Coyle and Fang: Curse of Shadows (Coyle and Fang Adventure Series Book 1) by Robert III (best books for 7th graders .txt) 📕

And then she realized she was being dragged too.

He ripped free from her grasp, and she watched in horror as he tumbled away and disappeared off the edge. She cried out, spread-eagled across the canvas, and slowed to a stop. Not a muscle moved. One of her feet slid just a hair, and she caught her breath. Her eyes fixated on the edge, hoping to see a hand. A silhouette. A shape.

Her bones shook. She squeezed her eyes shut against the madness storming inside before crying out long and loud. Someone had to hear her. Someone had to know what happened. Bone-chilling air whistling past her ears was the only answer.

After a few moments, she pushed and pulled herself away from the edge in slow, careful movements. Finally, she sat up, crawling backward where it was safe, and lay on her back and stared at the sky. She tried to regain her breath. Her hands and feet tingled, and her muscles spasmed.

She sat up and glanced to the side. The massive steering vanes were arcing into the sky on one side, and she saw nothing on the other. Everything else was soft, gray canvas stretching in every direction.

She was all alone, but she’d survived, and someone must have seen what happened and compelled a rescue attempt. She pushed the communications lever on her helmet, wincing when static burst through her earpiece.

“This is Coyle. Does anyone read me?”

Static.

She adjusted the knob marked send and tried again. “This is Coyle. Does anyone hear me?”

“Bzzt-es-zzzf-whe-fzzzt-into-rzzzz.”

“This is Coyle. We landed on top of the airship. Can anyone hear me?”

More static.

No use.

Maybe they didn’t know what happened. And maybe she would be left up on top of the ship until it landed. An uneasy weight settled in her gut, and she gazed at the heavens stretching before her. It was safer up here, wasn’t it? She couldn’t go on without the rest of the team, could she? No, she couldn’t wait. She still had a job to do. But shouldn’t she let the professionals do it? After all, who was she? Right now she was useless, a trembling heap of bones lying on top of an airship. Everything in her wanted to give up. But wasn’t she always chiding herself to do the right thing? And why was the right thing to do always more difficult?

She sighed. She had to finish the job.

No matter the cost?

She scooted to the large tear across the surface, shoving her hands into the canvas. When she was close, she lay on her belly and crawled to the edge before dropping inside.

***

“Status report,” the radioed voice said, startling the agent stationed in the high-altitude balloon. He leaned away from the powerful spyglass and answered.

“As planned, two of the pods were successfully destroyed, essentially removing—”

“I need to know about Coyle,” the voice said.

“Of course, sir. Detect—er, Miss Coyle—”

“She’s a detective, now. Please do not disrespect her.”

“Of course, sir. Detective Coyle landed on top of the airship unharmed and made her way inside.”

“Can you explain how she landed on top?”

“Sir, it appears one of the explosive charges was placed into her pod, and luckily was thrown out the window before it exploded. Unfortunately, one of the sabotaged craft collided with hers, sending them out of control. As far I could see, she was the only survivor.”

“That wasn’t part of the plan.”

“It wasn’t, sir. If you wish, I could order the immediate death of Mr.—”

“Not necessary. He’ll be dying soon enough.”

“Of course, sir.”

“I’ll have to trust our detective will survive long enough to find the clues I’ve left for her.”

The balloon agent cleared his throat, choosing not to respond.

“You can head back to base.”

“As you wish, sir. Would you like me to radio Moreci?”

“No, I’ll tell him myself. I’ll take over from here.”

“Of course, sir. Over and out.”

Chapter 18

Upper maintenance deck no. 12

Dawn’s Edge

“To the eye of reason everything is as dark as midnight, but thou canst accomplish great things; thy cause is thine, and it is to thy glory that men should be saved. Amen”

The drop was farther than she thought, and pain flared through her ankle. She winced, rubbing away the ache with her hands, and took in the surroundings.

The catwalk ran perpendicular to the airship. Behind and forward of her position were more catwalks. She stood, removed the face mask, and tested her ankles before she climbed down an access ladder.

Unfamiliar sounds kept her mind active as darkness swallowed her. Groaning. Creaking. Small, busy taps of metal against metal. She glanced up. Strong, steady air blew the torn fabric back and forth like fingers running along a heavy curtain.

She reached the landing and inventoried her belt: the MAD pistol with ammunition, resting in their pouches on her right hip; two different sized knives, one on her left side, the other strapped to her ankle, a small lantern on the left. She flipped on the lantern, and tested its brightness, before snapping it onto an attachment on her helmet. Soft yellow-orange light pushed the dark away.

She followed the walkway and found a second set of ladders leading down. She tilted her head, spotting another set and the hint of still another set below. She tried to remember how deep the body of the ship was.

How far down until I find someone?

A strange sound startled her. She froze, eyes searching the dark, but what was it? Metal? No. Something organic. Guttural.

“Hello?” she asked, waiting. Her pounding heart made it difficult to hear, but she waited a few more seconds before moving again.

The ambient light from above grew dim as she lowered herself deeper into the bowels of the ship. Her goal was the cargo bay, where her team was. There’s safety in numbers. But to get there, she would have to travel alone in the dark, and she wanted the experience to be quick.

Strange noises kept her alert, and at each landing, she waited and looked for signs of life. Sometimes she called out and hoped for a response. But only