Jack Wars

River Rescue

Some folks have asked for more Jack Wars, my alt-history, steampunk story. Here’s a taste:

Cassia ducked behind the shattered stump of an oak as heavy artillery fire screamed overhead.

At her feet, at the base of a shallow bluff, lay the Mississippi.

“Pearl!” Where in blazes had she got to?

She glanced around the splintered tree and saw her sister racing up the hill. Blood streamed from a gash across Pearl’s cheek. A lanky, horned creature bounded into view at the base of the hill, sniffed the air, spotted Pearl, and charged up the hill after her.

“Duck, Pearl!”

Her sister threw herself to the ground as Cassia lifted a heavy pistol. The hammer snapped down on an empty chamber.

“Hell’s teeth!” she swore. She threw the gun to the dirt and grabbed at the other pistol on her belt. Thirty yards below, an antlered, man-sized beast was almost on top of her sister.

Cassia pulled the trigger and was rewarded with a fiery blast from the Colt Dragoon. The .44 caliber ball struck the jackalope square in the chest. It staggered and dropped where it fell, across Pearl’s prostrate form.

Pearl howled and shoved the creature from her. She drew a long knife from a sheath at her hip and sprang to her knee, ready to lunge at the jackalope.

“It’s dead!” Cassia shouted.

Pearl kicked at the creature’s blood-drenched chest, but the beast didn’t move.

“We’re dead, too, if we don’t get across the river,” Cassia said.

Pearl nodded and pulled the rucksack from her back. “I’ve got the signal rocket,” she said. “I just hope it’s still in one piece. Cover me.”

Cassia spun to face down the artillery-blasted slope. Nothing moved in the tangle of trees at the base of the slope. “Nothing yet, but they’ll be on us soon. Hurry.”

Pearl fumbled with the rocket, twisting a set of metal fins onto the small cylinder.

Cassia glanced over her shoulder. The Mississippi swirled and flowed fifty feet below, oblivious to the carnage taking place on its banks. Across the river lay Fort Marquette, named for the French explorer slaughtered by jackalopes at this spot two hundred years ago.

Muzzle flashes from the fort lit the night in brilliant flashes of orange, followed a few seconds later by the barking roar of the great cannons, and then a great, rending shriek as the shells screamed overhead.

The jackalopes returned fire. Behind the trees at the base of the hill, a line of cannon opened up a rippling fire.

“All the Army has to do is keep the ‘lopes’ heads down till we get across,” she said.

Pearl didn’t speak, but struck a sulfur match to the rocket she’d jammed in the ground. It hissed as the fuse caught. A moment later, the rocket streaked skyward and burst with a sharp pop. A brilliant blue flare drifted slowly downward, casting eerie reflections in the swirling water.

Half a minute later, an answering blue flare jetted upward from the fort. Cassia gave a sigh of relief and said, “The boat should be on its way.”

“It better come quick,” Pearl said, mopping at her torn cheek with a bandanna. “Look.”

She pointed down the hill where a dozen jackalopes moved in their direction.

“Bloody hell,” Cassia said. “Let’s get down to the water.”

The sisters scrambled down the face of the bluff.

For a handful of heartbeats, the artillery and rocket fire paused. In the comparative silence, Cassia caught the rapid chuff, chuff, chuff of a steam engine coming to full power. At the jetty below the fort, the dark shape of the steam cutter surged forward and turned into the current.

“Come on now, boys! Don’t spare the coal!” Cassia shouted across the water.

In the fading light, the cutter churned the water, outboard paddles throwing twin plumes of spray high into the air. The boat flew across the powerful river. The helmsman jigged to avoid a tree floating on the current and aimed for a point downriver of the sisters. Twenty yards from the bank, he spun the boat sharply to the right, sending a wall of brown water against the steep shore.

Cassia smiled. It was Sam Clemens at the wheel.

The boat raced up the shore, and Clemens reduced the throttle to hold position in front of Cassia and Pearl.

“How do, ladies? You best get aboard. I suspect them evil beasties will be upon us directly.”

A deck soldier in the brown uniform of Sheridan’s Army of the Mississippi extended a gangplank, and the sisters raced aboard.

At once, a chorus of shrieking howls came from the top of the bluff. Rifle fire rained down on the cutter, clanging off the iron deck. Soldiers on the bow returned fire as Clemens advanced the throttle and wheeled hard to starboard.

“Welcome aboard the Peoria, ladies,” he shouted over the roar of the engine. “Hang onto your skirts, we’ll be back in the States in two shakes of a lamb’s tail. I have orders to escort you personally to General Sheridan.”

Cassia winked at the young officer. “Lieutenant Clemens, you’re too young to be talking about my skirts. Get us home. There’s a war on!”