Chapter 1
Before she ever set foot in the yard, Reverie Maddoks knew it was going to be a bad day at work.
She didn’t know exactly how bad, of course. The Knowing was never that specific. The first warning sign was the dull ache that began to gnaw at the pit of her stomach as she stood in line with her fellow laborers, grass up to her ankles, squinting against the morning sun, waiting for the bell to ring so that she could begin the day’s work. It’s nothing. I just hate this job, is all. Pounding rivets and tightening gears, all so the Conglomerate can take rich assholes out on pleasure cruises.
She looked over her shoulder at some of the people behind her in the line. Almost without exception, their faces were expressionless, their eyes devoid of joy or excitement. She wished she could simply leave – throw up her hands and call it a day. But her Mam was depending on her. That wasn’t an option. Maybe it’s time I just get on with my plan. The knowledge that she had that option as a fallback if things got too bad loosened the knot in her chest for a moment. And then…
She could see the zeppelin leaving the ground, its majestic wings glinting in the morning sunlight.
And then she was aboard the zeppelin, and a terrible groaning noise nearly deafened her. The deck tilted in a single, sickeningly-fast movement, and she landed hard on the deck, bruising her butt.
And then she was still aboard the zeppelin, but the deck was even now. Someone stood in front of her. A man. A young man. Tall and lean with dark hair. “Here, catch!”
And then something was coming at her. A glowing white rock. She lunged forward to catch it against her chest…
The zeppelin was leaving the ground again, and this time.. Was that cheering she heard?
“Here, catch!”
A Scarecrow was pointing a gun at her as she held onto the glowing white rock.
“Here! Catch!”
All of these images blurred together in her mind’s eye, playing out one after another in quick succession, until her vision went black and a deafening sound erupted in her ears.
A gunshot.
“Maddoks?” As the roar of the shot died down, she became aware of a voice from behind her. A man’s voice. A familiar voice. “Maddoks?”
Then there was a hand on her shoulder.
She whirled at the contact, her whole body tensing as her hands balled into fists. “I don’t want your stupid rock!” she said. Looking around, she realized that her outburst had drawn stares from several of her fellow laborers. And then her higher brain functions kicked in, and she realized that she knew the man who had touched her. They’d worked together before, and gotten drunk together more than once.
“Rock? What are you talking about, Maddoks?” Gordon Fields asked. “I was just going to ask if you were okay. Guess I’ve got my answer.”
“I’m fine. Really I am,” she said, though the cold sweat running down her brow said otherwise. The intensifying ache in her stomach did, too. “I’m just a bit groggled. But why the formality, Gordon? You know you can call me ‘Revi.’”
“After what I just saw, I think I’m going to call you ‘off your chump,’” Gordon said. He crossed his arms over his chest.”You want to tell me what’s really going on? You look like you’re gonna flay.”
I wish I knew. “Nothing, Honest.” No sooner were the words out of Revi’s mouth than a deafening groaning noise erupted from behind her. She didn’t have to turn around to know what it was: The great iron gates that separated the zeppelin-assembly yard from the rest of Whitestone Falls were opening.
After several excruciating seconds, the terrible noise died down. Gordon opened his mouth, but before he could continue the impromptu interrogation, a shrill voice rang out from behind her: “Hey, ratbag!” She turned to find the source of the voice, and as she did, she let out a breath which she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. Gordon was a smart man. With a little more time and a few more questions, he might have figured out what had really happened to her. And in that case, he would have told her Mam. And her Mam could never know.
As it turned out, the shrill voice belonged to a man sitting at a table at the head of the line. His cheeks were rosy, and he wore a bowler hat and a fancy white shirt. He glared at the person who was first in line – Revi could not be sure whom it was – and said: “What do you think you’re doing? Just because the gates opened, doesn’t mean you can go in. Your time starts when the bell sounds, and you know that! Don’t think if you get here early, you can go home to your little doxie sooner. You can sit here and wait like everybody else.”
Revi heard Gordon snicker from behind her. “That must be Yeats,” he said, voice a whisper.
“He’s one of the new supervisors the Conglomerate sent in. Never met him before, but from the stories I hear, he’s a charmer even by their standards.” Gordon scoffed. “If you are gonna flay, could you maybe do it all over that charming white shirt of his?”
Revi let out a little laugh, shaking her head, as the line began to move forward at a snail’s pace. “Right sure they’d arrest me for that.”
“That’s never stopped you before.”
That got another laugh out of Revi. The line inched forward again, and she took several steps to keep up. With each step, the ache in her stomach grew worse and worse, as if someone had tied her small intestine in a knot and was tightening that knot a little more each moment. This time it wasn’t just the Knowing giving her vague warnings of impending doom. Gordon was onto her. He wouldn’t forget what had happened this morning. He’d be thinking about it and asking around, and eventually he’d put the pieces together. Which meant that she was out of time. She had to go through with her plan today.
Maybe that’s why I heard a gunshot. Even the Knowing is telling me it’s time.
She looked over her shoulder, across the field, past the line of waiting workers. In the distance, perhaps a half-mile back, she could see the line of identical houses at the edge of town: one-story clapboard boxes with triangular roofs. Each was painted white, and none was big enough to fit more than two people with any comfort. Not that the Conglomerate cared a whit about their comfort. Revi remembered sharing a single cramped room with her parents and siblings.
I won’t miss that house. Not many things about this town I will miss.
She glanced at each of the weary workers behind her in turn. Gordon was the closest thing she had to a friend among them. There were many whose names she did not know. The only family she had left was Mam, and that was… complicated.
Revi shook her head to clear away the memories that rose unbidden in her mind. The ghosts of arguments past. Time to focus. I’ll need tools. But where do I get them? As she racked her brain, Yeats’ bellowing voice cut into her thoughts once more: “Move while we still have daylight, you gibfaced jollock!”
