blow boys blow!
Bobby risked a look back, huffing and puffing beside Jack. The army charged downhill. The boneshaker still led the pack; it screeched and gonged like some sort of quirky clown show. Roasters somersaulted and spit fire. Pokers, hammers, and pitchforks continued to whirl and fly in midair. Bobby felt as if they had an avalanche of junk on their heels.
“This better work, Blue!”
“If it doesn’t we’re KIA, soldier!”
Their feet hit the planks, and the tide rained down on them. The boys cursed in unison from the cold shock. The ship loomed at the end; its enormity made everything else seem Lilliputian. Gored pirates plunged from the deck onto the dock’s edge, cutlasses drawn. Jack and Bobby soon found themselves trapped.
Bobby waited for the tide to crash in, soaking them to the bone. The pirates charged toward them while the iron avalanche was seconds from impact.
“I’ve got a plan, Jericho! Throw that bellows overboard when I give the word!”
“Why? What are you gonna do?”
Bobby ignored Jack’s question, dropped his waterproof backpack, and fished out a pack of Roman candles and a lighter. He quickly aimed the salvo at the pirates and lit the wicks.
“Sky it!”
Jack understood Bobby’s plan now. He was providing a distraction so he could toss the bellows out to sea. He obeyed and hurled it into the air.
The rockets launched, screaming through the mist. The iron avalanche crashed onto the docks and the planks collapsed. Jack and Bobby lurched forward and lost their footing, plunging into the depths.
Below was chaos. Jack gasped and struggled to hold his breath. He saw the ironworks sink to the ocean floor, bubbling and rusting. Planks and posts drifted everywhere. He frantically scissors-kicked. His head bobbed above water. He glimpsed the Roman candles shrieking and zigzagging like an Independence Day celebration gone bad. The bellows plummeted toward the sea.
Then the near impossible occurred. A Roman candle collided with the bellows like a heat-seeking missile. The handles exploded, catapulting the burning body back into the air. But only momentarily, as a second rocket slammed dead center on the pentagram, blowing it to smithereens. An ethereal scream split the air amidst a spider web of electricity.
Jack submerged. He thrashed, his feet kicking broken boards. He saw the antiques on the rocky floor. They were a twisted mass of junk, extinguished and corroded. He wondered where Bobby was. He had to find him. He kicked hard to the surface.
“Blue! Blue!”
Jack merely saw destruction: a sea of driftwood and a stray Roman candle fizzling to the tide. He saw a post to his right and lunged for it. He clutched it and scanned the waters. The pirate ship had vanished, along with the pirates, swallowed by the mist. And there was no sign of his best friend.
“Blue!”
Jack glanced back. The shoreline was maybe thirty yards away. He had to swim for it. Maybe Bobby had done the same. Though the mist was thick, he still could not see him anywhere.
He swam for the beach. Weaving through planks, he made it to land. He collapsed on the sand, exhausted, his mind reeling. He looked down the shoreline.
No Bobby.
His eyes darted out to sea.
Nothing.
Jack was alone, the tide crashing at his feet, washing ashore boards and rope, but no Bobby. He stood and staggered.
“Blue!”
He felt as if he wandered in a dream. What had happened? Had any of it gone down? Or had he lost his marbles? And where was his best friend? He stumbled up the hillside, sobbing.
“Blue!”
Jack reached the top and fell to his knees. Tears streamed down his cheeks. He squinted in the mist. He could make out fires still burning.
He stood and walked toward town. He felt like a zombie, dead tired, delusional, and addled. When his feet touched Skean Street, the mist lifted slightly. He saw that the houses were ablaze. A voice drifted to his ears.
“Jack! Jack!”
Was it Bobby? Had he made it to shore after
Bobby risked a look back, huffing and puffing beside Jack. The army charged downhill. The boneshaker still led the pack; it screeched and gonged like some sort of quirky clown show. Roasters somersaulted and spit fire. Pokers, hammers, and pitchforks continued to whirl and fly in midair. Bobby felt as if they had an avalanche of junk on their heels.
“This better work, Blue!”
“If it doesn’t we’re KIA, soldier!”
Their feet hit the planks, and the tide rained down on them. The boys cursed in unison from the cold shock. The ship loomed at the end; its enormity made everything else seem Lilliputian. Gored pirates plunged from the deck onto the dock’s edge, cutlasses drawn. Jack and Bobby soon found themselves trapped.
Bobby waited for the tide to crash in, soaking them to the bone. The pirates charged toward them while the iron avalanche was seconds from impact.
“I’ve got a plan, Jericho! Throw that bellows overboard when I give the word!”
“Why? What are you gonna do?”
Bobby ignored Jack’s question, dropped his waterproof backpack, and fished out a pack of Roman candles and a lighter. He quickly aimed the salvo at the pirates and lit the wicks.
“Sky it!”
Jack understood Bobby’s plan now. He was providing a distraction so he could toss the bellows out to sea. He obeyed and hurled it into the air.
The rockets launched, screaming through the mist. The iron avalanche crashed onto the docks and the planks collapsed. Jack and Bobby lurched forward and lost their footing, plunging into the depths.
Below was chaos. Jack gasped and struggled to hold his breath. He saw the ironworks sink to the ocean floor, bubbling and rusting. Planks and posts drifted everywhere. He frantically scissors-kicked. His head bobbed above water. He glimpsed the Roman candles shrieking and zigzagging like an Independence Day celebration gone bad. The bellows plummeted toward the sea.
Then the near impossible occurred. A Roman candle collided with the bellows like a heat-seeking missile. The handles exploded, catapulting the burning body back into the air. But only momentarily, as a second rocket slammed dead center on the pentagram, blowing it to smithereens. An ethereal scream split the air amidst a spider web of electricity.
Jack submerged. He thrashed, his feet kicking broken boards. He saw the antiques on the rocky floor. They were a twisted mass of junk, extinguished and corroded. He wondered where Bobby was. He had to find him. He kicked hard to the surface.
“Blue! Blue!”
Jack merely saw destruction: a sea of driftwood and a stray Roman candle fizzling to the tide. He saw a post to his right and lunged for it. He clutched it and scanned the waters. The pirate ship had vanished, along with the pirates, swallowed by the mist. And there was no sign of his best friend.
“Blue!”
Jack glanced back. The shoreline was maybe thirty yards away. He had to swim for it. Maybe Bobby had done the same. Though the mist was thick, he still could not see him anywhere.
He swam for the beach. Weaving through planks, he made it to land. He collapsed on the sand, exhausted, his mind reeling. He looked down the shoreline.
No Bobby.
His eyes darted out to sea.
Nothing.
Jack was alone, the tide crashing at his feet, washing ashore boards and rope, but no Bobby. He stood and staggered.
“Blue!”
He felt as if he wandered in a dream. What had happened? Had any of it gone down? Or had he lost his marbles? And where was his best friend? He stumbled up the hillside, sobbing.
“Blue!”
Jack reached the top and fell to his knees. Tears streamed down his cheeks. He squinted in the mist. He could make out fires still burning.
He stood and walked toward town. He felt like a zombie, dead tired, delusional, and addled. When his feet touched Skean Street, the mist lifted slightly. He saw that the houses were ablaze. A voice drifted to his ears.
“Jack! Jack!”
Was it Bobby? Had he made it to shore after
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