Flaming Zeppelins (32 page)

“I find little purpose in much of anything,” the Dutchman said.

“That is sad,” Verne said. “Very sad.”

“Have it as you wish,” the Dutchman said. “You, Mr. Twain, I could let them off here, sail you to America.”

“I would like that,” Twain said. “But I assume America is dealing with these same machines. If I'm going to try and do something, it might as well be here.”

“But what can you do?” the Dutchman said.

“You have been a pessimist too long,” Twain said. “I am not alone. I have my friends. Ned, Passepartout and Verne. And new friends as well, Beadle and John Feather, Bull and Cat.

“Bull and Cat not leave ship.”

It was Bull. He was coming up the steps that led to the wheel deck. Cat was with him.

“You're staying?” the Dutchman said.

“Me stay. Cat stay. We like ship. Stop get supplies. Go back to sea. Help sail boat.”

“The Martians, they will come to sea eventually,” Verne said.

“Bad things always come. Always find. Men from rock in sky come, me and Cat fight. But now, we sail. Like life. On land, always cocksucker want trouble. Bull tired of trouble. Like big boat. Help out. Learn chess from Dutchman. Hump Cat. Good life.”

“Me-ow,” Cat said.

“Well then,” Twain said, “we wish you luck, friends.”

Bull stuck out his hand and took Twain's. “Bull and Cat wish friends luck. Bull miss Ned much. Ned is brave.”

“And sweet,” Cat said, giving Ned a kiss on the nose.

The little seal stuck out his chest.

“Much luck,” Bull said. “You need it.”

There was a hiss from below, and out of the open hold came a puff of steam followed by a shiny point of silver metal. Then Steam's head, his multi-colored, stained-glass eyes appeared.

Steam climbed out of the hold and in a moment was on deck, walking slowly toward them. It was disconcerting. Steam was a great tall man of metal, but there was something about him that made him seem like a living thing. When he walked, his body moved the way a human's does. It turned its head in an inquisitive manner, like a man looking for a certain street. It was hard to believe there were men at the controls.

Steam stopped, stood still. A trap in his bottom opened up, a ladder poked out, and down it came Beadle and John Feather.

“He works fine,” Beadle said as he climbed up on the wheel deck.

“We used some of the wood down there,” John Feather said. “I am sorry we did not ask. We actually broke off a few cabinet doors and put them in the furnace. We can only offer our apologies. We should have asked. But then again, we are desperate, sir.”

“Apology accepted,” the Dutchman said. “But had you asked, and had I said no, would you have done it anyway?”

“I suppose we would have,” Beadle said. “We feel that we must. We want to go ashore, help our friends here deal with the Martian machines. And we want to find our way home. Such as it is.”

John Feather said, “We're not so sure we have a home anymore. Our world was in bad shape. But if we could study the diary of the Time Traveler in greater detail, perhaps with the help of scientists, or science-minded people, we could figure out what is happening to the universe. If our theory that Time Travel is causing rips in time and space is true, perhaps we could find a cure, so to speak.”

“I know people who might help us,” Verne said. “A number of them. I am no slouch in scientific matters myself, and Passepartout, my butler, is more than a butler. He is a genius.”

“Why, thank you, monsieur,” Passepartout said.

“It is only the truth,” Verne said. “Passepartout here is the author of many an invention.”

“The boat fell apart,” Twain said. “The balloon was designed poorly.”

“There were flaws,” Passepartout said. “But they did work. Had I had more time, more experimentation, those problems would not have occurred.”

Ned began writing.

THERE ARE SCIENTISTS IN AMERICA WHO FIXED IT SO BUFFALO BILL COULD LIVE ONLY AS A HEAD IN A JAR. THEY ARE SMART. I REMEMBER SOME NAMES. MORSE. PROFESSOR MAXXON.

Beadle nodded. “We may need them as well. But for now, we have Steam, and we have a new mission. John Feather and I, we are soldiers of a sort, and we are at our best when battling for the common good. So we look forward to being put ashore.”

“These Martians,” Twain said. “They have the machines, but they also have a kind of…what would you call it, Verne?”

“Ray,” Verne said. “A beam of light that destroys.”

“The machines are fast, and they are strong,” Passepartout said. “So my friends, you will be in for a fight.”