This time, his target was the small, stout man standing a few yards ahead of her. Yeats stood up, wagging his finger in the man’s face, and as he did, Revi saw the outline of a gun in his pocket. A smile pulled at her lips. That will do nicely.
An idea began to form in her head: If she could play Gordon and Yeats off against each other, that should provide her the distraction she needed to snatch the gun from the rosy-cheeked tyrant’s pocket. She was pondering how to do that when another man walked out of the small office to the right of the table where Yeats was stationed. Graham Jimmeson. Revi’s eyes lingered on him. On the blue-green eyes and the tall, willowy frame. The sight of him at once brought a smile to her lips and an ache to her heart. She wanted to apologize to him, to ask him if he had ever seen her as more than just a “little sister” to be looked after and protected. But she couldn’t. Jimmeson had always been able to read her perfectly. Well, almost perfectly. If she talked to him, he’d cajole a confession out of her, and her plan would end before it began.
She turned back to face Gordon, casually walking backwards as the line moved ahead. “Aye, Gordon,” she said, shoving her hands deep in her pockets. “Let me see if I can wear the fop down a bit. I bet I can. Maybe even get the foremen involved.” She nodded over her shoulder towards Jimmeson. As she did, she caught a glimpse of his fellow foreman, Kreager, coming out of the small office, dressed as always in a checkered shirt and brown coveralls. This was perfect. All the pieces were in place. She just had to make it happen.
“You always did like to start trouble,” Gordon said with a smile and a laugh.
Revi did not smile back. Instead, she steeled herself, trying not to think about what would happen if her plan failed or if she lost her featherlight touch. She turned away from Gordon just in time to see the person ahead of her in line step aside, leaving her face-to-face with Yeats. The cantankerous supervisor towered over her – which wasn’t difficult, since she stood five feet tall.
Taking a deep breath, Revi stepped forward. She knew that she could not show even an iota of hesitation. Yeats was a bully, and bullies had a keen nose for fear. “Miss Reverie Maddoks, here for the shift, sir,” she said, tucking a lock of auburn hair behind her ear.
“Out.” Yeats waved a hand at her. “You shouldn’t be here and we both know it.”
“Coc y gath!” she said, making sure that her voice was loud enough that all around her could hear. From behind her, she could hear a chuckle from Gordon – he’d found the expression endlessly amusing since she’d taught him that it was Welsh for “cat’s willie.” She kept her face carefully neutral, keeping her gaze fixed on Yeats. “I’m the best rivet-setter in this entire operation. And no one else can strip a pinched joint or anchor in a tri-set seam the way I can, either.” The murmurs behind her told her that she’d attracted plenty of attention, so she added the final touch: “So quit being a quisby and let me get to work!”
“Oh, fuckin’ hell. It’s Revi.” That was Jimmeson’s voice. From his tone, Revi knew that her little outburst had managed to shake his normally-unflappable calm. “We don’t need this today.”
Yeats gave no sign that he’d heard Jimmeson. He gave Revi a contemptuous glare. “The only thing you should be pounding out is babies, not rivets. Get out of here.”
He and Mam would get on. Revi kept her face even and her voice calm. “I’m in the books, and you should know I am. I’m under ‘Maddoks, R.’” Revi shot a quick glance behind her to make sure it was still Gordon who would be the next victim. He had no respect for Jimmeson, so when he and Yeats went at it, that would force Kraeger to get involved. Kraeger was notorious for his temper and his refusal to suffer fools, so an encounter between him and Yeats should make for a good show. She just had to push the right buttons to create her opening and to bring all the players to the stage. If she timed it right, not only would she have the gun, no one would notice she was gone.
As Yeats searched his log books for her name, she could hear Jimmeson muttering to Krager: “I’m gonna step in before this gets out of hand.”
“Nah, or we’ll be stuck with this bastard forever,” Kraeger said. “Besides, you coddle her too much and people will start talking.”
“I don’t see any ‘Maddoks,’” Yeats said, pulling her attention back. “Now get out of my line and go back to the cathouse where you belong.”
Revi jabbed her finger at the yellowing page of the book, pointing out the spot where her name was scrawled. “It’s right there. Even I can see it. So unless you can’t read….” She shifted around the side of the table as if to help him read it.
I’m sorry, Jim. Try not to hate me when this is all done.
“Careful now,” Yeats said. “You’re Bren Maddoks sister, aren’tcha? I’ve heard of you.”
Revi swallowed down a lump in her throat. “Aye. And I can set a rivet even better than he could.”
“Maybe so, but from what I hear, you’re the last person who should be questioning whether someone can read.”
At once, Revi’s cheeks grew so hot that she was certain Gordon could feel it. Her hands clenched into fists tight enough that her nails dug into her palms. . “Now get out of my yard, you whore!” Yeats said, his face bearing a striking resemblance to a ripe tomato as he jumped to his feet, coming towards her fist raised to strike. Revi ducked, bringing one arm over her head defensively and lifting the Deringer gently from his pocket with the other hand, turning away as she tucked it in her own pocket. It was one smooth, practiced move and for a moment she struggled to mask the smug grin that pulled at her lips. All this time and I still haven’t lost my touch, she thought. She made a show of staggering back a couple of steps as Gordon stormed onto the platform, fists at the ready.
“Maddoks ain’t no whore and you best keep your hands off of her." He bellowed as Kreager and Jimmeson both scrambled forward.
Revi quickened her pace as she brushed past them, lowering her head.
