Falling Against Gravity Read online

  “What is this place, Garfield?” Fort asked, quietly. It felt out of place to be loud.

  “This is the old town. It burnt years ago. Way before I was born. Before my mom was alive, even. The townsfolk abandoned it and built the new town up on the next ridge. So's they wouldn't see the old town, I guess. Nobody likes it when you mention it.” The boy, obviously uncomfortable, mustered his courage to ask Fort a question. “Mr. Fort, do you ever get scared?”

  Fort’s face relaxed. He didn’t respond for a moment. He could sense the boy’s vulnerability, and wanted to give the right answer. “Yes. Yes, I do, Garfield.” The two were silent for a while. All that could be heard was the clop, clop, clop of the horse’s hooves on the clay road and pebbles under the wheels. Fort looked down at the boy, whose eyes were darting about as the skeletons of old buildings creaked in the wind. “But I try to not let it overcome me. I don’t allow it to hinder me, or stop me. A modern man must be able to look past superstitious fears and know he can rise to the challenge.”

  Fort gave a little tug at the reins, which the horse ignored. “You see, fear is a mind’s way of trying to trick us and protect us from venturing into the unknown. Our primitive ancestors developed this function to protect them from getting lost in the forests and being eaten by monstrous cats with giant teeth.” He mimed large fangs towards the young fellow, dangling his fingers in front of his mouth.

  Garfield looked up, shocked to his core. “C-cats w-with giant teeth?”

  “Yes, yes ... but you see those creatures – those dangers – no longer exist. It's the modern age of man. We've built roads and railways, cities and governments. We have weapons and machines that can do amazing things. Our armies have swept these lands. Man has nothing left to fear in the dark; it's just the absence of light.”

  Garfield squinted in the inky blackness. “You really believe that?”

  “I do. Our fears keep us from peering over the edge. Even though that's where our greatest discoveries are often found.”

  Garfield thought for a moment, reassured. “I suppose you're right. There isn't really anything out here that can hurt us, it's just the dark.”

  “Exactly.”

  “But what about coyotes ... and bears ... and wild pigs? We got all those around here.”

  “Yes, well, we'll keep a watchful eye out for those sorts of things.”

  “And what about killers? Or thieves? Will's brother Georgie said there might'n be black people hiding out down here.”

  Fort looked up to the sky and sighed. He was both shocked and disappointed in the boy. “Slavery was a blight on our country. We fought a war to remove it, Garfield. Black people are no different than you or me. In fact, the black people I have met often display excellent character. Unfortunately, they usually don't get the same opportunities as white people do. And that makes their lives much harder. Don't ever forget that, Garfield.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “And similar things can be said for both women and the thousands of immigrants coming to this country with so little. Always remember that it's been much harder for some. You have a privilege here that is sometimes hard to remember.”

  “That's pretty different than what most folks say around here. I don’t think that many people ’round here would agree with you.”

  “I would say the character of a person isn’t judged by how he treats the strongest and most powerful, but rather how he treats the weakest and most vulnerable.” Fort let it sink in. “When we are able, it is our duty to help others. It's a new era, Garfield. And soon a new century. Don't get transfixed in tired, old modes of thinking. Be a nimble-minded man of the future.”

  “Yes, sir.” Garfield paused thoughtfully. “I like talking to you, Mr. Fort.”

  Fort smiled. “I like talking with you, as well.”

  For the next while, the two rode along in comfortable silence. Then Garfield pointed off into the distance. “The old cemetery is up that way.”

  Somewhere behind them, the remains of a door slammed against its weary frame. Both Fort and the boy jumped a little at the noise. Fort took a long slow breath and looked towards the boy and smiled, trying to lighten the mood. Garfield did his best to smile back.

  Fort pulled on one of the reins and directed the reticent horse towards their destination. They traveled another short distance through the battered, cindered remnants of the old town. Blackened lumber creaked and waved in the wind. Silhouettes, like eerie bones, jutted in every direction and in piles. Pieces of weathered sidewalk remained along the streets and an occasional, lonely portion of a building stoically endured amongst gigantic weeds. They slowed down near a prominent stone well that sat near a giant dead oak tree.

