Storming: A Dieselpunk Adventure (56 page)

Something clanged. Another thud.

A whisper shrilled through the empty corridor: “Dagnabbit! Did you have to drop him right on my big toe?”

“Never mind that. Now, son, just you move along. We don’t want no trouble.”

Hitch dodged into the far corner of his cell, where he’d have the best angle of sight down the corridor.

Three men appeared through the far doorway. The two in back, clad in overalls and straw hats, wore red bandannas over their noses and hefted shotguns.

The Berringer brothers. Of course. Who else was Nan going to recruit?

Hitch almost grinned.

They prodded Griff along in front of them.

“Now, git on.” J.W. poked at Griff with his shotgun barrel. It wasn’t cocked. “You think a jailbreak’s supposed to take all night?”

Griff held up both hands. The key ring dangled from one thumb. His teeth were clenched hard, but his expression was more forbearing than upset.

Matthew clamped a hand on Griff’s shoulder and looked back at J.W. “Hush your mouth. You want to wake the whole blamed place?”

“
Me
wake the whole blamed place? What about you knocking them fellers out and letting them smack into the floor? If you’d given me some warning, I’d’ve caught ’em and nobody would’ve heard a thing.”

“What did you think I was going to do? Stand there and wait until they turned around and recognized us in these silly disguises?”

“These disguises are a common-sense precaution, and you know it.”

“They’re silly. Ain’t going to fool nobody.” Matthew rattled Griff’s shoulder. “Fool you, son?”

Griff cleared his throat. “That... might depend on who’s asking.”

“See?”

J.W. snorted. “What’s silly is this whole idea of a truce between you and me. I’d be in and out and have this job finished all by myself by now.”

“Surely.” Matthew didn’t sound sure. He looked at Griff. “Now where’s your brother?”

Hitch kept his mouth shut. Matthew and J.W. were already making so much noise, it was a miracle nobody had heard what was going on. The
Schturming
refugees in the other cells just stared slack-jawed and muttered amongst themselves.

Griff led the Berringers to Hitch’s cell and looked Hitch straight in the eye as he stuck the key in the lock.

Hitch gave him a nod. No doubt Griff had his own reasons for letting him out. Whatever they were, the results were a heap better than all the fighting and stonewalling they’d been doing ever since he’d got back.

Hitch looked at Matthew. “Thought you’d never get here.”

J.W. crooked his elbow around his shotgun. “Can’t hardly do a jailbreak in broad daylight.”

“Hush,” Matthew said. “Now, Hitch Hitchcock, you stop your wisecracking and listen to me. This whole thing’s rash, and I hope you know it. But it’s the only chance most of us got—including you. So if you’re brave enough to take that contraption of yours up tonight, God bless you. Your mechanic’s got it fueled and ready for takeoff, right outside of town. He’s been keeping it dry under tarps all this time.”

Griff opened the door.

Hitch grabbed his leather jacket off the bunk and stepped into the corridor. “What about Jael?”

“Hmm.” J.W. scratched his nose above his bandanna. “Where do they keep lady prisoners anyway?”

Griff headed down the corridor without needing even a single prod from Matthew. “This way.”

The cell Griff led them to was empty and dark.

Griff frowned. “She’s supposed to be here.” He unlocked the latch and stepped inside the cell.

“This a trick?” Matthew said.

The words were barely out of his mouth when something streaked down from the corner and hit Griff in the head. He toppled forward onto his knees.

Hitch lunged to catch him. “What—?”

With a grunt, Jael fell out of the ceiling. She landed in a crouch, next to the short log she must have somehow snagged and smuggled in under her skirt when they’d been at the graveyard that afternoon.

Hitch caught her bare arm. “What do you think you’re doing?” He looked from her to the ceiling. “How’d you get up there?”

She scrunched her face in a wince and straightened up. “I climbed.”

“And wedged yourself up there?” The girl was a consarned monkey.

Matthew pushed past Hitch to help a bleary Griff back to his knees. “What’d you hit this poor boy for?”

“Don’t you know a rescue when you see one?” J.W. said.

“This is rescue?” She looked at Hitch, then down at Griff. “Oh.” Then, sympathetically: “
Oh
.” She knelt and gently patted Griff’s cheeks.

Hitch scrubbed his hand through his hair. “How come I didn’t get all this nursing whenever you hit
me
?”

“
You
were not rescuing.”

“Yes, I was... some of the times.”

She slanted him a glance that looked downright reproachful.

“Yeah, well, anyway. I’m about to beat it. Breaking jail’s a crime in itself, so if Campbell catches up to me, it’ll mean about twice as much trouble as before. You can come on out if you want, and the Berringers or somebody will take care of you.” He glanced at Matthew for a nod of confirmation. “But you just might be better off staying here. It’s your choice.”

She stood and faced him. “You are going after
Schturming
. In this weather?”

“Yes, to find Walter and stop Zlo.”

“I will go with you.”

“
No.
” The word came out fast. He took a breath and slowed himself down. “I don’t want you up there tonight. Flying in weather like this is... well, it ain’t recommended. I could crash as easy as not, and that’d be the end of it.”

“You will never be finding
Schturming
without me. Now that Zlo has changed the
dawsedometer
to on again, I can feel where it is. You cannot.”

“Jael—” How to say this? And in front of Griff and the Berringers too.

He’d been a fool last night, for a lot of reasons. One of those reasons was how close he’d come to walking away from her.

But now everything was different. He was either going to die tonight or end up in prison for an awful long time. Whatever chance he had of making things the way he wanted them to be with her was long gone.

