Scoff landed the Pisces close enough to the riverbank that Charlotte and Ash could jump into the shallows and wade to shore. Though she took a moment to search the river’s edge, Charlotte didn’t catch sight of Jack.
“The rats should be after the decoy,” Ash said. “Let’s head in.”
The trees that lined the riverbank offered a thin barrier of nature before the Heap made its presence known. The smell of corroding metal made Charlotte’s nose crinkle up as hills of industrial waste rose before them.
Since the Heap was a tinker’s dream, Charlotte had always thought it a shame that Birch never came along on their scavenging runs. Of course, he sent wish lists with them and specific diagrams for the parts he needed, but he was too valuable to risk.
Ash held up his hand, and Charlotte stopped. They both went very still and listened for the telltale squeak and scrabble of rats.
“Clear,” Ash said, dropping his hand. “Find what you can.”
They ran side by side into the mounds of scrap metal and discarded machinery. Ash had Birch’s list and began to search carefully through the rubble for specific items while Charlotte threw every piece of metal she could find into her sack. They worked quickly and without speaking for a quarter of an hour.
“Ready to drop?” Charlotte called to Ash and pointed to her bulging sack.
“Close enough,” he answered.
They dragged their loot over the rough ground. The small wheels in casters that had been sewn over the surface of one half of the sack eased their burden, but they were still breathing hard by the time they reached the ship.
Several of the Pisces’s back scales flipped up, and a moment later, Scoff appeared standing in a lift. They shoved their full sacks into the elevator, and Scoff handed them two empty sacks in return.
“Ten minutes.” Scoff tapped the watch face set in the leather cuff on his wrist. “No longer.”
Ash nodded. He and Charlotte bolted back to the Heap. This time Ash took less care in his choices, filling his sack at a fevered pace like Charlotte.
The sound of metal sliding down the side of a rubbish heap made them both stand up, searching for the source of the sound. Charlotte swung Pocky up, ready to fire.
“Ash!” Jack’s voice rang out from behind a mound of brass bed frames.
“Here, Jack!” Ash answered.
Jack appeared a moment later, running toward them. When he was at their side, he bent over, putting his hands on his thighs and breathing hard.
“It’s here,” he gasped. “I found it.”
“What’s here?” Charlotte asked.
“Hush.” Ash’s glare startled her. He looked at Jack. “Where?”
“Not too far,” Jack said. “I can do it.”
“Can you do it in five minutes?” Ash asked him. “That’s how long we have before the rats come back.”
Jack paled, but he straightened, looking directly at Ash, and shook his head. “I’ll need at least ten.”
His eyes moved briefly to Charlotte, and his jaw clenched.
“I need you to buy me a little time,” Jack said quietly to Ash.
“We’ll draw the rats,” Ash told him, and Charlotte’s gut twisted. Draw the rats?
Jack glanced at Charlotte again. “No. Forget it. Let’s just get out of here.”
“This is important,” Ash said. “Too important. We’ll manage.”
Charlotte couldn’t find her voice. Jack drew a long breath and nodded.
“Go now.”
Jack dashed into the rubble, turning once to wave at them, and then vanished behind the hills of refuse.
Ash dropped his sack and pulled out his cane. With a quick twist of its brass top, the metal came free of the ebony rod. A long silver blade slid out, and Charlotte gasped when he pulled his shirt sleeve up and drew the sword’s sharp edge along his arm. Blood welled, running over his skin. Ash held up his arm so the wind would catch the scent.
“Oh, Ash,” Charlotte whispered. “What are you doing?”
“They’ll come for this,” Ash said quietly. “It’s the only sure thing. Be ready.”
Charlotte tightened her grip on Pocky. Her eyes flew up and down the metal mounds, waiting for movement. Her ears strained for the sounds of their approach.
Ash held his cane in his left hand and his sword in his right. His eyes were moving as rapidly as Charlotte’s, but she saw the rat first.
“There.” Her gaze fixed on a scrap pile less than a meter away.
The rat stared at them. Its large black eyes were hungry. The rats were always hungry.
It rose onto its hind legs, exposing its belly—the only spot on the creature that hadn’t been girded with iron plates. Two more rats appeared beside the first, their noses twitching.
“They’ve gotten bigger,” Ash observed.
“They’re always getting bigger,” Charlotte said, shuddering at the implication. On the last run the rats had rivaled cats in size. These were more comparable to collies.
“Withdraw,” Ash whispered. “But move slowly. We need to pull them away from Jack.”
Side by side, Charlotte and her brother began to back out of the Heap. The rats were half a dozen in number now, and new bodies covered in gray fur and black iron appeared with each passing moment, waiting, watching the two humans inch away.
“When we reach the tree line, start firing,” Ash said.
Charlotte felt the soft give of grass beneath her boots instead of metal. Another minute and they would be in the trees, almost to the ship.
All at once, the rats began to move. A swarm of bodies poured over the scrap hills, surging toward them.
In her peripheral vision, Charlotte glimpsed the tangle of leaves and branches. She relaxed her shoulders and fired. Pocky didn’t disappoint.
While the innovation of armoring the Heap’s rats with iron plates made bullets’ effectiveness dicey, the Polar Oppositional Carbine took advantage of the rats’ unique composition. Each of Pocky’s barrels sent a magnetic pulse—one positive, one negative—at its target. Hitting opposite sides of the rat’s armor, the newly charged plating did what opposite magnetic poles do. They attracted.
The quickest elimination of a target required a dead-on shot. And Charlotte had a knack for pivoting, sidestepping, and crouching to make sure each pull of Pocky’s trigger had a devastating result.