by Sean Kennedy
It was probably what Ezra would have wished for, had their positions been reversed. “At least it might make you more comfortable, once these are off.”
Icarus chuckled, with a slight taste of bitterness. “Yeah, extremely comfortable.”
The time for mollycoddling was over. Ezra knew it was childish, but he jerked the harness free from Icarus’s body. This time Icarus cried out, and Ezra felt guilty as he watched the man grow paler before him.
“Sorry,” he mumbled, even though he knew in the wake of his actions, it would ring false.
“Just let me lay down,” hissed Icarus.
Ezra did as he asked, and more gently than he had when manipulating Icarus free of his wings. As he hovered over Icarus just after releasing him, he was overcome with the mad desire to kiss him on the forehead. Surprised even at himself, he got back to his feet and turned to find Jazz staring at him.
“Are you not even going to offer our prisoner some water?”
“Don’t need your charity,” Icarus said from the floor.
“Water isn’t charity,” Jazz said. “And even though I’m flying this ship, don’t lump me in with Kneebone here.”
“You just taking orders, then?”
Jazz scowled, and turned back to the console. “He’s an ornery one,” she said to Ezra.
I’m surrounded by ornery ones, Kneebone thought. Funny thing was, if it wasn’t for the fact that Icarus was their prisoner, Ezra was sure that Jazz and their new prisoner would get along just fine.
And he didn’t even want to think about how much he would have liked to get along with Icarus himself.
He took his seat by Jazz and went back to staring out the window and ignoring the ill will that was coming at him from all sides.
“We’re just about to enter Settler’s Pass,” Jazz announced.
Ezra sneaked a glance back at Icarus. His eyes were closed, and he appeared asleep. Perhaps that was for the best, to sleep off the pain he was undoubtedly feeling from his bullet wound. It seemed almost a shame to have to wake him up for the doctor. He glanced down at the wings that he had stashed under the console, by his feet. They were a true engineering marvel, and he would bet money that Jazz would have a good look over them while he took Icarus in for medical treatment.
Obviously bored and needing some attention, Jazz sang out, “Hey, Kneebone, do you know why they call this place Settler’s Pass?”
“I can’t say I ever bothered to find out, no.”
Just as she was about to reply, they heard Icarus speak up from behind them. “Because all the settlers pass by it.”
It was an old joke, and an obvious one. But judging by the dilapidated look of the town as they flew over it, Ezra thought it was true. The town had seen better days, and those days obviously hadn’t been all that good when they were better.
“You been here before?” Ezra asked, if only to stop the silence from falling again.
“Been here quite a bit,” Icarus said. “The people need all the help they can get.”
“I grew up in a town like this,” Jazz said.
Ezra looked at her, surprised. Jazz was never all that forthcoming with information about her past, so for her to say something now spoke volumes. He just wished he knew of what, and he was reminded of his earlier observation that Icarus and Jazz probably would have been kindred spirits in a different time and place from this one.
“Then you know what it’s like,” Icarus said.
“Believe me, I do.” There was an edge to her voice, but she passed it off as concentration as she looked for a place to land them.
Ezra waited for her to say more, but it seemed that, for the moment, that was all they were going to get out of her. He wondered whether Lady Bart was as in the dark as he was when it came to Jazz’s past. Or did Jazz open up in the dark and allow her lover to become closer, let her see a side she would hesitate to show her best friend?
He bit down on the feeling of jealousy and busied himself by readying Icarus for landing. “How are you feeling?” he asked as he checked the bandages again, wincing at the amount of blood soaking the material.
“Probably be better once I see the doc,” Icarus admitted.
“I think I will be as well.” Ezra nodded.
“Careful there, skyboy,” Icarus winked. “I might start thinking you actually care.”
Ezra surprised himself by how easily his next words slipped out. “And what if I do?”
“Then you’re going to have a crisis of faith when you turn me in for money.” Icarus turned away, and Ezra could tell that the dismissal was meant to be a punch to his gut.
And damn if he didn’t feel it. But he shook it off and helped Icarus into a dark shirt that would hopefully hide any fresh blood that appeared until they got to the doctor. It wouldn’t help them if an overanxious townie decided to take an interest in them and their story.
“Come on,” he said gruffly. “You’ve spilled enough blood on my floor.”
Icarus only grunted as Ezra slipped an arm around his waist and lifted him to his feet.
“I’m getting us parked pretty close to the local doctor’s,” Jazz told him. “His name is Lester Caves. Make sure you stay on comm in case there’s trouble.”
Ezra nodded. “Keep an eye out.”
“Don’t touch my wings,” Icarus said as Ezra maneuvered him toward the cockpit door.
“You’re in no position to tell us what to do,” Ezra said curtly, still burning from the other man’s earlier statement to him.
Jazz, however, took it in stride. “Can I at least look?”
“It’s not a toy.”
“I know. It’s a miracle.”
Perhaps Icarus was touched by the reverence in her tone. “Okay, you can look.”
“Thank you,” Jazz said, smiling at him. “I promise to be careful.”