He
needed
her to be safe. But he needed to find Walter too. She was right about his chances of locating the dirigible without her. But... He shivered. What if it got her killed too?

He reached to hold her shoulders at arm’s length. “I don’t want you to do this.”

She raised both eyebrows. Her eyes were deep and steady. “But you have need of me to. So do not be wasting your time telling me this.”

His heart flip-flopped—partly because she’d said yes and partly because... she’d said yes. God help them.

“Thank you.” His voice sounded hoarse.

She reached for his hand and took a limping step. “Let us go.”

He paused to help Griff up. “I don’t know if you did this ’cause the Berringers strong-armed you or—”

Groggily, Griff looked him in the eye. “Good luck, Hitch.”

It wasn’t precisely a reconciliation, but it was enough for tonight.

“Hustle yourself,” Matthew said.

Hitch gave his brother a nod, then pulled away.

They made it all the way down to the ground floor and started looking for the exit. Then they turned the wrong corner—and ran straight into Campbell coming out of his office.

The sheriff stopped shuffling papers and gaped. “What—”

So much for the clean getaway.

Hitch wheeled around, hauling Jael with him.

“This way!” J.W. hollered from the far end of the hall.

Ahead, double doors glinted.

Behind, Campbell started shouting orders. His heavy footsteps pounded the hallway.

Hitch kept running.

Beside him, Jael grunted pain with every stride.

He circled her waist with his arm and half-dragged her after him.

“Stop!” Campbell shouted. “You stop where you stand, or I’ll put you all in the ground!”

He probably would too.

“Sheriff!” That was Griff’s voice.

Just shy of the door, Hitch skidded to a stop, and looked over his shoulder.

Campbell had stopped too. He stood only about twenty feet off, his revolver in his hand.

Up the hallway behind him, Griff ran after them. He held out a placating hand. “Just wait. They need to go. This is our only chance—”

“You’re part of this, Deputy?” Campbell swung around and smashed his big fist square into Griff’s nose.

Griff staggered back and crashed into the wall. He exhaled hard. Blood spluttered from his face.

“No!” Hitch started back.

Jael snagged his sleeve. “We have to be going! Griff wants us to go!”

Campbell filled his hand with Griff’s shirtfront and glared down the hallway at Hitch. “You stay, you hear me? Or your brother gets everything in your place. You want to live with that on your conscience for the rest of your life?”

Hitch tugged free of Jael’s grip.

Griff shook his head. He left his arms hanging slack at his sides, not fighting. More blood drenched his face, already flooding his shirt. But his blue eyes stared straight into Hitch’s.

Frustration welled up in Hitch’s belly. It roared up out of his mouth.

Leave, and who knew what’d happen to his brother? Stay, and he’d lose his son for sure. It was the devil’s own choice, but there was only one answer at this point. Griff knew it. Hitch knew it.

Still roaring, he turned and ran out through the door after Jael.

In the street, J.W. pumped the crank on the front of his jalopy. The engine rattled and coughed to life, and he ran around to the passenger side to throw open the doors. They all piled inside.

A gunshot cracked through the night.

Hitch shoved Jael’s head down and ducked himself. In the driver’s seat, Matthew hit the gas, and the jalopy careened away. Another shot exploded and pinged against a back fender.

Hitch looked up.

Silhouetted in the courthouse’s columned doorway, Campbell cracked off his revolver. The muzzle flashed yellow through the rain, but the shot must have gone wide. He shot again—and again—until the jalopy lurched around the corner.

“This ain’t good,” Hitch said through clenched teeth. He let up on the back of Jael’s head, so she could straighten. “Griff shouldn’t have helped with this. We should have grabbed another deputy.”

Matthew hunched over the wheel, peering through his spectacles. The roof was up, and the wavering headlights lit the road only dimly. “He wanted to be a part of it. That was his call.”

Hitch flopped back against the hard seat.
All right, little brother
. But this time, God help him, he
was
coming back. He had to take on Zlo if only so he’d live long enough to come back and beat Campbell into a pulp.

“Here.” J.W. passed a bundle back over the seat to Jael. “Clothes. We done the best we could. Britches, boots, and a coat.”

“Those are just the correct things.” She slumped down on the seat. “Now, I will have all of you look at road.”

They all turned studiously forward.

That didn’t keep Hitch’s ears from hearing her grunts—and something that came right close to being a whimper—as she wriggled into the breeches.

He dared a glance over and found her buttoning the pants underneath the skirt of her party dress. “You sure you’re okay?”

In the dark, her face was only a pale blur. “It is hurting. Worse than before. But that is good, yes? Means I will find
Schturming
for you.”

Maybe. If she didn’t pass out first. If she was hurting this bad now, it was only going to get worse the closer they got to
Schturming
. He reached for her hand and squeezed it.

She squeezed back.

“All right, you two.” J.W. hauled another bundle off the floorboards and into his lap. This one clattered. “Now for the good stuff. Can’t have you going into enemy territory unarmed and defenseless.” He looked in Jael’s direction. “Know anything about using a gun, missy?”

“Only Enforcement
Brigada
are allowed.”

He grunted. “Well, then. Maybe a knife for you. I know you can handle that just fine.”

She took the knife and leaned forward to slit the dress’s skirt from hem to hips. She cut it all the way around her waist, until all that was left was the top part, like a shirt. Then she shrugged into the leather jacket J.W. had given her.

Matthew stomped on the brakes. “Here we are then.”

Rain plinked against the little rear window behind Hitch.