As she neared the immense, wrought-iron gate, the ache in her stomach was worse than it had ever been. For a moment, she struggled to keep her food down. It would be my luck to nick Yeats’ gun only to get caught because I flayed all over the yard. She was just a few feet from the gate now, and she could see the outer shells of the zeppelins shining in the sun. Many times during her shifts, she’d imagined what it would be like to be a passenger on one of the majestic machines, mingling with the other travelers on the main deck while drinking something fancier than watered down whiskey. She’d never imagined that the inside of a zeppelin would be the last thing she’d ever see.
That thought was interrupted by Jimmeon’s voice from behind her: “Revi.”
She almost jumped out of her skin. Turning to face him, she saw a look of deep concern on his face. Cachu! Does he know? I was so careful. Did I let something slip? Did he see me snag the gun? “I don’t need to tell you what you’re doing, do I?” he asked.
“Er, no,” she said, giving him a little smile.
Jimmeson smiled back, the easy smile that she’d seen so many times. The thought of never seeing it again made her waver in her plan for a moment. “I think we can finish the main support today, and anchor in the nose. You know we can’t do that without you. We need to train some of the others, but….” He squeezed her shoulder, and she knew what he was thinking: One of them would need to train a replacement for Bren.
“Right then, yah.” She needed to get away from him as quickly as possible, but she couldn’t resist saying: “Jim, thanks for sticking up for me when he was at me. You always have my back.”
“Damn right. I made a promise to Bren to keep you out of trouble,” he said. “And even if I hadn’t, you need someone.”
Once again Revi felt warmth rising in her cheeks. She wasn’t sure what to say to that, so she stood there for a moment in silence before saying: “Dock three, yah?”
“Dock three.”Jimmeson squeezed her shoulder again, as if he was trying to tell her something he just couldn't say. “I’ll be along shortly. I have to make sure things here are smoothed out first. Go wait for me.”
Revi nodded and turned away from him. Without another word, she stepped through the gate and into the zeppelin yard. She scanned the zeppelins on the horizon, trying to decide which one would give her the least chance of being discovered. From her memory of the work schedule for today, no one was supposed to be working at Dock 8. So that was where she would go. With a nod, she set off in that direction.
She’d only taken a few steps when a voice called out from her right. “Yeats being a blowhard again, ay?”
Revi didn’t look over. She couldn’t allow herself to be sidetracked. And besides, thanks to the Knowing, she already knew who the voice belonged to. Here, catch! So she walked on, keeping her pace brisk. But as she did, she couldn’t resist calling over her shoulder: “A real charmer, that one!”
“I heard the rumors about him when I got to town,” said the young man. In her peripheral vision, she saw him fall into step beside her. “But he’s even worse than they said. Nasty little shit. Word is he’s got dreams of basket-making with Melissa Gilbreath. Hopes if he’s ornery enough to peons like you and me, the old man will be so impressed that he’ll promise her to him the next time he comes around.”
Spittle flew from Revi’s mouth as she burst out laughing. It took real effort not to break stride at the thought of that ill-tempered, rosy-cheeked buffoon standing beside the heiress to the Conglomerate. “Him? I’d have a better chance at entertaining one of the Gilbreaths, and I’m easily twice the man he is.”
“And likely with more manhood, too, from the stories I hear.” The young man snickered behind her. “Oh well. He can have his dream, and I can have a good laugh when the Old Man shows up and smacks him down.”
As entertaining as the image of Yeats trying to bed Melissa Gilbreath was, she needed the banter to stop. If she continued giggling and sputtering she would draw the attention of the men she had just left behind. Or worse, of the Scarecrows. There were usually at least a few wandering around the zeppelin yards.
She couldn’t let them interrupt her plan. It had to be today. So she rounded on him. “There’s enough violence around here without adding him to the list, even if he does deserve it. Now I don’t know who you are or why you’re following me, but I’m working alone today, so go away and let me do my damn job!” With that, she turned away from the handsome stranger and resumed her brisk walk toward Dock 8.
“Who says I’m following you?” the man asked, the squick-squick-squick of his boot soles on the grass staying only a step behind.
“You must be, because I'm the only one what got clearance here."
“Maybe yesterday you were. Today you’re one of two.” Suddenly he was beside her again, and in her peripheral vision she could see his lips turn upward in a boyish smile that revealed his dimples. He held out a hand to her. “Trevor McGoyne. Just in from Footridge Hills. That’s the Conglomerate’s charming little company town in North Carolina. I was hoping for a change of scenery, but….” He looked around and made a face.
“Dense as you are, would you even notice if the scenery changed?” What would it take to get rid of this man? “What part of ‘go away’ don’t you understand? Get in my way and they’ll find you in the Flats and it won’t be the sickness that puts you there. Go back to Carolina. You’re better off there. You’re better off anywhere else. There’s only two reasons anyone comes to Whitestone Falls: They’re either sent here when they make trouble or they come here when they’re running from something.”
“So which is it for you, then, ay?” he asked, the easy smile still on his face. A week ago, she would have been intrigued by the smile, the dimples, the dark hair. Why hadn’t he shown up then? “Trouble or running from something?”
“Both. I’m running from you. And I’ll be in trouble for beating you if you don’t leave me alone.”
Without another word, she turned away from him and started forward again. She passed the octagonal sign with the number “8” carved into it and started up the wooden steps toward the platform. The steps creaked beneath her feet as she jogged upward. She shot a quick glance at the pillars holding the platform aloft, which were also made of wood. What a stupid design. All the Chargehands would have to do is cut a few of those pillars and they could kill an entire work crew.
She didn’t stop to dwell on the thought. Not like it would be her problem much longer. She made her way onto the platform and found herself face-to-face with a zeppelin. The number “24601” was engraved in its copper hull. Just below the number was a large gear which was shaped like the helm of a sailing ship. To one side, a rectangular hatch served as a door, though there was no obvious way to open it.
