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

rivulets dripped down Coyle’s arms. Her gloved hands were soaked with chunks of flesh, bits of bone and blood. The grip on the knife was slick as she limped on one boot until she arrived onto a wide open platform where the engines thrummed with life. They were massive, the size of train cars stacked side by side and on top of each other. Flames burst from the opening, and shimmering waves of heat emanated from the dark iron. She stepped back a few paces and studied the moving parts. Automated metal scoops on a conveyor belt made their way from the coal bunker and dropped their loads into the firebox opening. Her knowledge of steam engines was sparse, but she knew moving parts had to move if the engine was to function. Rods were connected to other rods, which were connected to more rods, which were connected to pistons.

She spotted something. There. Something needed to get jammed into the spot where the pistons were if this engine was to be stopped. Though she was wearing a helmet and face mask, the heat was too intense. She shielded her face and searched the floor for a tool, a spare rod, a box of tools. Something heavy. A collection of shovels was near the belt. She grabbed one and, using careful aim, threw it where the pistons slammed up and down. The wood splintered into a hundred pieces and she ducked as the metal spade flew past.

The pistons continued their violent cadence. She looked for something heavier. An ax lay nearby, but she thought better of it after the results with the shovel. She walked a few paces away and found an iron rod the length of her body. The weight of it almost pulled her over. She pulled off her mask, helmet and goggles and tried again. With a grunt, she lifted the rod up to her knees before stepping backward. She took another step and another, the other end dragging a long, thin line into the metal floor. Smoke and hot air burned her throat, and she coughed. A quick glance behind showed the fiery engine was only a few paces away. Damp hair was pasted across her face. Sweat stung her eyes. Her hands, legs and back ached, but she refused to let go. She squinted and heaved the rod closer to the engine. She looked over her shoulder, waves of heat slamming into her face. She squeezed her eyes shut and turned away. This was it. She had to find the strength to lift and throw the rod. Gritting her teeth, she lifted the rod. Her back and legs and arms taught with as much strength as she could put together.

With a shout, she swung the rod with all her might and felt it slam into something. She opened her eyes and stumbled backward.

Bolt was standing between her and the engine. His eyes were slits of anger, and his lips tightened into an ugly smile.

He held the iron rod with one hand.

Chapter 31

Lower engine platforms

Dawn’s Edge

Bolt’s eyes flickered. The glowing flames framed his silhouette, and he resembled a massive demon coming to collect his due. He pointed his chin at her and swung the rod over his shoulder as if it were an umbrella. Coyle fell on her backside.

“I say,” she said. “It’s so good to see you, Bolt. Where... are the others?”

He stepped closer. “There are no others. The detectives are dead. I set small charges in each of your pods, but obviously you’re still alive. Everyone in the hangar is dead. And everyone believed you to be dead until recently.”

“You’re working for Moreci.”

“He pays better.”

“Why would you work for a madman?”

“Because I’m smart, and you’re not. I didn’t like what I saw the first time I laid eyes on you. Not one bit. You’re too progressive. You want things for yourself that are only meant for a man’s world. Look where it got ya. Lying on the floor, helpless. Typical.”

Her hand shot up into a fist. The metal studs covering her wrist and glove popped and snapped before a small puff of smoke coughed from her knuckles. But there were no threads of deadly electricity.

“Power at minimal level. Please wait until fully charged to use again,” the mechanical voice chimed.

His head tilted. “Trick of some kind? You trying to outsmart me?”

She pulled herself up. There was no talking herself out of this situation. Adrenaline rushed into her hands and feet, dulling the pain. Her hands balled into fists, and her feet spread apart in a boxer’s stance.

“Bolt, I will not let you circumvent my investigation with wild guesses and chauvinistic insinuations. I’m investigating multiple crimes aboard this ship. Either you assist me or stay out of my way.”

“Ah! There’s what I was looking for.” He grinned and held the rod across his body. “Now I get the fight from the little girl.”

He shifted his weight and swung. The rod blurred through the air. Coyle lunged. Air rushed past, and sparks flew as the rod slammed into the floor. She pulled herself into a crouch. He swung again, and the bar zipped over her head. She charged and used his knee to launch into him, grabbed hold of his ears and smashed her knee into his face. His body shuddered and she leapt off his wide chest, landed on her side, and rolled like a block of wood.

A trail of blood ran down his grease-stained shirt. The rod banged onto the floor. She lowered her shoulders and charged again. This time, he caught her around the waist and threw her aside. She crashed into a pile of tools.

He smeared the blood off his proud face. She turned and reached for something, anything. Her hand wrapped around a wooden handle. The axe! Bolt roared and slammed his foot down. The handle snapped, leaving her with a club. She swung, but he caught her wrist. He leaned into her, rage and sweat dripping from his skin.

“You’re a whole