K. Weiland - Storming

He hauled himself up short. No, the last thing in the world he needed right now was another mouth to feed—especially a mouth belonging to someone who needed a heap of training.

Jael cocked her head and looked him up and down. “And you,” she said. “You are brave man too.” She pushed up from the bed and limped past him as he opened the door. She tossed him a half-teasing, half-knowing glance. “But not crazy.”

If that was her way of saying everything he’d seen up there in the storm wasn’t a hallucination after all, it was a sight less comforting than she probably meant it to be.

He could always pack up the Jennies and leave. But he didn’t scare that easy. Besides, where something smelled this funny, there was bound to be opportunities on the rise. He’d never been one to pass that up.

*

As it turned out, he wasn’t the only one who smelled an opportunity.

Back out on the street, people crowded around a white-suited man standing in the bed of a rusty truck. Livingstone. He was gesticulating—hat in one hand, walking stick in the other—and hollering something.

If anything, the storm would be bad publicity for the airshow, since the pilots could hardly be expected to fly if this weather persisted. As if Hitch’s stomach needed any more encouragement to be queasy.

He took Jael’s elbow and guided her over.

Matthew and J.W. stood behind the crowd.

As Hitch approached, Matthew glanced back. “Well, now, you two look a little worse for the wear.”

J.W. didn’t turn from watching Livingstone. “Don’t we all?”

“What’s the damage?” Hitch asked.

“Pretty much what you see,” Matthew said. “Downed branches, broken windows. Heard a tractor got flipped outside of town. Some woman got hit by lightning.”

Beside Hitch, Jael shifted.

Word was bound to get around, but nobody knew who she was, so if she wanted to keep it mum, she probably could. He nudged the back of her wrist as reassurance.

J.W. glanced over his shoulder and gave Jael a long glance, then he looked Hitch in the eye. “Something’s not right about all this. Storm like that, out of nowhere? And folks are talking. Lots of strange people seen in town today. Fallon Brothers and a couple other shops got robbed.”

“And you think these strangers caused the storm?”

J.W.’s gaze drifted back to Jael. Then he shrugged and faced forward again. “’Course not.”

“Well, something is going on,” Matthew said. “I heard more than one person say they saw these strangers rising into the sky, like angels on Judgment Day. After all these bodies they’ve been finding, it seems a mite too coincidental.”

Hitch cleared his throat. “I’m sure there’s a more practical explanation.”

J.W. pointed at Livingstone. “That’s what your popinjay friend thinks too.”

“Ladies and gen-tle-men !” Livingstone drew out every syllable, like a carnival barker. “I propose this is no ordinary storm! I propose something is up there!”

Hitch frowned. What was Livingstone up to?

“I propose,” Livingstone drawled, “to personally deduce the solution to this mystery. The aeronauts who have come into your midst will search the skies and penetrate the heart of this labyrinthine enigma!”

Publicity indeed. Hitch had to clap along with the others, out of respect for Livingstone’s theatrics if nothing else. No way Livingstone was actually buying into the idea that something was up there. But it was too good a story not to take advantage of.

J.W. grunted. “Hmp. And I just bet he’s behind it all.”

The buzz of conversation rose even higher.

Along the sidewalk, the crowd parted, and Griff strode up to the truck. He gestured for Livingstone to get down. His voice drifted out to where Hitch stood. “This is all nonsense, and there’s no reason to go upsetting people any further.”

Griff faced the crowd. He was hatless, and his dark blond hair had fallen across his forehead. He looked young and earnest and tired, but his voice was weighted with confidence. “It’s just a storm. Lord knows, we’ve had our share of freak storms before. So go on home, clean up the damage. It’ll all be right.”

The crowd responded. Most of them acted like they recognized him. They nodded to him and started to disperse.

Seemed his little brother had grown up just fine without him. Maybe all the better for Hitch’s being gone. The twist in Hitch’s chest was bittersweet.

“Indeed,” Livingstone said. “Heed these good words. And allay your fears. My pioneers of the sky will safeguard your children!”

Speaking of opportunities…

Griff scowled at Livingstone and practically hauled him down.

“Well now, he’s full of the blarney, ain’t he?” J.W. said.

Hitch grunted.

Livingstone could have no idea there was really something to be found up there. But after a public declaration like that, he had just about granted hero status to any pilot who did find something.

Hero pilots got easy jobs and better money—as all the war veterans could tell you.

Had to be a way to use that to his advantage. Maybe Hitch could find the dad-ratted thing. If he could figure out what it was, maybe get it to land… _That_’d be publicity like Livingstone wasn’t even dreaming of.

And if they could get Zlo arrested in the process, that would work out all the better.

As it so happened, Hitch was the only pilot who’d had his plane in the air this afternoon, and surely he was the only one who’d glimpsed _Schturming_—much less crash-landed on it.

That meant he had a head start on every other pilot. And he had Jael.

He turned to look for her. “What do you think?”

The spot by his elbow, where she’d been a second ago, was nothing but empty air.

He looked around, but she’d plumb vanished. She had a knack for that, seemed like.

Across the street, Griff stood speaking to people and guiding them to disperse. Every few seconds, he’d glance over slowly, as if he were just casually scanning the road. But he always scanned right past Hitch.

Might be he’d cooled down a bit after having his say last night. A man had a right to blowing off some temper after holding it for nine years. Hitch couldn’t blame him for that.

But still Hitch hesitated. He needed to march over there and say something. But everything he’d had to say he’d said last night. Didn’t seem it would make much of a difference saying it all over again by the light of day.

The last of the crowd filtered away, and Griff hesitated too. He leaned back on one leg, ready to take a step.

Now or never.

Hitch pocketed his hands and ambled over. “So… I hear you met Jael.”

Griff eyed him, up and down. He looked like a man trying to keep his sternness all closed in around himself. “The girl who about got hit by the lightning?”

Hitch nodded. “She’s the one I came to you about last night. And that guy Zlo I was telling you about? He was out there this afternoon. That’s why she was in that field—she was running from him.”

Griff frowned. “She didn’t say anything about that.”

“Her English isn’t so good.” Hitch weighed his words. Griff just might help with Zlo, since that was about Jael, not Hitch. All they needed to do was keep Zlo out of the picture long enough for Hitch to win the show—and maybe even long enough for Jael to help him make something interesting out of this opportunity with Schturming . But the specifics didn’t matter. Getting Griff to help him with anything might be enough to break down this wall between them.

Hitch looked Griff in the eye. “Zlo’s no joke. He was there last night where the body fell.”