K. Weiland - Storming

She headed down the corridor, pulling herself along with one hand on the wall. Lamps, fixed at intervals in brackets near the ceiling, offered a dim, flickering light. The place smelled of ozone, mixed with dust and grease and some kind of spicy incense.

He jogged after her, reloading out of his pocket as he went. “You all right?”

“I will be.” The way she gasped her words didn’t offer much conviction. “As soon as we turn off dawsedometer .”

Which, at the moment, they were running away from.

He clenched his teeth. “Right.”

Halfway down the corridor, she reeled to a stop and raised her head.

He clicked the revolver’s cylinder back into place and looked around. “What?”

“I hear…” She drew in a sharp breath. “They’re coming. Through other door!” She pointed to the far end of the corridor.

“Oh, great.” They would be like tin ducks in a shooting gallery. He looked around. “Get behind me.” He’d have to get on his knees, try to pick off Zlo’s men as they came through the door. At least there’d be a bottleneck.

She caught his hand and pulled him forward. “No, wait! We can get out here!” She slid her hand against the wall, and suddenly there was no wall. Just that same howling darkness. “It is observatory deck!” She ducked outside.

He followed before he had time to think about it. They banged the door shut, just as the other door burst open.

Darkness engulfed his vision. Icy wind shrilled all around him. He leaned back and bumped into a waist-high iron railing. “Now what?”

Her teeth chattered. “Wa-a-a-it?”

“Yeah, until they realize where we are—and then we’re really stuck.” He looked around. “I don’t suppose there’s any other way out of here?”

Through the storm, something whispered.

He cocked his head and concentrated. There it was again. “Do you hear that? It sounds like…”

Her hand slapped out through the darkness and caught his sleeve. “Dog! It is dog!”

“What?”

“Maybe it is Taos!” She jerked his arm. “Look!”

He looked up.

About ten feet overhead, a light shone against the darkness.

Their guiding star. It had to be.

The light blinked out for a second, and then something hit him in the face. He slammed back into the railing once more. The thing hit him again, soft and tickly and snake-like.

He reached for it. “A rope.”

“It is Walter!”

He jerked another look up.

The silhouette of a small, dark head gleamed against the backdrop of the light. Then a dog’s head appeared beside it—a dog with one floppy ear.

A wave of dizziness washed over him. “Walter. Are you hurt?”

The boy shook his head.

In the corridor, footsteps stomped.

Wouldn’t take more than a minute for those mugs to check this door.

“Okay.” He tried to make his brain work again. He tied the rope around Jael’s waist. “I’ll climb up, then pull you up after me.”

“Yes,” she said.

“Please tell me you think you can hang on.”

She didn’t respond.

“Where’s your scarf?” He found it in her pocket and looped it under her arms, then used it to tie the rope snugly against her chest. “That’ll help, but you’ve got to hang on, you hear me?”

“I am hearing you.”

“Good.”

He took hold of the rope, climbed atop the railing, and started over-handing himself up the thing. The wind tore at him, and his numb fingers burned like match-struck gasoline all the way up.

He’d tell himself not to look down, but there was nothing to see down there anyway. It was not thinking about what was down there that was the trick. His dislike of heights swarmed him, rolling his stomach over and over. Funny that it would bother him out here, but not in a plane. Pretend he was in a plane, that’s all he had to do. He gritted his teeth. Easy as pie.

Finally, he reached the light, framed in a porthole. Walter caught his elbow and helped him over the top. The room was tiny, a storage closet from the looks of the tarp-covered boxes and bits of machinery stacked all around. A lantern sat near the windowsill.

Somehow he couldn’t quite make himself look at the boy. Like if he looked too hard, it’d all turn out to be a dream.

“We’ve got to pull Jael up,” he managed.

Together, they hauled her up and over.

She landed on the floor with a thump and lay there for a second, gasping.

Then she looked up at Walter, and a grin broke through the pain on her face. “Walter.” She pried her fingers from the rope and, still lying on her side, held out an arm for him. “You are in safety. I am so happy you are in safety.”

Walter dropped to his knees and folded himself into her arm. With both hands, he helped her sit up, and the two of them clung to each other for a second. He snuck a look, out of the corner of his eye, at Hitch.

Hitch stood back. His hands seemed to be entirely in the way. They didn’t want to hang at his sides, fit in his pockets, or wedge under his elbows. His jaw cramped, and his tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth.

He needed to say something. Anything. Tell the boy he’d never been gladder to see anyone in his entire life. Tell him he was sorry. Tell him he was never going to let him out of his sight again.

His heart pounded, and the words all crammed in his throat, too big to get out.

Taos frisked around his feet and let out an excited little yip.

Hitch dropped to a crouch and pulled the dog up, so Taos’s front paws rested against his knee. He fondled his dog’s ears and watched his son.

Jael opened her eyes and looked, first at Hitch, then at Walter. She sat back and pushed Walter away. With a little nod, she directed his attention to Hitch.

Walter turned, slowly. He still wore his party suit: a dark blue jacket and shorts and a string tie. Both socks were ripped, and his dark mop of hair fell in his eyes. He tucked his chin and peered up at Hitch, like he still wasn’t quite sure what to expect.

Hitch cleared his throat. “I’m real glad you’re all right. You saved us just now, you know.”

Walter scuffed his toe, then shot a glance at Taos.

Still about the dog then. Hitch’s heart just about split clean in two.

He dropped to his knees and pulled Walter to him. “He’s just a dog. He doesn’t matter a lick compared to you. You hear me?”

Two skinny little arms wriggled up around his neck.

“I’m sorry.” He tightened his hold around this boy—this incredible, brave, loyal, determined little boy who was his own flesh and his own bone. His son. He wanted to press him right into himself, until they were bonded, until Walter could never leave him again.

He could barely get the words past his cramped throat. “Do you hear me? What I said was wrong, and I didn’t mean it. Taos getting caught wasn’t your fault. You’re a hero, Walter. You found Schturming . We’d never have captured it without you.” He eased back a little, so he could see the boy’s face.

Tears streaked Walter’s cheeks, but his chin was firm. He nodded.

Hitch opened his mouth to tell him the truth, all of it: you’re my son, I love you, I’ll be the father you need me to be, I promise.

But now wasn’t the time. The first thing they had to do was escape. If they lived to touch ground again, then he’d tell him.

“It’s going to be all right,” he said. “I’m going to get you out of here, and it’s going to be okay. You got that?”

Walter nodded. Then he swallowed, and the corner of his mouth tilted up.

Hitch looked over the top of Walter’s head.

Propped up on one hand, Jael stared back at him. Her eyes shone in the flickering lamplight. She smiled and gave him a nod.