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Fly to Hell

Part 3

There was a palpable unease in the airship. Ada could see it on faces all around her, dimly lit by electric bulbs that swung from wires overhead. A strong sense that predators were in their midst could be spotted in the eyes of the other passengers. When one was infected it would pass to another like a plague. There was a slow, but steady, rising in tension that was affecting everyone.

Almost everyone.

Valentine snoozed easily with an empty bottle on his lap. His disease-ridden lungs wheezed softly with every breath. Ada clutched the handbag on her lap fiercely, feeling the need to hang on to something, even if it was just a useless, empty purse. The coyote had advised her not to stare at Jack or any of his posse, that looking at them might invite a hassle, but her eyes continuously betrayed her. She would find her gaze flit over and around the heads of the other passengers, only to discover that there were eyes staring back at her.

Before he had so rudely nodded off, Valentine had told her a string of stories of dubious content. Apparently he had studied at four institutes of higher learning, even served as a lecturer at one for a short stint. He had visited three different continents and no fewer than twelve different countries. In two of those countries he had fostered relationships with the monarchy on behalf of the university he was attending. He spent eighteen months on safari in the deep jungles on the southern side of the world. It was there where he believed he contracted the infection that riddled his lungs. It was also there where he enjoyed a "tryst with a rather buxom native female" as he had put it, and by local customs he was married to her. He left his jungle bride to return to his native country to finally try his paw at the career he had spent half his life studying for, but it was a short-lived career. The war and the disease had both taken their toll, altering the trajectory of his life.

The jackal made an especially earthy snore before bursting into a convulsion of horrific coughing. The bottle clattered to the floor as he dug his kerchief from his pocket. Ada sat apprehensively while he painfully cleared whatever obstruction was clogging his lungs. After a minute the fit passed.

"Apologies, ma'am." He mumbled with a strain in his voice.

"The stewardess came by while you were sleeping." Ada told him. "She was taking orders for dinner, but she did not want to wake you." She shuffled her feet. "I think she was afraid to."

Valentine chuckled before coughing again. "Did you order on my behalf?" He asked.

Ada nodded. "The chicken. I hope that is satisfactory."

"Quite so." The jackal approved as he picked the whiskey bottle up off the floor. He shook it, disappointed to find not a single drop left. "I can't precisely recall the last time I've eaten a proper meal. I hear tell it is a healthy thing to do on occasion."

Presently the flight staff worked their way down the aisle, handing out stacked food as they went. Hot tin dishes with battered covers along with several mismatched utensils were presented to Ada and the jackal. Valentine took the opportunity to order another bottle of whiskey from the attendant, who had learned not to allow his paw to get too close to her. Since there was no table, Ada was offered a large linen sheet to fold over her lap to protect her attire. The cover was lifted to reveal a plate of rice with runny, light brown gravy dumped over the top. Ada glanced over at the dish that Valentine had been served and could not help noticing it looked identical.

"Excuse me, miss?" She raised a gloved paw to the stewardess. "I believe I ordered the fish."

"That is the fish, ma'am." The doe replied.

The Siamese cat pushed the food around with her fork. There were chunks of something that may have once resembled a fish. She sighed and silently fretted over her situation. If she had been in first class the fish would have been whole and baked. Possibly with a lovely side of mixed greens and fruit. It certainly would not have come out of a can.

Valentine had none of her hesitation, digging into his plate with the zeal of one who was starving. Ada attempted to eat, but found the food to be atrocious and incredibly salty. She set it aside and dabbed her lips with a napkin.

"You're not hungry?" The Jackal asked between bites.

She shook her head as she folded the lap linen. "No, I don't believe I am."

"A little dinner conversation then?" He suggested. "I've been doing most of the talking and I'm starting to feel I come off as vain. In my defense you have not offered much of yourself."

"I'm afraid there is not much to say." Ada said, attempting to evade him.

"That is not a fear, it's an excuse." Valentine insisted. "Everyone has something to say about themselves. I find it difficult to believe you are different from everyone else. Neither is it probable that you are so similar as to be unworthy of comment."

"I don't understand."

"Who are you, Miss Moragon?" The jackal challenged.

The question made her uncomfortable and she shifted on her seat. "I'm... Ada Moragon, the daughter of Charles Mor--"

"No." Valentine said firmly. "That's where you came from. That's who you were. In a few days you'll marry your prince and that will be who you are. Right now you are neither here, nor there. You are your own person for what I gather is the first, and probably only, time of your life. You sit several thousand feet above any who could dare lay claim to your value. So the question remains: Who are you?"

Ada was flustered by his reasoning. "Are you attempting to ridicule me, Mr. Valentine?"