“We're ready,” John Feather said. “We've no place to go back to, really. No way to get back if we could. Our friends are dead. We have new friends here. We are ready to do what we can. Besides, you saved our lives. We owe you.”

“I intend to prove that Frenchmen are as brave as anyone on the face of the earth,” Verne said.

“Oui, Oui,” Passepartout said.

Ned wrote:

I HAVE SEEN THE MARTIANS. I SAW THEM THROUGH THE GLASS IN FRONT OF THEIR MACHINES. THEY LOOK LIKE AN

OCTOPUS. I SAW A DEAD ONE. HE HAD TWO ASSHOLES.

“That's true,” Twain said. “Very much so.”

Ned wrote some more.

WE WOULD BE JUST LIKE IN THE DIME NOVELS. PALS, WORKING TOGETHER TO DESTROY THE BAD GUYS. THE BAD OCTOPUSSES. OCTOPUSSY. OCTOPIE. YOU KNOW WHAT I MEAN.

“We do,” John Feather said.

Ned wrote again.

YOU KNOW, I MIGHT COULD EAT A MARTIAN. I LIKE OCTOPUS.

“I think I'd let that one go,” Verne said. “You don't know where they've been.”

“Mars,” Twain said.

“Yes,” Verne said, “but where on Mars? They could have some very vulgar habits, you know. They could live up an animal's ass or roll in shit or eat it by the pound. We don't know a thing about them.”

“You don't know anything about Martians,” Twain said. “They could be very clean.”

Rikwalk appeared, rubbing his eyes.

“Sorry,” he said, “all that work at the booze wheel has exhausted me.”

“That's all right,” Twain said. “I've been thinking about you speaking English, trying to come up with a reason. But all it does is make my head hurt.”

“I believe that at one point in time, explorers from Earth were on Mars,” Verne said. “Perhaps when Mars was in its infancy. I have even thought that apes from Earth may have come with the earthlings. For experimentation, I'm afraid. The apes were perhaps advanced, maybe even modified to speak. They learned English. Perhaps they mated with an indigenous Martian species, and you, my friend, are the results.”

Rikwalk nodded. “I suppose that is possible. The Earth we know is an empty world. Dried up and burned up by the heat of the sun. Our scientists have suggested a collapsed ozone layer, but no one knows. There is a theory that apes came from manlike beings, or that their genetics were somehow entwined with ours, but again, no one knows this for a fact. Man, on our world, does not exist. Just their bones. We, of course, have people who have studied this extensively, as well as our language, and at some point in time, it just seems as if we came into existence. And, though there is evidence of man, it has long been assumed that he was our inferior ancestor. From the reconstructions I've seen in museums, you beings look much like those reconstructions. Though there are some differences.”

“Like what?” Twain asked.

“We had no idea that you were…mostly hairless. We assumed that you had a mild coat of hair.”

“What I would like to know is why our Martians have invaded our Earth?” Passepartout said.

“The reason all invaders invade,” Twain said. “Greed.”

“Perhaps their world is dying,” Verne said.

“White Man kill Indian ‘cause him want land,” Bull said. “Him fuck up land. Shit-eating white bastards.”

“I do not think he means you,” Cat said.

“After what I saw him do with that knife to those pirates,” Twain said, “I certainly hope not.”

Bull made a grunting noise. It could have meant anything.

“I believe,” the Dutchman said, “we are coming to a good place to set ashore. I'm going to need all hands, including passengers, to help. So, all hands alive.”

There were great white birds everywhere, and they screamed at the sky and soared above the sails. A black bird, perhaps a crow, appeared, fluttered and landed atop the center mast.

“Not a good sign,” Twain said.

He and Verne were working at pulling ropes, lowering a sail to the command of one of the Dutchman's mates.

“On this ship,” Verne said, “I would assume that bad signs are consistent, considering the captain and his crew are doomed.”

“Question is,” Twain said, “does his curse extend to us? Are we now part of his crew?”

“I hadn't thought of that,” Verne said. “I hope that if there was a curse, it applies only to those who were with the Dutchman's ship at the time he seduced this witch's daughter. And could be the Dutchman is no more doomed or cursed than you or I, except in his mind.”

