Free Driftmetal by J.C. Staudt Page B

minute.”
    A few seconds passed before I heard Blaylocke’s
spyglass whisk open and his boots clunk up the stairs.
    “What do you need me for?” asked Vilaris. “It’s not
looking too good, is it?” He was shivering. Whether it was from
cold or fear, I didn’t know.
    “No, it’s not looking good,” I admitted. “Good thing
Chaz here is a prodigy. Ain’t it, pal?”
    When I glanced over my shoulder, Chaz gave me the
response I expected: a warm, vacant smile.
    “Find something sharp and start chopping up the
floor. We’re building a fire.”
    Vilaris frowned. “What?”
    “We need wood. Make a pile and I’ll tell you what to
do next.”
    “I don’t understand…” Vilaris was anxious, on the
verge of breaking down.
    I wanted to scream at him. I talked fast instead.
“These ballast pipes vent through a furnace in the aft cabin of the
ship. Build a fire, and the ballonets will fill with hot air
instead of cold. It’s gonna be a chore to fly this thing without
ballast tanks, but at least we’ll stay afloat if the main bag loses
pressure. That enough of an explanation to get you moving?”
    Vilaris sprang into action without another word. He
snatched up the boarding axe hanging over the doorway and began
hacking the planks to splinters. A moment later, Blaylocke stumbled
down the steps into the cabin. He saw what Vilaris was doing and
gave him a puzzled look.
    “There’s a floater up ahead,” Blaylocke said, “about
two o’clock. We’re too far down and I can’t see what’s on it. We
need to get higher.”
    “Doing the best I can,” I said. “Help Vilaris with
that firewood.”
    “Firewood?”
    Vilaris filled him in with a five-second physics
lesson.
    I sized up the pile of wood he’d gathered. “Okay,
that’s plenty. There should be lots of unlit coal in the furnace
room. Get a few shovelfuls in there and burn what you can. The wood
will start faster and burn quicker until the coals get going. Now
move it.”
    The two men left the command capsule with their arms
full of firewood, leaving me to coax every inch of altitude I could
get from the Clarity before it turned to stone. The needle
on the pressure gauge was still sinking. Even with the prop engines
pushing us vertical, we were creeping upward at a disheartening
pace. Chaz was speaking softly to himself, still tied to his chair.
I leaned forward to catch a glimpse of the floater Blaylocke had
mentioned, but all I could see past the balloon’s bulk were clouds
and the open blue of the sky. There were folds and creases inching
across the balloon’s surface, visible signs of the loss in
pressure.
    I should’ve told them to let me know when they
got the furnace going , I realized. “How you doing, buddy?” I
said, giving Chaz a smile.
    He didn’t smile back this time. His brow wrinkled.
He licked his lips. “I… I don’t… know,” he said.
    “Chaz? Chaz. It’s me, Mull. Do you understand
me?”
    Silence, and another confused look.
    “Chester,” I said. “Chester Wheatley. Is that your
name?”
    Chaz sighed. His head lolled to one side. He
blinked, raised his eyebrows, closed his eyes as if enduring a bad
headache. “Without a doubt.”
    “Chester,” I repeated, turning to face forward
again. “If you can understand what I’m saying, I need you to talk
to me. It’s very important.”
    “What…” he said, trailing off into another sigh.
    I wanted to go to him, but I didn’t dare leave the
pilot’s seat now. “You’re tied to your chair. Can you find the
knots and start untying yourself?”
    Another moment of silence. “I can’t… move my
fingers. It feels stiff when I… try to tell my hands what to
do.”
    “Just a little hiccup in the fine motor skills, pal.
Keep trying. You took a hard hit to the dome, but your brain knows
what to do. Concentrate.”
    The needle on the pressure gauge fell into the red.
I pushed the engines past half speed and up to full. The altimeter
stopped rising, started falling. So did