Revi took the gear in both hands and turned it clockwise. As she did, she heard a clicketa-clicketa-clicketa sound, and jets of steam issued from the edges of the hatch. As she kept turning, the hatch popped open and lowered itself to the deck, revealing an entrance ramp. Posts and chains unfolded to form handrails. For all the darkness, Revi had to admire how the Conglomerate turned everything it created into a form of living art.
She cautiously made her way across the ramp, looking up at the zeppelin, the cool metal of the stolen Deringer pressing against her leg. Not much longer now…. She took a deep breath as she let the thoughts flood her mind, drowning her in memories and broken dreams. She stepped onto the solid deck, running her fingers along the railing. She knew these ships. She may not have liked her job, but she was good at it. As she walked, she looked up at the structure of the tail, at the rivets that were rusted through leaving long streaks of red and orange running down all sides of the envelope, giving the appearance that the ship was bleeding. A chill ran down her spine. Something once so beautiful and strong now so neglected and used.
Part of her wanted to work her shift today after all – to fix this zeppelin up so that it was like new. The thought that this majestic machine had sailed its last voyage – that the Conglomerate might decide that repairing it was more trouble than it was worth–brought a lump to her throat and a stinging sensation to her eyes. “They can’t do this to both of us,” she said, her voice just above a whisper. She tightened her grip on the railing. “Maybe Jim will see what you’re worth. Maybe he’ll get you fixed up.”
She stood there for a moment in silence, head bowed. Then she made her way back toward the stairs that led belowdecks. It was dark, quiet, and empty. Crates were stacked neatly against one end of the long room, and the floor was marred where there had once been tables and chairs. She could close her eyes and imagine the ladies in their fine satin dresses sitting and feasting on sweet cakes and wine. For a second she was sure she could hear the wind and smell fresh flowers, but that couldn't be possible. She was alone in the dark. She walked the room, looking for any marks the builders might have left behind. Since the Conglomerate liked to erase them, the builders of these ships would often carve their initials into rivets or leave other indelible signs of their existence. Of their humanity. A small part of her had hoped that she would see the RM that she had inherited from her father, or the BMM that Bren had used. It would have been nice to have had some trace of them near by.
Revi sat down on the steps, taking the small gun out of her pocket and turning it carefully over in her hands. She had held a gun before, once, but she hadn’t fired it. Now, looking down at the tiny silver and walnut machine in her hand, she wasn’t entirely sure she could. A wave of grief flooded her, crushing her as if someone had piled a mountain atop her chest, forcing the air from her lungs. She had known others… it wasn’t unusual in Whitestone Falls, and she had already decided how it would hurt the least both for she and her Mam. Carefully tapping the barrel against her palm, she watched the lead ball roll out into her palm. So small, yet so destructive. She pressed her thumbnail into the soft lead and carved the shape of a cross into the smooth surface. It wasn’t that she believed it would save her, she didn’t. But her mother did and somehow seeing it provided her with a small comfort. She ran her thumb across the beautiful floral design etched into the silver plates on the sides. There was no reason to delay anymore. She started to push the ball back into the barrel – and stopped as she heard footsteps over her head.
Shoving the gun and bullet into her pockets, she scrambled behind the stair, her heart pounding in her ears. How close had she been to getting caught? Was it Jimmeson? Or had a Scarecrow seen her and come to investigate? She had chosen this place so that she could have privacy and time. She needed to be alone. Present and deliberate. She needed to know that there would be enough time that no one would be left with the questions that usually lingered. Questions like “What if I had been five minutes sooner?”
The young man, Trevor, made his way quickly down the steps, glanced around the room cautiously, and then disappeared into the hatch that led to the lowest level of the gondola. For a moment she debated calling out to him, unleashing the growing rage that he had ruined everything she had spent the entire morning preparing. But she didn’t. She swallowed the words and climbed up the stairs towards the exit. Jimmeson was likely looking for her now, and when she wasn’t at Dock 3, he would have asked Gordon. The moment, the chance to have been free, was gone, and it twisted her stomach and stabbed at her heart. If she could only understand what Trevor was trying to do, if she could get one more chance. An odd idea began to form in her mind, that maybe if she looked into the Knowing instead of trying to ignore it…
Suddenly she was standing in a dark space. Before her there were windows of light spread about at random. Cautiously she approached, looking into one of the windows. The zeppelin was mangled, engulfed in flames. She reeled back in shock, the Knowing had never been this clear, this precise, and yet this seemed more real than sitting on the step had. She approached a second patch of light, looking in to once again see a scene of destruction. A third window out of the darkness showed her two Scarecrows, guns at the ready and a glowing rock in her hands.
She forced herself back from the visions, trying to block out the Knowing as she climbed back up onto the deck. She didn’t understand what she had seen, but she knew that no matter what she did, this zeppelin had reached its end, and it wasn’t going to be a scraper team that did it in.
"...heading for this one, Zeppelin 24601. He was talking with Maddoks." Kreager’s voice was uncomfortably close, accompanied by the sound of several pairs of heavy boots on the wooden steps outside.
"Who?" came another, unfamiliar voice.
"Maddoks. He was followin' right behind her just a few minutes ago." Kreager’s voice was uncertain, “Maddoks is one of the best we have, a second generation-”
“Are you suggesting this Maddoks might be an accomplice?” The unfamiliar voice was rough and dangerous.
“No, not at all,” Kreager huffed, his age had begun to show recently and was very apparent now as he wheezed and gasped. “Maddoks is a fickle bitch and a bit of a cad, but if she wanted trouble, she would have already caused it. Her old man passed a while back, and then her brother just recent here. She’s just working off the debts they left her saddled with. She works sun up till they snuff the lights. You don’t need to worry about her.”
