winced as they cracked like china, then turned to the others. Many aboard, and more by the minute.
I fought my way back to the cabins. It was slow going, the creatures in my way clumsy but tough as driftwood. It took a heavy hand to put them down. When I got there, some of the crew were defending the stairs down into the ship's belly with coal shovels and line hooks. The monsters had clambered up to the captain's perch, and were beating against the glass with flat, swollen hands. The captain lost his nerve. A shotgun blast blew out one of the windows, scattering several of the creatures. The remaining revenants clambered to the new opening and started crawling through. A second blast left little but corpses and pitch black blood on the stairs. I turned to one of the crewmates standing before the engine room.
'What luck down there?'
'Drive shaft's buckled. Your friend is setting it true, but who knows if it'll hold!'
'It'll hold,' I said. 'Celestes help us, it better hold. I've never wanted a water burial.'
'Aye,' he said, and then we were busy fighting to get back to land.
Things turned quickly against us. The waves of creatures became a flood. I heard a number of blasts from above, followed by the unmistakable cracking of a doorframe and the captain's horrified screams. I couldn't get to him, couldn't fight past the walls of clawing, mewling, dead-eyed monsters on the deck. The men around me blanched and refused to look at one another. One by one we began to fall. Hard to look ahead when such horrible things are happening, just out of reach, just out of help. Hard to keep going, and some of the crew couldn't, stood gaping at the butchery for a brief second before they were torn down. Some kind of motivation in that.
Finally it was just two of us, me and a young kid with thick arms and scared eyes. He fell, stumbled down the stairs behind me and landed with a loud crunch. I couldn't look back, but I couldn't hold the stairwell on my own. I started backing down the stairs. The creatures followed, slowly, clumsily. Blood on their hands and in their mouths.
I got to the doorway to the engine room and stood there for a handful of breaths. Someone had dragged the kid inside. That meant there was more crew behind me, though none of them were rushing to my aid. I thrashed forward in one last flurry of blade and blood, then fell back and threw the heavy iron door shut.
The engine room was small and crowded. Those of the crew who had not died on the decks above were stuffed into the spaces between pistons and turbines. The air was half smoke and half the stink of fear and adrenalin. All of them were looking at me in abject horror, all but Wilson. He looked fully alive for the first time in a long time. Coat thrown aside, sleeves rolled up to reveal thin arms, sweat drenching the smooth white egg of his long head, Wilson was bent over the dissected heart of the boat, elbow deep in gears. His eyes were alive and sharp.
'Wilson,' I snapped. 'What's the word on getting these engines going?'
He ignored me. Something banged against the door behind me. Everyone jumped.
'Could be the captain,' one of the crew said meekly, hoping someone else would come up with a reason that it wasn't the captain, that they wouldn't have to open the door. I had a reason.
'He's dead,' I said. 'Or dying, which in these circumstances amounts to the same thing. Wilson!' He glanced up. 'The engines?'
'If you'd all just,' he whispered, grimacing. 'If you'd all just leave me alone, give me a little quiet.' He bent to the task again.
'Okay, you heard the man. Everyone outside.' I stood aside and gestured to the door. No one moved. 'No? Okay, then. Wilson, you'll just have to fix the engines in our unbearable presence. Sorry about that.'
'Always such a damn comedian, Jacob.' He tore something loose and tossed it to the floor. 'You think this is easy?'
'I'm the one covered in blood, friend. So yeah, I think you should quit your bitching and…'
The door rang with another impact and I wheeled back to face it. Steel. Good, honest steel. As long as we stayed in here, we'd probably be okay.
'Just get it fixed, Wilson,' I whispered. 'Before they start in on the hull.'
The crew shuffled nervously around the room. I hefted the blade from hand to hand, shaking out my fingers with each transition. The revenant blood smeared across my arms was still warm. My skin was beginning to itch with it.
'Seriously, Wilson, we need…'
The engine roared to life, incomprehensibly loud in the wake of our nervous silence. Wilson slammed the engine shut and bolted things down. He looked at me and started talking. His voice was lost in the noise. I shook my head and stepped forward. He leaned in to me.
'I got it going,' he yelled.
'Okay,' I yelled back. 'Now what?'
He looked at me with a complete lack of understanding, then shrugged.
'We ship out of here?' he asked.
'The captain's dead, and we can't get topside. Can we control the ship from down here?'
He looked around the room, at the grim faces, the closed door, finally settling on the black gore on my hands and blade. Realization settled across his face.
'Oh. Hell.'
I nodded. 'Can we do it?'
'No,' he said, shaking his head. 'I've got engine power, but no rudder. We need the con for that.'
'So you can go, but you can't turn.'
'Yeah.'
I looked around the room. The crew stood at mute attention, adrift without their captain. They looked like scared children.
'Anyone know which direction we were facing when we became mired in this… unpleasantness?'
'East south east,' someone answered. 'But we could have drifted.'
'We've certainly drifted,' another growled.
I grimaced. Drift could have us pointing down toward the waterfall, or maybe upriver. There was no way of knowing.
'Any volunteers to go out there and secure the con?' I asked. Silence, or as much silence as you could get in an engine room. I nodded. One guy stepped forward, his eyes on the deck.
'Sir, if you were… that is, if you go out there, the least we could do. The least I could do, I mean, is have your back. Sir.'
'Brave of you. But hell if I'm going out there.' I turned to Wilson and smiled. 'Open it up all the way. Let it run for five minutes, then let's cut power and see where we are.'
Wilson messed with some pistons, then wound up a flywheel and threw a gear. We lurched forward. There was a hammering chop from the prop. Bodies in our wake. It was a couple minutes until the sound stopped, and the engine stayed strong. I was just turning to Wilson to tell him to cut the power when a low, urgent drone filled the room. I looked around in confusion.
'What's…'
'Proximity horn!' someone yelled. Wilson swore and threw the engine off. We were still moving though, our speed bleeding off into the water. Another horn sounded, and another, each one more desperate, more panicked. I imagined the poor shipman, laying on the horn as we barreled at him.
'Brace!' I yelled.
We crashed into something, accompanied by a chorus of snapping wood and distant screams. The ship pitched crazily and I was thrown to the deck.
A long creaking groan settled over the ship, then we were still. I stood.
'Another ship? Or the docks?' I asked no one in particular. The crew, coming carefully to their feet, just stared around the room. These people were a special kind of worthless. The ship rumbled and shifted again, pitching at a bad angle to one side. There was more shouting outside, and the distinct, muffled roar of a shotgun blast. I found the blade that I had dropped when we hit, then went to the door.
'We can't stay here. Either we're sinking or the Badge is rushing the decks with some very sharp questions.' I nodded to Wilson, then glanced at the rest of the crew. 'Best get out of here while you can.'
Wilson took my meaning and grabbed up a hammer. We were fighting our way out, whether it meant chopping down revenants or Badgemen. I threw open the portal.
