The Hand of the Prophet
The large hall they entered into was lined with arcade amusements - games with small versions of automatons acting out childhood versions of war. They paused to watch a few of Dimwit and Duke’s antics, which were basically all the same - the clean-cut, blonde, heroic Duke showing up the pudgy buck-toothed Dimwit with the rumpled hair and big nose. Helena watched with a puzzled expression, and Sarah tapped her foot with her arms folded tight. It was so obviously propaganda of the most simple kind that it made her angry. These people were all brainwashed and they were doing it to their kids! Columbia seemed to love informational posters, and they were here in abundance, depicting brave, blonde children defending Columbia from the ‘foreign hordes’. Huge inflatable versions of the pair hung from the high rafters
Even the names given to different areas - Battleship Bay, Soldier’s Field, Hall of Heroes - made it obvious that in Columbia, war was a noble and worthy pursuit. Her gaze swept along the room. There were souvenirs being sold - Duke and Dimwit dolls, complete with miniature rifles , and vending machines - like the one that had blocked her way at the gate to the Raffle, topped with speaking automatons- sold ammunition, vigor upgrades and the blue salts that helped keep the vigors working.
Sister Rachel says there is a great war coming
But was she really going to swoop down and save the world from war...or was she going to start one herself?
Sarah and Helena moved through the crowded hall as quick as they could without attracting suspicion, only coming to a halt when Sarah looked around and found Helena had stopped to talk to a man with an impressive moustache and a tray of yet more fairy floss. Somehow she’d restrained herself to only two servings this time.
She caught Sarah’s exasperated look, and slowly extended one of the pink masses towards her, speedily withdrawing it when Sarah shook her head.
“Sarah,” she said solemnly, “Did you see that man’s moustache?”
“...yeah?” Sarah grabbed her elbow and steered her away from a blue uniform. Helena giggled.
“Sarah. Sarah? Look, Sarah,” Helena presented her upper lip, now the owner of it’s own very large moustache made of fairy floss. Sarah rolled her eyes, but couldn’t stop herself from snorting as the girl wiggled her mouth back and forth, and waggled her eyebrows in unison. Then she stuck her tongue out and pulled the pink moustache into her mouth and grinned.
She knew they had to get out of Columbia as fast as possible...but Sarah found herself lingering at moments like this. She liked being around Helena - despite only meeting her a matter of hours ago, she felt more comfortable around her than she did around others she’d known for years. strange, innit, she shrugged to herself. They wandered down a wide hallway lined with dark wooden benches and large urns of greenery. Signs pointed to the ‘White Only Washroom’.
Helena looked puzzled.
“Why is one bathroom for whites and one for coloured?”
“It just is.” Sarah said. Then she added, “because people are bloody stupid sometimes.”
“It seems unnecessarily complicated,” said Helena, frowning. The hallway turned out to be a dead end and they turned back, past people resting on the benches, some children playing jumping jacks, a mother berating her young son for running after an Irish girl. Sarah and Helena glanced at each other, Helena still frowning. Sarah shrugged.
They re entered the hall and headed towards the wide staircases at the other end.
Sarah nudged her and nodded at a poster for the Aerodrome.
“Keep following the stairs, looks like,” she said quietly. “C’mon.”
They had come to another set of turnstiles, when a woman’s voice behind said “Nicola? Nicola, is that you?” They both looked around and saw a policewoman, clad in one of the blue uniforms. Sarah tensed, ready to step in front of Helena, but she just smiled at the woman and shook her head.
“Oh,” she said politely, “No, I’m not Nicola.”
The woman tapped her chin. “Hm. Are you sure?”
Helena raised her eyebrows at Sarah, and patiently said, “I’m very sure. My name is Helena.”
“Oh, what a lovely name,” said the woman and walked through the turnstiles without a backward glance. Sarah frowned.
“That was...odd.” Helena said as she passed through the turnstile. Sarah followed her.
“Yeah.”
An announcement came that the park was closing, they were the last customers for the day.
The crowds thinned as they moved upwards, Helena sucking at the last of her fairy floss quietly, Sarah nodding at passers-by who smiled or tipped their hats. She snuck occasional glances at Helena, wondering how she could be so knowledgeable about things like French history, but know nothing about how the world worked now . Maybe her library had been very...selective. Maybe she really had spent her life locked away from the world. Then she shook her head. Someone had sent her here to find the girl and bring her home...she had only been here for a year. But then, where had she been before that? Was Sister Rachel the one who had stolen her? Brought her here in a golden flash of light ...