  “That's the old sour well Judge Proctor said they threw everything down. It's a really deep well, I’ve heard. Deepest around. And that’s the well where they dropped Atticus Cuddy in. Georgie’s father told him that they tied old Atticus up and lowered him in the well and drowned him slowly, over and over. They say he still haunts this town, swinging his shovel and cackling.”

  “Hmmm, poor fellow… Not sure what I'll do with the well and the wreckage yet, but we'll look at that tomorrow. Tonight we secure the biological specimen. And by next week, we’re going to be famous, Garfield, and perhaps well-funded. We’ll get a team in for the wreckage.”

  “Really Mr. Fort! Famous? Like in the papers? Gosh! That’d be incredible!”

  “Exactly, my boy! With a discovery like this, properly investigated and reported, every American boy is going to know our names, you wait and see. This is where the bravery pays off.”

  “Well if you keep going, just over this hill, you'll see the old cemetery.” The boy pointed ahead with newfound gumption.

  As they climbed the shallow incline, the wind gusted harder. Occasionally a big, cold raindrop hit them on their faces and shoulders. They crested the hill to see a small graveyard with a fallen fence. The tops of a few old trees swayed wildly as the wind picked up. Forty or fifty grave markers of various materials were still standing – some stone, most wooden crosses. There was an obviously new marker sitting over a fresh grave. Garfield noticed the newness of the wooden cross almost glowed in the night compared to the other gravestones. The boy’s excitement had passed and he felt like he dared not speak so close to a graveyard at night. He tucked in a little closer to Mr. Fort.

  Fort was too focused on the fresh cross to notice anything else. He felt like a treasure hunter who found the spot that X marked. “That's it!” he shouted as he stood pointing towards grave, and to the boy it seemed like the trees themselves cackled and bent at the sound of his voice, and all Garfield could think about was the ghost of Atticus Cuddy.

  CHAPTER 9

  Ripley reached over for a sip of his coffee. His voice was starting to get raspy and he wanted a bit of a break from talking. He wasn’t one to usually ramble on for so long. People didn’t tend to pay that much attention to him, so he didn’t have much experience with an enraptured audience.

  Zoya acknowledged he was done for a bit and started to noisily ratchet a long threaded bolt into a hinged control arm. She had momentarily held off this loud piece of work for a break in the story so that it wouldn’t disturb the flow. With all the racket, neither of them noticed Fort climbing the stairs behind them.

  With a burst of speed and a stiff torque at the end, she finished the bolt off and stood to wipe off her hands. She started bundling up her drivers on a console, “Go on,” she said. Refreshed and re-caffeinated, Ripley gleefully got back to the tale. “So, Charles and the boy tied up their horse and started shoveling. Can you imagine ... an old dark graveyard miles from anywhere with only a child and a couple of lanterns. So horrifying!”

  A mortified Fort froze mid step. “Why are you telling her that story?” he angrily yelled from the stairs.

  Ripley almost fell off his stool, spilling his coffee on his pants and all over the metal floor plates. “Charles! I didn't see you there. I-I ... I'm sorry. I was
... I just ... She … I'm sorry, I suppose that is all rather personal. I'm really sorry, Charles, I didn't…” he stammered. He quickly set his mug down, grabbed a rag and started wiping up his mess without taking his eyes off Fort’s disappointed face.

  Zoya thought Ripley resembled an admonished puppy. She strode over to the top of the stairwell and promptly defended him. “I asked about it, Mr. Fort. Don't be upset with Leroy.”

  Everyone stood still in awkward silence for a moment, then Fort motioned past Zoya. “Ripley, I could use your help for a minute,” he said, curtly. “Would you please come with me down here?”

  Ripley promptly jumped up and hustled towards his friend. “Certainly, Charles. Let’s go.” They walked down the metal stairway towards the main engine room. Ripley nervously tried to strike up a new conversation by asking what they would be doing next.

  “We’ll be adjusting the Gyrocore rings manually in preparation for filling them with mercury,” Fort explained, coldly.

