In a world of steamships and Progress, no one who sails due south across the Wild Sea ever returns.
No one knows why.
Dale Mortensen intends to solve the mystery. With the help of an old sailor and a reformed playboy searching for his missing sweetheart, he locates a captain and crew ambitious—not to mention crazy—enough to undertake the journey across the Wild Sea.
The Infinity and her crew sail south, but the truth of what really lies on the other side of the horizon is more amazing—and terrifying—than anything they can imagine.
It’s the adventure of a lifetime—and it may just get Dale and his friends killed.
Find out how this Young Adult steampunk adventure unfolds chapter-by-chapter every Thursday! Click here to start from the beginning. Or if you want to read it at your own pace, buy the ebook for $6.99 from Amazon, Apple, Barnes & Noble, Kobo, Smashwords or Sony, or get it as a trade paperback from Amazon, Barnes & Noble, or Book Depository.
THE OTHER SIDE OF THE HORIZON
E. R. PASKEY
TWENTY
IT TOOK THE COMMITTEE TWO DAYS TO decide what to do about Dale and the others. Mrs. Weatherby brought them the news when she made her evening rounds. “They’ve agreed to see you together,” she said as soon as she stepped into the ward. “Someone will arrive in the morning to escort you to Committee headquarters.”
Dale and Raphael both cheered wildly; Minh actually smiled.
When they quieted, Mrs. Weatherby shook her head. “I’m not certain why they chose to make an exception for you, but I hope you realize how unprecedented this is.”
“We’re grateful,” Dale assured her.
“Very grateful,” added Raphael.
Still shaking her head, Mrs. Weatherby finished her rounds and left them alone for the night.
Dale awoke at dawn the next morning—or what would have been dawn on his own world. My own world. It felt so strange to think about things in terms of worlds instead of countries. He stared up at the ceiling, listening to the rumble of thunder above. In just a few hours, we’ll finally get some answers from the Committee for New Arrivals.
He could hardly wait. Belly’s banning from the Hospital aside, there were so many questions he wanted to ask. So many things he wanted to know about, things that he had not even known existed until they sailed into that strange silver mist Riley called The Rift.
The thunder continued, but Dale hardly heard it above the pounding of his heart. He also wanted to get a look at this place. If this is where you end up when you vanish on the Wild Sea—if you aren’t killed by Streamers—I want to know everything.
Absorbed as Dale was in his thoughts, the minutes slipped by without him being entirely aware of their passing. He jolted out of his reverie when the others began to stir. Raphael woke first, impatient to meet the day and come that much closer to finding Elena. Minh woke soon after, becoming alert in the space between one second and the next. He said nothing; he merely looked around at the others as though to verify they, too, were preparing for the meeting to come.
When the gray light filtering though the hazy glass windows began to brighten, Azalea, one of their usual nurses, brought in breakfast trays. She alternated between remarks that she was happy they would be meeting the Committee and slightly wistful comments that they would be gone and she would no longer need to check on them.
Under normal circumstances, Dale suspected Raphael would have attempted to cheer her with some charming comment about how they would miss her smiling face and tender ministrations. But this was no ordinary day and the pallor of his friend’s face reflected his awareness of that fact. Dale cast a sideways glance at Minh, but the cook was eating his breakfast in silence.
Dale cleared his throat.
Azalea’s blue eyes flicked in his direction; he thought he saw surprise cross her features before they relaxed in a smile. “Yes, Mr. Mortensen?”
“We’ll, ah, miss you.” Dale felt the tips of his ears and the back of his neck grow hot and cursed his fair features. “Thank you for everything.”
“You’re welcome. I’ll be back shortly with clothes for you all.” Her smile broadened and then she was gone, vanishing out the door in a rustle of starched skirts.
“Clothes?” echoed Dale.
Raphael came back to himself with a start. “Yes! Clothes.” He raised an eyebrow at Dale and motioned to his shabby attire. “Did you think they were going to let us wander their fair city looking like vagabonds?”
“Wrong word.” Minh looked up from his porridge with a snort. “We look like shipwrecked sailors because that’s what we are.”
“Semantics.” Raphael carelessly waved a hand.
Minh just shrugged and turned his attention back to his breakfast. Holding up a spoonful of porridge, he let it dribble back down into his bowl. “Maybe I can work here as a cook. They need help.”
Dale grimaced in agreement, but Raphael only peered into his bowl with mild interest. “I see nothing wrong with it.”
Minh exchanged glances with Dale. “You would if you weren’t—” he cut himself off before he finished, not wanting to open that barrel of fish.
