Iron Rage. James Axler
Ryan said.
âNataly, take us up-channel at least a mile. Then look for the best place to ground her.â
The first mate had the steel back in her spine. âAye-aye!â
âMildred, help meâ¦lie down. Then youâre relieved from tending me to join your friends. I need to pass out now.â
âThen let us help you out on deck to get you laid down,â Mildred said, working her hands professionally up the captainâs solid body as she stood up. âIâm not laying you down in this slop, no way.â
Traceâs short-haired head lolled on her neck. âWhatâ¦ever.â
Her eyes rolled up in her head. Mildred was ready, but still had to bend her knees to hang on to the woman when her knees sagged.
âIâll help you, Mildred,â Krysty said. She went to support the now-unconsciousâor perhaps semiconsciousâcaptain from the left.
It feels good to be able to do something, she thought. Even if weâre nowhere near safe yet.
* * *
âFIREBLAST!â RYAN EXCLAIMED as the sound of cannon fire echoed between the banks of Wolf Creek.
But when he paused in chopping away burning planks from the starboard side of the Mississippi Queenâs cabin to look astern to where the dull booms came from, he saw nothing but clear green water on Wolf Creek. They had rounded enough of a bend in the stream that the original screen of weeds that had shielded the creekâs mouth had passed out of sight. But he could clearly see two big banks of smoke like river-hugging fog, off above the flat land with its tall grass. The tops of the smoke clouds were already tinted gold by the rays of the sun sinking into the horizon.
âPoteetville and New Vick,â Arliss said grimly. The ship rigger was perched perilously atop the weakening roof of the Queenâs cabin forward of the fire, directing water from a canvas hose into its hungry red heart. âThey found better things to play with than us. Meaning each other.â
âThink theyâll follow us this way?â Ricky asked. He was taking a break from manning the deck pumps, which worked on a teeter-totter sort of principle, like a railway flatcar. Although now that they were in a side channel, and out of the line of fire, Myron had throttled back the Diesels and diverted some power to pumping out the water gushing in through the breach. Instead Ricky and Jak were kicking the burning planks chopped free overboard.
There wasnât enough power to spare for the above decks pumps too. Myron clearly reckoned that if the boat sank, it would take care of the fire, anyway. So his priority was keeping her afloat. His prime enemy as he saw it was water, and Ryan couldnât disagree.
Avery laughed. He was pointing out to Ryan where to cut with the ax, plus helping out with one of his own.
âNot triple likely, kid. They probably forgot all about us. The only stuff we had worth stealingâs burned to the waterline. Least as far as they know.â
âThe only reason either bunch really had for shooting at us,â Arliss pointed out, âwas that theyâre both plain mean. Theyâve been rival king-ass fucks lording over this stretch of river for generations, each with only the other to give them any kind of check. And it went to their heads.â
âSo are they meaner than the countryside hereabouts?â Ricky asked.
âUnless the stickies or the swampers got themselves some cannon,â J.B. replied, âIâd reckon yeah.â
âToo slagging right,â Jake said. He was handling the portside hose, where Krysty and Mildred worked the pump, while J.B. and Doc operated the starboard one that fed Arlissâs.
Ryan wasnât pleased about Krysty working as hard as she was so soon after her concussion. But since the concussion wasnât literally life-or-death, but putting out the fire might be, he knew better than to try to order her to sit this one out.
âBut we gotta beach her soon,â Lewis said. âThen everything changes.â
It was the longest speech Ryan had heard the lanky man make. His tone carried a sense of doom. And if Ryan had any doubt the Queen was doomedâat least so long as she stayed in open waterâArliss chilled it at once.
âSheâs riding lower in the water as every minute passes.â
âAt least we mostly got the fire beat down,â Avery stated.
âWhat happens if we go down?â Ricky asked.
âNile crocodiles,â Jake said with doleful satisfaction.
Ricky emitted a yelp of terror. Everybody laughed. He blushed.
Suzan came back aft. âCaptainâs compliments, Ryan, and she asks that you present yourself on the bridge at your earliest convenience.â
Obviously under the inspiration of their captain, Ryan had noticed the crew was partial to the use of old-timey-sounding nautical talk on formal occasions. âShe requests your advice picking a spot to ground the vessel.â
âRight,â he said. Just because he knew the game didnât mean he had to play. Their employers didnât seem to expect it of him or his people, anyway.
âWe got the fire controlled,â Arliss said. âJake, Avery and I can take it from here. You all can go.â
âYou heard the lady,â he said, passing the hose down to Krysty and clambering from the roof of the mostly gutted cabin. âLetâs shift on out of here.â
Jak looked at him with eagerness written on his face. âGo up top, watch?â
He nodded. Jak scrambled up to the roof.
âMan doesnât talk much,â he told the Queen crew members.
âNoticed,â Jake said.
* * *
âWAIT,â MILDRED MUTTERED. âHow did I wind up carrying the lower end of this freaking coffin when the dude on the other end is like eight feet tall?â
Santee was not, in fact, eight feet tall, although he was six-six, minimum, or she was the Pope, Mildred thought, and he was indisputably on the end higher up the staircase. Or âladder,â as the boat people insisted on calling it. That struck the much shorter Mildred as markedly unfair.
Of course what they were carrying could only serve as a coffin for a child or a very short adult. It was no more than five feet long and felt as if it were packed with lead ingots. Or maybe she felt burdened because it was sweltering hot there in the cargo hold, and she had to breathe through a wet handkerchief tied around her face to filter out the smoke. And then there was the stench of rotting blood from poor Edna and Maggie, although their bodies had been taken ashore.
âWhatâs in it, anyway?â she demanded as she struggled up the stairs with her unbalanced burden. âShouldnât we only be carrying, like, food and other vital supplies off the boat?â
The big man smiled down at her. âTreasure,â he said cheerfully. Nothing seemed to get to Santee.
She managed to make it up the rest of the way and onto the deck, where the two of them handed the long wooden box over the rail to a quartet of workers standing in shin-deep shallows. Then she propped her butt on the rail to catch her breath. Santee said nothing, only drank deeply from a canteen and handed it to her.
He didnât seem offended when she wiped the mouth with her hands. Even on short acquaintance, the Mississippi Queenâs crew had learned