Read Online Skyjackers - Episode 3: The Winds of Justice (Skyjackers: Season One) by J.C. Staudt - Free Book Online
Authors: J.C. Staudt
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offshore breezes. It was no less
dangerous, however; Poleax knew he was taking a risk by venturing out on his
own.
When he found Benedict’s embroidered blue hankie beside the
path, Poleax knew he was headed in the right direction. He wondered why
Benedict would’ve left his birthday gift from Gertrude by the wayside. Perhaps
it had fallen out of his pocket. Poleax picked up the snot-soaked hankie and
tucked it into a coat pocket.
After a gradual left-hand curve, the path ended in a small
clearing overgrown with ground cover. Across the clearing was a wide stream,
shallow water flowing over smooth stones. Poleax removed his shoes and socks,
then scanned the opposite shoreline for signs of where the crew had resumed
their cutting. He saw none.
There was a sudden commotion from within the trees on the
opposite bank. Gunfire echoed, quieting the birds and insects for a brief
interlude. Voices rose in a mass of unintelligible shouts. Poleax dashed into
the river, where he slipped on a moss-covered stone and fell backward into the
ice-cold water. He stumbled to his feet, but lost a shoe in the current. One of
his socks was inside that shoe—a sock he had only worn for six of the requisite
seven days.
Poleax glanced back and forth between the shoe floating
downriver and the opposite bank, where Benedict and his crew were apparently
facing resistance. Indecision froze him in place. If he didn’t retrieve that
sock, surely ill luck would follow him all the days of his life. But if he
didn’t help Benedict, he might never get the chance to tell him the truth. The
truth about everything.
***
Junior and Lily were helping Gertrude go through some
old family belongings aboard the Stratustarian . Given that their new
abode was to be much smaller than the former, Gertrude had seized the
opportunity to clean out the storerooms. The crew had retrieved boxes upon
boxes filled with everyday items from the mansion in Azkatla, but the objects
Gertrude and her children were rifling through now were the deeper things; the
long-forgotten treasures of attics and crawl spaces, of childhoods and back
closets.
“Look how adorable Junior’s little sailor outfit is,” said
Lily, lifting a blue-and-white toddler’s getup from inside a packing crate.
Gertrude fanned her nose. “It’s positively putrid with the
damp,” she said. “Toss it out. Toss the whole box out.”
“But I want that,” said Junior. “Perhaps I’ll have a son
someday and dress him up like we used to.”
“If you keep holding onto trifles, we’ll never get rid of
anything,” said Gertrude. She held up a metal device that looked like a tea
strainer with a built-in can opener on the side. “I suppose you’d like to keep
this atrocious thing… whatever it is.”
Junior turned to look. “You’re right. I don’t know what that
is, but I want it.”
“I hope you realize that whatever you keep is staying here.
We won’t have room in the new house for all your gizmos and wizmos.”
“That’s not how you say it.”
“That’s how I say it. And you’ll respect my freedom to do so,
gods help you. I’m your mother.”
“Junior,” said Lily, “I just noticed that pile of shovels in
the corner. Doesn’t it remind you of the time you tried to dig us a new septic
field?”
Junior laughed. “No one told me I was digging up the old septic field.”
“A testament to the dangers of plumbing textbooks for young
minds,” said Gertrude.
“Oh my goodness. And here’s Misty’s button jar. Remember,
Mum?”
“How could I forget? Positive reinforcement through
discipline. It worked on the rest of you.”
“Did anything work with Misty?”
“No, not really.”
“She didn’t appreciate it when you came along, June Bug,”
said Lily. “You were probably too young to remember the time she sent you down
the river in a dugout canoe.”
“I remember it,” Junior said. “I was four, and Misty had just
turned six. She told me we were going for a ride,
dangerous, however; Poleax knew he was taking a risk by venturing out on his
own.
When he found Benedict’s embroidered blue hankie beside the
path, Poleax knew he was headed in the right direction. He wondered why
Benedict would’ve left his birthday gift from Gertrude by the wayside. Perhaps
it had fallen out of his pocket. Poleax picked up the snot-soaked hankie and
tucked it into a coat pocket.
After a gradual left-hand curve, the path ended in a small
clearing overgrown with ground cover. Across the clearing was a wide stream,
shallow water flowing over smooth stones. Poleax removed his shoes and socks,
then scanned the opposite shoreline for signs of where the crew had resumed
their cutting. He saw none.
There was a sudden commotion from within the trees on the
opposite bank. Gunfire echoed, quieting the birds and insects for a brief
interlude. Voices rose in a mass of unintelligible shouts. Poleax dashed into
the river, where he slipped on a moss-covered stone and fell backward into the
ice-cold water. He stumbled to his feet, but lost a shoe in the current. One of
his socks was inside that shoe—a sock he had only worn for six of the requisite
seven days.
Poleax glanced back and forth between the shoe floating
downriver and the opposite bank, where Benedict and his crew were apparently
facing resistance. Indecision froze him in place. If he didn’t retrieve that
sock, surely ill luck would follow him all the days of his life. But if he
didn’t help Benedict, he might never get the chance to tell him the truth. The
truth about everything.
***
Junior and Lily were helping Gertrude go through some
old family belongings aboard the Stratustarian . Given that their new
abode was to be much smaller than the former, Gertrude had seized the
opportunity to clean out the storerooms. The crew had retrieved boxes upon
boxes filled with everyday items from the mansion in Azkatla, but the objects
Gertrude and her children were rifling through now were the deeper things; the
long-forgotten treasures of attics and crawl spaces, of childhoods and back
closets.
“Look how adorable Junior’s little sailor outfit is,” said
Lily, lifting a blue-and-white toddler’s getup from inside a packing crate.
Gertrude fanned her nose. “It’s positively putrid with the
damp,” she said. “Toss it out. Toss the whole box out.”
“But I want that,” said Junior. “Perhaps I’ll have a son
someday and dress him up like we used to.”
“If you keep holding onto trifles, we’ll never get rid of
anything,” said Gertrude. She held up a metal device that looked like a tea
strainer with a built-in can opener on the side. “I suppose you’d like to keep
this atrocious thing… whatever it is.”
Junior turned to look. “You’re right. I don’t know what that
is, but I want it.”
“I hope you realize that whatever you keep is staying here.
We won’t have room in the new house for all your gizmos and wizmos.”
“That’s not how you say it.”
“That’s how I say it. And you’ll respect my freedom to do so,
gods help you. I’m your mother.”
“Junior,” said Lily, “I just noticed that pile of shovels in
the corner. Doesn’t it remind you of the time you tried to dig us a new septic
field?”
Junior laughed. “No one told me I was digging up the old septic field.”
“A testament to the dangers of plumbing textbooks for young
minds,” said Gertrude.
“Oh my goodness. And here’s Misty’s button jar. Remember,
Mum?”
“How could I forget? Positive reinforcement through
discipline. It worked on the rest of you.”
“Did anything work with Misty?”
“No, not really.”
“She didn’t appreciate it when you came along, June Bug,”
said Lily. “You were probably too young to remember the time she sent you down
the river in a dugout canoe.”
“I remember it,” Junior said. “I was four, and Misty had just
turned six. She told me we were going for a ride,
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