Dale almost slumped in relief. He liked Raphael, and he was hoping he would find Elena safe and well, but he’d had about all he could take of his friend singing her praises at every opportunity.
Azalea’s return with a stack of clothes in her arms proved an ample distraction for them all. She passed the clothes out with the efficiency of someone carrying out a predetermined plan and directed Dale to follow her to a washroom.
When he was scrubbed and dressed in clean clothes, Dale carefully made his way back into the ward. His new clothes were not actually new, and they were too small for his large frame, but they were clean. That was what counted at the moment. He tucked the handkerchief into his pocket and, after a second’s hesitation, pushed his sleeves up to his elbows to hide the gap between his wrist and the cuff. He could not do anything about the gap between the cuff of his trousers and his ankles.
After leading Minh out to take his turn in the washroom, Azalea set a basin and a large pitcher of hot water on the little stand beside Raphael’s cot. He groaned when he saw this and waved her off while he attempted to stand. “No, no. Please, no. I can stand.”
“For a whole two seconds,” said Dale in some amusement, as he watched Raphael come perilously close to losing his balance when he attempted to hold his crutches and reach for the bar of soap at the same time.
Raphael shot him a black scowl over his shoulder.
“If you get your cast wet,” Azalea told him sternly, “Mrs. Weatherby will have my skin.” She held up a cloth. “It’s this or nothing, I’m afraid, Mr. Avarez.”
“If I must.” Raphael was too polite to say what he was really thinking in front of her—even if he used his mother tongue—but Dale knew what he was thinking. It was written all over his friend’s face.
“Now, now.” Azalea patted him on the shoulder. “It’s not that bad. You’re healing quite nicely. In a few weeks, you won’t need the cast or the crutches.”
“Thank you,” said Raphael stiffly.
Mrs. Weatherby appeared once Minh returned from the washroom and Raphael struggled into his own new-to-him clothes. Dale suspected she’d been lurking somewhere outside the ward, waiting. It was irrational, he knew—the woman had an entire Hospital to run, however big it was—but the thought persisted.
The first thing the matron did was give them a quick once-over. “Well, now, I must say you look a good deal improved.”
“Thank you for your concern,” said Raphael courteously. Behind him, Dale and Minh both nodded their agreement.
Mrs. Weatherby motioned to the door. “Follow me. A man is waiting downstairs to take you over to the Committee.”
The Hospital was larger than Dale had originally surmised. The matron led them to a gated lift that looked a little newer than its surroundings. In several rather alarming fits and starts, the lift obliged to carry them down two floors.
The gate opened on a wide, white-paneled hall with doors opening off it. Mrs. Weatherby led them down this hall and into the waiting room, where another white-clad nurse manned a desk. A young man in a clean, though slightly worn, suit, complete with waistcoat and top hat, leaned over the desk, talking to her in soft tones. From the blush rapidly rising in her cheeks and the teasing smile on his lean face, it was obvious they were not discussing work.
“Nurse Temple.” Mrs. Weatherby did not raise her voice, but it was not necessary. At the sound of her voice, the nurse in question gave a guilty start and immediately turned her attention back to the papers before her.
The head matron turned her attention to the young man. “I would appreciate it if you would cease distracting my nurses.”
He gave her a charming smile. “It was only a bit of conversation.” Mrs. Weatherby looked him up and down and he felt prompted to add, “I’m here to escort these gentlemen to the Committee for New Arrivals.”
“I am aware of that.” Mrs. Weatherby looked at Dale. “Mr. Mortensen, you’ll be free to go after this. I’ll see the rest of you back here when the Committee finishes with you.”
The matron then crossed to the Nurse Temple’s desk and shuffled through the papers until she found the ones she wanted. Pushing them toward the young man, she said crisply, “Sign these forms and you can be on your way.”
Meekly, the young man picked up a fountain pen and obeyed. Handing it back to Nurse Temple—but not without first giving her a wink—he turned to Dale, Raphael, Minh, and Yutha. “Welcome to Rift City. I’m Rob Banger. If you’ll follow me?” He swept an arm out toward the door.
Dale and Raphael exchanged glances, and then Raphael hobbled forward on his crutches. “It is a pleasure to meet you. I am Raphael Franco Avarez.” Balancing his weight carefully, he took his right hand off his crutch and extended it to Banger.
They shook and Raphael introduced everyone else. Excitement lent a keen eagerness to his voice and mannerisms. Banger seemed amused by this, but once the flurry of introductions died down, he pulled a dented pocket watch from his waistcoat. “Oh, my, we’d really best be going.”
