Dead Air (16 page)

Across the room, Tiberius cleared his throat. "I don't mean to interrupt, however, Tacita sees something moving in the fog. Several in fact if I judge correctly and they are headed our way." 

Krumer paused long enough to look over his shoulder. The name was unfamiliar, but he assumed Tiberius meant his lion. Just as suspected, while Tacita was still seated in the same place as before, the lion's posture was different. Now the head was lowered, the ears turned outward and the whiskers drawn in flat against its face. The image of a vulture flashed through the orc's mind for a moment. 

Adonia wiped a stray tear from her left eye while she looked over out the door. "That would mean they've found our trail. We need to hurry, Krumer."

The orc nodded and resumed his work. Steadily he tied in wires and lifted the clips using the heavy leather gloves. Electrical sparks flew from the metal rod while he welded the small sections of tubing into place. Then he attached most of the wires from the generator directly to into the antenna itself, with only a few left loose. Those loose wires, he used to connect the antenna and a worn and rusted telegraph machine.

"Almost done." Krumer said while he attached the last wire. "There."

With a twist, Krumer jerked the turn crank on the generator several times. The motion heated the elements in the small boiler, which in turn lightened the load on the generator for the moment. At first, nothing happened except the loud churn of steam pistons. Suddenly, the telegraph popped to life and began to rapidly tap out a pattern.

"Who is it?" Adonia asked curiously.

Krumer grinned at the Charybdian, "It's the
Brass Griffin.
They're asking if we're out there."

Quickly the orc tapped out a return message. This was almost immediately answered by a long reply. Krumer frowned.

"What did they say?" Adonia asked with a worried look on her face.

"I warned them about zombies and asked for help." The orc sighed heavily. "They say the warning was appreciated but a bit late. They also say they'll have no trouble coming over and lowering a rope ladder to us, but that's once they get to us."

"Did they happen to mention when?" Adonia asked in growing concern.

"Half-hour at most, roughly put. They say to stay where we are so they can find us again." The orc replied.

Immediately, from across the room, Dr. Von Patterson jerked in pain, then doubled over while he lay on his side. Only this time, there was no seizure. Dr. Von Patterson reacted as if he had been punched. A growl from the gray mist lion drew the young man's attention momentarily from his patient.

"Do you still entertain the theory about the zombies being attracted to Dr. Von Patterson in some way?" Tiberius asked nervously.

"Yes, we do." Krumer answered quickly for both himself and Adonia. "Why?"

"Because, I believe your theory is correct." Tiberius pointed out into the gloom at two figures that approached. Then, the two figures resolved into three. Three became six. All of them shuffled quickly along the rooftop towards the small group in the maintenance shed.

"This will be a long half-hour." Krumer said, yanking off his gloves and checking to see if his pistols were loaded.

M
oira squatted down on her heels in the shadow of the dark metal doorway. The steady sound of steam pistons echoed off the walls and poured out into the corridor. She peeked around the frame into the boiler room. Inside the two men in leather aprons were busy adjusting the thick leather harness and jade crystal shard on another zombie. Near the two men, a quartet of zombies milled about randomly. Moira sighed quietly and leaned back out of sight. She launched a stern gaze across the open space of the doorway at a bruised, bloody and grime-covered Conrad O'Fallon.

"Ya must be outta yer mind," She hissed at him quietly. On impulse, she peeked around the corner to soothe her nerves that no one within the boiler room heard her. No one had. Moira shot O'Fallon another look. "Stand up in the doorway, let them see ya, then run? That's yer plan? Why not just shoot 'em then get the statue?"

O'Fallon, who had been peering into the room as well, sat back on his heels and gave Moira a sour look before he replied in a rough whisper. "Ah be sayin' nothin' of the kind. Ye be oversimplifyin' me idea."

Arcady, who clung to Moira's shoulder, looked first at Moira then at O'Fallon with his unbroken eye. "We do not have time to argue like this."

Thorias put a hand on O'Fallon's arm. "I concur. Our luck is thin enough now. Moira, given our lack of resources, the plan is as sound as it will be. We have a limited supply of ammunition and have yet to find more. O'Fallon and I masquerade as if we are eavesdropping ... albeit badly ... which will draw attention. Once they pursue us, you and Arcady make off with the statue. As O'Fallon indicated, given this entire corridor is a loop, we merely need to meet up at the ladder and ascend to the station surface to 'make our break for it' as he put it."