“Was she supposed to be here?” All sets of bootsteps paused and a deafening silence hung in the air for a moment.
“No…” Kreager hesitated, “She was assigned to the frame at Dock 3 back yonder.”
“Well, what McGoyne is after would pay off her debts and then some.” The unfamiliar voice said, as the bootsteps resumed, “Leave it to us. We’ll sort it out.”
McGoyne? That’s the last name of that man – Trevor. What in the hell is he up to? She thought back to the visions she’d had: Trevor throwing something at her. The ship taking off. The applause. Herself on the deck of the ship—apparently after liftoff—when the terrible noise erupted. All at once, the pieces fell into place. That bastard’s going to nab the ship!
Revi wasn’t prepared to take the fall for a botched zeppelin-jacking. Stealing a blueprint or a shift log was one thing, but a heist like that would get her hanged and her family disgraced. She didn’t care about her own life, but she couldn’t leave her Mam with a stain like that. She could hear the boots on the scaffolding steps growing closer and realized that she was trapped. I have to find Trevor before the Scarecrows do. I have to set this right. If she could reach him first, maybe she could prove that she had nothing to do with his plan.
As if summoned, Trevor came bounding up from the lower levels grinning like a cheshire cat. Underneath one arm was tucked a stone-like object which glowed bright white. He darted toward the ramp.
Oh, no, no. No, you don’t.” Revi set her feet firmly, blocking entry to ramp and glaring at him as the grin fell away from his face.
"Scarecrows?" Trevor whispered, his voice almost drowned out by the clump-clump-clump sounds of booted feet growing closer.
Revi nodded, grimly. “I don’t know what you’re planning, but I don’t want to be mixed in it if I don’t know what it is. Tell me what you’re doing.”
"Okay." Trevor’s eyes darted back and forth between her face and a point beyond her right shoulder. "But I should tell you that I tend to clam up when I've got Scarecrows on my ass. So if you wouldn't mind pulling up the ramp first? I guarantee I'll be much more talkative."
“They’ll be thinking I was with you! I’m not. You have to make them know that I’m not with you!” Revi said, watching him carefully as she came to realize this was the exact scene the Knowing had been showing her.
“You could be.” He shrugged, shifting the glow-rock into his hands. “Pull up the ramp and we’ll talk about it.”Don’t do it… She begged silently, shaking her head and reaching in her pocket for the gun. Don’t you dare throw that thing and run….
“Guess not, then.” His eyes darted between Revi and the ramp as the sound of footsteps grew very close indeed… “Here, catch!” He tossed the glowing lump at her, diving behind a piston and out of sight. A shiver ran through her. It was exactly like the Knowing had predicted, which meant that in a very short time there would be a Scarecrow pointing a gun at her. In one move, Revi pulled the Deringer from her shirt and lunged forward to catch the glowing mass against her chest. According to the Knowing, it was her only proof against being shot. "Coc y fam, bastard!"
She turned to see a pair of men striding up the ramp. Tall black hats with ovoid jewels sewn into the band. Stony faces with eyes that stared straight ahead. Buttoned black overcoats. Each with a Colt in one hand. Scarecrows: The very picture of Conglomerate authority.
As one, the two men trained their barrels on her.
“Hold it!” called the leading man as Revi took a few careful steps backwards. His voice was rough, as though he’d just spent a day down in the mines, his sunken brown eyes glaring from beneath the brim of the hat. She recognized the voice as the one that had been speaking to Kreager.
The second man was younger and more uncertain – and that made him more dangerous. “Drop that!” he said, though Revi couldn’t be certain if he was talking about the gun or the glow-rock.
She turned her focus back to the older of the two, hoping he would listen to her, or at least clarify what was being asked. "The ramp isn't going to hold the lot of you, it’s rusted near through,” she said, nodding toward them. No sooner had she spoken than the younger Scarecrow took another step forward, and the ramp gave a terrible groaning noise. He paused, shooting a glance at Revi and then back to the older Scarecrow with the brown eyes. “...Cap’n Farnes?”
In response, Captain Farnes gestured for his colleague to hold back as he himself stepped onto the deck. His eyes never left Revi’s face, and his Colt was still trained on her.
“I build these, I fix them. I’m not separating you, I’m keeping you from falling.” She tightened her grip on the glow-rock, “I was just here to make some repairs when someone threw this at me. I don’t know what it is, but I’m pretty sure it’s the only reason you haven’t shot me yet. I’m not putting it down.”
“Whatever you’re here for, it isn’t repairs,” Farnes said. “Dock 8 is closed. This zeppelin wasn’t scheduled for any repairs today. Which means you’re either working with McGoyne or have some plan of your own. In either case, this is as far as you get. Drop it. Now.”
What explanation can I give them that they’ll believe? Telling the truth wasn’t an option, Revi knew – that would end very poorly for her. And yet, as she searched Farnes’ stony face, she knew that no lie she could spin would convince him, either. How could she get out of this? What could she do that didn’t leave her dead or in Conglomerate custody?
Revi’s mind raced. And then, finally, it hit her. The Scarecrows were bullies, just as Yeats was a bully. And Revi knew how to deal with bullies.
She held the Blossom out in front of her, raising it to her eye level. “You want me to drop it, aye?” she asked, trying to fill her voice with a bravado she didn’t feel. “All right. How about if I smash it on the ground? What happens then?”
Farnes covered his reaction quickly, but Revi saw it: For a tenth of a second, his eyes widened, and his lips pressed together in a firm line.
“Aye,” Revi said, letting a coy little smile play about her lips. “Supposing it doesn’t end well for any of us if I do that, then?”
Farnes said nothing.