  Even though Fort was upset with him, Ripley was genuinely enthusiastic to see the massive mechanism move. He was less excited when he realized that Nikola was involved with the task at hand. Ever since they first met, Nikola made Ripley nervous. He never knew what Nikola was capable of, including possibly electrocuting him in a fit of anger. Ripley’s body could still remember the pain of Nikola shocking him the first night Fort brought him to the hangar. It was enough to make his hair stand on end whenever he was in his presence. Plus, Ripley felt Nikola always had a funny smell of mustard coming off him.

  After a few uncomfortable minutes climbing down the staircase to the deck of the main engine room, Fort gave Ripley a few simple instructions to help turn a manual crank drive. Each man positioned himself on either side of the large handle. Fort spit in his hands and rubbed them together to gain some grip. This was somewhat revolting to Ripley, but given the tension about telling Fort’s personal story, he wasn’t going to say anything to his friend about it. Ripley just unbuttoned his waistcoat and laid his hands on the bare metal bar before them.

  “Hurry up already,” Nikola shouted. “Get on with it.”

  Fort exhaled a deep sigh. “Ready, Ripley?”

  “Yes, Charles.”

  “Just follow my lead.”

  “Always, old friend.”

  They gave each other a little smile and then Fort leaned in to the crank. Ripley pulled with all his might and slowly the enormous machine started to move. Ripley wanted to watch what was happening, but didn’t feel like he could take eyes off the handle for fear of getting walloped in the face by it. Fort grit his teeth and pushed as hard as he could, sweat forming on his brow. As they strenuously turned the crank, a set of eight concentric rings rotated very slowly in various directions, eventually aligning vertically. Nikola roared when it was in its proper place. “Whoa! Slow down! Hold it! Stop there!” Fort stomped, annoyed at his gruffness.

  “Okay! Okay!” Nikola spat. “Now turn very slowly. Slowly, I said!”

  Fort rolled his eyes, causing Ripley to smirk. They did as they were told. The symmetry went off slightly. Nikola’s keen eyes squinted and his forehead furrowed deeply as he attentively watched the giant machine move ever so slowly towards the goal. When he was confident that they were at the perfect spot, he abruptly held up both hands. “There! Stop. Perfect,” he yelled.

  Nikola looked up the line again. He sized up the top of the mechanism as he looked from the ground. “It looks good. All lined up. Yes ... looks good. Now we can pour in the mercury. Woo woo!” He uncharacteristically made a gesture like he was pouring from a teapot and danced a little jig.

  Fort looked at Nikola for a minute, then smiled in spite of himself. “Well, let's get that barrel in the air tonight. I still have the steam.”

  Ripley patted his stomach. “Let's call Envar and eat first, please. I’m famished after all this hard labor.”

  Fort chuckled and nodded. “Certainly, sounds good. Working men need sustenance.” He put his hand on Ripley’s shoulder and gave it an assured squeeze.

  Ripley cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted in the direction of the bridge. “Zoya! Dinner time!” Nikola clapped his hands and spun around, heading out for a well-deserved supper. Zoya yelled down for everyone to wait as she came down from the bridge, but instead of using the stairs, she hopped over the railing and grabbed a vertical pole, sliding down like a fireman and landed with a thump of her heavy boots.

  Out the door and down the gangway, the team headed up to the makeshift kitchen on the second floor of the hangar. Their spirits were lighter and happier than they had been in days. Excitement was taking hold of them. They waited around the table as Envar heated up the previous night’s stew on the stove. Everyone’s mouth was watering by the time dinner was placed before them by Envar, who doled out thick spoonfuls into each bowl. He even occasionally cracked a smile at the banter, which was out of character but welcomed by the group. Everyone was obviously enjoying each other’s company. It was a productive day and they felt good. There was electricity in the air.

  Ripley told a story about a British man in New Zealand who collected shrunken heads. While sharing a rather exciting part, he enthusiastically shook the pepper, emptying the entire bottle into his bowl. He looked up to a scowling Envar, but everyone else burst out laughing. Ripley shrugged and joined in, until he looked up at Envar still drilling holes into his head with his stone faced glare. He pushed the bowl away, too scared to ask for another helping, making Fort laugh even harder.

