Captain Hink glanced out the open door and watched as the town of Vicinity rocked and pitched below, passing by like lumps of stone along a riverbed. They were high enough above the roofs, everything seemed to be a miniature of itself.
That sailor they’d plucked off the Black Sledge had babbled all through the night.
Course, could be true that old General Alabaster Saint was on the prowl out these ways. If the Black Sledge had fallen under his employ, didn’t take much to think there might be other ships, other captains, willing to lend their wings to the general. Especially if he put a stranglehold on how glim was caught and sold. And trading towns near the ranges, such as Vicinity, stood as ideal locations for the Saint’s business.
“See anything, Mr. Hunt?” Hink asked as he took out his knife and got to work digging a sliver out of the side of his thumb.
“No.”
Hink leaned a bit out the door to gaze at the land. They were outside of town now, just over the western rise of ridge covered in scrub and trees. Close enough to the trees that Hink could reach out and pull off a branch if Guffin were any worse of a pilot.
Nothing moved in these woods. Well, nothing natural. There was the occasional glimpse of the Strange fading from ghostly form to mist to night wind.
Hink shivered despite himself. He had a keen dislike of the things that walked this world in inhuman clothing.
Most men didn’t believe in bogeys and ghouls. But he’d spent a lot of the worst days of his life in darkened forests and bloody fields where the dying were going about it loudly and slowly.
He’d seen the things that came to watch. Sometimes with ragged teeth, ragged bone, ragged smiles. Things that found the suffering of mankind as attractive as an opera house play.
Below, a creek ran just north of town, a cold slate ribbon snaking through the night. He didn’t see the Strange anymore. Nor did he see a wolf. Looked like Mr. Hunt was on a cold trail.
“Strange things out this night,” Hink said under his breath as he went back to picking at his thumb with the knife.
Cedar Hunt grunted as if he had heard his words. Which was near impossible over the Swift’s fans and boiler.
“Turn around,” Cedar said. “Take us back over the jail, back where the fight’s going on.”
Guffin and Lum glanced at Hink, waiting his orders.
“Those townfolk wouldn’t want a wolf among them,” he said.
“Exactly. But that’s where he would be,” Cedar Hunt said. “Turn us back east straight over the jail.”
Captain Hink nodded at Guffin. “Let’s get this done and on with,” he said. “East, Mr. Guffin.”
The ship rolled a bit and felt as if she hovered there in one place as one set of fans pushed harder than the other, spinning her about tight.
“Bring her low, Mr. Ansell. Wouldn’t want our guest here to accuse us of leaving an unturned stone.”
The prow of the ship tilted down. Cedar Hunt grabbed ahold of the overhead bar to keep his footing, but didn’t once look away from the window.
The woman in the hammock let out a soft moan.
Captain Hink frowned, and walked his way uphill toward the women. “My apologies,” he said to Mae. “I haven’t properly introduced myself. I’m—”
“Captain Hink,” the woman said. “Yes. Molly told me. I’m Mae Lindson, and this is Rose Small. Could you hold this binding down, Captain? The knot’s come loose.”
Hink lent Mae a hand.
The woman in the hammock had her eyes closed. But even so, she looked like a beauty who slept in those old fairy tales he’d been told as a child. Her skin was too pale, her breathing too shallow. Still, the curve of her cheek, the arch of her lips, put a soft thud in his chest in a way only the sight of glim had managed before.
She was pretty, for sure. But not well. No, not at all.
“What’s wrong with her?” he asked as Mae tore back the length of cloth so she had a better strip to tie with.
“Caught in an explosion. A bit of…of tin is wedged in there.”
Hink frowned. “Small wound to be causing so much pain,” he said. “Did it blow through the back?”
“No. We checked. It’s in there. And it’s plenty big enough to kill her, Captain.” She paused as if listening to a far-off sound, then shook her head and got back to seeing that the binding was down tight. “It’s fine, it’s fine,” she said. Maybe to the woman, maybe to him. Maybe just to herself. “He isn’t looking, he doesn’t want it.”
“What?” he asked.
“The Hold—”
Captain Hink leaned in closer. The word had died on her lips, and she shot a glance up at him. Fearful eyes lowered, and she set her shoulders as if to remind herself of the weight of them.
“The hole,” she said. “That might have been blown through the back of Miss Small’s shoulder. You aren’t looking for it. Now, if you’d move your hand so I can tug the knot tight?”
“Talk to yourself often, do you?” he asked with his best bar-side smile. “They say the winds do that to a person. You often been aboard an airship?”
“No, Captain. I prefer to keep my roots in the ground. But thank you, for…” She looked up, looked around her as if maybe just seeing the place for the first time. “Oh. Thank you for pulling us up and out of that town. Why were you there?”
“We make drops, supplies and such. Doing a run before winter storms wash out the sky trails.”
Mae Lindson’s eyebrows notched upward. She clearly did not believe him. “Is that so?” she asked, like a schoolmarm catching a student putting a frog in a neighbor’s lunch pail.
“Or maybe we’ve just come back from the mountains and are looking for some supplies ourselves,” he said with a wink. “You see what happened to that town, ma’am?”
“We just came through before sunset.” She buttoned up Rose’s dress, but not so high that it would pull tight across her bandages. Then she buttoned up her coat to keep her warm and decent.
“They were already dead when we got there.”
“The townfolk?” Hink asked, not quite knowing what to do with his hand now that he wasn’t touching Miss Small. He finally decided to loop his thumb through one of the rigging belts at his hips. “They looked lively enough to me.”
“It’s a difficult thing to explain, Captain Hink,” she said. “Very strange happenings.”
“There,” Cedar Hunt said. “Can you slow the ship?”
“Captain,” Guffin called out.
“Well,” he said to Mae, “once we put our feet earthward, I hope you’ll save some time to tell me your tale.” He tipped his finger to his forehead, even though he wasn’t wearing a hat. “Ma’am.”
Captain Hink strode away from the women and stopped beside Mr. Hunt, peering over his shoulder at the ground below.
There was a fair amount of movement going on down there. People moving about, but they seemed slower. As the airship paused overhead, they looked up. Well, the ones that still had eyes anyway.
“There’s a mess that’s gonna need cleaning up come morning,” he said.
Cedar Hunt didn’t say anything.
“Spot him?” Captain Hink asked.
“No.” The word came out more as a growl. The hair on the back of Hink’s neck rose up in response.
“Why are you folks out this way?” he asked.
“We’re headed to Kansas,” Cedar said. “Mrs. Lindson has family there.”
Captain Hink nodded. That might be part of the reason. The women didn’t look related. Rose Small looked nothing like Mr. Hunt. He hadn’t seen a ring on Miss Small’s finger. If she and Mr. Hunt were married, Cedar wasn’t acting like a concerned husband whose wife just might be dying.
“And you and Miss Small?”
“I’m headed east from there. Miss Small’s traveling for education.” He glanced over his shoulder, the ruby lens of his goggle giving him the look of a mad deviser. “That sustain your curiosity, Captain Hink?”