Moira let out a slow sigh. "All right. I wouldna have missed anyway. Just neither of ya be gettin' caught, understand me?"

O'Fallon smirked. "Aye, Muther."

Moira rolled her eyes and withdrew down the corridor a few paces until the black shadows enveloped her like a protective cloak. Once she was out of sight, O'Fallon glanced back at Thorias before standing up slowly. The heat from the fight with Carlos had begun to fade and the Scotsman started to feel every new ache he had acquired over the past few hours. He winced. Thorias noticed O'Fallon's expression and watched him carefully.

"Moira is right, you know. You've taken quite a beating. Are you sure you're up for this?" The doctor asked quietly.

O'Fallon nodded. "Ah have ta be. Na much choice."

Thorias sighed. "First chance, you Sirrah are to be confined to your hammock. It's likely to be the only safe place for you to rest."

The quartermaster snorted a quiet laugh. "Fair enough. Be ye ready?"

"Ready," Thorias replied.

Quietly, the pair eased closer to the doorway. At the door frame's edge, O'Fallon stopped with Thorias beside him. Despite how overly simplistic the plan seemed, the Scotsman knew it was more sensitive than Moira made it out to be. If they just appeared in the doorway, even an obtuse person would suspect something. The two of them had to give the appearance of truly eavesdropping, which was not difficult. The harder part would be to make a believable 'mistake' to get themselves noticed. O'Fallon looked inside the noisy room again. He ignored the zombies and their creators, instead letting his eyes wander over boxes, tables, old wood and coal bins that all sat within a few paces of their door. Finally, he smiled and glanced back to Thorias. 

"Ah got it. This way." The quartermaster said.

O'Fallon and Tiberius eased into the room. The Scotsman led his companion over to a small stack of boxes only four feet high. Once crouched down behind them, O'Fallon leaned over to Tiberius.

"Get ready ta run." Then the Scotsman leaned on the dilapidated crate.

Just as he thought, the wood groaned in protest. An agonizing sound that cut across the noisy clanks and hisses that otherwise filled the room. One of the pair of men near the table - the slightly taller, thinner one with the green tinted goggles on his face - spun around immediately.

"It's the newcomers from the blacksmith's shop! They'll know where Von Patterson is! Get them!" He shouted. 

Four zombies immediately launched into a disturbing half-run at Thorias and O'Fallon. Behind them, one of the two aproned men snatched up a bag and withdrew a pair of unusually squat brass and wood pistols. They were as long in the barrel as any Navy Colt, but lacked a cylinder. Instead there was a strange box in its place that held a small side door. Each took a pistol and charged after the zombies.

Thorias and O'Fallon jumped up, bolting for the door. They burst through and raced down the corridor a few paces. O'Fallon paused in his flight to take deep gulps of air. He was only half-pretending to be winded.

"How did they know we were at the blacksmith's shop?" Thorias asked with a glance back the way they came. 

O'Fallon took a deep breath. "Na if Ah know. If we be layin' hands on one we can be askin' him." The quartermaster looked back in time to see four zombies half-run through the hall, followed by their two creators. "Time ta go!"

O'Fallon took off at a run, but at last his wounds and fatigue took their toll. With a misstep, he pitched headlong against the wall, then crashed to the floor. Thorias skid to a stop, crouched down and grabbed the quartermaster by his undamaged shoulder to haul him back to his feet. Behind them, one of the two men turned a small wind-key, raised his pistol and fired. The sound of a mainspring suddenly being released echoed in the dark corridor, followed by a rush of air. In the space above the two
Brass Griffin
crewmen, a half dozen steel needles tore through and ricocheted off the metal walls. O'Fallon and Thorias ducked. O'Fallon was lucky, Thorias was not. The
Brass Griffin
's elven doctor hissed as one of the needles slammed into his right side. Blood immediately welled up and stained his shirt.

Despite the shooting pains in his ribs, Thorias winced and hauled O'Fallon to his feet. "Ah, a needle-firing pistol. How ... novel. What will they think of next?" The doctor quipped in a vague attempt to maintain his composure.