Pain stabbed through her temples and she bit her lip.
It didn’t matter, really, as long as she got the girl out, right? Let’s just get the hell out of here. She noticed Helena staring at her with a concerned look.
“What?” she snapped. Helena looked hurt.
“Your…” she tapped her nose. Sarah brought her fingers up to her face and wiped blood away from below her nose. She shrugged dismissively.
“It’s fine.” They had reached the top of the stairs now and stood outside the Aerodrome ticket office. Sarah sighed. “Look, Helena. Sorry I snapped at you, yeah? I get these headaches and…”
Helena tilted her head and studied her face. Then nodded and gently patted at her shoulder. She looked past Sarah at something and and pointed.
“You need to eat, Sarah.” There was a hot dog cart set up just outside the ticket office. Right on cue, her stomach grumbled, and she heard Helena giggle.
“Yeah, yeah,” she sighed and dug in her pockets for coins. The vendor eyed her nervously and fidgeted with his tongs.
“One dog...” she heard a small sad sound behind her. “Two dogs, one with mustard, one with - “ she heard a voice whisper everything! “ - the lot, thanks.” The vendor nodded and looked blankly at the cart for a moment, then started lifting lids off the various compartments. Sarah stood, tapping her foot until he passed over two hot dogs that looked edible, at least. She paid him and took a huge bite. Helena did the same and made the sounds of someone discovering something wonderful. They wandered into the ticket office. There were a few people scattered around, doing studiously casual things like reading newspapers and checking their watches. There was one blue uniform and the wearer was busily examining herself in a compact. Sarah’s eyes narrowed. It was the same one who had spoken to them just before. She scoped the room.
It was all a little too casual. And quiet. No one was speaking except for the hot dog vendor, who was replying in a stilted manner to an equally stilted customer enquiry about sauerkraut. It was so quiet she could hear the large clock above the exit ticking. She walked up to the counter and leaned on one elbow, smiling at the man behind it. He was on the telephone and averted his eyes from Sarah’s, speaking in hushed tones. She listened impatiently, tapping her fingers on the wood. Helena lingered in the centre of the room, savouring the last bite of her hot dog, and gazing around with interest. Her fingers worried at her sleeves, as if part of her was picking up on Sarah’s concern.
“I don’t know...both...I suspect she’s carryin’ something. Sure, we can get both apples with a single pick.” He jumped as Sarah hit the bell on the counter. “Just a minute, there. Hmm, I got it. We’re ready. Send in the bird. Guess I’ll call you back when the matter is in hand.” He hung up.
shite Sarah thought I don’t like this and grinned at him, hoping it reminded him of a shark.
“Two tickets for passage to The Hand of the Prophet.”
“Sure, friend,” the man answered, still not looking at her. “Let me just get those for you.” He rummaged under the counter. There was the sound of the main door slamming shut behind her, but she didn’t take her eyes from him. When he pulled his hand out, it was not holding tickets.
Sarah was ready, and before he could use the knife, she was grabbing his collar and yanking him close enough to land a punch. He fell back, half-screaming through a broken and bloody nose, dropping the knife on the counter. She grabbed it, slashed out at his throat, hearing him gurgle as she spun around in time to see a man grab Helena by the arm. She cried out...and then the blonde girl kicked him hard in the crotch, and brought her elbow down on his bowed head. Sarah sent the knife through the throat of a second man reaching for her. Blood spurted and his hands clawed at the knife as he staggered backwards and fell.
The two girls stared at each other for a long second. There was blood on Helena’s face and a look of shock, then her jaw set in a way that Sarah recognised, and she struck out at the policewoman who tried to grab her arm.
“Don’t touch me,” she hissed at her, and the other five men now fanning out and advancing.
“Get the specimen!” shouted the policewoman. “And the other. Alive.”
Sarah slipped her hand into the Sky-hook, moved quickly forward, and pressed it against the back of nearest mans head. She lightly pressed the trigger and sent the hooks whirling slowly next to his ear. He froze, hands lifting, eyes sliding sideways towards her.
“The Prophet sends her regards, False Shepherd,” his voice was almost steady, but his hands trembled. Faith sometimes became elusive when death was staring you in the face...or tapping at the back of your skull.
Sarah snorted dismissively, brought her boot down on the back of his knees, then knocked him out with a blow of the Sky-hook.