“How bad are we talking? ‘Everybody dies’ bad, or a right tidy evening and we regret the party sort of bad?”
“No one has to die today,” Farnes said. There was a note of pleading in his voice which was incongruous with the loaded gun he held.
“Now why don’t I believe you?” Revi asked, pursing her lips. “Here’s a fine deal. I’ll give you two choices. One is that you keep pointing that thing at me, and I shoot this rock. The other is that you tell me what the hell is going on, starting with why someone would just hand me this… whatever it is. In that case, I’ll consider setting this thing down gently. Which is it, then?”
“Who handed it to you? Was it McGoyne? Where is he?” said the younger man, “Fine companion you chose, stealing the Blossom and leaving you to take the fall.”
"I didn't ‘choose’ him. I don’t know him. But I’ll be taking this to mean that you’re choosing the first?” She began to depress the trigger with her forefinger.
“Ah ah!” Farnes said, holding up his free hand in a “stop” gesture and stepping towards her. The other Scarecrow, the one Farnes had instructed to stay back, now hurried up the ramp and toward Revi as well. His normally-expressionless eyes were wide, as if he saw a train coming towards him at full speed. “I told you, no one has to die. All you have to do is drop the Blossom and point us to McGoyne. Cooperate and live.”
I’m sorry. I can’t take this chance on you. It took Revi a moment to realize that those words had not passed Farnes’ lips. She heard them just as though he’d whispered them in her ear. And then, for the second time that morning, she heard a gunshot.
The sound jolted Revi. She let out a yelp and nearly dropped the Deringer. As quickly as she could, she arranged her face into a neutral mask, tightening her grip on the weapon. “I’m not feeling very cooperative just at the moment,” Revi said. “So unless you want to join me in hell, I suggest you keep your pants–”
Before she could finish the sentence, noises came from just outside: First an “Ack!,” and then a “THUD!” Farnes and the other Scarecrow on deck turned their heads as a voice rang out from the platform: “It’s him! Get ‘im!”
A cry from behind Farnes drew their attention to a younger the ramp pulled their attention to a sandy-haired Scarecrow who appeared to have fallen on his face. His cheeks were red, his face pinched with anger, and his pants were fettering his ankles, exposing long, skinny legs covered in hair. As Revi watched, Farnes’ companion leapt over his fallen colleague and started down the ramp. “I’ll help!” he said, and then he ran away out of sight.
Revi smirked, pointing toward the pants-less man.“You should take your friend’s example. He knows how to wave the white flag!” she said.. “To think I was almost afraid.” As she spoke, Revi was very grateful that Farnes and his companion could not see the hairs on the back of her neck, which were standing on end.
Farnes lowered his weapon slightly, looking sheepish. “Just put it down… just put it down….”
The humiliated man pulled up his pants and fastened his belt, face still burning as he glared up at Farnes. “Lord have mercy, Cap’n Farnes, how did you ever make it into the corps? You let one of the rabble, a little girl no less, cow you into backing down?”
“You want to be the one to hit the Blossom and blow this whole town to Kingdom Come?” Farnes asked, not taking his eyes off of Revi.
Revi took a deep breath and addressed the Pants-Around-Ankles Man. “First, I’m not a little girl, I’m a full twenty-three. Second, what is a Blossom? Third, you don’t get to call Farnes incompetent when you can’t even keep your pants up.” She hoped that backing Farnes might make him less inclined to shoot her.
“Your partner was responsible for that,” No-pants leveled her with a glare that curdled blood, his face and voice still colored with humiliation. “And I look forward to thanking him as soon as we have him in custody. Meanwhile,” he continued, shooting a glance at Farnes, “Your ‘tough girl’ act may have fooled the Captain here, but it won’t work on me. No way you shoot the rock. Helping McGoyne isn’t worth your life… is it?”
"You're right. That twpsyn isn't worth my life. Then again, my job isn't worth my life, either. My debt isn't worth my life. And arguing with you two certainly isn't worth my life. So if shooting this... this Blossom, or whatever it is... and it means I can wash my hands of all of it maybe I'll take that gamble. I honestly haven't decided."
"D'you know what you got there?" asked No-Pants, as he pointed at the glowing rock. "That thing," he said as he gestured around him, "powers this thing. Unless we put it back in the engine room, you're not getting paid no matter what."
"When did I ever give any of you the idea I know what this is or what’s happening here." Her chest tightened as she tried to ignore the warning in her head from The Knowing, "Farnes, you seem like you have some idea of what is actually going on. Can we talk and I'll put this, um, Blossom down? Send him to get Jimmeson, the foreman at Dock 3, and we’ll talk like reasonable folks.” She held her breath as Farnes weighed the options. In her head the Knowing was flooding her with picture after picture, each darker than the one before. If she was left alone with the sandy-haired Scarecrow, then blowing up the town was the best outcome. “Please, tell this clod to go away.” She slowly started to lower the barrel of the Deringer, “Once he’s gone and you put down your gun, I'll put down this Blossom. Then, when Jimmeson gets here, I'll give him my gun and you can take me in, yeah? I'm outnumbered and outgunned. I have only one shot and you have at least five. You are asking me to surrender and I can’t do that safely, but I will talk. Can we reach an agreement, sir?"
Farnes seemed like a reasonable man, he would shoot her if things went sideways, but he was still a man of his word. She had a chance if she could get him to agree to her terms. But the other man? He was angry and looking for someone to take it out on. If he got her alone, she’d be better off dead.
Farnes's eyes darted back and forth between Revi and No-Pants, clearly debating what he wanted to do. Finally, he motioned at his companion "Go and get the foreman."
No-Pants-Man looked like he'd seen a ghost. "What?"
"I said go get the foreman," Farnes said.
