Nick James - Skyship Academy

“No we ain’t,” she counters. “We’re wanderers. Just looking for water.”

The guy smiles, advancing on us. “Well, come over here and I’ll give you a little something.”

“Avery,” I whisper, “we should run.”

“Too many of ’em,” she whispers back. “I can handle this.”

“What would possibly give you that idea?”

“Shh!” She steps in front of me, crossing her arms.

“Aw, don’t be scared,” the Fringe leader coaxes. “We ain’t gonna hurt you. Just come over here a second.”

Avery scowls. “In your dreams, maybe.”

I grab her arm, pulling her back. The last thing she needs to do right now is antagonize them.

She digs her heels into the ground, staying put.

The guy grins, rubbing his hands together. “We got a feisty one here, don’t we? I like feisty.”

Then, his grin turns to a frown as he notices something behind us.

“Stand back, Horatio!” A voice rings through the street. I spin around to see a gangly figure wearing a sweat-stained gray tank top and baggy jeans. The kid looks no older than me.

He stares down a crossbow too heavy for his stringy arms. A silver arrow glints in the sunlight, pointed in our direction. I can’t see beyond his circular goggles, but his mouth curls up in a confident smile at odds with his less-than-threatening build.

“Back up,” he yells. “They’re mine!”

On one side of us, four burly Fringers. On the other, one nasty-looking crossbow. An hour of peace, that’s all I ask for.

Horatio and his buddies laugh, wiping the sweat from their brows. “What the hell’s that supposed to be, Henderson?”

“Antique,” the kid replies, “but these arrows are still mighty sharp. What do you want?”

“We’re here to talk to your pops,” Horatio responds. “Business proposition.”

“Yeah? Don’t think he’ll like that.”

The Fringers continue to advance, slower but no less menacing. “Don’t think we care,” Horatio grins. “You looking for a fight, Henderson?”

The boy steps back, curving around us until he has a lock on the gang. “Head over to Uni. Now. Or I put a shish-kabob right through each one of you.”

Horatio chuckles, hands in the air.

“I said now!”

Horatio nudges his friend, whispering something to him before focusing back on the boy. “One of these days when you’re not looking, I’m gonna smear your head all over the pavement.”

The boy grins. “I’m a biter. You get near my face and you’ll lose an ear.”

Horatio shakes his head, amused, and motions for the gang to follow him into the town. With one final nod in our direction, they skirt down the street and out of sight. The boy keeps the crossbow pointed at us, jaw clenched with one hand on the trigger. Then, satisfied that the other Fringers are really gone, he drops it to his side.

“Yo.” He holds out his hand like we’re actually gonna go over and shake it. It’s filthy, like the rest of him. A tuft of dark hair sticks out from underneath a backward baseball cap. His dampened clothing is riddled with holes. “Buncha chickens back there,” he mutters, pointing down the street. “Thing doesn’t even shoot right.”

We stare at him for at least five seconds, utterly silent.

He pulls back his hand. “Guess we’re not gonna be shakin’. What’s the matter? You ain’t city folk, are you?”

“No,” I stammer. “We’re… uh… wanderers.” It comes out more like a question than a statement.

The kid flashes an are-you-stupid grin, which quickly develops into a full-bellied laugh. “Wanderers? Not out here you ain’t. Closest town’s thirty miles away. That wanderer crap may fly in the East, but not here. Unless you’ve got a secret camel hump behind you.” He crosses his arms. “So where you really from? Survivors of the train wreck?”

Avery nods.

With lightning-fast reflexes, the kid raises the crossbow again, ready to shoot.

“No, wait!” She holds out her hand. “We’re Skyship.”

His head tilts, but he keeps the weapon pointed forward. “Prove it.”

Avery rolls her eyes. “You said that crossbow doesn’t work.”

“Works all right.”

She sighs, stepping toward him.

“Avery!” I pull on her arm to stop her. She ignores me and grabs the front of the bow, yanking it from the kid’s grip and tossing it behind her. It crashes on the pavement, much to the kid’s dismay.

She glares at him. “Why would anybody from a Chosen come running all the way out here?”

“City Salesmen.” The kid rubs his gloved hand, annoyed. “Couple of ’em wandered in two weeks ago, trying to drag us into the Chosens and make us pay that pretty little tax of theirs. Chuck us out and reel us in… that’s how they do it.”

“Do we look like City Salesmen?”

He frowns. “Guess not.”

“Who were those guys?” I motion down the street.

“Wannabe gang lords.” He lifts his goggles, revealing a pair of inquisitive blue eyes. “Don’t know how they keep winding up around here. They’re from down south, trying to make a name for themselves. Not tough enough to do it back in YakTown so they mosey up here, I guess.”

Avery crosses her arms. “How did you know about the train crash?”

“Big news,” he says. “Good thing you left when you did. Twenty miles north of YakTown ain’t nothing. Gangs’ll be on it like ants on a carcass-druggies looking to cash in on whatever’s left.”

My mind flashes back to the exploded Chute. I wonder if the government will send help if it means risking a standoff with Fringers.

“Name’s Bobby.” The boy removes his cap, rustling his hair. “You guys looking for a Pearl? That it?”

“No,” Avery starts. “Actually, we’re looking for food. We haven’t eaten since yesterday.”

He nods, repositioning the cap on his head. “Never seen Shippers ’round these parts before. Ain’t there laws against that?”

I glance over at him. “We aren’t exactly legal.”

He shrugs. “An enemy of the Unified Party is a friend to me. I guess I don’t have to kill you or nothing.”

“We’re just passing through,” Avery says. “All we need is food. We can pay you.”

Bobby chuckles, crouching down to inspect the busted crossbow. “With what? Skyship credit ain’t good down here. Unless you got a packet of Serenity to trade with Horatio and his goons, I’m not interested.”

“Rations,” she replies. “We can get you rations after all this is over.”

“ All this is over? ” He stands. “Where you two think you’re going?”

“Seattle,” I answer.

He shakes his head, grinning. “Seattle? Sunken City Seattle? You really think the Cascade Colony’s gonna let you through?”

I hold my hand up to block the blinding sun. “The Cascade what?”

“The Colony.” He motions for us to follow him, cutting through a vacant parking lot in front of the gutted shell of a supermarket. “The Cascadians. Old George Barkley’s been heading over there twice a month ever since the smog lifted. Gotta pay the toll, though. They trust him.” He pauses. “Don’t trust nobody else.”

Avery speeds up to walk by his side. “There are people living in the mountains?”

“Of course there are people living in the mountains,” he replies. “It’s cooler up there. Not by much, but there’s shade. Trees.” He jumps a curb, leading us through a patch of scratchy grass until we’re back on another road.

I step over a large crack fracturing the center of the street. “How does this Barkley guy get over there?”

“Moving van,” Bobby answers. “Fills it up with trinkets from the city. Stuff to trade. Stuff to tinker with. What’s got you folks so interested?”