Nick James - Skyship Academy

The man frowned. “So go get it.”

“It’s heavy,” Cassius continued, slumping over to look as pathetic as possible. “If you could just help me drag it to the car, I’ll let you take what you want. The sun has made me so weak I can barely stand.”

It wasn’t entirely a lie, but he hoped he’d have enough energy left for one quick attack. All he needed was for the guy to get out of the car.

The man appraised him for a second before giving a great sigh and turning off the engine. He pushed open the driver-side door, shaking his head as he stepped onto the road, no doubt craving rations as much as Cassius was.

He was nearly a foot taller than Cassius, but fairly thin and clearly not expecting a fight. Cassius gritted his teeth. If he didn’t do this right the first time, it was over.

The man rubbed the back of his neck, scanning the landscape. “Now where’s this bag of yours?”

Cassius pointed off to the side of the road and the man stepped forward, turning his back to him.

As soon as he did, Cassius punched the Fringer right behind the ear, quickly and with enough force to send him slumping over sideways onto the ground. The guy struggled for a few seconds as he slid to the pavement, then stopped moving altogether.

Cassius toyed with the idea of taking the keys and leaving the man out in the open. Less trouble that way. But he couldn’t bring himself to do it. He’d already been responsible for so many deaths. The thought of one more, especially one so pointless, sickened him. He wasn’t the bad guy.

So he pried the keys from the man’s hand and walked to the back of the car, unlocking the trunk. With the energy he had left, he grabbed the guy’s ankles and pulled him along the road and up into the trunk. His muscles strained with the weight. As soon as he stuffed the last limp arm inside, he closed the hatch and made his way to the front.

Sitting in the driver’s seat, he realized he’d never had the chance to drive an actual automobile before. He couldn’t imagine it was very hard, especially in such a barren landscape.

He tried two keys before finding the right one. The engine buzzed to life and he discovered how to shift the vehicle into drive. Spinning the wheel, he made a sharp U-turn and barreled down the empty road, pushing the old junker to its limit.

The three of us stand before a cobbled-together, twenty-first century castle. At least that’s what it reminds me of. A high brick wall connects dozens of mismatched buildings, forming an almost impenetrable complex. Almost impenetrable. Half of the buildings look like they’re about to collapse onto the ground.

Bobby leads us across a wide, empty street. “After the electricity shut off, folks that stayed behind started gathering at the old university. Easier to power than the whole city.”

We approach the nearest building. Avery runs her fingers across a cracked pillar propping up a wide portico. “Do you have a generator?”

“Nah.” He darts up a wide staircase. “Those things bit the dust ages ago. Uni Power comes from the wind field at the north end of town. Kept us going longer than I’ve been alive.”

“Wait,” I follow him onto a concrete landing beside the doorway. “You power this whole city with a bunch of turbines?”

“Just Uni.” He yanks open the heavy door. “The blades aren’t strong enough for the whole town. It’s no worry, though. We don’t have none of those fancy gizmos like the rest of you. Just the basics. Temperature control. Light. They used to call Lenbrg the windy city of the west. Turbines were here way before the bombings.”

We slip inside, shutting away the heat. Clean, cool air swirls around me. I take a deep breath, easing my scratchy throat. Temperature control: gotta love it.

Staircases border the tight rectangular entryway on both sides. The lights are switched off, leaving the room dim and shadowy. Beams of sunlight stream through patched-up windows above us.

Bobby heads to a nearby bench and climbs on top, standing to read an old-fashioned manual clock hung high on the wall. After pausing for a moment in thought, he slips down and takes a seat. “Community lunch in twenty. Barkley’ll be there before taking off for the mountains.”

Avery nods. “And that Fringe gang?”

“Aw, don’t worry about them. They’ll be long gone. Just antsy, that’s all.” He drums his heels against the bench. “Comin’ up on the anniversary of the Chosens. Everybody’s antsy.”

I shove my hands in my pockets, trying to look casual. “Why’s that?”

Bobby shrugs. “People here don’t care much. But down in YakTown? I hear they wanna send a message. Big Fringe revolt or something.” He sighs. “They won’t get it together, though. Too unorganized.” He wipes the sweat from his brow. “There’re tons of criminals down there, you know? Ever since the government started chucking ’em outside the Net. Sometimes they come up to Uni. That’s why we’ve built the wall.” He stands and motions for us to follow him through the building. We make it three steps before a man’s voice stops us.

“Bobby Henderson,” the voice bellows from somewhere above us like an angry spirit. I spin around, searching the room. A man steps out from the shadows and clomps down the staircase on the left.

When he reaches the bottom I breathe a sigh of relief. It’s not some mass intimidating soldier or Fringe gang leader. In fact, the guy looks a lot like Bobby-tank top, dark trousers. He’s much older. Cleaner, too. A roughed-up bowler hat sits on top of his curly hair. He glares at Bobby. “What in god’s name have you been up to this morning?”

“Nothing, Pops.” Bobby tiptoes back to join us.

The guy’s eyebrows raise. “That’s not what Horatio said. A crossbow, Bobby? Really?”

He shrugs. “Just something I found. Those guys are bad news.”

“Damn right they are. That’s why I handle them, not you. I’ve told you a million times not to travel to the south side alone.” He pauses, as if noticing us for the first time. “Who’re they?”

Bobby twitches and glances over at us.

Realizing he’s not going to get an answer, the man faces us, arms crossed. “Who are you? You ain’t Fringe, that’s for sure.”

“They’re Shippers,” Bobby replies. “I rescued ’em.”

The man’s eyes narrow as he looks us up and down. “Since when do Shippers need rescuing?”

Avery steps forward, hands clasped behind her back. “We’re just passing through, sir.”

He frowns. “Is this about Pearls? Because there hasn’t been a landing near Lenbrg since last July so don’t start thinkin’-”

“It’s not about Pearls,” she says.

I move forward and stand beside her. “This is… uh… a mass nice place you’ve got here.”

The guy shoots me a look like I’ve just attempted the worst joke in the history of the world. “Bobby, over here. I need to have a word with you.”

Bobby slumps over to the staircase. The second he’s close enough, his dad grabs him by the back of his tank top and spins him around, speaking in an annoyed murmur.

I tug at Avery’s sleeve and whisper. “Maybe we should leave.”

“Just wait.”

After a minute of hushed conversation, Bobby and his father turn back to face us.

“I’m sorry if my son has given you any ideas,” the man says. “Things come outta his mouth before he thinks them through, don’t they boy?”

Bobby nods, his father’s hand gripping his right shoulder.

“I’m not without heart,” he continues, “and I can’t forget how your type have helped us in the past. They’ll be serving lunch over at the canteen. Grab a meal if you’d like, but after that I’m gonna have to ask you folks to leave. It’s nothing personal. We just can’t afford to get involved with things.”