Falling Against Gravity Read online

  “No, it’s alright,” he said, but then sat in silence again.

  Zoya was about to get up and do some more pumping when Fort quietly continued, “I just remember a black man in worn clothes walking with a bucket. As he got closer, he got a troubled look on his face,” Fort chuckled. “I must have looked quite the sight, upside down with my battered bloody feet against the old well. I was red-faced with bloodshot eyes from no sleep and I could even feel the veins popping out of my face and neck for the exertion…”

  ***

  In addition to the mess of rope tangled in his mangled hands, Fort held a length of the rope in his teeth. Blood that had mixed with rain, mud, and his sweat was smeared all over his face, clothes, and hair. Fort saw a man walking towards him, almost as if in a dream. Half asleep, he squeezed his muddy eyelids together and opened them again.

  The man stopped and stood beside Fort, confused. This was not a typical sight by any stretch of the imagination, and he truly wasn’t sure what to do. The man silently looked down at Fort and then went closer to the well and peeked inside.

  Mustering all his strength, Fort extended his legs so that he stood perpendicular on the well’s side. Raising the boy slightly out of the water, he spat the rope out of his mouth. “Excuse me, sir, could you please give me a hand?”

  In the well, Garfield was submerged to his chin, drifting asleep. He jerked his head up with panic when he sensed the slightest movement, and started to scream again.

  ***

  “So with the help of the good man with the bucket, we got the boy up. He was traumatized. I felt terrible for involving him and what happened.”

  “But you saved his life.”

  “I put him in danger. Changed him forever, ruined his curious nature. That day, when I took him home to his mother, he wept inconsolably when he saw her. She was understandably furious with me. Garfield was so terrified that the bad men would come back, he took me to a local farm and demanded his best friend give me the stone they had found from the crash. He didn’t want anything to do with starcraft or Martians ever again. He spent several years in a sanatorium afterwards, scared of everything. He has terrible nightmares to this day ... I still correspond with him.”

  “Those bastards put him in danger. You saved him. That's what I am hearing.” Zoya started pumping again. After a few minutes she stopped and took her kerchief off and wiped the sweat from her face. “So … what about the spaceman? Whatever happened to him? Or Blake and Kane?”

  “I never saw any of them again ... until the other night.”

  Zoya gasped, realizing that those were the same men at the docks that had riled Fort up so much. “You mean …”

  Fort nodded. “Indeed. The very same men.”

  Zoya shook her head. “I understand why you were so angered now.”

  Fort nodded again and then noticed that the mercury was starting to leak out around the hose on the barrel. He jumped down onto the ship’s roof and uncoupled the hose connection. Their task was completed. The tubes were filled to the top.

  “She's full. That's it. No more pumping.” Fort smiled.

  “Good. Get me down out of this heat.”

  They closed the service hatch, cranked it locked, and climbed back onto the pallet. Fort waved to Nikola, and Nikola started the machine to slowly bring them back to the hangar wall.

  CHAPTER 10

  Outside of the hangar on the other side of the river, the moonlight glinted off Wyatt’ metallic scalp as he and Blake spied on Fort and Zoya, whose positioning on the pallet behind a few boarded up windows put them just outside of sight while they pumped the mercury. After they completed their task, Fort and Zoya were once again visible and vulnerable while they were trolleyed along on the suspended pallet platform.

  With his artificial eye, Wyatt noticed that they were back in view and alerted Blake. Blake looked through his telescopic monocular, noting the duo were moving along the roof’s skylight windows again. He told Wyatt to take aim at the redhead again. “She’s the most expendable,” he hoarsely whispered.

  Near the hangar, Envar silently walked down the long gravel driveway, smoking a small cigar. His inherently stealthy nature made all of his movements covert; it was as natural as breathing. He liked being alone, taking in the night. It was calming. Plus, the rest of the crew loudly complained when he smoked his “stinky” cigarillos inside so it diminished his enjoyment.

  He took a deep draw of his cigarillo and looked up at the stars. It was a spectacularly clear night. The air was crisp and fresh. He blew a couple of grand smoke rings into the air and then turned abruptly when he heard a distant, yet familiar, crack of a rifle, followed by the distinct sound of glass shattering. Envar immediately stomped out his small cigar and ran off towards the area where the shot was fired.

