Steven Harper - The Doomsday Vault

When Gavin finished, he said, “I lied, son. I’m sorry.”

The bow jumped in Gavin’s hands and screeched across the strings. “What do you mean?” he asked, straining to keep his voice level even as his heart jerked hard.

“The captain already ransomed the crew, and the company’s wired the money. Except for you. They drew the line at a cabin boy.”

Gavin’s mouth dried up and tension tightened his chest. “They’re gone? Everyone’s gone?”

“On their way back to Boston. You’re the only one left. The captain talked to a woman what runs a little backgammon house, and she was all happy to hear about a boy who can fiddle in the evening and handle instruments at night. I’m supposed to bring you up. The captain’ll give me hell for taking so long, but I had to get another tune of you, didn’t I?”

Gavin hit him with his fiddle. The instrument’s edge caught the underside of Stone’s chin, and he went down with a grunt, eyes glassy. Gavin went through his pockets with chilly fingers and came up with a key. It fit the lock on his ankle chain. He released it, fastened it around Stone’s ankle, and tossed the key into the dark hold.

“Bastard,” he whispered, then shoved the fiddle into its case and made his way toward the ladder out of the hold, abandoning the pretense that his wounds made him a near invalid. He just wished they didn’t still hurt. At the last moment, he ran back to strip Stone’s white leather jacket and put it on himself. It was overly large and still warm from Stone’s body heat.

Gavin threaded a path through the dark hold, finding his way by touch and memory, until he came to the rear ladder. He crept upward to the hatch, fiddle case strapped to his back, and listened. No voices. With aching care, he edged the hatch cover up until he could peer out onto the deck. Dim light; no people. He eased the cover higher, set it aside, and froze as it scraped against the wooden decking. The sound vanished into the distance as if swallowed.

Heart thudding in his rib cage, Gavin slipped out onto the deck. He had the sense of great space all around him, but there was no sky. Overhead, he heard the faint creak of the envelope straining against the thick netting that tethered it to the ship, and the deck swayed only faintly. Behind the ship lay a huge archway of cloudy light, a doorway so big the Juniper could coast straight through it. She was in one of the hangars at Wellesley Field. Gavin had seen the Juniper into Wellesley any number of times, but this was the first time she’d arrived as a prisoner. He wondered where the pirate ship had gotten to-and the pirates, for that matter.

As if in answer, a voice from below shouted, “Stone!”

Gavin’s heart jerked again, and he scrambled to the thin cover of the gunwale.

“Stone!” called the voice again, and Gavin recognized Captain Keene. “Bring that boy down now, you lazy fuck! The lady wants to have a look.”

Gavin risked a peek over the edge. The Juniper was anchored only a few feet above the hangar floor, lashed down with a series of guy ropes that ran through a complex system of gears and pulleys, which were, in turn, held down with flyweights and levers like those found backstage in a theater. Gavin could almost feel the ship straining against her bonds, longing to burst free and sail the clouds again. Several rope ladders trailed to the ground, and a loading ramp with a block and tackle mounted atop it had been rolled up, ready to unload cargo into Captain Keene’s pockets. Below, Captain Keene himself waited with his arms crossed. A dumpy woman in a simple dress and hat stood beside him. No doubt she owned the house Stone had mentioned. Both woman and captain were looking up.

“Stone!” Keene bellowed. “If I have to come up there, you’ll scrub decks for a month!”

Gavin realized he was holding his breath. Keeping low, he moved across the deck to the other side of the ship and found a guy rope that angled down to the ground. He slipped between a gap in the netting, wrapped his knees around the rope, then slid downward hand over hand. His arms and legs, weakened and stiff from weeks of inactivity, screamed murder at him, and his back joined in. Gavin ignored them. The tar coating made the rope a little slick. He was halfway down now, and picking up speed.

“He’d better not be playing with the merchandise,” said the woman on the far side of the ship. “You said the boy’s unspoiled, and I’m holding an auction for his first.”

“Don’t worry your little head,” Keene said. “Stone’s not that sort. He only has a soft spot for music, and he’s been making the boy play for him. Bugger thinks we don’t know.”

Gavin dropped to the ground and peered around the hull, which hovered a scant foot above the hangar floor. The captain and the woman stood between him and the huge hangar door. He might or might not be able to outrun Keene if the captain spotted him, but Keene would raise the alarm, and who knew how many other pirates might be sitting around outside? There were other exits from the hangar, though. All he had to do was-

“Who’s this, now?” A pair of hard hands grabbed him from behind. Gavin yelped with surprise and automatically elbowed the man in the stomach. The grip relaxed, allowing Gavin to wrench free. He caught a glimpse of white leather-a stolen leather jacket-before he fled. The man gasped once or twice, then bellowed for help.

No time to think. Legs and back afire, Gavin ran for the shadows at the hangar wall even as Keene bolted around the hull, followed by more pirates. They must have been stationed outside. Keene spotted him and shouted orders. Gavin reached the wall that housed the levers and flyweights. He yanked each lever, sending the weight stacks soaring. Each pull released a guy line holding the Juniper in place. Ropes snapped and hissed in the air like angry snakes. The pirates pounded toward him. Several bore glass cutlasses that gleamed in the dim light. Gavin pulled another lever, and a slashing rope caught a pirate full across the torso and swept him aside like a toy. He thudded against the Juniper ’s hull and slid to the ground, his eyes glassy as his cutlass.

“The bastard got Billy!”

“You little shit!”

“Chop his hands off for real this time!”

The Juniper was now free of the ropes. She floated upward and bumbled against the smooth ceiling, probing hopefully for a way out. Gavin yanked a final lever, and with a clatter of gears, the enormous front door of the hangar ground open. A stiff, cold breeze whipped through the building, which had become a large tunnel. The wind pushed the ship away from Gavin, toward the opposite door, the one already open.

“No!” Keene shouted.

Gavin ran for it. Fiddle still strapped to his back, he bolted toward the pirates and, a prayer on his lips, he leapt with all his strength. One hand caught the trailing end of a rope ladder that dangled from the gunwale. He forced himself to grab a second rung with his other hand and pull himself higher until his feet found a perch just as the Juniper ’s forward movement carried him over the pirates’ heads. The envelope slid across the hangar ceiling with a high-pitched noise that sounded like laughter. Gavin looked down at the startled and angry faces of the pirates as he coasted above them. Keene pulled a flechette pistol from his breast pocket and fired. The dart skimmed past Gavin’s shoulder.

“Shit!” Gavin swung on the ladder to make himself a more difficult target. Keene fired again and again, but the light was bad and the ship was picking up speed. Gavin caught a glimpse of the woman’s stark and startled face just before the Juniper cleared the hangar doors entirely and shot upward. A whoop of laughter burst from Gavin’s chest at the rush of movement, but in a split second he realized he wouldn’t be able to pilot or land the ship by himself. He made an instant decision and leapt off the ladder to the hangar roof the moment he came level with it, stumbling a bit but keeping his feet.