She was like a totally different person, the way she responded to Icarus. Polite, soft-spoken—not at all the roughhousing spitfire Ezra dealt with on a daily basis. What he wouldn’t give to have her treat him like that for a week… but then she wouldn’t be the Jazz he had grown to love throughout the years.
“Just remember to keep a lookout, and don’t get too distracted by the pretty,” he told her.
Jazz’s eyes narrowed. “I could say the same about you, Boss.”
Ezra sniffed contemptuously, knowing exactly what she was getting at. Icarus’s glazed expression implied that it was probably going over his head, though, so that was a relief.
“Be back soon,” he said weakly, and kicked open the cockpit door.
The fresh air, even with all the sand roiling around within it, was a relief as he and Icarus stepped out into the dustbowl that was Settler’s Pass. Ezra coughed immediately, and pulled the kerchief around his neck up and over his mouth. He sneaked a look at Icarus, and although Icarus also coughed, he seemed to be dealing with the air much more easily than Ezra.
Ezra was reminded of what Icarus and Jazz had said about the towns they had grown up in.
“Remind you of home?” he asked, possibly more snippily than he intended.
“Close enough,” Icarus said. “Gets to be they all look the same after a while. Usually when the money leaves the town. Could be either the mine shuts down, or a new road takes all traffic in a different direction. Something happens, and the town dies. People get hungry.”
Ezra could feel that lack of spirit emanating even from the faded weatherboard of the buildings. He could imagine the people sitting within, staring glumly at blank walls and waiting for time to end. “Is that why you do what you do?”
Icarus snorted. “Look around you. The government isn’t helping these people, and they should.”
“These people could move on.”
“Why should places die? Why can’t people stay in their homes?”
Ezra frowned. “I couldn’t wait to leave mine.”
He regretted saying it—it would give Icarus an opening to pry into his life. No more vague stat
ements that invite further clarification.
“And your parents? Do they still live there?”
“Yes, they do.”
“Because it’s their home. Maybe one day you’ll gain a sense of what a home is like.”
“You presume too much,” Ezra growled.
“Stop for a minute,” Icarus said. “I need to catch my breath.”
Ezra pulled him into a small alleyway between buildings and propped him up against the wall. “We can’t stop for long.”
“I know.” Icarus stared out at the town beyond the alley. “Your partner knows what it’s like to live in a place like this.”
“And that makes her more sensitive than me?”
“Maybe. Or maybe she just understands me more. I get the feeling she’s not as eager to sell me.”
A flush of anger rolled over Ezra again. “It’s business.”
“And that’s the exact same thing the government says when they exploit the people they are elected to protect.”
“Maybe they’re doing it for reasons we don’t understand.”
Icarus pulled himself upright again. “I don’t think you believe what you say half the time.”
“Like I said earlier, you presume a lot,” Ezra spat. “And you have a hero complex.”
Icarus laughed. “The people choose to call me a hero. I don’t think what I do is heroic. It’s just doing what’s right for those who are worse off than you.”
“That’s a nice way to look at it,” Ezra said dismissively.
Icarus stared at him for a moment, and then said steadily, “One day you are going to have to make a decision based on whether you want to let bad things to continue to happen, or whether you’re going to make a difference. I just hope it’s not today.”
“Why?”
“Because you’d make the wrong decision.”
Ezra spat by Icarus’s feet. “It’s time to get you to the doctor.”
“You don’t like hearing the truth.”
Ezra grabbed Icarus by the arm and slung it over his shoulder. If the man wasn’t going to move by his own volition, Ezra would have to help him along. “You want to hear a truth? The truth is that those who make a difference usually get martyred. What good are you dead?”
“I ain’t dead yet,” Icarus wheezed as Ezra moved them along at a pace he was having trouble with.
“It’s a fool’s errand.”
Icarus smiled weakly. “It’s not a fool’s errand if you’re fighting the fool.”
Ezra had opened his mouth to fire off another retort when he saw Icarus’s eyes roll back in his head and felt the full weight of his body fall against his own. There was no time to waste; he slung Icarus over his shoulder and began to run toward the doctor’s home.
Chapter 12
JAZZ gave a deep breath as she pulled the wings out from under Ezra’s seat and into her lap. The metal pieces clanged together, but gave no sign of pulling apart. The way Icarus had pieced them collectively gave the harness overall a uniform appearance.
“I know I promised not to touch,” she whispered. “But can you blame me?”
Icarus was lucky she wasn’t strapping his wings to her back and giving them a test run. She was sorely tempted to, and it was really only the fact that they were in town and she would be spotted by the inhabitants that stopped her from doing so. Hard to keep a low profile when you were scaring the birds out of their rightful domain.
What really interested her was the engine. It was so small, yet it managed to keep Icarus in the air and fly him over long distances. What combustion system was involved? How had he developed it? She would love to pick his brain about his invention; imagine what she and Ezra could do with their subsequent Lilliput prototypes if they incorporated similar engines? The dirigibles could become smaller and more streamlined—which would also mean they would become much faster. And everybody was relying upon speed these days, no matter what line of business they were in. Cargo could get to ports quicker, passengers would get to their destination much sooner than they were used to—and they all would probably pay much more money for the privilege.