  In the uppermost pinnacle of the hangar, glass exploded all around Fort and Zoya, raining down on their faces and bodies like a million transparent razor blades. The bullet had missed Zoya, but it almost severed one of the cables holding the pallet the two were standing on. Zoya looked over towards the cable as the remaining strands of metal sprung apart, one after another and her stomach dropped as the steel cable snapped completely, forcefully releasing the corner of the pallet towards the ground. The barrel, Fort, and Zoya all tumbled down in a crumpled mash. Fort grabbed the dangling severed cable and Zoya clung to the off-kilter pallet. The barrel skidded off the pallet, smashing Zoya’s torso and popping her shoulder out of its socket, forcing her to lose her grip. She screamed in pain as Fort reached out to grab her other arm before she fell. The barrel tumbled eighty feet to the ground, clipping the airship’s tail rudder on the way down before loudly smashing and spattering its remaining silvery contents when it finally hit the surface.

  Fort tightly held onto Zoya’s wrist. His face was full of panic as the barrel was destroyed by the fall. The whole pallet was still attached to a moving hoist that was heading towards the hangar wall. Fort and Zoya locked eyes as she dangled below him. They were both dripping with sweat and Fort was well aware that his grip was tenuous, at best. Their hands were greasy and wet and it was only a matter of time before they would have a similar fate as the crushed barrel below them. Fort hung on for dear life, gnashing his teeth as he looked around wildly. He saw the service ladder in the distance as they slowly approached the wall.

  Zoya calmly looked up at Fort. “Don’t let go.”

  Fort determinedly kept their locked gaze. “I won’t,” he sputtered.

  “I trust you,” Zoya replied with confidence resonating in her voice.

  Nikola pulled at his greasy hair, his mind racing while he tried to figure out what to do. He paced wildly, watching the two dangling above. “Should I stop it?” he yelled.

  Fort felt Zoya's hand slowly slipping down his sweaty arm. He squeezed her wrist tighter. His arm muscles burned as everything slowly slipped downwards. He continued to look into Zoya’s eyes as if it were a lifeline. “No – speed it up! Hurry!” He wasn’t sure if he could be heard below. His other hand slid slightly down into the severed cable’s frayed end. He clenched his teeth harder as the metal strands, like tiny fishing hooks, begin to tear into his palm.

  “Speed it up? Yes. Yes. Okay.” Nikola shook his head and mumbled alarmingly. He turned a dial, but the mechanism barely sped up. “That is all of it!” Nikola moved from the controls and wandered the floor with his arms outstretched as if he were going to catch Zoya.

  Fort strained under the weight. Unable to even adjust his hand the slightest, he felt like his own shoulder was going to come out of its socket. As they approached the service ladder, Zoya commanded, “Swing me!”

  “S-s-swing you?” Fort sputtered through his salty lips, unable to unclench his teeth.

  “Swing me. Or we'll both die.”

  Fort looked over towards the ladder and calculated what she was thinking. They worked in unison and slowly started the momentum of moving back and forth. The strain of the movement made Fort involuntarily scr
eam with exertion. He started to panic as he felt Zoya slipping from his cramped grasp. But before all was lost, Zoya yelled for Fort to release her at precisely the right moment in their swinging arc and she lept, twisting like a cat through the air and catching the ladder with her good arm, twenty feet down. Fort’s heart hurt when he her go, but it swelled now that she was safe. Strands of damp, red hair stuck to her face and shoulders. She pulled herself in tight to the ladder. Relief and exhaustion washed through her body. Even for someone as steely as Zoya, that was a close call. A relieved Fort scrambled onto the hanging pallet, one hand completely covered in blood. He climbed away from the hoist and they both gingerly descended the long service ladder as Nikola clapped his hands together in delighted relief.

  Outside, across the river, Wyatt and Blake walked towards their car. “Looked like she fell,” Blake said as Wyatt placed the rifle in a case in the backseat. “We'll see if she survived. He seemed fine, but that ought to slow him down. Let’s go. We’re done here for now.”

