Post by Lorpius Prime on Apr 30, 2007 2:50:08 GMT -5
Jay ran. He didn’t know how far or for how long, he just ran. His boots kicked up old leaves and sodden dirt, low branches of trees scratched at his face and hands. He ran despite the burning in his legs, his shoulders, and his lungs. The panic kept him going. The forest was dark and unfamiliar, it seemed not at all like the wild but pleasant forest through which he and Jack and Mary had walked a few days ago. Evil shadows and the twisted trunks of trees kept him off-balance and afraid.
A blade slashed across his abdomen, searing hot. Jay’s whole stomach clenched up and he fell, unable to keep running. He bounced on his suitcase, which tumbled off to the side.
For a moment, Jay thought he’d been shot, but his searching hands could find no injury. It was just a stitch in his side; his muscles couldn’t take the strain. He collapsed again, lacking the strength and will to stand. His chin sank into the composting soil.
The forest was silent.
Was he being followed? He couldn’t hear anyone. Had they lost him? Was he safe?
He should keep running, keep ahead of them. But his feet would not move, his arms could not be raised to lift him up.
What was the point? He was one out of shape, lost newspaper correspondent. The men chasing him were professionals; they would search, effectively, and on horseback. They would find him.
And then they would kill him.
Jay didn’t even know why. For a bunch of papers? Had they tried to kill him, had they killed Mills, killed Jack, killed dozens of complete strangers in an airship, just because of some moldy old documents? It was ridiculous. Jay didn’t want to have anything to do with it, he’d be perfectly happy to just give up that envelope to anyone that wanted and to forget the whole thing. He just wanted to go home.
Then, for a moment, he could almost see his sister, Margaret, walking up out of the forest and kicking him in the side. “You were always such a wimp,” she said.
Jay laughed. It was all so very ridiculous. His whole chest heaved with the short, barking laughs. They quickly turned to sobs.
After a while, he fell quiet again. And Jay realized that the forest was not, as he’d first thought, silent. It was filled with noises. Little ones, leaves rustling against each other in the wind, tiny clicks from unseen animals and insects. Jay might have been the only quiet thing in it.
A bird dropped down in front of him, a great black thing with a large beak. It hopped cautiously towards Jay’s face.
“I’m not dead,” he told it. Dirt got into his mouth, and he spat halfheartedly.
The bird hopped back a little. Then paused, and approached again, looking intently at Jay’s eyes. It didn’t seem to believe him.
Jay chuckled at it, finding everything somehow more humorous right now. “Maybe I might as well be.”
The bird, a raven from its long throat feathers, opened its wings and flapped them at Jay a couple times. Then it made a soft krrawww sound. Jay shook his head.
Perhaps this convinced the bird, because it flew off. Or maybe it was just startled by the movement of the ground. Either way, Jay was alone again.
Something was digging into Jay’s right side, just under his ribs. He managed to gather the willpower to roll himself over, and dug in his coat. It was the gun Jack had given him.
Jay sat up, looking at it. It was still heavy, still loaded. Horrid thing. But Jack had given it to him for a reason. Maybe, if he’d only…
Jay threw it aside.
“Murdered for a piece of bloody mail!” he shouted at the weapon. It didn’t answer.
Muttering, Jay got to back on his feet. His suitcase had slid a few feet, and Jay brushed off the dirt after picking it up again. He looked around in all directions, trying to get his bearings. That was useless, he could see the tiny sliver of the moon and some stars through the trees, but didn’t have a clue how to navigate by them.
Barring that, he picked a direction that he hoped would be both towards civilization and away from any pursuit.
Jay looked both ways before leaving the alleyway and crossing the street. There wasn’t any horse or foot traffic on the roads, the whole town was quiet, but Jay took the precaution anyway. He crossed the first two fingers of his right hand against the possibility that anyone saw him scurrying through the dark.
He’d been lucky enough to emerge from the woods within sight of the town, and luckier still to actually recognize part of it. Jay turned and pressed his back against the half-timbered building for another look down either side of the street. The sign over his head creaked and swung in a light breeze.
While his heart tried to beat its way out of his chest, Jay tapped on the front door. His head turned yet again to see if anyone had heard the sound. The street was silent.
A woman answered the door. She was within a year or two of Jay’s age, blond, and wearing white robe. Jay didn’t recognize her, but he wasn’t going to let that stop him at this point. He pushed his way past her and into the house, holding the suitcase out in front of him.
The woman’s eyes went wide and she started screaming. Jay cursed, but thought he managed to force the door shut before she’d made too much noise. He turned on the terrified woman and held out his hands.
“It’s all right! It’s all right!”
She kept up the screaming and Jay cursed himself for not knowing enough German.
Then a man came running out of the dark rooms behind her, and Jay swore even more. He was holding an iron fireplace poker above his head, looking ready to bash in Jay’s skull.