"Quite the contrary." The canine spoke, pulling the stopper on his fresh bottle and taking a swig. "I simply desire to know the story behind this lovely female sitting across from me. Tell me something about yourself."

The feline furrowed her brow in frustration. She had spent her whole life allowing others to define her. A daughter. A child. A bride-to-be. Was that all there was to her? A commodity to be passed around and taken care of? Who was she really?

"I don't know." She admitted in defeat.

Valentine was not satisfied with that answer. "If I were to rummage through your luggage, what would I find?" He asked while giving a smirk. "Besides the obvious unmentionables."

"You wouldn't dare!"

"Given half a chance, I most certainly would." He assured her before following up with his reasoning for the inquiry. "A flight like this allows limited belongings, so you would bring only what you absolutely could not stand to be without. What did you bring with you that nobody else here would possibly consider?"

Ada thought for a moment. Not because she did not know, but because she did know and was not sure if she should share that with him. However, the jackal's insistence led her to believe that he was unlikely to relent.

"My travel typewriter." She finally told him.

"Now that is interesting." The jackal admitted as he took a bit of food. "It changes my perspective on you completely to know that you would allot so much of your luggage weight to a writing contraption. A dress, perfume, or cosmetics might be expected, but a typewriter? That is a luxury only an author would afford."

"I need it for writing letters back home." Ada defended.

Valentine shook his head. "If letters were your primary concern, quill and ink would suffice. I imagine your penmanship is practiced and graceful enough not to require a typewriter to be understood. Not to mention a pen is far more intimate, a mechanically produced letter would be taken as cold by your loved ones."

He set his plate aside before taking another drink and wiping his maw. "Tell me about your manuscript that you have been working so diligently on, or perhaps you would allow me to read it?"

"I didn't bring it with me." Ada informed him unconvincingly.

"Please," Valentine scoffed, "I've seen dead money players with a better poker face. You brought the typewriter and not the manuscript? Do keep in mind that you have to sleep sometime."

Ada wrung her purse in her paws. "Is it necessary to be such a louse, Mr. Valentine?" She muttered.

The jackal took a swig. "If it gets me what I need."

Ada considered that, thinking back on his tribal wife. Was it his brutishness that attracted her to him, or was he different back then? He had married her and left her. Not a notable quality for any male. Did he leave behind little Valentines as well? Offspring doomed to wander the deep jungles without a father?

"Very well." She succumbed to his indecorous tactics. "Since you insist, I'm writing a novel."

Valentine motioned for her to elaborate. This was new to her. Neither her father nor mother had any interest in the fact that she enjoyed writing. They considered it an odd thing to do and certainly had no curiosity about her work. A female writing a story? How droll! Do hide this from your fiance until after you're married.

Ada glanced around nervously, but nobody other than Valentine was interested in her words. Her paws twisted her purse. She considered lying to him, but he had already proven he could detect them. "It's set a long time ago in a land of magic and it's about a princess." She began. "The princess is captured by a horrible beast, and a brave knight rescues her. They fall in love even though their relationship is forbidden."

Valentine grinned. "You're writing a romance novel?"

The Siamese was flush, she had fur covering her face, but somehow she expected that the jackal could see right through it. "It's more than that." She told him.

His grin widened. "Oh! Now that is a delightful facet! I had no real interest in reading it, but now I simply must! How does an uptight virgin compose such things, I wonder?"

"Please don't mock me!"

The jackal put up his paws. "No, quite the contrary. My esteem has increased several fold! There are so few who are willing to risk delving into such subjects."

Ada wasn't sure if praise from him was genuine. He might just consider it a scandalous treat about someone from a higher position. However, it was new to her and she found herself responding positively. "Thank you, Mr. Valentine."

"Don't thank me yet," he said with a tip of the bottle, "it might be awful."

"You don't really think I'll let you read it, do you?"

"I think you will." He told her. "I think you want someone to read it. You want to let someone in on that intimate part o--"

Valentine suddenly doubled over into a horrendous fit of coughing. The whiskey bottle fell to the floor, spilling most of the remainder of its contents. He yanked out his blood spotted kerchief and jammed it over his maw. Ada uncharacteristically moved to assist him, but he put up a paw to signal her to stay back. He wheezed and coughed helplessly, and tears fell from his eyes from the agony. Deciding to suffer elsewhere, he got up and ducked through the curtain separating the sitting cabin from the sleeping one. He could be heard by everyone as he rushed away, presumably to the lavatory.

Suddenly alone, Ada glanced around. The other passengers had witnessed his torment and were craning their necks curiously. It wasn't the eyes of the regular passengers that concerned her, it was four particular sets of eyes. The wolf with the terrifying facial scar was speaking with the second wolf. The two moved over to speak with the native feline and dandy otter. There was some disagreement between them. After a moment a coin was produced and they flipped it.