  After supper had settled, the team got back to work. Ripley ran around the hangar, turning on every light he could find. He didn’t like the sound of this evening’s plan but he also knew there wasn’t much he could do to help, so finding more light seemed his best way to chip in. Near one end of the building, Nikola operated a mechanism that rapidly turned a large spindle with a chain running through it. The chain ran a hoist that lifted Fort, Zoya, and a barrel filled with mercury on a pallet high into the air. Their job required going to the peak of the interior roof. As they rose higher and higher, neither Fort nor Zoya moved. The pallet was suspended at the four corners and therefore secure, but it felt shaky to be standing on it so high up.

  Shortly after Ripley realized exactly what Charles and Zoya would be doing, he accepted that he would be no help and unable to even watch. He gave them a lecture on safety and the inherent value of being careful before retiring to Fort’s office for what was sure to be a restless nap. Before he left, Ripley looked up at the pair from the ground below, but quickly had to divert his eyes downward to keep his vertigo in check. He requested they wake him when it was all over.

  Once they reached the top of the wall, Fort cautiously applied a brake and switched over some pulleys. Directly below Fort and Zoya, Nikola connected a different chain to the spindle and waited for the signal. Because of the immensity of the space, Fort and Zoya were actually quite far from the other members of their crew. Once everything was set, Fort took out his radio and clicked it to speak. “We're ready, Nikola! Stop.”

  The static of the radio was much louder than any voice that came through the receiver. “I receive you!” Nikola shouted into the device. They exchanged reassuring hand waves. Nikola flipped a large lever and the spindle turned the new chain. The pallet started moving horizontally along, hanging from a turnbuckle on a cable. They moved along slowly, smoothly cruising along the massive glass panes on the roof, some of which were boarded up.

  Unbeknownst to the crew, they had visitors on the premises across the river. Blake and Wyatt stood on the opposing cliff facing the hangar. The steamborg held a modified Mauser rifle, his artificial eye looking through the attached telescopic lens, zeroing in on Fort and Zoya as they moved slowly along the glass roof, occasionally being blocked by a boarded-up window.

  “Do you have the targets in sight?” Blake asked.

  Wyatt nodded.

  “Yes, yes. I see them, too,” Blake said.

  Wyatt continued to follow Fort
in his crosshairs. He tightened his gloved grip on the rifle stock.

  Blissfully unaware of the impending danger outside, Fort stood on the pallet, one hand on the cable near him and one hand on the mercury barrel. Zoya crouched near one edge, looking down at the dirigible. She cocked her head to Fort. “Quite a view of the ship, yes?”

  “Definitely. It takes my breath away every time. This is the first of many amazing sights once we get it in the sky.”

  Outside, the two men watched their conversation. Fort was still in Ander’s crosshairs. He looked at his prey with a sickening delight.

  Inside the hangar, Fort watched below as the hatch on the very top of the Nimbus slowly got closer to them. “Stop the motor there, Nikola. Stop.” Fort barked into his radio.

  Nikola flipped the lever back and the pallet stopped moving. Fort and Zoya fiercely gripped onto the pallet’s chains for dear life as it swayed back and forth from the lost momentum. She grabbed the radio from Fort. “Niko, be more careful,” she scolded.” We don’t want to die before we get on the ship.”

  “Sorry, my dear,” Nikola yelled into the transmitter. “But there’s not much I can do. Just hold on as best you can.”

  As the pallet swayed back again, Fort and Zoya moved into the rifle’s crosshairs. Across the river, the biomechanical man took a long, deep breath and exhaled slowly, readying his shot.

  “Nikola, slowly bring us in by hand. Stop.” Fort directed into radio. Nikola turned the spindle manually and the pallet slowly crept into the necessary position. Without knowing she was doing so, Zoya moved out of the crosshairs and the whole pallet moved in behind a couple of boarded-up windows. Wyatt angrily snorted as he lost his targets.