The Black Lung Captain - Chris Wooding [3]
“I can’t swim!” Pinn insisted.
Frey didn’t have time to argue. His eyes met the doctor’s. “Do the honors, please.”
Malvery put his boot to the seat of Pinn’s trousers and shoved. Pinn stumbled forward to the edge of the cliff. He teetered on his toes, wheeled his arms in a futile attempt to keep his balance, and then disappeared with a howl.
“Now you’d better go rescue him,” Frey said.
Malvery grinned. “Bombs away, eh?” He put his glasses in his coat pocket, ran past Frey, and jumped off the cliff. Frey followed him, feet-first, clutching the box of coins. He was halfway down before he thought to wonder if the river was deep enough or if there were rocks under the surface.
Hitting the water was a freezing black shock, knocking the wind out of him. Icy spring melt from the Splinters. The sounds of the forest disappeared in a bubbling rush that filled his nose and ears. His plunge took him to the riverbed, but the water cushioned him enough to give him a gentle landing. He launched himself back upward, shifting the lockbox to one arm and swimming with the other. Only seconds had passed, but his chest was already beginning to hurt. He panicked and struggled for breath, clawing at the twinkles of moonlight above him. Finally, just when it seemed there was no air left inside him, he broke the surface.
Sound returned, unmuffled now, the hissing and splashing of the river. He sucked in air and cast about for signs of his companions. With the water lapping round his face he couldn’t find them, so he struck out for the bank. The river wasn’t fast, but he could still feel the current pulling him. He vaguely hoped Pinn was alright. He’d hate to lose a good pilot.
He hauled himself out, dragging the lockbox with him, which had inconveniently filled with water and was now twice as heavy as before. Jumping in the river had seemed a good idea at the time, but now he was sodden and cold as well as being dog-tired. He was beginning to think that getting lynched would be preferable to all this exertion.
Once he got to his feet, he spotted his companions. Malvery was swimming toward the bank with one hand, in great bear-like strokes. He was towing Pinn, fingers cupped around his chin. Pinn had gone limp, giving himself over to Malvery’s strength.
Frey squelched along the bank to where the current had carried them and helped them both out. Pinn fell to his hands and knees, retching up river water.
“You rot-damned pair of bastards!” he snarled, between heaves.
“Oh, come on, Pinn,” Frey said. “I’ve seen you take down four aircraft without breaking a sweat. You’re scared of a little water?”
“I can’t shoot water!” Pinn protested. He burped noisily and another flood spilled over his lips.
“There they are!” someone yelled from the clifftop. Bullets pocked the bank and threw up fins of spray from the river.
“Move it!” Frey scrambled away toward the trees. “It’ll take them ages to find a way round.”
He’d barely finished his sentence before the villagers began to fling themselves off the cliff. “We just want our money back!” an unseen voice called. “It’s for the orphaaaaans!” The final word lengthened and trailed off as the speaker pitched over the edge and plummeted into the water.
“I’m an orphan!” Frey screamed, infuriated by their persistence. He’d done enough to deserve his escape. Why couldn’t they just let him go?
His words fell on deaf ears. Angry faces broke the surface of the river and came swimming toward them.
“Don’t those fellers give up?” Malvery complained, and they ran.
———
IT WAS MORE LUCK than design that brought them to a familiar trail, which led them back to the Ketty Jay. The villagers had stopped shooting—their guns were soaked—but they showed no signs of abandoning the pursuit. In fact, they were gaining. A lifetime of unhealthy habits and too little exercise hadn’t equipped any of Frey’s team for a lengthy foot chase. Their waterlogged clothes weighed them down and chafed with every step. By the time they made it to the clearing where their companions waited, Malvery looked as if he was about to burst a lung.