Even with all those castaway bits of life giving it shape, the eyes were not human. And they were very much not alive.
They were nothing but the ghostly light of the Strange. It raised one hand. And in that hand was the pink ribbon—Florence’s ribbon.
Then it opened its mouth and whispered softly, “Help her.”
Chapter Twenty
Rose’s arm was getting a little tired, raised as it was, holding her gun trained on the opposite door of the railcar.
“Hink,” she said quietly.
“Mmm?”
“It’s been near half an hour. I don’t think anyone’s opening these doors.”
He shifted behind her, taking a step forward. “I’ll have a look.”
While he did that, she walked to the stack of crates and stepped over the puppet man lying on his back and staring at the ceiling as if he had a head with which to stare.
“Dark out. I can’t see anything in particular. Ship fans have gone quiet,” he noted.
“We should go now, before we’re noticed,” Rose said.
“Do you still have that torch?”
“I think so. But do you think we could just go out through the roof instead? Quieter that way.”
Hink struck flint to steel and Rose winced, expecting another one of the many flares he’d been throwing around lately. But this time it was just a single flicker of light, a wick caught to flame. He held it up, walked to the highest stack of crates, and studied the ceiling.
He kept the light low, but it was night out and the freight car had the two holes Rose had burned into the doors. Also, the walls themselves weren’t exactly air tight. If there was someone watching out in that dark, they’d see slants of light slipping out of the freight car, and that would surely send them searching.
“You up to climbing?” Hink asked.
“If it means getting out of this box, I am.” Rose plucked a signal light off the wall and held up the glass chimney while he lit it.
The lantern light seemed like a whole sun compared with the little flame he’d been using. It was easy enough to find a rope, and Hink was a dead aim throwing it out the hatch in the roof they’d come down through.
“I’ll go up first,” he said. “If it takes my weight, it will take yours. Once I’ve reached the top, tie this end of the rope around your ribs, and I’ll help pull you up.”
“I know how to climb,” Rose said.
He nodded. “Good. But tie it anyway. I don’t know how much time we’ll have once I top that roof.”
He tugged on the rope one more time, then held on to it while he climbed the height of the boxes stacked along the wall. He hoisted himself up the rope, hand over hand, with impressive speed. Rose was once again reminded that Hink was an airship captain, and likely spent more than half his time crawling over ropes and riggings. Of course he was quick at the climb.
His boots disappeared over the top. After a pause, he leaned over the hatch. “Come on up. Quick now.”
Rose blew out the lantern, set it at her feet, and tied the rope in a loop under her arms. She made sure her skirts were tied up and out of the way and thought, not for the first time, that Molly Gregor, Hink’s recently departed boilerman, had it right by wearing men’s trousers. As soon as Rose had a chance to do so, she was changing back into her practical overalls. The modern adventurer didn’t need fluff and ruffles. She needed good boots, a reliable pair of suspenders, and a level head on her shoulders.
Rose was good to her word and climbed the rope while Hink hauled back on it, bringing her over the top of the train car with more speed than she’d expected.
She sat and Hink let go of the rope and crouched down next to her. “Are you okay?”
“Good as glim,” she whispered back. Rose worked the knot on the rope. “Any idea where we are?”
“Too dark to see much, but I heard the airship fans fade off east of us, and that”—he pointed—“looks to be a work shed or factory of some sort.”
“So people might be that way,” Rose said, pulling the rope off and tossing it back down into the freight car. Hink did one better and tugged the other end of the rope free and kicked it down the hatch.
“I reckon,” Hink agreed. “Town should be that way. My guess is Des Moines.”
“So we go to town?”
“We find a telegraph office.”
“Why?”
Hink stood and offered her his hand, which she took. They crossed to the side of the freight car, to the rungs set down the side, which they could use as a ladder.
“I have information that needs passing along. That thing in there? It’s something my superiors want to know about. Telegraph will be quickest.” Hink lowered himself down the side, feet sure on the rungs. He was on the ground in an instant.
Rose followed, cussing a bit under her breath as her boots got tangled in her skirts.
“Problem?” he asked when she reached the ground.
“I’m just thinking Molly Gregor was smart to wear men’s trousers, with all the climbing and cavorting that goes into this sort of life.”
Hink tightened just a bit. The death of his crew member still hurt, even though it had been months ago, and not his fault.
“She was one of a kind,” Hink said kindly. “And smart.”
“Yes,” Rose said, “she was. I might even buy myself some tailored trousers that I could wear about town. Something more sleek and fitted than all this fluff.”
Hink had taken a step and stopped. He looked back over his shoulder with a grin. “Woman, why did you go and have to put that vision in my head?” He started off again. “I do not have time for such distractions.”
Rose smiled and followed on his heels. The freight car had been placed surprisingly accurately on a rail spur, which connected to a line that ran parallel to the warehouse they had seen from the top of the car. At this late hour, no trains appeared to be coming or going, and the airship that had transported the car here was not visible in the sky.
Hink moved from shadow to shadow with clear purpose. He wasn’t going toward town. He was headed straight to the warehouse.
“Wait,” Rose whispered when they paused by an empty wagon. “Why aren’t we following the rail or road into town?”
He pointed at the telegraph pole standing at one corner of the warehouse. “Telegraph line. Shouldn’t be manned this time of night. I’ll send the message here, then we’ll bolt to town.”
“Is the homunculus that important?”
“Yes.”
Hink strode away from the wagon, straight toward the warehouse. Rose supposed if someone came along to stop him, he’d tell them he was a U.S. Marshal here to inspect the place. Or, just as likely, he’d hit them in the face and consider that explanation enough.
They rounded the corner of the warehouse. Four doors were spaced up the length of the building, the one at the farthest end looking the most likely to lead to an office.
That’s where Hink was walking.
Rose followed. The only windows were up higher than her head, and all of them were dark and still. If this was a working warehouse and not just a place of storage, then it was silent and waiting for dawn to bring its workers back. She had heard of many big businesses in big cities keeping at least one person on the grounds to watch for robbers and other undesirables, but since this building was so far from town, she doubted anyone would leave portable valuables behind.
And though some factories chugged away through the night, this place was silent.