’
She fluttered her eyes. ‘There’s always William.’
They marched down the slope to a trail leading towards the estate. Rounding a bend, they reached a checkpoint. Scarlet gave the guards a nod and flashed the note at them.
‘Message for President Ashgrove.’
Jack almost fell over. Scarlet had a perfect American accent.
‘We’ll deliver it.’ The guard went to take it from her.
‘We were ordered to put it in his hands ourselves,’ Scarlet said.
‘No-one sees the president.’
‘Do you want to get into trouble? This information is vitally important.’
The guards exchanged glances. Without waiting for a reply, Scarle
t pushed them out of the way, and Jack gave them an embarrassed glance as he hurried after her.
Out of earshot, Scarlet gripped his arm. ‘That was probably the most terrifying thing I have ever done,’ she said. ‘I may pass out.’
‘You didn’t look nervous at all!’ he said. ‘And where did you get that accent?’
‘It’s in the workbooks Mr Doyle gave us. Haven’t you been listening to your gramophone records?’
Jack reddened. ‘Uh, not lately.’
‘Not ever, more like it!’
‘You’re sounding more and more like Miss Bloxley.’
‘You’re looking more and more like Miss Bloxley!’
Ashgrove’s military commanders, waiting for instructions, were stationed around the house, makeshift SLA flags pinned to their jackets. Jack and Scarlet strode past them as if they were on official business. A wide staircase rose before them. If Ashgrove was a creature of habit—and he appeared to be—then Olinka Slate would be kept in the basement.
‘What are you doing here?’ a voice demanded.
A man with silver hair and a dark beard had come out of a room and now glared at them suspiciously.
‘We’ve got a message for the President,’ Scarlet said.
‘Who’s it from?’
Scarlet didn’t hesitate. ‘Mr Smith.’
‘I’ll take that to him. Wait here.’
Jack felt faint. The man took the paper from Scarlet and disappeared into the room, closing the door behind him. Jack and Scarlet shot a look at each other and bolted for the door under the stairs. Locked! Scarlet produced her piece of wire and went to work on it.
Come on, Jack thought. Open. Open!
The door clicked just as they heard footsteps approaching. They hurtled through, pulling it shut behind them. Voices came from the corridor.
‘The girls were here a minute ago!’
‘But there’s nothing on this damn paper!’ It was Ashgrove. ‘This might be important! Find them!’
Jack and Scarlet hurried down the stairs. The basement was enormous, empty except for a broken chair leaning against a wall. Was there a door leading to a secret chamber? It was hard to see; a single gas lamp barely penetrated the gloom.