The pair half-stumbled, half-raced around the corridor until they felt they were approximately half way around the entire loop. Thorias stopped to lean against the wall while O'Fallon drank in the humid, stale air.

"Smashing plan." Thorias said wryly. "Having a lovely time of it, I must say. You know, next time, lets entertain the thought of just shooting them."

"Ye didna think they would be unarmed, did ye?" O'Fallon asked between gulps of air.

Thorias reached down to feel the needle that protruded out of his ribcage on his side. He hissed in pain, "cracked a vertebrochondral rib." The doctor sighed painfully, then looked over at O'Fallon. "I thought it a likely chance. But ... now that you bring it up, I suppose it was quite foolish."

O'Fallon looked back down the way they had come - something was wrong. Something new beyond his continuous list of what had already transpired. Then it dawned on him. No footsteps. He glanced over to Thorias.

"We na be that fast. Where'd they be gettin' ta?" He asked.

Thorias looked over at O'Fallon and was glancing down both directions of the corridor when understanding dawned upon him. "You're right. They should be shambling along by now." He looked back to O'Fallon. "Moira?"

They exchanged a glance. In his mind's eye, O'Fallon imagined a nightmare of Moira being trapped in the boiler room. He could see by the look on Thorias' face, the doctor shared the same concern. Without a word, the pair turned and raced back the way they had come as fast as they were able to manage. 

Past the previous corner, their pace ground to an abrupt halt. There, in the hallway, Moira was in the process of lashing the man with the green tinted goggles to his companion using some old rope. Each man sat with his eyes rolled back and the sign of a growing lump on his head. Beside her in the hallway sat the jade statue. In front of her the four zombies had dropped to the floor where they had last stood. As Moira looked up suddenly at the approaching noise, her right hand leaped to her revolver. When she realized it was Thorias and O'Fallon, she relaxed.

"Moira, what is all this?" Thorias said incredulously while he took in the scene.

The young woman tied the last knot and grinned at her shipmates. "Found a better use fer that statue than what they be usin' it for." She scooped up the jade idol and brandished it like a club in demonstration. "Had it in me hands at the time, so I went for that instead of shootin' them. Considerin' we need ta not be wastin' bullets, like ya said."

Thorias shook his head slowly. O'Fallon winced while he imagined Moira actually using her makeshift weapon on the unsuspecting, and unprotected, victims. It never did pay to be on Moira's bad side. The Scotsman slowly walked over while Thorias tried to kneel down next to one of the zombies. He was only part way before the pain of the needle in his side nearly caused him to pass out. 

"I've got to get this out." He croaked quietly to himself. Slowly, he tore strips from the hem of his own shirt as a makeshift bandage. O'Fallon noticed the doctor's preparations and instinctively looked around for something to dull the pain. There was nothing useful.

"Thought I be seein' a box of bandages in the boiler room," Moira said. "Ran past one when we be pinchin' the statue. Not far from that big table they were usin'."

Thorias leaned back against the wall. "Any cloth would do for what I need."

Moira nodded. "Back soon. I be grabbin' what all I can find."

A few minutes later, Moira returned with a small box of bandages. O'Fallon stood next to the doctor with a concerned look on his face.

"Ye be sure and certain?" O'Fallon asked Thorias carefully. "Could be just pullin' it loose and cauterizin' it."

"Yes, I'm certain it has to come out, and I'd prefer to not have part of me cooked like a roast. At the least I believe the needle nicked a rib, if I'm fortunate, that is." Thorias explained. "In either case, it needs to come out for a long list of reasons. Now, we'll need to do this carefully. Moira, be ready to bandage once the needle is free. O'Fallon, grab onto the exposed end ..."

O'Fallon did so and then abruptly pulled. With a faint wet sucking sound, the needle came free of the doctor's ribs. Thorias stiffened, eyes wide and mouth open in shock. O'Fallon quickly pulled the needle away, to allow Moira a chance to clean the blood away from the small wound. Once that was done, she quickly wrapped the cloth around his mid-section with a thin, curved sheet of metal as a brace.

"... and slowly pull it free." Thorias croaked out in conclusion when the waves of sharp pain from the abrupt treatment had subsided.

O'Fallon and Moira exchanged a look. The quartermaster found his voice first. "Oh, well ye na said slow. Though quick be workin' as well in a pinch, eh?"