  Back in the hangar, Fort collapsed spread eagle on the floor, exhausted. Every single muscle in his body was throbbing and twitching. Nikola held Zoya’s arm at a strange angle.

  Ripley ran towards them while putting on his glasses, having woken up when he heard the barrel hit, but too scared to come out at first.

  “What on earth happened here?” Ripley’s voice was full of panic as he ran towards them. “What’s with all this glass all over the floor? Is everyone alright? Charles?” Horrified, Ripley saw his friend splayed on the floor. “Oh, no! They fell! I knew this would happen.”

  Zoya thrust her shoulder forward with a snap, popping her shoulder back into its socket. Ripley skidded to a halt and looked like he was about to vomit. The sight and sound of her shoulder popping was too much for him. “Oh my, I’m going to be sick,” he gagged, grabbing onto a nearby girder for support.

  Fort propped himself up carefully as he didn’t want to cut himself. “I’m fine, Ripley. It’s ok. Looks like the glass above us shattered and ... I don't know, must have cut the cable, but that doesn't make sense.”

  Envar walked across the hanger towards the group, cold and expressionless as always. All eyes were on him as he gravely announced, “I do not believe this was an accident.”

  CHAPTER 11

  The next few days flew by with a buzz of work, sweat, and determination. Everyone had their list of tasks and the hourglass was running out. Fort and Nikola needed to get the waterwheel turning to generate the massive electrical current they required to charge Nikola’s experimental dry zinc battery system. They needed to build up a sufficient charge to start a loop of energy feeding back into the self-contained system. Truthfully, this should have been done two weeks ago; but Fort was in the hospital with a head injury, which resulted in the work around the hanger slowing down. Nikola and Zoya didn’t know how long it would take him to recover and they expected it to change their deadline. But when Fort finally returned to the hanger, he was adamant that the schedule must be maintained. His goals of crossing the Atlantic and finding one particular nomad in Egypt by a certain date on the calendar seemed ridiculous to everyone except Fort. But since he was the wealthy employer, owned the ship, and paid all the bills, he set the agenda. Fort had also sweetened the deal for Nikola and Zoya by promising to stop in their native village, Smiljan, in Serbia, when they headed north to Europe.

  Nikola hadn’t been home to Smiljan since he left as a much younger man. An eccentric man, even back then, he’d been shamed and scorned for his wild theories and bizarre experiments. Some people in Smiljan thought he worked for the devil. He was keen to see his home again and show them what he’d become. Zoya had mixed feelings about returning. Their village was backwards and superstitious and she was happy to have ever gotten away. The life of a young woman back home was menial and oppressive. Her parents, who were close friends of Nikola’s, had raised her to be a modern woman and challenge old outdated modes of thinking. Her father had passed away since she’d left. It had been difficult when she got the letter. It hit her hard. Not just because of his death, but that it took weeks for her to find out. Weeks he was gone and she didn’t even know. It just felt wrong. She wanted to go back one more time to properly say good-bye to her remaining family.

  Fort climbed through all of the water wheel’s various parts, greasing everything. The wheel hadn’t moved in many months and the saltwater river made it rust and corrode quickly. With his goggles and heavy gloves, he circumspectly stepped through the dirty mechanism trying not to bang his head. Nikola was on the ground pacing as he pointed to different parts on the enormous wheel with a stick he had picked off the ground, jabbing it in the air for emphasis.

  “Don’t forget top of main cylinder. And put extra in small bearing by control arm. And do good job.”

  “I know Nikola, I know! Give me a minute.”

  “Also, you should put grease on whole chain not just parts you can see!” Nikola bellowed, jabbing his stick in the air again.

  “I know, Nikola! Don’t you have something else you should be doing?” Fort yelled back. Under his breath, he muttered, “Instead of driving me crazy.”

  “No,” Nikola stated, “my work is done for now.” He added quietly to himself, “Making sure you don’t make a mess of this is my job this morning.”

  Climbing up higher, Fort’s foot slipped in the fresh grease and he banged his head and shin as he caught himself from falling. His dirty rag fell like a limp bird into the river.

  “Watch what you are doing, you fool!” Nikola roared.

