6

Riley

So many citizens crowded into the inn’s dining room for the meeting that Riley found himself standing, along with a dozen other men, in the rear of the space. Chairs skidded against the wood floor as people moved amongst one another talking in hushed whispers, waiting for information. With nightfall, the lamps that lit up Outer City cast the devastation of the wreck in sharp angles against the inky sky through the window. The smell of coffee and miraculously, biscuits, did nothing to warm the cold dread present in the sullen group.

Despite his worry for his people, Riley’s gaze kept wandering to Charlotte as she leaned against the far wall of the inn’s dining room and listened to the discussion. Pale, with her long ebony hair over slight shoulders, she looked for all intents and purposes, her twenty years. But the coiled tension to her stance, the way she shivered periodically as if catching an icy breeze, her restless gaze, it all reminded Riley of what she truly was. A girl, who, against impossible odds, had survived. Despite his failings and wrong turns. Despite a madman’s intent. Charlotte Blackburn lived. The pads of his fingers found the mech-glove encasing his left hand, the heat of the gears dissipating in the cool night air. Where his device enabled the use, the normal use, of his paralyzed hand, Charlotte was a whole other story.

Strikingly fast, she had moved on that galleon like nothing he’d ever seen. Charlotte ran in a blur that made him feel as if he’d been standing still. Those things, the mechanica, as Lilah called them, they did more than simple mech-gadgets and gear work appendages did. Charlotte was clearly stronger now too, and if he would admit to himself, more ruthless. He’d known, in that moment in the warehouse when he’d realized she was infected with the Trembling Sickness, that she was different somehow. Able to slow or withstand the affliction like no one else, but it had clearly been gaining on her. Now…now he didn’t know what to think. And the Tremblers reaction to her put a knot in his gut. Before, she could sense them. Now they ran from her in pain. Riley didn’t know if that was good or not. At any rate, it meant the connection between her and them was stronger.

Edmund Frinkle hefted his rotund body to the head of the table and squinted at the ledger in his chubby hands. Adjusting his pince-nez spectacles closer to his beady eyes, he read in a solemn voice the results of his inventory. “Well, we’ve lost most of our food stores.”

Riley’s jaw ground as a round of disheartened moans met Frinkle’s announcement. A series of panicked glances shot his way from the gathered crowd.

“And, we had begun storing our medical and equipment overstock in that area, and we lost a good portion of that when the storage buildings fell.”

“Is there any good news?” Riley asked sourly. He should not have let Frinkle give the results.

The Weather Master’s hand shot up. Riley sighed. “You don’t have to raise your hand, Mr. Percy.”

He stood, wringing a roll of aether paper in his hands. “We’re looking at a storm coming either later tonight or early tomorrow. That will replenish the water reserves we lost fighting the fires and because we foolishly used our drinking water barrels to barricade the port,” he said while glancing at the woman sitting next to him.

“Well it was a better plan than your running about screaming,” the woman snapped.

“I most certainly was not screaming!” Percy shouted. “We are fortunate that the storm is on its way.”

“The one we cannot defend against because half of Port Hayden’s sheltering buildings are now nothing more than debris in the ocean?” The woman shot back.

“Now the galleon crashing is my fault?” Percy snapped. “What about—”

“All right, Percy,” Riley interrupted. To the woman, he nodded. “And thank you, Ms. Timble. If not for your quick thinking we likely may have suffered more casualties.”

The woman crossed her arms, sniffed, and glared at Percy. Riley drew in a calming breath. “We’ll figure something out,” he offered. “Make more supply runs down to the city-states, maybe form another salvage party to the wastelands, see what we can find.”

“We’ve picked everything clean for miles,” Percy said. “Only thing left is the ocean.”

“Don’t be daft,” someone called from across the room.

“I’m saying those ships are our only remaining option,” Percy shot back, his face going red. “I’ve seen ‘em. From the weather stations.”

Another round of argument met his remarks and Riley let his head fall back, eyes closed. They were not wrong to panic. Not really. He had no idea where they would find a viable place to get what they needed. Lilah caught his eye with a small gesture and he nodded, clearing his throat.

“Doctor Bartlet, have you news on the victims?” Riley asked, aloud.