Ada realized they were flipping to see who would get to do the deed. A male's life came down to nothing but pure chance? A gamble of souls?

The dandy apparently was victorious, which irritated the lion but he sat back down. The spectacled otter straightened his jacket and slipped on a pair of black leather gloves before walking down the aisle. What should she do? Scream a warning? Jump on the male? He walked past, raising a finger to her. He said nothing but told her everything. She was to stay as she was and remain silent. Behind the lightly tinted glass of his spectacles she could see his eyes. She could see what he really was under all the fancy clothing. A killer all the way to the core. She dared not impede him as he brushed through the curtain.

"You'll thank us for this, ma'am." A voice startled her. She turned back to see that Riverboat Jack had taken a seat across her. How could he have gotten so close without her noticing? Why, oh why would Valentine get on the bad side of such people who could walk without being heard?

"He's very frail and going to die anyway." Ada pleaded. "Must you kill him?"

"This is what he deserves." Jack told her, the scar on his face twitching and glistening under the shadow of his hat. "As much as it tickles me to imagine him wastin' away in a bed of his own piss and shit, someone like him should be put down proper like."

The stewardess approached, taking the dishes to the cart. "S... shall I clean up for you, sir?" She asked, indicating the spilled whiskey at their feet.

Jack put his feet up on the seat next to Ada. "Get to it." He told her. The doe hesitantly got down on her knees and started to wipe the floor with a rag.

The wolf looked back at Ada. "What is it to you, anyway?" He asked. "A man like Valentine ain't worth one of your fancy gloves. If'n he lives or dies, what do you care?"

Ada clasped her paws on her lap. "Send not to know for whom the bell tolls, it tolls for thee."

Jack furrowed his brow. "Don't quote that Jesus shit at me. I ain't buying it."

"No, I don't suppose you would." She sighed. The male was as stupid as he was terrifying. Ada looked out the window. The clouds below were passing with quiet indifference, glowing in the moonlight. Several small spots of light, possibly fires of scattered homesteads, could be made out through them. In the distance there was a storm brewing. Lightning flashed, but thunder never reached through the din of the airship.

"I only believe in what I can see." Jack said, glancing down at the stewardess on her hooves and knees. Her tail was up and frightened. She let out a muffled bleat as his paw fell on her rump. "Or what I can take." He rubbed his paw over the doe's bottom.

Ada shot him a stern look. "Stop that!" She scolded.

"I ain't hurtin' her." The wolf said. "Asides, she's nothin' but a grazer anyway."

"Stop that right now!" The Siamese insisted.

Jack narrowed his eyes at her. "Or what?" He asked. "What are you gonna do?"

"Are you even capable of being a gentlemale, or is that something beyond your abilities?" Ada challenged.

He scoffed at her. "What? Like Valentine?"

"Mr. Valentine is despicable," Ada admitted, "yet I much prefer his company to yours."

That put a burr in Jack and he stopped molesting the doe. The stewardess quickly fled the scene with the empty bottle and rag in hoof. The wolf leaned forward and the feline could smell the heavy stink of him over all the other vile fragrance of the airship passengers.

"Do you really wanna know about Valentine?"

"No." Ada said firmly.

"Well, I'm gonna tell ya anyhow." He said. "My brother caught him cheating at cards and the bastard killed him for it. When I tried to get satisfaction, instead of facin' me legitimate he caught me with my pants down. Literally. I was partakin' the services of an improper female when in bursts Valentine." Jack pointed to his face. "He did this to me, but the whore didn't get away so lucky."

"It don't end there." Jack continued. "Back in Silverbreach he broke a barkeeper's nose simply for tellin' him he'd had too much. When the sheriff went to arrest him... shot him dead. In Fall Creek he ravaged a lass. A right decent young female like yourself. Got her pregnant. Fled town instead of doin' his duty and marryin' her. She offed herself not long afterward. Hung herself in the apple orchard where the deed happened."

Jack sat back. "That's just the stuff I know about. The rumors... well, they would make your tail curl."

"All that and you can't be bothered to kill him yourself?" Ada accused.

Jack shook his head. "I don't care how he dies anymore, just that he dies. The sooner the better. By who's paw don't matter."

Out of the corner of her eye Ada could see the crisp jacket of the dandy otter. In his gloved paw was a dagger that he was wiping blood off with a kerchief. Jack picked him up in his peripheral as well and grinned at Ada. A vile looking grin.

"Is it done?" The wolf asked.

"Is this cur bothering you, ma'am?"

Riverboat Jack stood up like his tail had suddenly combusted. His eyes wide with disbelief and his paw flying to his useless, unloaded pistol.

"Valentine!" He gasped.