"But she -- she --"
"Look at the bright side, ya dolt," Farnes said, shooting him a withering glare. "If she kills me while you're off getting the foreman, you get to tell the higher ups you were right and I was wrong. That makes a grand total of one thing you will have been right about. Which means maybe you get to spend the rest of your career as Captain No-Pants instead of Private No-Pants, ay? Now get goin'!"
No-Pants turned beet red and glared at Farnes for a moment before stomping down the ramp. As his footsteps had faded away Farnes lowered himself slowly toward the ground, showing her that he was putting his gun down. "Together now... nice and easy...."
Revi knelt, placing the Blossom carefully on the deck, and backed away on her knees. As she did, she kept her hands visible and the barrel of the Deringer pointed upwards. "Thank you for sending him away. He was gonna do a lot worse than shoot me."
"We'll see what Jimmeson has to say," Farnes said, placing his gun on the deck, but taking care to stay within easy reach. "If he vouches for you, maybe you can walk free after all. Otherwise... Well, the local prisons aren't very kind to suspected Chargehands...."
“Oh, Jimmeson is going to be furious, to be sure. I get a bonus if I set more than a certain number of rivets in a shift, and I might have been acting outside of my assignment here…” She grinned awkwardly, embarrassed at how bad the lie was, she hadn’t meant to let that slip out. “Would it help you if I disarmed further?" She started undoing her tool belt with one hand, desperate to change the course of the conversation. "I also know you're lying to me, you would have shot me as soon as you had the Blossom." She shifted uncomfortably as the heavy belt clattered to the floor. "But I'm good for my word. In this world, it's all I have, and it's my only ticket to the next one."
Farnes scoffed. "You're sellin' yourself short more than a little. Not a lot of people survive resistin' arrest. You not only got me to drop my weapon, now you're standing there accusing me of lying. If I didn't think you were a Chargehand-" He stopped speaking, and his face became stony and unreadable. And then a little smile pulled his lips upward. "Any interest in switching teams? You'd make quite a Scarecrow."
"I keep telling you I'm not a Chargehand! I'm a rivet-setter, and a damn good one. That's all I am. Check the books, you’ll see my name. I even have my stamp, it’s in my belt." Revi groaned in frustration. “I can get it for you if you want to see it.”
"I’m sure you could. But that doesn’t explain why you’re at the wrong dock. Or why you were holding a Blossom.?" Farnes said. He let out a sigh. ”Look. The Chargehands are not people you need to be tangled up with. You’re still young, don’t throw your life away on those rebellious thugs. Here I'm offering you a chance for better pay, more authority... and a very fetching hat." He tipped the brim of his own hat.
"I’m not a Chargehand!” She wanted to scream. “Why would I want any of that? Promises like that is how I ended up here to begin with."
"It's better than the alternative," Farnes said with a wince. "Trust me."
“You say that like I have a reason to trust you. Besides, you don’t really want me. I have a year left to pay down the debt before…” She took a deep breath, catching herself before she said too much. “What you're offering me is fool’s gold when you don't understand what’s at stake." Revi shook her head, frowning. “If I learned anything, it's that when someone offers you a way out of trouble, it’s because they have bigger chains and heavier burdens. No thank you. I’m in deep enough without your false promises, and I can finally see the end of all of this. You can’t trick me into starting over again.”
His eyebrows lifted. "A year left? But you're practically a child. Why would you be going anywhere? Unless-"
"We expire pretty quick around here.” Revi cut him off before he could start to put the pieces together. He was much more observant than she expected, and she had been careless with her words. “It's not an easy job; accidents happen all the time, and, you know..." She shrugged, "But my Mam thinks I'm an old maid, so I’m not so young then, yah?"
Farnes opened his mouth as if to argue, but the sound of approaching voices pulled his attention to the open hatch. "Ah, I think I hear the foreman. Let's see if you're clever enough to convince him there was a reason you were up here."
When she turned to look towards the ramp, the Knowing grabbed at her, pulling her into another scene. The smell of blood and gunsmoke filled the air. Someone was screaming in agony. She wanted to reach them, to help them, but couldn’t. The hatch door was closing, cutting off the voices on the other side…
Revi shook away the vision and caught a sudden flash of color on the ramp behind Farnes. Throwing herself onto the deck, she sent the Deringer spinning across the smooth floor and laced her fingers behind her head. She didn’t understand what was about to happen, only that she wasn’t the one being shot, and that she wasn’t willing to take the blame for the violence.
Farnes looked down at her, reaching for the Deringer. "What now, giving up? That doesn't strike me as your-"
Heavy boots landed on the ramp with a thud echoed by threatening groans from the aged metal. Revi peered from beneath the brim of her hat as someone snatched up the Colt that Farnes had set on the deck. She watched helplessly as Farnes rolled onto his back reaching for the gun that was no longer there. His dark eyes grew wide as he looked up, and then the shot rang out, filling the air with the smell of blood and sulfur and the agonizing cries of pain as the bullet ripped through Farnes’ flesh. "Well, we're all full of surprises, aren't we?” Said the familiar voice, boots stepping over the fallen Scarecrow towards her. A dusty boot tipped her hat backwards off her head and she looked up into the face of Trevor McGoyne, and the smoking barrel that was pointed directly at her.
"Be a dear and raise the ramp, won't you?" He grinned.
"Coc y gath!” She scrambled to her hands and knees, choking on the bile that was flooding her mouth, tears stinging her eyes. “No, I'm not your dear. I didn't want any of this. You twpsyn why can't you just go off and die?" She lunged for the Deringer that lay just past Trevor’s boot. "What have you done? He’s going to die and they're going to blame me. I- I can’t take the fall for you. I just wanted to leave our name clean.”