Helena was now in the middle of a knot of people, face white as she struggled. As Sarah started to run forward, she felt the air thicken, and suddenly it was like running through water. She called out Helena’s name - or tried to - her voice swallowed up into silence...and then she watched in astonishment as the tight group of people became an expanding circle of flying bodies, the thud as they hit the various walls sounding very far away.
There was a sound like air rushing back in, and Sarah found herself moving again, skidding to a halt beside the blonde girl, who was staring down at her hands with a bewildered expression. She looked up at Sarah, her mouth open.
“How did you…” Sarah began, then shrugged, and holstered her gun. “Is that one of those Vigors, or somethin’?”
Helena shook her head.
“I just. Didn’t want them touching me.” She was turning her hands over and over, experimentally waving them in front of her. “Huh.” She looked around at the bodies, biting down on her lower lip and tugging at her sleeves. “Did I kill them?” she whispered.
Sarah wandered over to the nearest one and poked it with a boot. The policewoman’s head moved slightly and one eye half-opened, fluttered shut again.
She shook her head.
“Still alive. But we should go before they get up again.” Looking around, she thought - they really weren’t expecting that , were they? Helena has tricks up her sleeve that even she doesn’t know about. Sarah glanced at her speculatively. So the Lamb had some magic after all...is this why the Prophet had her locked away? Was she a threat? A weapon? Was she the only thing that Sister Rachel was afraid of?
Helena caught Sarah’s stare, and placed her hands behind her back, looking at the floor. Her eyes moved to the body of the man with the knife in his throat, and flicked back up to Sarah. Then down again.
“Have you killed many people,” she asked the floor.
Sarah blinked.
“Only the ones who tried to kill me first.” She sidestepped the question and fidgeted with the bandage still around her hand. It was spotted with blood - but not her own, so that was alright.
“Look. They have your description now...mine too, I guess, so it’s gonna be harder for us to slip through the net. Now we just need to,” she waved a hand, “keep ahead of them.”
Helena nodded and finally met Sarah’s eyes again.
“So, did you have books on fighting in yer tower as well?” Sarah changed to a light-hearted tone as she headed to the metal gates that were rolled down over the exit, trying to lift one with a grunt. Helena’s face brightened.
“Yes, many!” She joined Sarah, grasping at the bottom of the gate and yanking. It slid up a few inches, then crashed down again. “Judo. Boxing.” She stood upright and held her balled fists up in front of her face, bounced on her feet, throwing a few jabs at Sarah, who gave her a crooked grin.
“You got my back, yeah?” she teased, wanting to clean the blood off Helena’s face, wanting to not need her to fight, wanting to just...take her home. She shook herself. Take her home to her family . That’s what she meant. That was what she was gettin’ paid for.
Helena stopped her boxing display and blinked owlishly at Sarah, then nodded. Sarah grinned and bent down again, fingers gripping the gate.
“Good. I feel much safer now.” she said, then pulled. Helena did the same, with a matching grin.
They managed to lift the gate just high enough for them both to sidle under. It dropped back down with a crash that echoed through the wide corridor ahead.
They were led around the back of the ticket office, and then outside to a gondola station. Sarah again felt the dizzying realization of being up in the clouds. She could still see snatches of the earth far below, and when she felt Helena’s hand sneak into hers and squeeze it comfortingly, she squeezed back. Helena pointed at the gondola parked on one side of the platform, and Sarah looked up, and up, at the line that curved upwards and disappeared into the clouds. It stretched all the way up to the Aerodrome proper - a large floating building with the name picked out in lights that glowed gold against the darkening sky.
There was a flash of light somewhere below them that lit up the clouds, and a noise that resembled thunder. Sarah shook free of Helena’s hand and grabbed the rail, leaning over the side of the platform. There were several of the gunships moving purposefully through the air towards another, smaller group . The former had bright red banners flapping over the sterns, the edges jagged and torn. Straining her eyes, Sarah could see those on board had red sashes over their clothes, which seemed to be a pastiche of different military uniforms. The other boats contained Columbia Authority men and women, clad in blue.
“Looks like your uprising has begun,” she tossed over her shoulder. Helena joined her at the rail, biting her lips in what was either fear or excitement. Sarah frowned at her.
“A lot of them are gonna get killed,” she said. “On both sides.” Although, she added to herself, anything that distract the Authority from us...
Helena frowned as well, and Sarah thought is that what my eyebrows do?
“You’re right,” she answered, looking down at her hands. “But…”
They were interrupted by another great rumble. It was a small cannon mounted on the head gunship, aimed at the Columbians, of the type that Sarah had used the Possession vigor on during her run through the city. It blasted a hole in the side of the closest ship, but the crew stayed onboard, and fired back. The gun flashes were bright against the gathering gloom.