“Could be,” Twain said. “But I'll be glad to leave this ship, nonetheless.”

The ship edged toward shore, and when they were some distance out, a great rope was attached to the bow of the ship, and Rikwalk dropped over the side, grabbing the rope, first swimming, finally wading toward shore, pulling the great ship forward. His strength was remarkable, like that of an elephant.

Twain and Verne watched this event. Twain said, “I'm glad he's on our side.”

Rikwalk pulled the ship to shore. Those who wished to disembark did so. In the cruiser came Verne, Twain, Ned, Passepartout. The cruiser floated over the side of the ship, dropping down, blowing over the water near the shore, and finally onto land itself.

Beadle and John Feather disembarked inside of Steam.

Steam, puffing and wheezing, strode down the gangplank. He walked through the shallows and onto the shore, stood there in the sunlight, shiny as a fresh minted coin, a coil of steam slowly vaporizing around his head.

Bull and Cat waved to those on the shore from the ship.

“Keep powder dry,” Bull called, placing his arm around Cat.

“You too, my friend,” Passepartout called.

Inside Steam, Beadle and John Feather caused the metal man's arm to lift, and with a creaking noise, wave good-bye.

The Dutchman called out, “Good luck, friends. And now, if you would be so kind, Rikwalk.”

Rikwalk took hold of the rope and pulled, tugging the bow of the ship around. He pulled the ship out to sea. When it was as deep as he could go, when the water was up to his armpits, he let go of the rope, swam behind the ship and pushed. When the ship was moving comfortably on its own, Rikwalk swam back to shore, shook himself and joined the others, stood beside Steam. He was almost as tall as Steam, but the metal man's conical hat stood ten feet higher than Rikwalk's head.

Rikwalk leaned forward and pressed his face against the stained-glass eyes. That way he could look inside, see Beadle and John Feather at the controls. They waved at him, said, “Pee-Pie,” as he moved his face away.

John Feather turned to Beadle, said, “Man, that was some creepy shit. A big ape eye looking in on us.”

“I'm glad he's on our side,” Beadle said.

As they watched the ship sail away, the sky turned dark and split wide open, making a tall, wide, purple wound. And before you could say, Holy Shit! Look out, goddamnit! the Dutchman's ship sailed through the crack in the sky and out of sight, as if falling off the face of the world.

The split did not widen.

And it did not close.

“It's worsening,” Beadle said from inside Steam. “This world will soon be like ours.”

“Bless them,” John Feather said.

After watching for a long time in astonishment, the split did close. Slowly, as if curtains were being pulled together.

The gang was torn up about it, but knew there was nothing they could do. After a few words of complaint, a cry of lament, they decided to get on with things.

“We don't know that where they went is bad,” said Twain.

“That's true,” said Verne. “They could be anywhere.”

“But it could be bad,” Passepartout said.

“Yes,” Verne said. “It could.”

Ned, though distraught at what might be happening to his friends, Bull and Cat, bucked up and took a dip in the ocean to dampen himself, as well as nab a couple of fat fish. When he was finished with that, they started on their journey.

It was suggested by Beadle, and decided by the group, that everyone, with the obvious exception of Rikwalk, would ride inside of Steam. It was not a gentle ride. Beadle and John Feather sat in spring-loaded seats and worked the controls, and when Steam stepped, the whole machine jostled. There were a couple of hammock-style seats in the machine, and Ned claimed one of them immediately. The other was tossed for. Twain won the toss. Verne and Passepartout made do with sitting on the floor near the controls.

Though being cautious was wise, and back roads were taken, hiding something the size of Rikwalk and Steam didn't seem likely. But neither did it seem smart to abandon such a machine, and, of course, there was no thought of abandoning a friend like Rikwalk.

As Steam strode along, Rikwalk walking beside the great machine, they could see that the road was littered with the bodies of both humans and animals, horsedrawn transportation lay wrecked all about.

Inside Steam, Twain said, “I'm all for a fight. I want to fight. We have to fight. But maybe walking right into their midst isn't such a good idea. And now that I think about it, I really don't want to fight that bad.”

Ned wrote: WE CAN HIDE OUT LIKE RATS IN THE COUNTRYSIDE. THAT MIGHT BE A GOOD IDEA.