"Look," he said, motioning for her to stand with the barrel and kicking the Deringer across the deck towards the ramp. "At this point, you're my accomplice whether you like it or not. You can stick with me or get carted off in irons by them. So which will it be, anwyl?"
"I said I wasn’t your darling. Please, he's going to die if no one helps, and I promised I wouldn't make trouble. This is cachu hwch.” Revi struggled against the panic that muddied her mind. As she forced herself to her feet, she cast about for an excuse that might convince him to walk away without any more damage. “I- I- I have to be able to go home tonight! Mam, they’ll come at her for what we owe. I know you don't care, but I can't afford to get stuck in your mess that you're too cowardly to deal with on your own! If you had a willie you wouldn't be out to ruin my life! Now get the gun out of my face and- and cer i grafu!" English was becoming harder to grasp as she shouted at him, cursing him in her native Welsh. She wasn’t afraid to die. She was afraid that if she did, no one would know the truth: that she was innocent.
"Oh, it's a whole pentwr o cachu, you have no idea," Trevor said, grinning at her. He speaks Welsh? How can that be?. "But if you're so good with promises, I'll make you one now: Raise the ramp, and I'll make sure he lives. Otherwise..." He shrugged.
"If I ever said I hated you, it would be far too nice." The look she shot him was vile. "Let me help him and I'll do whatever you have in your mind. Otherwise I'll make sure we both end up dead. I don’t care what happens as long as they know I wasn’t with you."
His eyes shot toward the ramp as the sound of running feet grew closer, only moments away now. "Keep our guests away, and you can give him all the help you want. Deal?"
"Just let me tie it off. His partner will kill me if he gets here and Farnes is down. Please let me tie it." Revi begged, reaching for her tool belt.
"Ah ah ah, they'll be on top of us before you can do that. So, ramp first." He flashed a wicked grin. "You blocked me before when all I wanted was a way out. Dro ar fyd no?"
"It isn’t that simple! Please, I promise you I have enough time. I knew you were going to throw that thing at me.,” Revi gestured at the Blossom. “ I knew you were going to shoot him. And I know you will shoot me if I take two steps.” She picked up the belt slowly and detached the rope, setting it back down gently. “So I’m only going to take one step towards him and give you time to change your mind. Now you have a choice to make, one that really matters. Please let me save him!" She took the step, not breaking eye contact with Trevor. "If I hadn’t tried to stop you, they would have put this on me. You put me in a position that was bad all ways round. We had time before you threw this if you had just listened to me." She took a second step, glancing at Farnes face, getting paler by the second as his blood seeped into the deck and down between the floorboards.. "Farnes, you're going to go into shock in a moment here. You’re bleeding bad from the leg. If the pain stops, keep talking to me and don’t go to sleep no matter how much you’d like. Talk about whatever is in your mind. Curse at him a bit, maybe. Tell me about your favorite whore. Do you have a wife? A babe? You can curse me if it helps you stay awake."
Trevor didn't stop her as she took a second careful step towards Farnes. Her heart was pounding in her chest as she knelt beside him. .
"Diolch, um,Thank you. I swear on my father's grave, I will do whatever you ask of me.” She watched Trevor for any sign he was going to shoot. Carefully, she uncoiled the rope, wrapping it around Farnes’ thigh by feel as he hissed through his teeth at her touch..""I’m sorry. I’m not trying to hurt you. Talk to me, please.”
Trevor shifted, the barrel still pointed at her, and wavered impatiently. “Get on with it.”
Revi nodded, looking down at the wound as she fumbled with the knot, her hands now slick from his blood. Lowering her voice to a whisper, she leaned closer to him “I need a favor from you. If I can get you out of here, I need you to clear my name. I’m innocent. Tell me Mam that I didn't do anything wrong. If you can, clear her debt for me. Do you understand me?" She started to cinch it tighter, raising her voice again as Farnes cried in pain. "I can't promise you'll be able to keep your leg, but you won't die today. Now talk to us. Curse at him, yell at me, just don't stop talking." She secured the knot and stood up, wiping her hands on her trousers.
"No..." Farnes looked up at her, sweat breaking out on his face as he clutched at his leg. "Can still... stop him... Lisbeth... can still save... Lisbeth... use... the hat... it can make him... can take him away... the hat... Lisbeth... please... can't lose...."
"Good, keep talking. I don't understand, but I am listening." She backed toward the lever, turning her attention back to Trevor. "Keep talking, you have to stay conscious."“Lets go.” Trevor made another motion with the barrel of the gun as Revi’s ears filled with the sound of boots-on-wood. Jimmeson and the Scarecrows were very close indeed.
“But he’s still here.” Revi motioned towards Farnes as she reached the lever that controlled the hatch.
“Not my problem.” Trevor snapped.
"The hat... use... the hat..." Farnes grabbed the hat which had fallen off his head and held it out towards Revi. "Can help you... she never wanted... the Conglomerate... wasn't supposed to be like this... have to stop him... before he kills her... please...."
"I don't know what you mean,” Revi said to Farnes, her hands around the lever handle. “You're not going to die. I promised I’d get you help, and I will. I made a trade, me for you, and I believe this man that he’ll keep his word that he’ll let you go.” She gestured at Trevor. “I didn't have a lot of time left in me anyway, so just promise me you'll clear my name when you get to go."
“Maddoks?” Jimmeson shouted, coming into view, followed closely by two Scarecrows. “Revi! Revi, wait!” Trevor pointed the Colt at her. "I kept my end of the deal -- now pull up the damn ramp!"
Revi squeezed her eyes shut, trying to hold back the tears, “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” she shouted, both to Farnes and Jimmeson, as she pulled the lever and raised the ramp, sealing their only chance at escape.