  Fort bit his lip, shuddering as he suppressed his anger and frustration. He gently rubbed the lump growing under his hair, reminding himself that Nikola was a genius. He needed him. And as hard as it was to work with others, it was a necessary component of reaching his ultimate goal.

  Inside the hangar, Ripley swept the remaining pieces of broken glass from the other night into tidy little piles. He awkwardly managed to brace a shovel against his waist and sweep the glass in it, dumping the shattered bits into a metal trash can. He would have liked some help, but everyone else was busy with much more important tasks. Fort’s obsessiveness with his plan to track down Zoltar, a wandering gypsy mentalist in Egypt, had everyone working in high gear getting the Nimbus ready. Even though Ripley often toiled by himself at the most menial of tasks, the sense of belonging and being a part of something greater made his heart happy. He even noticed his episodes of anxiousness had decreased since he had returned to New York. Maybe this was his home. Maybe this was what it was like to feel normal.

  When Ripley finished cleaning up the piles he collected, he took a few minutes to wander around the various workstations. Due to the enormity of the hangar, everyone on Fort’s team had multiple workstations and workshops throughout the building. Everyone but Ripley, that was. He walked by one of Zoya’s tables and let his hand slide along the table’s edge. He ran his fingers gently over her various tools and projects. When his finger touched her small brass caliper he stopped, picking it up to marvel at its simple beauty. It brought a smile to his face and he started to get the familiar warm feeling as he slipped it into his waistcoat pocket.

  “Put that back!” Nikola’s stern voice boomed from across the hangar and echoed in the vast space. Between Nikola’s blazing eyes and crazy windblown hair, Ripley was absolutely terrified as the man stomped directly towards him.

  “Uh, uh yeah, of course, N-Nikola, I was just looking at…”

  “Don’t! I know what you are. You’re a zwodziasz. Always misleading people to what you really are. Always taking things and breaking things and making bad luck!” Nikola was getting closer, talking louder and louder. “And that fool, Fort, is too blind to see what you are. But I know. Don’t touch my things. Don’t go near my things. And stay away from Zoya or I will electrocute you into ash, you little monster.”

  “I-I-I’m sorry Nikola. I think you must have misunderstood something. I…”

  “Don’t! Don’t
talk. And keep your lies to yourself. Put it back!”

  Nikola’s eyes burned into Ripley as he slowly lifted the ornate caliper out of his pocket and laid it back on the table. Ripley had never been caught taking something before, and the joy he usually got from it was incomparable to the shame and embarrassment he felt at that moment. “Puh-please don’t tell Charles or Zoya…”

  “Shut up!” Nikola barked so hard Ripley gulped and struggled to keep from crying.

  “Keep sweeping and remember … I am watching you.” Nikola pointed to his eyes and then to Ripley’s.

  Ripley put his head down and quickly picked up his broom and sheepishly swept while Nikola stood three feet away, steadfastly glaring at him. Even as a man who spent a good amount of his life uncomfortable, Ripley never felt so excruciatingly distressed by one man’s gaze. Not even Envar’s hawkish glare made him this uncomfortable. He felt like dying would be easier.

  Upstairs, in his own small workshop, Envar could faintly hear Nikola’s shouting tirade. It didn’t faze him. Nikola was always shouting about something. Meticulously and almost lovingly, Envar cleaned and oiled the various components of his Canadian-made Ross rifle. Like everything Envar did, he worked slowly, precisely, and with smooth action. He hardly spoke and he knew his responsibilities. He much preferred his new life as a driver for a wealthy flake over his old life as a soldier for a failing empire.

  With his gun oil and lint-free cloths, he went over every part of the weapon. It had been some time since he’d handled a rifle, but holding it now brought back many unwanted memories. It was a much newer design than what he used in the war, but it still felt familiar. His time in the war between the Ottoman Empire and the Russians had forced him to kill many men, which he did well, but it had taken its toll on him. Early in his military career, he had served in Bulgaria, trying to quell an uprising, but it became a nightmarish massacre. The ongoing years of war and conflict had turned him into a man with a stone heart. As a surviving rifleman on the side that ultimately lost, he moved to America to forget his past and move on.