He headed for the door and the others followed, anxious for a bit of fresh air after being cooped up in the Hospital for so long. Dale looked back to find Mrs. Weatherby and the nurse both watching them. “Thank you for everything, Mrs. Weatherby.”
She gave him a tight nod. “Stay out of trouble, young man. I don’t want to see you back here for anything other than visiting hours.”
That prompted a smile, distracting Dale from the way his heart had begun to pound wildly in his chest again. Crossing the waiting room, he stepped over the threshold and out into Rift City.
The city square beyond the Hospital entrance could have belonged almost anywhere. A small, well-tended park with a small stone fountain stood in the center, while cobblestoned streets on all four sides linked a series of stately buildings and upper-class shop fronts together. A steady stream of well-dressed men and woman trickled in and out of these buildings.
The first thing that struck Dale, however, was a distinct lack of rain. Low, rumbling thunder vibrated the air, and he swore he could hear rainfall somewhere, but not a drop hit the street before him. Curious, he craned his neck up to the sky—and his eyes widened in shock.
A glass dome stretched overhead, covering the Square. Heavy rainfall streaked the hazy glass. “Would you look at that?” he breathed. He had never seen anything like it.
The others followed his gaze skyward. Raphael muttered something in Selendrian, looking similarly awestruck. Minh’s jaw dropped, and Yutha’s eyes nearly popped out of his head.
Banger gave them a moment to appreciate the sight before prodding them along toward an old-fashioned automobile with no glass in the windows. “All right, all right. You can stare at it all you like after you’ve seen the Committee.”
“My father has one of these,” said Raphael casually. “He calls it an antique.”
Banger shrugged. “She’s old, but she gets the job done.” Opening one of the passenger doors, he hustled them inside before swinging himself into the driver’s seat.
“Are you from Rift City?” asked Dale presently, shifting uncomfortably on the seat. He was conscious of the stares they were receiving from people along the street.
“Oh, no. Not me. I’m a fairly recent arrival myself—only been here about five years.”
“Were you the one who took Belly Skoog to see the Committee?”
For the first time, Banger’s good-natured demeanor flickered. Something guarded and hesitant passed through his eyes before he smiled. “I was.”
“Can you tell us where the Committee sent him?”
“That I cannot.” Banger twitched his shoulders in an apologetic shrug. “Not allowed, you see. Committee rules.”
Dale and Raphael exchanged glances and then Raphael casually asked, “Can you tell us what we will be facing?”
“No. Can’t say anything about that either.” Banger rounded the corner and started down the side of the Square opposite the Hospital.
“What about the dome?” Dale pointed up to the sky.
“What about it?”
“Why is it there?”
Banger snorted. “Because, if you bloody well hadn’t noticed, it rains a lot here. This way we’ve got a bit of dry land to walk around on, and then we can collect the water that runs down the sides.”
Minh spoke for the first time. “You don’t have streams?”
“Rain water is better.” Banger left it at that; he was now stopping the automobile in front of a tall building with columns supporting a slanted roof made from a single slab of gray rock. “Here we are.”
The building reminded Dale of a courthouse. He and the others climbed out of the automobile—Raphael moved gingerly—and waited for Banger to dismount. He did so, smoothing his waistcoat and coat before straightening his spine, and adjusted his top hat on his head.
“This way.”
Banger led them up a series of shallow steps and through a set of wide double doors with inlaid wavy glass panels into a lobby with high, echoing ceilings. As soon as they set foot inside, he doffed his hat again. “This is the Town Hall.”
To the left of the room, a middle-aged man with a pinched face occupied a large desk. Looking up from his papers, he gave them a solemn nod from his desk. “They’re waiting for you, Mr. Banger.”
“Thank you, Mr. Urban.” Banger headed down a hall extending toward the back of the building. They reached an intersection and he turned right. He continued down this hall until he stopped at a heavy door with “Committee For New Arrivals” stenciled on it in a strange, metallic crimson paint. He took a deep breath, straightened his waistcoat again, and rapped sharply on the door.
“Come in,” called a raspy voice from within.
Casting what he clearly imagined to be a reassuring look over his shoulder at Dale and the others, Banger opened the door.
Find out how this Young Adult steampunk adventure unfolds chapter-by-chapter every Thursday! Or if you want to keep reading right now, buy the ebook for $6.99 from Amazon, Apple, Barnes & Noble, Kobo, Smashwords or Sony, or get it as a trade paperback from Amazon, Barnes & Noble, or Book Depository.
Copyright © 2013 E. R. Paskey