The Kingmakers(138)
Through the gaping rectangles in the belly of the airship, white clouds began to part and slivers of green and brown became rolling forests and broken edges of a city. Anhalt judged they were one thousand feet up and still dropping. He searched the clearing landscape and saw a curving river that looked like the Thames near Limehouse. Anhalt watched the decrepit metropolis pass below him as slowing Bolivar tracked west until Buckingham Palace was visible. Sure enough, there were large swathes of green, the old parks, surrounding much of the palace. Very few figures were visible through the trees. The ship descended to a mere seven hundred feet and steadied herself with maneuvering motors and held steady over the palace.
The chief glanced at the pneumo clerk, who read a new message and gave a thumbs-up. The chief shouted to Anhalt, “Spotters confirm we're on target. The senator said that you are the superior officer on board, so it's your honor, sir. The bridge is waiting for you to give the signal to burn it down.”
Anhalt wondered again what had happened to Gareth. Perhaps he wasn't even in London. There was no way of knowing. He prayed Adele would forgive him if he was wrong, but they couldn't delay any longer. “Proceed, Chief.”
The bombardier grinned and pumped an upraised fist to his crew. “Bombs away!”
Crewmen wrestled to turn large wheels on the bulkhead. Overhead, the four assembly-line chains started clanking. Hooks on the chains snagged bombs from their storage racks and carried them toward the open bays and dropped them into the sky like pendulous ripe fruit.
Turning to watch the bombs falling, Anhalt spied movement far below among the freshly green trees and crumbling buildings. Black shapes seemed to appear and cover the ground. Anhalt grabbed his trusty spyglass and peered down.
Vampires. Hundreds of them.
“Chief!” he shouted. “Signal the bridge we are under attack.”
The American looked confused until he too glanced over the rail and swore. He ran to the pneumo tubes, scribbled a note, and sent it flying. In moments, red lights began flashing and an earsplitting horn sounded.
Nearly buried beneath the warning klaxon came the rhythmic thumping of the ship's belly turrets opening up. Explosive shells flowered amidst the thickening flock of rising creatures. It seemed that many of the approaching vampires were buffeted aside by the blasts, but few were stopped from coming.
A marine sergeant appeared at Anhalt's shoulder. Short and broad-chested, he leaned on the rail and studied the darkening sky below the ship with calmly raised eyebrows. He scrubbed casually at his tight red beard. “Senator's compliments, sir, but I am requested to escort you back to the bridge.”
“Thank you, Sergeant.” The sirdar pulled his pistol and drew his glowing Fahrenheit saber. “I believe I will stay with these men.”
The sergeant said, “It's likely to get a tad bloody.”
“I've seen a tad bloody before.”
“So I hear, sir.” His sharp salute revealed his admiration.
Anhalt watched the sky below Bolivar turn black with vampires. It was hard to make out individuals in the writhing morass of limbs and pale faces. Then the ship filled with creatures exploding up through the bomb bay hatches like starlings erupting from a smokestack. The marines opened fire into the storm squall of bodies. Figures twisted and spun, slashing with claws, falling on marines and airmen with teeth bared. Vampires scuttled everywhere, clutching onto crossbeams and dangling bombs.
Anhalt and the marine sergeant fell back to the pneumo bank with the chief bombardier and his men. The Equatorian fired his revolver and slashed at dark figures that feinted in and flitted back. Marines fought bravely, but men were swarmed under vicious mobs.
The sergeant yelled, “Sirdar, you need to withdraw, sir. The bridge is the safest place on the ship. My boys have got this well in hand.” A vampire swooped past him and clawed him to the ground. Anhalt stabbed the vampire through. The sergeant shook his bleeding head and pulled himself to his feet. “See? I'm fine. We'd prefer you not die down here. Your people need you.”
Anhalt felt like a coward, but he nodded consent. One man more would not make the difference here. The sergeant grabbed two privates. “Make a lane for General Anhalt to the hatch. We're taking him to the bridge.”
The Equatorian shouted, “Good luck to you!” to all he was leaving behind.
The chief bombardier waved cheerfully, ducking the scrabbling claws overhead. “Be careful on those ladders.”
Anhalt and the three marines scurried to the door, crouching low with men stabbing up with bayonets. The sergeant pulled open the hatchway and stepped out to cover, waving the others through quickly, and slammed the hatch closed again.