“C’mon, Helena, let’s leave ‘em to it.” Sarah moved towards the gondola. She didn’t want to get caught in the crossfire of what looked like the beginning of a civil war. Helena followed, trailing her hand along the rail and looking back at the gunships, the gunfire reflecting in her eyes and giving them a golden cast. Sarah paused as a memory flickered across her mind, gone as quick as her feet can move.
The gondola was simply built - basically a deck with a tiny cabin at either end, and cables leading up to the Aerodrome. Both doors were locked, and Sarah cocked her head at Helena, who tilted her head in response and rummaged in her pocket for the lockpicks. Once the doors were open, the gondola seemed simple enough. Pull the lever and it followed the cables.
She just hoped it wouldn’t attract undue attention from the firefight below.
The gondola started smoothly and they began their ascent. Sarah leaned against the cabin door, arms folded. Helena gazed out the windows, winding her fingers around each other and pressing her lips together. The skyline beyond her was really quite beautiful - as the sky darkened, Columbia’s lights came on, and presented a scene out of a fairytale. Buildings were lit up in a rainbow of colours, various billboards glowed softly. Sarah could see a ferris wheel slowly turning on one of the islands, lights making it a spectacular spiderweb. She wondered how big Columbia actually was . What with the constant movement of the different islands, and the layered elevations of the sections, it was almost impossible to tell. Her reverie was broken by a soft voice saying her name.
“Mmph?” she said blankly.
“Sarah...why did you come here? You said you were sent to take me home. Who sent you?” Helena’s eyes shone in the dim lights. Sarah felt the urge to hug her, again, but stayed where she stood, and sighed.
“Honestly? I have no idea. I was paid by an...agent. They said you were missing and your family wanted you back.” She pushed a hand through her hair. Something stopped her from telling Helena that the Luteces were involved. She wasn’t sure why. “Got money to burn, whoever they are.” Her boots started tapping against the deck. “Had a photograph of you. And that key that got us out of the tower…”
Helena wound a strand of hair around a finger, staring at Sarah thoughtfully.
“So...it must be someone from Columbia. Or they’ve been here.”
Sarah frowned. It seemed the bloody Luteces had more than been here - they helped build the damn place! So, why go out of their way to contact Sarah and send her on this merry chase? It didn’t make sense!
“But...you do have a family somewhere, yeah? Helena, you’ve only been here a year!”
She shook her head.
“No. I’ve always...I’ve always lived in Columbia. I…” she trailed off, rubbing her forehead. “I...remember.” Her eyes flicked to Sarah, away, then back. She took a deep breath.
“The last year is clear. Before then is...fuzzy. I was...very sick. For a while. Sister Rachel...helped me.”
“By locking you up?” Sarah asked indignantly. “By having you spied on?”
Helena shook her head again, voice starting to shake.
“To keep me safe . To make me better .”
Sarah’s voice rose.
“They stole you from your family, and had you locked up so they could study you, Helena. They called you a specimen ! There was all kinds of weird shite in that tower, not including your giant bloody mechanical friend!” She felt a sudden coldness. The songbird... send in the bird the man in the office had said. Just what they needed. She scanned the sky outside but saw nothing but fairy lights. As she turned her head, she thought she saw another flicker in the air, like the strange light she had seen from the beach. Then it was gone.
Helena was pressing her lips together tightly, and staring out the window as Sarah shouted. When she stopped shouting and looked at Helena a little shamefaced, she slowly sidled closer to Sarah and whispered, as if she were afraid of being overheard.
“Sometimes. I dream. Of another place.” Her hand slid into Sarah’s. “And you were there.” She was trembling. “I used to think it was just...me. But now I know. It was you.” Sarah swallowed the rage she’d felt a moment ago, and slid an arm around the girl’s shoulders. “I told Sister Rachel about the dreams,” she continued into Sarah’s shoulder. “She. She never visited again after that.”
The gondola rocked slightly as it climbed and the wind blew, masking any far-off sounds of gunfire. The tiny cabin was warm and the buildings floated serenely in the distance, twinkling.
“When I saw you. And you...were real .” Her hand gripped tight. “It makes me think. The place in my dreams was real. Also.”
Sarah looked at the blonde girl's hair, tinted with faint coloured light, and the eyes that were identical to her own, and thought about the dreams she’d had. But they were just dreams, they didn’t mean anything. They couldn’t .
