Flaming Zeppelins by Joe R. Lansdale Page B

saw a lumpy red smear that might have been Rickenbacher. It was smeared all over the console. The Japanese plane’s nose poked through the side of the zeppelin, and the pilot lay slumped in his seat. A freezing spray was blasting in from the outside.
    â€œGoddamn,” Cody said, when Goober turned his head upright, moved the jar around so he could see.
    â€œWe’re done,” Goober said.
    â€œHush your mouth, shorty. You are not dead till you’re dead. And you do not quit till you quit. I thought I was dead when I fought my duel with Yellow Hand. He was a tough customer. I was about ready to give up and die. But something in me said, ‘Don’t do that, Buffalo Bill. You stick in there.’ So, I stayed with it. Yellow Hand slipped on his own knife, stabbing his ownself to death. You got to stay with things. You never know how they will work out.”
    â€œI got a pretty good idea,” Goober said.
    â€œQuick,” Cody said. “Back to my cabin.”
    â€œI thought…”
    â€œJust do it!”
    Out on the promenade deck, the zeppelin began to roll back level. The Japanese planes were now closing for the kill. Bullets slammed the deck from all directions. Cetshwayo took a shot in the side, let out a yell.
    Annie and Hickok grabbed him under the arms, hauled him onto the main deck, laid him down. As they did, a plane came by so close its dual wings edged only six feet from the promenade railing.
    Bull, the only one left on the railing, slammed several shots from his Winchester into it as it retreated. At first he thought he had failed. Then the plane’s motor cut and there was a whistling sound as it went into a dive. This was followed by an explosion and a flash of light.
    Glancing over the railing to see if planes might be coming up from below, Bull was greeted with the sight of the glowing, dangling ladders.
    â€œDamn,” he spoke to himself. “That how them follow so easy in dark. See ladders.”
    Bull tossed the Winchester to his left hand, pulled his knife from under his jacket, moved around the railing hacking the ladders free.
    The steam man had a fire in its belly. Cody had ordered it kept going until they were out of this business. He wasn’t sure what he might need the steam man for, but he wanted to be prepared.
    His jar fastened to the steam man, Goober inside to work the controls, Cody returned to the bridge. Calling commands to the midget, the powerful steam man’s body shoved at the plane. The pilot, who they thought was dead, lifted his head just as the steam man managed to shove the plane through the wound it had made in the zeppelin’s side.
    â€œSayonara,” Cody said.
    The pilot just looked sad as the plane fell backwards, said in Japanese, “Typical.”
    Cody, Goober and the steam machine were hurled backwards as the zeppelin, relieved of the plane’s weight, leapt skyward.
    Out on the promenade, Bull was slammed face down on the deck so hard his nose bled. Inside the main deck, the zeppelin’s defenders experienced the same moment of surprise.
    The advantage, although not immediately known, was that the zeppelin was now lost to the biplanes. They could no longer see it in the dark and the rain. They were also running out of fuel, so there was nothing left for them to do but turn back.
    The downside was the zeppelin had suffered many wounds in its rubber skin. Helium had been lost. The bridge was damaged. The zeppelin had no pilot. The steam man had been damaged by the sudden rise of the ship; it had caused the steam man’s legs to crimp, and it had fallen. Somehow, Goober had gotten the front of his trousers hung up. As the machine lay on its side near the gap in the wall, Goober said, “I’m coming out of this thing, Cody. I’m jammed up in here. It’s pinching my pee-pee.”
    Goober worked the trap door open, tore the front of his trousers loose and slipped out on the floor. He