The Viatic of Thaddeus Moon Read online

their exit, a shuffle began to sound amidst the debris. They began to run.

  “Men!” Corrothers shouted as he came to and limped to the door. “After them!”

  Thaddeus looked over his shoulder as he pushed Ophelia up the stairs. Behind them, a group of no less than five uniformed officers had emerged from around the corner at the end of the hall, armed with rifles and batons. They each called after them, telling them to stop, cease, and desist. They did not know them very well to think that they would be so easily halted.

  “Thaddeus!” Ophelia called from atop the stairwell. “Hook it!”

  He obeyed, bounding up the staircase, skipping as many steps as his nimble legs would allow. When they reached the top of the stairs, he was surprised to notice the lack of attention being paid by the officers above ground. Ophelia grabbed him by the wrist and pulled his arm behind his back.

  “Play along,” she whispered.

  “Always, my dear.” He gave her his other wrist and kept his head low as she held onto them tightly, like they were still in chains. The other officers did not appear to notice them. Ophelia had been correct. Her disguise had rendered them nothing more than a Constable escorting a criminal. That is, until the whistles began to blow from the top of the stairs behind them.

  “Stop them!” an officer called at the top of his lungs.

  “Well, so much for that.” Thaddeus pulled his wrists free and looked toward his savior. “Perhaps we should have kept running.”

  “Come on.” Ophelia grabbed his collar and yanked him out of the building.

  No sooner had they made it out into the streets before they were met with a wallop of gunfire and the cry of another Constable’s whistle. Thaddeus gave Ophelia a gentle push, urging her to move faster. She complied, tightening her grip on his coat and pulling him along as she weaved through the shop carts and steam carriages that filled the cobblestone streets. They maintained a comfortable distance from their pursuers until they neared the docks at the River Thames, where they ducked behind a doorpost to get a fix on their surroundings.

  Thaddeus was the first to notice that they’d arrived at a lushery. “I don’t suppose we’ve the time for a drink?”

  “Oh, Thaddeus,” Ophelia chided, carefully looking around the corner. “You are always so astute with your priorities.”

  “If not now—“

  “Clear.” She pulled him back into the crowded street, ducking into a gaggle of tattered urchins walking toward the port.

  The docks were crowded, overrun with miscreants, sailors, and pilots all adding to the stench of vice and body odor. Docked airships cast large shadows over the crowds, making it simple for the fugitives to blend in. Or it would have, if Thaddeus hadn’t seen an entire detachment of coppers suddenly appearing at the shipyard, lead by Inspector Corrothers himself.

  “I certainly don’t mean to sound ungrateful,” Thaddeus said, “but perhaps you could have chosen a better location.”

  Ophelia shoved him into the group of civilians that had begun to gather. “Come on,” she commanded.

  He listened and they merged with the crowd, zigging and zagging their way through. They reached the other side in mere ticks. Thaddeus stumbled over the cobblestone as they skid to a halt. Looking over his shoulder, he made note that the police had much worse luck in navigating the crowd. Their lack of finesse had gained them nearly enough time to make a clean break of it.

  “There!” Ophelia pointed to the sky where a familiar airship hovered just overhead.

  His eyes glimmered with the slightest hint of jubilation. “She’s as beautiful as ever, my dear.”

  “She’s a rusty beast,” Ophelia corrected him, waving her hand above her head. Seconds later, a woven ladder fell from the edge and landed in her palm. She handed it to him. “Ladies first.”

  “You are too kind.” With a tip of his hat, he began to climb.

  “Stop!” Corrothers broke through the crowd, pistol in hand. Several officers followed. “Stop, or I will cut you down.”

  “Then, I’m afraid, you likely wouldn’t see your beloved again.” Thaddeus grinned when he noticed Ophelia reaching into her satchel. “Plus, your wife would be awfully upset.”

  Corrothers cocked his pistol and took aim.

  “I wouldn’t do that,” Thaddeus reminded him.

  Choosing not to heed his warning, Corrothers squeezed the trigger. As the shot left the chamber, Ophelia tossed a small woven sack into the air to meet it. A bright orange powder erupted in the sky and blew toward the officers on a gust of wind. They howled as the spice met their eyes and turned them to red patches leaking with tears.

  “Curry powder,” Ophelia informed them, grabbing onto the bottom rung of the rising rope ladder. “A gift from the Indies, thanking you for your ongoing colonialism.”

  “You cannot run forever!” Corrothers cried through the pain as the duo soared into the air.

  “No,” Thaddeus replied. “But we can run long enough.”

  They were well in the air when Thaddeus tumbled over the rail and onto the deck of the mighty airship, where the first mate waited and the crew cheered the survival of their captain, who followed.

  “You’re alive,” her first mate greeted, pulling the rest of the ladder onto the ship.

  “You sound surprised.”

  “Well…” He gave a subtle nod in Thaddeus’s direction.

  Ophelia merely grinned and removed the spice-covered Constable’s overcoat, tossing it over the edge. She turned toward Thaddeus as it floated toward the river. “You owe me a new coat.”

  “I owe you a great many things, old friend,” Thaddeus said with a glint in his eyes and smile on his lips. “A great many things.”

  “You could start with a week out of trouble,” she joked, punching him in the arm.

  The two shared a laugh and a strong embrace as the streets of London shrunk beneath them. Thaddeus followed as Ophelia walked up the steps that lead to the quarterdeck. He felt the wind brush against his face and remembered how he so loved the freedom of the skies.

  “Now,” Ophelia said, taking the helm from a one-armed crewman. “Where to?”

  Thaddeus smiled. “I hear the Prussians make a fine wine.”

  ###

  About the Author

  Ashley Hewitt is a current student at Full Sail University, where she is in the process of earning a Bachelor of Fine Arts in Creative Writing for Entertainment.

  In the past, her work has been featured in the local literary magazine Wood Whispers. During her career at Full Sail, Ashley has completed four short film scripts, numerous short stories, and two television pilot spec scripts, one of which received a Course Director’s Award in November 2012.

  In addition to writing, Ashley is an avid web designer and has completed projects for many clients who work in the entertainment industry.

  You may reach her at [email protected]

  Original Cover Photo

  Miller, P. (Photographer). (2011, February 19). Pocket Watch [Print Photo]. Retrieved from https://www.flickr.com/photos/48227962@N04/5647510455/