The Tombs by Deborah Schaumberg

Author:Deborah Schaumberg
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 2018-01-05T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty-Two

Weld Rats

Sunrise was no quiet time on the Brooklyn waterfront. We turned up Furman Street into the loud congestion of early morning traffic, on the street, on the river, and up in the air. Tugboats lined up next to great sailing ships with two-hundred-foot masts, yards of sailcloth, and miles of rigging that snapped and clanged in the wind. Massive tramp steamers carried coal or cargo from around the world. Impossibly tall floating grain elevators were towed up to large brick warehouses that lined the docks, and the factories beyond spewed ash into the yellow-black clouds.

And everywhere the airships, casting rippling oblong shadows along the water.

I lifted Geeno out of the cab—my arms were tired now; I couldn’t carry him much longer—and paid the driver. Where was Khan? Was he working outside this morning? I scanned the area, but he was nowhere in sight. A gilded sign outside his building read John Englis & Sons. Englis was an old-time ship builder. Khan said he’d built the first of the Union’s gunboats, the Unadilla, in just forty-eight days at the start of the Civil War.

I stepped through the two-story sliding wood doors into the cool, dark interior. The smell of freshly sanded pine hung in the salty air. Four or five men looked up; thank goodness, one of them was Khan. He ran over.

“Avery, what are you doing here?” He lifted his work goggles and grabbed Geeno, laying him on a pile of sandbags. “What happened?”

“Khan, he found me.” I looked around, lowering my voice. “Spector came to the factory. He murdered Roland Malice. He shot Geeno with a vial of liquid.” I took a deep breath and wiped my forehead. “We must get him to the Gypsies right away.”

“Man alive! I’ll be right back.” Khan sprinted over to a group of workers sanding the tall wooden ribs of a ship. A man with white hair and eyes like the sea looked us over as Khan spoke.

“Let’s go,” Khan said, hurrying back.

“Wait! I’ve got to get word to Tony. He will be worried sick when we don’t show up for work. Do you have a runner?”

On the way out, Khan flipped a coin to a scrawny boy and relayed the message. Geeno is ill. I’m taking him to the same place as Oscar. From A.

As we came within sight of the Gypsy camp, I prayed it wasn’t too late. We carried Geeno to the apothecary, where I told the herb doctor what had happened and gave him the sealed glass dart containing the rest of the liquid. Khan had already disappeared, off in search of Katalina.

On my way out, I checked on Oscar. He didn’t look good. Still sedated, his skin had taken on a yellowish tinge and red lines streaked up one of his legs. I closed my eyes and squeezed his clammy hand. “Don’t give up, Oscar,” I whispered. “And just in case you heard the herb doctor say something scary about your leg, I want to tell you my father’s metal leg is fantastic, even has its own gun.

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