The jackal nodded, pushing back the very stylish bowler hat on his head. Not only was he wearing the otter's hat, jacket and gloves, but the shaded spectacles rested on his nose too.

"Jack." He acknowledged the wolf. He turned to Ada, who's eyes sparkled at him, and tipped the hat with a bow of his head. "Miss. Moragon. Seems we've all met again."

Jack looked past Valentine before glancing back at his other two compatriots, who were also standing in alarm. They were too far away to be of any use to him.

"Where's Bill?" Jack asked.

"Oh, I know what you're thinking, but he was very much alive and kicking last I saw." Valentine said. "Of course, I imagine he's made it to the ground by now."

"You were sick! We all saw! You could barely stand!" The wolf accused.

"I'm feeling much better now." Valentine said with a smirk. "Although I am deeply wounded that you sent him considering I baited that hook especially for you." The jackal eyed the wolf's paw on the butt of the revolver and twirled the dagger.

"Do you want to do this right now in front of everyone, or may I have my seat back?" Valentine asked.

Jack eased his way past him, keeping a wary eye on the dagger. "This doesn't mean nothin'." He told him. "This ain't over!"

"By no means!" Valentine said. "I expected nothing less."

Jack fled up the aisle, trying his best not to look cowed, and Valentine took his seat across from Ada. He continued to polish the blade of the dagger while grinning at her. She cast her eyes downward.

"I'm glad to see you're not injured." She said to him. He only nodded his appreciation and continued to clean the blade.

"I would think a name should have some meaning, don't you?" He suddenly asked her.

Ada shook her head in confusion. She couldn't help but notice that he had a twitch that started at the corner of his mouth, and his paws were shaking more than normal as he dropped the dagger into a pocket.

"If a fellow goes by the name "Bootknife Bill" one should expect to know where he keeps his knife." The jackal reasoned. "I suppose "Small-of-the-Back Knife Bill" doesn't have the same ring to it."

"I'm sure I'm not following." She told him.

Valentine waved off the inquiry. "Never mind." He said. He tossed aside the spectacles. "He was blinder than a bat. No wonder he used a knife." He mumbled, his voice starting to sound weak. He looked around.

"It seems I've misplaced my whiskey. Could you be a dear and call the stewardess?"

Before long Valentine had another bottle in paw. When he passed his coins Ada could tell it was only with great effort that his paws did not tremble. He tipped the bottle, gulping nearly half of it.

"Mr. Valentine?" Ada asked. "Are you well?"

"You don't suppose they'll fall for another bluff, do you?" He asked her, grimacing at the strong spirit and wiping his mouth across the sleeve of his new jacket.

"I really don't know."

"There's a room back there." Valentine told her. "A private room for the staff. Not like the sleeping bunks that only have curtains, a room with a door that can be locked. There's also a bed in it and a sink with running water."

Again, Ada was confused. "What are you suggesting, Mr. Valentine?"

"Miss. Moragon, I'm terribly sorry to impose, but I desperately need you to swoon over me." The jackal instructed. "As if you were the princess in your story and I the gallant knight. After that I need you to accompany me to the room."

"Surely you jest!" Ada said with shock. "Mr. Valentine, I'm happy you're still alive, but I'm not that happy! What kind of female do you take me for?"

He spoke firmly but there was a quake in his voice. "I realize this is a great imposition, but you are the only one on this ship in a position to assist me. If you do not I will be dead within the hour."

"I'm not going to fall for that!" She said to him haughtily. "I know males try these tricks, you can take care of it yourself!"

"I would, but I can't quite reach." Valentine said as he opened the jacket.

The shirt underneath was wet and stained with deep red. It was only being stemmed by his old shirt tied snugly around his waist. Ada realized that all of the blood, even what he had cleaned off the knife, was his.

"Put your paws down and wipe that look off your face!" He hissed at her.

Ada dropped her paws and gulped. She didn't know much about anatomy, but the location of his injury looked incredibly bad. "My God!" She muttered softly.

"If they catch wind of this they will come at me like sharks." He told her as he closed the jacket and buttoned it. "Even if they don't, this will kill me without your help."

Ada closed her eyes tightly. This was all too much! She didn't know this male and didn't owe him anything! Certainly not her dignity! He's dying anyway and those that want him dead have good cause for it! Let it happen! It's no business of hers! She has a wedding to go to and a husband to prepare herself for! She took a deep breath and opened her eyes.

"Why, Mr. Valentine!" She declared with a smile as she slid from her seat over to his. "You are such a fine male specimen! Tell me how you vanquished that ghastly villain!"

"That's a little thick, isn't it?" He muttered to her.

"I'm a writer, not a thespian." She grumbled back through grinning teeth while tapping a finger on his nose playfully.

"Noted." He said to her. "And thank you."