Burke sat up, grabbing Vance by the wrist. "You're going to have to shovel coal," he said. "Let me put your hand on the-"
"I can see," said Vance.
"What?"
"I can see! My sight's not fully back yet, but it's getting there. I only see blurry colors out past a few yards, but up close I see pretty good."
"So… you've been faking?" Burke asked.
"No! My sight's just started coming back in the last little bit."
Thorny scratched his scraggly beard. "I've heard of men going blind after they drink goom. Maybe it works the other way around, too."
"I'm pretty sure it's because of the dragonseed," said Vance.
"What?" asked Burke.
"I swallowed it five minutes after you gave it to me. What did I have to lose?"
"Your life, if it had been poison. Your mind, if it had been a hallucinogen." Burke frowned. "How do you know you can really see? Maybe you're just imagining it."
Vance reached out and put his finger on the tip of Burke's nose.
"The dragonseed worked. My sight's been getting a little better since I took it. First I could just detect light from dark, then shapes started coming back, then colors."
Burke grimaced. He lived in a world that followed certain rules. Magic seeds were the stuff of fairy tale. They didn't belong in a world of gears and guns. Vance had lost his sight due to a head injury. Sometimes these things got better on their own. The timing must be a coincidence.
The hull shuddered violently.
"I'm guessing they found the sledgehammer," said Burke as the ringing in his ears abated. "Here's the ten-second guide to running this thing. This is the boiler." He opened the iron door next to Vance. A small red flame still flickered inside. "Shovel coal. There's a foot operated bellows. Pump as if your life depends on it. We need a lot of heat to build up steam."
Burke checked the gauges. There was still a little pressure left over from this morning, but nothing like what they'd need to escape.
The hull rang out again from another blow of a sledgehammer. He wondered how long it would be before one of the Mighty Men was clever enough to wheel a big cannon out of the foundry and use the Angry Beetle for target practice.
"Thorny, the Beetle can only roll backwards. I designed all the controls to sit up front. You need to look out that little hatch in the back and tell me what you see."
"Got it," said Thorny.
"Don't open the hatch until we're moving," said Burke. "The Mighty Men might be smart enough to poke a shotgun inside."
Burke looked around at the mention of a shotgun. He had one shotgun inside, which he'd been using to test the visual span of the various gun slots. He had plenty of shot, and two barrels of gunpowder. The Beetle also had fixed cannons at the front and back, and there was the goom-powered flamethrower, with maybe thirty gallons in the reserve. He also had a sky-wall bow and a quiver of arrows. He'd wanted to test if there was enough space to actually use a bow at one of the slots. There wasn't.
Burke wiggled his way past Vance to reach the driver's seat. Burke calculated the odds of escaping and frowned. Sometimes it was a curse to be good at math. He was certain he hadn't killed Ragnar. Stonewall probably wasn't permanently blinded. Was it too late to find some reasonable way out of this? Or was he going to have to kill a lot of people?
All this time, he'd been worried about what Ragnar might do to his fellow men once he had guns and cannons. Now he was in a situation where he was going to be turning his weapons against humans, and for what? So that they might die a mile away instead of here in the warehouse?
He realized that nothing had hit the hull for at least a minute. He cracked open the sighting hatch at the forward cannon. He was facing the open doors leading to the street. The Mighty Men were now milling about outside. Ragnar and Stonewall were nowhere to be seen. Burke watched through a slit only an inch high and six inches long. It was hard to say what he might be missing. Why had they stopped trying to get in? The Mighty Men stood back as a new group came onto the scene, straining as they pushed one of the newly forged wheeled cannons into place and turned it toward the warehouse.
Burke looked at the pressure gauge. They needed more time.
People were going to have to die.
"I'm going to fire the cannon," he said, reaching into one of the many pouches on his leather tool belt. He pulled out a clump of cotton wads and leaned back in his seat, stretching out to Vance and Thorny.
"Stuff these in your ears and cover your ears with your hands. Keep them covered until I've taken my shot."
"With cotton in our ears, how will we know?" asked Thorny, as Vance helped him jam cotton into his ears.
Burke smirked. "You'll know."
He stuffed cotton into his own ears as he looked back out into the street. They were still ramming gunpowder down the shaft of the cannon. A five pound keg of black powder sat on the street. He couldn't have asked for a better target.
Burke spun the sighting wheels for the forward gun. The Angry Beetle's cannons weren't as big as the one in the street, but it would get the job done. Unlike the Mighty Men, he'd loaded his cannon in advance.
"Hands over your ears!" Burke shouted, as he pulled the flint trigger.
He squeezed his hands over his ears and closed his eyes, his jaw clenched as tightly as possible. The seconds passed with unbearable slowness.
The noise hit him in the chest like a hammer. The Angry Beetle lurched as the five pound charge in the street exploded.
Burke pulled his hands away, yanking out the cotton. His teeth felt loose.
"Everyone all right?" he asked. There was no answer. He could barely hear his own voice over the ringing. He tried again, shouting, "Vance? Thorny?"
"You're right that we'd know," said Thorny.
"I should've used more cotton," said Vance.
"Keep pumping the bellows," Burke said. "The pressure is almost in the zone."
He slid the sighting hatch open once more. The front wall of the warehouse was gone. There was a crater where the cannon had been a moment before. Unidentifiable lumps of meat were scattered in all directions. He slid the hatch shut before he had a chance to identify any of the chunks.
"Gentlemen," he said. "It's safe to say we've worn out our welcome. I'm sorry you got swept up in this."
"You apologize too much," said Thorny. "Let's roll."
"What's it look like behind us?"
Thorny pushed the rear sighting hatch open with the back of his twisted hands. He shook his head. "The doors are closed."
"I don't think that's going to matter," said Burke as he let out the clutch and engaged the gear. The Angry Beetle shuddered as it crept backward. It took a surprising length of time to cover the short distance to the rear door. Fortunately, when it finally reached the barrier, the war-machine pushed through the wood as if it were a paper curtain.
"Since we can only move in one direction, it's important we don't hit anything the Angry Beetle can't push over. I'm going to follow the southern boulevard to the city gate. Let me know if I'm getting close to any buildings."
Burke leaned over to watch out the sighting hatch as they rolled away from the warehouse. He knew the layout of Dragon Forge as well as anyone. He just might pull this off.
"We're getting close to a big building on the left," said Thorny.
Burke turned the wheel.
"No!" said Thorny. "My left!"
Burke hastily steered the other way.
"We should be coming up on a big broad avenue now," he said. "See it?"
"Yeah," said Thorny. "People are moving fast to get out of our way. A lot faster than they need to, honestly. Pokey Turtle might be a better name for this contraption."
"Duly noted," said Burke. "Keep shoveling, Vance. We need to build up more pressure if we want to get up any kind of speed."