“Hey,” she whispered back into the blonde curls, “this place...is it...like there’s this green light..and water…”
Now Helena was holding both her hands and she pulled back a little to look Sarah in the face. Her eyes were wide.
“Yes!” she exclaimed. “Like being underwater!” A smile pulled at her mouth. She was suddenly excited again, like she had been on the pier. “We have a connection, Sarah! You feel it too...don’t you?”
Sarah looked away, staring out the window at the lights. Columbia was awfully pretty from a distance. She ran a hand through her hair, pulling at the few tangles left after her dip in the bay earlier.
“I don’t…” she started, then worked her jaw back and forth. “None of this makes any sense!” she was trying not to shout again, but Helena shrank back a little anyway. “I grew up in London. I can remember everything!” But, to her horror, Sarah found she couldn’t recall what her foster-brother’s face looked like. Mrs S, yeah. The sharp blue eyes and an Irish accent that could be soothing or strident was burned into her mind. Yet other details seemed to float away as soon as she put an effort into picturing them. She rubbed her forehead. “Sorry.” She glanced at Helena and tried to smile. “I just don’t understand half of what’s goin’ on right now. I mean... look at us.”
She waved a hand, trying to convey the confusion of their resemblance and her inability to explain it.
“We could be bloody twins! But we can’t be!” She slapped a hand down against the door. “God!”
Helena wrapped her arms around herself.
“Maybe. If we get to London…” she said softly, lifting one shoulder in a lopsided shrug. “I just know. I need to go there.”
Sarah tapped her fingers against the door. They were nearly at the Aerodrome now, the sign spelling out the name in hundreds of golden-yellow light bulbs curving over another grand building, all arched windows and marble columns and frescoes of angels. A great metal frame rose up behind the signage, and the Hand of the Prophet sat in dock at the top, high above them. She felt her spirits rise slightly. They were nearly free. Her teeth bit into her inner cheek as she thought.
Take the airship to London? Or to New York? Take Helena where she wanted to go, or where Sarah was being paid to take her?
New York would have answers...but maybe London would too. There must be a reason for the girl being so drawn to the place. Sarah had a sudden, sharp need to sit down at the old, scratched-but-highly-polished kitchen table with Mrs S, and have a cup of tea. Maybe she could make sense of all this.
The gondola halted with a gentle bump , and the two girls looked at each other silently. Then Helena smiled tremulously and stepped out of the cabin. Sarah followed her onto the deck. They both stopped as they saw the poster bearing Sister Rachel’s face that greeted them on the landing.
“Can’t bloody get away from her, can we?” Sarah said, trying to lighten the mood. It fell somewhat flat.
They climbed the stairs, and slipped through the doors. There was a wall directly in front of them, forcing them left or right. Sarah put out an arm to stop Helena when she heard noises beyond. Ambush, she thought. Of course it couldn’t be that easy … She sidled over to the right side and took a quick peek around the corner. A large room, several more large-scale paintings of Sister Rachel, a double staircase meeting at an elevator door. She eyed the distance, and counted only six blue uniforms.
Putting a finger to her lips, she silently unholstered her gun, then slipped her other hand into the Sky-hook. Helena gestured back, making a pushing motion. Sarah nodded, pointed at the left end of the wall. If the girl could use that - ability, or whatever the hell it was, all the better.
She managed to shoot two of them before they started shooting back, and whaled one with the Sky-hook when he rushed the wall, splitting his skull. Then she saw a swirl of movement on the other side of the room, and the remaining three police flew upwards, then sideways, hitting the wall and sliding down to the floor. Sarah nodded approvingly. Helena nodded back. They ran up the stairs on either side, meeting at the elevator door, Helena jabbing the button impatiently, hopping from foot to foot. The doors pinged open and they were inside, where she pushed the UP button, and sighed, leaning back against the lift wall.
“I can’t believe,” she said dreamily, “That I’ll finally get to see London…”
She jerked backwards suddenly, and waved her hands in front of her face. Sarah stared.
“You alright?” she said.
“Bee! Bee!” Helena sputtered, hands a whirlwind.
“Oh, bloody hell,” Sarah muttered. “Just...squash the damn thing.” She could hear the buzzing now, and flicked a finger as it came perilously close to her ear. She missed.
“No, I can’t!” Helena’s voice sounded shocked at the suggestion, even as the timbre was slightly hysterical. She looked at Sarah, pressed her lips together, then muttered what sounded like a prayer and gestured like she pulling curtains apart.
Sarah watched open-mouthed as she realised the girl was opening a tear. And shooing the bee through it. She shook her head.