All eyes shifted to Lilah and Riley cringed, knowing her quiet nature abhorred being the center of attention. She stood, adjusting her dress skirts with delicate hands, and cleared her throat nervously.

“I know there is a difference,” Lilah began, her soft voice barely audible. “Between what we have experienced with our loved ones before and what the passengers of the galleon seemed to exhibit today, but...” she shrugged. “I am ill-equipped here to truly uncover what this new illness means.”

A cacophony of questions erupted from the group, but Riley’s gaze snapped to where Charlotte had stood upon mention of the affliction. She was not there. Glancing at Lilah and deciding she could handle the queries, he wove through the chairs and made his way to where she’d been. Through the hallway, he spotted her form near a window and went to her.

“How’re you doing, Charlotte?” He asked quietly.

“Tired.” She turned, her pale gaze catching the lamplight from the candle on the sill. “But good. Alive, at the very least.”

He nodded, noting that Charlotte seemed to quake in her boots and, even though he did not know if it was the bone chilling effects of her affliction or the very real possibility that she was breaking apart mentally, he wanted to hold her. To tell her that she was safe now, but the truth was, she was far from it. And then there was Lilah. His heart tumbled at the thought of hurting such a sweet and honest woman. The way she looked at him, the way Jack did. It was too much to worry about. Right now, he just needed to keep everyone alive.

“You’ve been quiet since the frigate,” he said. “I wonder if you should’ve kept clear of all that given what you’ve been through.”

She shrugged, not commenting. The bruises and cuts on her hands and neck made him frown. They had not been treated and yet looked better than his own injuries. Charlotte stirred from the view out of the window after a time and turned to him.

“What was Percy talking about?” she asked.

“Ah, nothing viable.” Riley leaned a hip against the writing desk. “He’s been going on about those ships for a while now.”

“Tell me,” she asked, and the intensity of her gaze took him aback.

“Charlotte, he’s out of his mind. It’s the panic talking.” Her eyes did not waver and so he relented. “As the Weather Master, he is out on the different station balloons all along the coast. He said he can see the sunken iron-clads, even the vessels that crashed before the Reaper invasion.” She shifted towards him, curiosity brightening her face. Riley shook his head. “It’s hogwash. The waters of the sea surely dissolved any wreckage by now. You know the poison churning in these toxic waters.”

“What do you think he’s talking about, then?”

“What?” Riley blinked, unsure if he liked the sudden calm overtaking her appearance.

“He must see something. A shape to make him believe it is ships. What do you suppose he’s talking about if not vessels?”

“I don’t know…rocks?” It sounded dumb to him even as the answer left his lips.

“What if there really are ships down there? What if we can salvage what they had on board?”

“We can’t though.” Riley stood, not liking the turn this conversation was taking.

“Why?” Charlotte shivered, and the mechanica sparked at her arm and hands. It lit up the dark room like a flash, and Riley glanced over his shoulder.

“Because those waters are too deep for any man to dive without air and it’s too cold to survive even if he could make it to the vessel. Let alone the constantly shifting earth, the lava spurts, the…” he lowered his voice. “Strange creatures.”

She waved off his last comment.

“What if those were not a factor?”

“But they are,” Riley crossed is arms.

“There is equipment capable of keeping one alive…providing the oxygen needed. I have read about diving chambers, I even once witnessed a demonstration of one of Le Sieur’s hydrostatic air machines at the fair as a child—”

“All right, there is nothing here,” Riley cut across her. “Nothing I can get my hands on. No one even knows if that sort of thing survived the quakes, let alone the Reaper invasion.”

Charlotte’s lips formed a tight line, her gaze full of frustration.

Determined to dissuade any wild idea she might have, he pressed on, ticking the reasons off on his fingers. “And it is not just the air. It is the cold. That water freezes anything that stays in it longer than a few minutes, especially in the deep trenches where Percy claims to have seen those ships. Heck, some winters the waves have ice in their swells. Ice, Charlotte. Like the north, but here, because our weather is so chaotic and severe since the Great Calamity completely altered everything. The ocean is unpredictable at best. Deadly.”

“You have tried?”