Damn Ezra and his shortsightedness! If he would only stop focusing upon the reward for Icarus, and think of how using Bart’s money and Icarus’s expertise could do so much more for them….
But of course, that was dependant on so many variables. Firstly, Ezra would have to be less stubborn and pigheaded. Then Icarus, who seemed to care so much more about helping people for their own benefit, would have to develop a skin more suited to business.
When it all came down to it, it was impossible.
She stroked the tips of the wings lovingly. Ezra, and even Harding, might have been singing her praises in her skills with machinery… but it seemed Icarus was an unknown talent indeed.
And one who would be languishing in a prison cell soon enough. Unless she managed to talk Ezra out of his plans.
She would have more luck growing her own pair of wings.
EZRA stared out of the grimy window of the front room in the doctor’s house. There didn’t seem to be any suspicious activity out on the street and he hadn’t heard as much as a squeak out of Jazz, so maybe he could rest easy that they were safe for now.
There was still the doctor to contend with, however. He was not a stupid man. As Caves had given Icarus a cursory look-over, Ezra could have sworn that there was a glimmer of recognition on the old man’s face. He knew who his patient was. Ezra could only hope that he was one of the ones affected by Icarus’s reputation among the common people, and was more likely to be singing songs about Icarus, the Man of the People, down at the saloon on a Saturday night rather than alerting the authorities as soon as the two strange men had left his house.
In fact, he had been suspicious from the moment they had entered his house. Ezra was practically dragging Icarus by then, and Icarus had fallen into the doctor’s arms before the man could even examine his wound.
“Wait there,” Caves had ordered Ezra, perhaps suspecting that he would disappear as soon as the door was closed between them.
So Ezra waited obediently, even though he was going to do so anyway.
After some time the door had opened again, and the doctor invited him in to his office with a crooked finger. Ezra took off his hat and held it at his side, a customary sign of politeness to try and butter the old man up.
“What the hell happened?” Caves demanded.
So much for that, then.
Ezra tipped his head toward Icarus. “He didn’t say anything?”
Caves huffed to himself. “Didn’t get the opportunity. He’s dead to the world.”
Ezra was immediately at Icarus’s side. “He’s unconscious?”
Caves sat down at his desk. “You obviously weren’t the shooter.”
Ezra kept his back to the doctor, still anxiously looking down at Icarus. The closed eyes and pale appearance were too similar to that of a corpse for his liking. “Of course I wasn’t!”
“You wouldn’t care that much if you were,” Caves observed.
Care that much? Ezra thought. The doctor obviously didn’t know what he was talking about.
“How bad is he?”
“Bad. But he could have been worse. You got him here in time.”
“That’s a relief.” And it was. Ezra stared down at Icarus’s taut stomach. Even though he flew with the aid of machinery, it must do something to his muscles. Ezra’s own stomach didn’t look like that, that was for sure. He knew Icarus’s belly would be hard to the touch, and resilient. If he lay against it, he would be supported by its strength….
He had to concentrate. On other things.
The wound on Icarus’s side was now closed. The thread looked more akin to barbed wire; it pulled the skin together cruelly and the stress upon them made the surrounding area scarlet and angry-looking. That was no judgment on the doctor’s skills; it was probably what was needed. And Icarus was in far better shape now than he would have been had they flown directly on
to Shrevesport.
“How much do I owe you?” Ezra asked Caves.
The doctor waved his question away. “We’ll discuss that tomorrow.”
Ezra stiffened. “Tomorrow?”
“He’s in no state to travel,” Caves told him.
I’m being delayed, Ezra thought. Delayed and distracted. Company’s coming.
“It could make his injuries worse,” Caves continued.
“He’ll live,” Ezra said gruffly. Bet you don’t think I care so much now, right, Doc?
“Who shot him?”
“Didn’t see their faces,” Ezra said truthfully.
Caves stared at him for a long moment. “It wasn’t a shotgun pellet. Looked more like ship-fire.”
Ezra remained silent.
“Which means he was fired on from something that was in the sky.”
Ezra shrugged.
“Was he in the sky as well?”
“He was in my cockpit,” Ezra said, neglecting to add, after the fact.
“Did your ship sustain much damage?”
“What’s it to you?” Ezra asked.
Caves lit a cigar and stared out at him from a cloud of smoke.
“You got one to offer?” Ezra asked.
Caves pushed the tin toward him, and Ezra pulled one out. He clipped off the end and struck a match. The first intake of smoke was rich and indolent. He found himself gaining confidence. Funny how the distraction of a prop gave you that much-needed moment to compose yourself.
“You got something to say, Doc?”
“You’re a bounty hunter,” Caves said.
Ezra bristled. “Not usually.”
“But in this circumstance, you are.”
“I have my reasons.”
“I’m sure you think you do.”
“Oh, I do.” Ezra’s fingers twitched at his belt. Was he going to have to resort to shooting his way out of here?
“Do you know just how important that man is that you dragged in here?” Caves asked. He stood up and moved back over to Icarus. “Oh sure, he’s some worth to you as you brought him here in the first place. But he’s worth a hell of a lot more as a free man.”