“Helena, what the bollocks is that?” The tear shimmered and flickered a little, but Sarah could see a blue sky and roses on a balcony, as if they were looking out a window in another part of the world. Helena glanced at her, half-smiling.
“Oh,” she said matter-of-factly, “It’s a tear. I used to open them all the time in the tower.”
“Yeah, but... what is it?” Sarah repeated.
“It’s like…” Helena lifted her eyes to the ceiling and pulled at a strand of curls. “Like...a window. Into another world. LIke this world but...not.” She smiled. “Mostly they’re not that interesting. Maybe...a different lampshade, or coffee instead of tea?” She reached out and picked one of the roses, and its scent filled the lift. “But sometimes there are beautiful things.” She stepped forward and tucked the rose into one of the buttonholes in Sarah’s jacket. Sarah smiled back at her, then glanced out the window to marvel at the sight.
Her smile dropped as she saw a dark shape flash across the sky.
“Helena -” she said urgently, “I think you need to close it.” The shape flew past again, turning and presenting a dark silhouette of wings against the blue. “Helena! Now!”
The girl spun around in time to see the Songbird rear up as it spotted them, then swoop towards them. Helena was pushing her hands together, or trying to, but it looked like she had an invisible wedge between them.
Sarah shouted again, being helpless to do anything else, and Helena gritted her teeth.
The tear snapped shut just before the Songbird reached it and they heard it scream, the sound fading away quickly.
They both stood looking at each other in shock for a moment. Helena moved closer to Sarah, and before she could move again, Sarah grabbed her hand.
“Shite, that was close.” she breathed. She could feel the other girls pulse racing in time with her own. “Wait...he’s not gonna be waiting for us outside, is he?”
Helena shook her head.
“In another world. Maybe.”
The elevator dinged as they reached the top, and they stepped out onto a narrow platform that led to the airship. They both made a face as they were confronted yet again with the giant face of Sister Rachel. Sarah still felt like she was watching them the entire time through that damn silver eye. She gave the portrait a small, smug grin.
“Thought you’d put up more of a fight than this.” she muttered, half to herself.
Helena tugged at her hand, eager to board.
The airship was luxurious inside - rich red velvet seats, dark wooden shelves holding a small library above a well-stocked bar, bowls of fruit and baskets of bread rolls, doors that led to a similarly luxe yet somehow sterile bedroom suite, completely furnished in shades of white and ivory and eggshell. Sarah whistled.
“Could get used to this,” she laughed as she bounced on one of the velvet seats. Helena was already examining the various levers and handles on the control panel.
“Looks simple enough,” she declared, pulling and pushing. Sarah leapt up and joined her, pushed a bundle of tools out of the way, and reached out to still her hands.
“Look, Helena. We have a choice here. New York or London.” Helena blinked.
“New York?”
“Yeah. That’s where your family is. Or whoever it is that’s payin’ me to find you.” She rubbed her forehead. “They’ll have answers. One way or another.” She met Helena’s eyes, raising her eyebrows.
“But…” the girl said helplessly, “ I have to go to London. I need to. I just -” She looked down at her hands. “I just know I need to get there.”
Sarah sighed. Maybe it would be easier to just take her to London first and see what happened. Maybe she could drop in on Mrs S and let her know she was okay. New York would still be there…
She threw her hands up in the air.
“Alright then! London it is!” She finished entering the coordinates that Helena had started, then pushed the button that started the engine. The thrumming sound came up through the floor, there were a few jerky movements, and then the airship had lifted free of the dock and was sailing west. Helena laughed, but there was a shrill edge to it.
“I’m really leaving,” she said quietly, “I’m really leaving, I’m really leaving, I’m really -”
Sarah glanced at her, frowning. The girls face was pale, paler than usual, the pink bags under her now-glassy eyes suddenly more pronounced. Her hands gripped the edge of the control panel so tightly the knuckles were white.
“Helena?” Sarah touched her shoulder, gently. “What’s...are you alright?” She was staring out the window, but in the way that suggested she wasn’t seeing anything. Her head turned as Sarah touched her.
“I’m really leaving. I’m...really leaving? I’m leaving...Columbia?”
“Yeah, you’re really leaving,” Sarah reassured her, taking in the sweat beading at the edge of her golden hair. “It’s gonna be alr -”
Helena spun and hit her on the side of the head with a wrench.
Sarah was dimly aware of the wrench falling to the floor and Helena covering her mouth in horror. Then everything went black.