Riley ground his teeth, pacing as he fought to slow the panic rising in his chest. She would want to do this. It was in Charlotte’s nature to risk her life to save others.

“Yes, once, in the shallows off the coast of Pennsylvania. I lost three good men and we got nothing. Couldn’t even make it to the ship. Were never able to confirm it was a ship and not an up-cropping from the shifting sea floor or a piece of debris from the quakes.”

“How did they die?” She asked so calmly, as if inquiring after his horse, or what was for dinner.

“What does it matter?”

“It matters a great deal, Riley.” Her eerie calm unnerved him. “Was it an unexpected jet of magma, an air hose failure, what?”

“He, uh, the doctor, said he died of exposure.” Riley answered, a sick feeling churning his stomach when he realized why she wanted to know. “Charlotte, no.”

“That would not happen to me,” she said evenly, holding his horrified gaze with her own steady one. “I do not think I would freeze to death.”

“Don’t think? Now you listen to me,” Riley began, “You only just came back to me—”

Pounding down the hallway cut his sentence short. An uneven banging sent his senses afire. He drew his weapon and chased after Charlotte, who was already halfway down the other corridor. Skidding to a halt just behind her, Riley froze at the sight just over her shoulder. A woman, one of the survivors of the galleon wreck, flailed on the bed. Her bandages whipped with the enormous tremors wracking her body. She moaned, a deep sound that tore from her chest.

“She was fine,” Lilah’s voice came from behind him. Her horrified face shone in the lamplight.

“Shoot her,” Charlotte said quietly.

“What?” Riley and Lilah asked together.

Charlotte turned to them, her face a mask of calm. “Take her down,” she whispered while backing up. “Quickly, before it’s too late.”

More people raced up the steps, crowding the hallway and filling the doorway. They jostled, trying to look inside the room. A sea of frightened faces and worried murmurs swelled behind him. Riley shook his head, his hand on his weapon.

“No, please, Sebastian,” Lilah pled. “She could be having fit.” Lilah stepped around him, reaching for the woman.

“Stop,” Charlotte grabbed Lilah, yanking her away just as the woman on the bed reared upright despite her injuries. “Back out slowly.”

The woman groaned, contorting with a tremendous shiver that twisted her limbs unnaturally.

Riley unholstered his weapon, stepping back carefully. “Come here, Lilah,” he murmured, motioning with his other hand. “Listen to Charlotte.”

Lilah stood motionless, her face twisted with fear. “But, the other patients. We cannot leave them.”

“Look…” Mr. Percy said in a shocked whisper. He pointed to the corner of the room. “Look at the others.”

On the four remaining beds in the room, the other patients stirred, their arms and legs twitching beneath the sheets. Charlotte reached underneath her bodice, pulling something out. She gripped it in her small hand and its metal glint in the lamp light paced up Riley’s pulse. Where did she get a weapon?

“Very slowly, very quietly, back up and see if we are able to get the door between us,” Charlotte said to him. The intensity of her gaze took him back. He did not see fear there. It was something else entirely. A heat he’d only seen in battle.

“Back up,” Riley hissed to the people behind him as he kept his gaze on the woman on the bed. She panted, her black eyes roving in their sockets. How had she turned so quickly? Her teeth chattered and dark blue branched its way up her neck and along her cheeks. To Lilah, he extended his hand. “Dr. Bartlet, please do as Charlotte says.”

“She’s turning. She’s a Trembler,” Percy hissed. “Do something.”

Before Riley could act, the woman on the bed let out a keening screech and coiled, ready to spring.

In one powerful motion, Charlotte tossed Lilah into his arms. Turning she whipped her wrist and the weapon extended to a metal baton that twisted, locking into place with a clang as a ribbon of silver energy snapped from the mechanica in Charlotte’s hand and sizzled down the rod.

Riley toppled backward when Lilah hit his chest, tripping on the feet of those behind him, he went down. Percy scrambled over him, grabbing at the door handle.

“Wait,” Riley shouted, struggling to help Lilah up and get to the doorway. Through the crack in the door, the other passengers rose from their beds, lurching as they moved toward Charlotte. Raising the baton, she crouched, and a wisp of white vapor streamed from her mouth just as the door slammed shut. “Charlotte!”