Free Storming: A Dieselpunk Adventure by K.M. Weiland Page A

what’s happening.”
    Hitch glanced at Jael beside him.
    But she wasn’t watching Scottie—or the plane. She was staring across the street. Her face had gone as pale as alkaline soil, and she gasped, fast and hoarse.
    “What’s the matter?” Hitch asked.
    “Zlo.” And then, out of the back of her boot, came Matthew’s knife.
    “Whoa, now.” He jumped away. “I thought we were past all that!”
    She turned toward the door and, in her haste, smacked into Lou. He backpedaled, arms windmilling. His feet tangled with hers, and he fell backwards, pulling her down with him. She landed on top of him, her elbow in his stomach, the knife only inches away from his mustache. Behind his specs, his eyes bulged.
    Dan dove into the fray. “What in tarnation? Get this crazy woman off him!” He reached for her knife hand.
    She flipped over like a cat, rolling away from Lou and coming up in a crouch. She held the knife out in front, the other hand groping behind her for the door. Her teeth were bared in a snarl, but her eyes were big and afraid.
    Hitch eased toward her, palms extended. “Calm down. Nobody’s going to hurt you. Just give me the knife. You don’t need a knife.”
    “Now, I don’t know,” Lilla said, from over his shoulder. “A girl never knows when a knife might come in handy.”
    “Shut up, Lilla.”
    Dan and Scottie backed Jael up against the big window.
    “Wait a minute,” Hitch said. “She doesn’t mean anything. She’s scared, can’t you see that?”
    “You think Lou ain’t ?” Scottie said.
    Dan grabbed a chair and held it up, like a lion-tamer. He lunged forward, and Jael lunged sideways. One of the chair legs caught the corner of the window and went all the way through. The whole thing shattered in a rain of glass.
    “Oh, great,” Hitch said.
    Jael ducked around the corner of the open door and disappeared.
    Lilla pushed Hitch. “Well, go after her.”
    He followed Jael down the sidewalk and around the corner.
    She had stopped and turned back, and she practically plowed into his chest.
    The knife was still out, so he caught both her wrists and pushed her back against the wall.
    She struggled. “ Pozhaluista, pozhaluista. Here he is, I must be gone. Please!” She looked up at him, desperate, pleading.
    He wasn’t about to let her go. Not after what she’d pulled out at the Berringers’. But he loosened his grip. “Look, it’s all right. Nobody’s going to hurt you. We’ll go back to the cafe. Everything’ll be fine.”
    “No!” She bucked against him. At least, she wasn’t kicking. “If he sees me— He cannot see me! I will be not having breath—I will be mertvaya —I will be dead!”
    “It’s the other jumper from last night?” He looked over his shoulder, saw nothing worth seeing, then turned back. “Who is he? How come he shot that flare at you? And at me too, come to that?”
    She only shook her head, panting. “Help me to leave far away from here! Please!”
    This was not a good time for him to leave town. The one thing he needed to do this week was impress Livingstone. And Livingstone was here in town. For the moment, Hitch had the man all to himself. If ever he was to get a solo opportunity to help Livingstone promote the show—and get in good with him—this was going to be it. But then again, even though Hitch was here, and Livingstone was here—Hitch’s Jenny surely wasn’t .
    He glanced over his shoulder again.
    People milled down the sidewalks. They all looked like ordinary Joes. Farmers, bankers, workers from the sugar-beet factory on the edge of town. Nobody seemed interested in Jael, much less champing at the bit to do her harm.
    But he couldn’t just leave her. For one thing, who knew what she’d do now that she was all worked up again. And for another... the kind of fear burning in her eyes didn’t show up out of nowhere. In fact, it was kinda making the skin on the back of his own neck itch.
    So much for giving her back to whoever she belonged