Jay waved his arms all the more frantically, “I’m not here to hurt anybody! Please!”
The man raised the poker to strike when he quirked his eyes and stopped.
“Herr Blake?” he lowered the makeshift weapon.
Jay started to relax from the cowering crouch he’d gone into, “Ah, hello Thomas.” He looked at the girl who was peering out from behind the other man’s back, “Hello.”
Thomas Glunz blinked and stared at him for a moment, then he turned around and put a hand on the woman’s shoulder. Jay supposed the stream of German was him explaining who he was. At the end, she put a hand to her mouth and leaned to look past Thomas’s shoulder.
“Oh, Mister Blake!” she said in a heavily accented voice.
He gave a weak wave, “Hi.”
More clattering from the back of the house, and two more bodies showed up, an older couple. The man was holding a double-barreled shotgun.
Jay founding himself holding out his hands again to show he didn’t mean any harm. Thomas and the younger woman both just stood quietly while the old man approached. He looked around at the three of them over the top of the gun, his upper lip twitched.
Then he pointed the shotgun at the floor and let out a bellowing laugh. A thick-fingered hand landed on Jay’s shoulder and shook him back and forth.
“Mein Freund! Was machst du hier?” Ernst Brauer laughed again.
Jay laughed with him, only a little nervously, rather than make a guess at what the question meant. Brauer turned to Thomas Glunz and said something in a low voice, then nudged the younger man with the butt of his shotgun. Thomas turned red and chuckled weakly. Jay wondered if he was supposed to be there this late at night.
The young woman whom Jay had initially frightened came around to offer him a hand, “Mister Blake. I am Sara Brauer. I am the fiancé of Thomas.” Her English was crisp, if still noticeably accented.
“Pleased to meet you,” he shook her hand, glad she wasn’t screaming at him anymore.
Mr. Brauer’s wife, Gerta, walked up into the little crowd and nodded. And then everyone was looking at Jay.
“Uh…” he began, and put a hand on the back of his neck. “I…” he didn’t know how to start.
“Wo ist… ah…” Ernst Brauer stuck out his tongue, searching for words. “Where is Herr Duggan?” He smiled at the memory of Jack.
Jay’s mouth hung open. It was a long time before he could tell them what happened.
Book One, Chapter:
-1-2-3-4-5-6-7-8-9-10-11-12-13-14-15-16-17-18-19-20-21-
-22-23-24-25-26-27-28-29-30-31-32-33-34-35-36-37-38-39-40-41-42-
-43-44-45-46-47-48-49-50-51-52-53-54-55-56-57-58-59-60-61-62-
Appendix: -A-B-C-
A blade slashed across his abdomen, searing hot. Jay’s whole stomach clenched up and he fell, unable to keep running. He bounced on his suitcase, which tumbled off to the side.
For a moment, Jay thought he’d been shot, but his searching hands could find no injury. It was just a stitch in his side; his muscles couldn’t take the strain. He collapsed again, lacking the strength and will to stand. His chin sank into the composting soil.
The forest was silent.
Was he being followed? He couldn’t hear anyone. Had they lost him? Was he safe?
He should keep running, keep ahead of them. But his feet would not move, his arms could not be raised to lift him up.
What was the point? He was one out of shape, lost newspaper correspondent. The men chasing him were professionals; they would search, effectively, and on horseback. They would find him.
And then they would kill him.
Jay didn’t even know why. For a bunch of papers? Had they tried to kill him, had they killed Mills, killed Jack, killed dozens of complete strangers in an airship, just because of some moldy old documents? It was ridiculous. Jay didn’t want to have anything to do with it, he’d be perfectly happy to just give up that envelope to anyone that wanted and to forget the whole thing. He just wanted to go home.
Then, for a moment, he could almost see his sister, Margaret, walking up out of the forest and kicking him in the side. “You were always such a wimp,” she said.
Jay laughed. It was all so very ridiculous. His whole chest heaved with the short, barking laughs. They quickly turned to sobs.
After a while, he fell quiet again. And Jay realized that the forest was not, as he’d first thought, silent. It was filled with noises. Little ones, leaves rustling against each other in the wind, tiny clicks from unseen animals and insects. Jay might have been the only quiet thing in it.
A bird dropped down in front of him, a great black thing with a large beak. It hopped cautiously towards Jay’s face.
“I’m not dead,” he told it. Dirt got into his mouth, and he spat halfheartedly.
The bird hopped back a little. Then paused, and approached again, looking intently at Jay’s eyes. It didn’t seem to believe him.
Jay chuckled at it, finding everything somehow more humorous right now. “Maybe I might as well be.”
The bird, a raven from its long throat feathers, opened its wings and flapped them at Jay a couple times. Then it made a soft krrawww sound. Jay shook his head.
