Worldwaker: A Steampunk Dystopian Action Adventure (The Great Iron War, Book 5) by Dean F. Wilson

Author:Dean F. Wilson [Wilson, Dean F.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Dioscuri Press
Published: 2016-08-30T23:00:00+00:00

21 – THE WINGWALKERS

As the Regime and Resistance planes approached the Dreamdevil, it became clear that there would be another problem. On the giant wings of the aeroplane, men and women walked to and fro, as if they were unaware that they were thousands of feet up in the air. More of them clambered out of a hatch on top of the plane, racing up a small ladder placed precariously at the front of the wings. They all had backpacks on, but they did not contain parachutes. They contained wings.

 “Hell,” Jacob said. “And I thought flying inside this thing was bad enough.”

 One of the wingwalkers pulled down sharply on the strings attached to his backpack, and the wooden wings unfurled. They opened out like one of the fans used by the royalty of old, thin wooden slats held together with paper. The wings did not look any more durable.

 It seemed as though the aerial daredevils were preparing to leap off, but Rommond pushed open the glass canopy of his plane, stood up, and pointed his pistol at one of the wingwalkers. He fired, and the man stumbled backwards off the wing, plummeting to the ground.

 Rommond ducked back inside to stabilise his aircraft, pulling the canopy door shut. As he did so, Armax opened fire on the wingwalkers on the other wing, using the monoplane's built-in machine guns. The bullets struck several wingwalkers, but they also struck the wing and hull of the plane itself.

 “For God's sake, don't shoot!” Rommond cried. “The last thing we need right now is a spray of bullets flying towards that bomb.”

 “But you just—”

 “I know what I did, and I know what I'm doing,” Rommond barked. “If you can fire a perfect shot with a pistol, then fire away. Otherwise, keep your gun muzzled, and your mouth too.”

 The moment came, and the first of the wingwalkers leapt off. Some dove, opening their wings as they fell, while others let the wind catch their already unfurled feathers, drifting and floating with the aerial tide.

 “Here they come,” Jacob said.

 One of the wingwalkers raced towards him, but he turned sharply to get out of the way. He could see others heading for the other planes, but his mirror showed that his own attacker was also turning to catch him.

 Jacob veered right, then left, but the wingwalker was more agile than his aircraft, following it with ease. While he turned sharply, his assailant turned agilely, and it was clear from the controlled folding and unfurling of the wooden feathers that the Armageddon Brigade had tested them thoroughly.

 The wingwalker closed on him, so much so that he could see the man's grin in the mirror. Then he heard the cheer of Armax on the radio, and saw his comrade fly his plane straight into the wingwalker, crushing it like a fly against a windscreen.

 “Too easy!” Armax boasted. “You should've made windshield wipers on these!”

 As Jacob dove, he saw another wingwalker diving towards Whistler's plane, but the boy performed a swift barrel roll to avoid it, and it flew onwards to seek out an easier target.

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