Perhaps this convinced the bird, because it flew off. Or maybe it was just startled by the movement of the ground. Either way, Jay was alone again.
Something was digging into Jay’s right side, just under his ribs. He managed to gather the willpower to roll himself over, and dug in his coat. It was the gun Jack had given him.
Jay sat up, looking at it. It was still heavy, still loaded. Horrid thing. But Jack had given it to him for a reason. Maybe, if he’d only…
Jay threw it aside.
“Murdered for a piece of bloody mail!” he shouted at the weapon. It didn’t answer.
Muttering, Jay got to back on his feet. His suitcase had slid a few feet, and Jay brushed off the dirt after picking it up again. He looked around in all directions, trying to get his bearings. That was useless, he could see the tiny sliver of the moon and some stars through the trees, but didn’t have a clue how to navigate by them.
Barring that, he picked a direction that he hoped would be both towards civilization and away from any pursuit.
* * *
Jay looked both ways before leaving the alleyway and crossing the street. There wasn’t any horse or foot traffic on the roads, the whole town was quiet, but Jay took the precaution anyway. He crossed the first two fingers of his right hand against the possibility that anyone saw him scurrying through the dark.
He’d been lucky enough to emerge from the woods within sight of the town, and luckier still to actually recognize part of it. Jay turned and pressed his back against the half-timbered building for another look down either side of the street. The sign over his head creaked and swung in a light breeze.
While his heart tried to beat its way out of his chest, Jay tapped on the front door. His head turned yet again to see if anyone had heard the sound. The street was silent.
A woman answered the door. She was within a year or two of Jay’s age, blond, and wearing white robe. Jay didn’t recognize her, but he wasn’t going to let that stop him at this point. He pushed his way past her and into the house, holding the suitcase out in front of him.
The woman’s eyes went wide and she started screaming. Jay cursed, but thought he managed to force the door shut before she’d made too much noise. He turned on the terrified woman and held out his hands.
“It’s all right! It’s all right!”
She kept up the screaming and Jay cursed himself for not knowing enough German.
Then a man came running out of the dark rooms behind her, and Jay swore even more. He was holding an iron fireplace poker above his head, looking ready to bash in Jay’s skull.
Jay waved his arms all the more frantically, “I’m not here to hurt anybody! Please!”
The man raised the poker to strike when he quirked his eyes and stopped.
“Herr Blake?” he lowered the makeshift weapon.
Jay started to relax from the cowering crouch he’d gone into, “Ah, hello Thomas.” He looked at the girl who was peering out from behind the other man’s back, “Hello.”
Thomas Glunz blinked and stared at him for a moment, then he turned around and put a hand on the woman’s shoulder. Jay supposed the stream of German was him explaining who he was. At the end, she put a hand to her mouth and leaned to look past Thomas’s shoulder.
“Oh, Mister Blake!” she said in a heavily accented voice.
He gave a weak wave, “Hi.”
More clattering from the back of the house, and two more bodies showed up, an older couple. The man was holding a double-barreled shotgun.
Jay founding himself holding out his hands again to show he didn’t mean any harm. Thomas and the younger woman both just stood quietly while the old man approached. He looked around at the three of them over the top of the gun, his upper lip twitched.
Then he pointed the shotgun at the floor and let out a bellowing laugh. A thick-fingered hand landed on Jay’s shoulder and shook him back and forth.
“Mein Freund! Was machst du hier?” Ernst Brauer laughed again.
Jay laughed with him, only a little nervously, rather than make a guess at what the question meant. Brauer turned to Thomas Glunz and said something in a low voice, then nudged the younger man with the butt of his shotgun. Thomas turned red and chuckled weakly. Jay wondered if he was supposed to be there this late at night.
The young woman whom Jay had initially frightened came around to offer him a hand, “Mister Blake. I am Sara Brauer. I am the fiancé of Thomas.” Her English was crisp, if still noticeably accented.
“Pleased to meet you,” he shook her hand, glad she wasn’t screaming at him anymore.
Mr. Brauer’s wife, Gerta, walked up into the little crowd and nodded. And then everyone was looking at Jay.
“Uh…” he began, and put a hand on the back of his neck. “I…” he didn’t know how to start.
“Wo ist… ah…” Ernst Brauer stuck out his tongue, searching for words. “Where is Herr Duggan?” He smiled at the memory of Jack.
Jay’s mouth hung open. It was a long time before he could tell them what happened.
Book One, Chapter:
-1-2-3-4-5-6-7-8-9-10-11-12-13-14-15-16-17-18-19-20-21-
-22-23-24-25-26-27-28-29-30-31-32-33-34-35-36-37-38-39-40-41-42-
-43-44-45-46-47-48-49-50-51-52-53-54-55-56-57-58-59-60-61-62-
Appendix: -A-B-C-