Excerpt: 3:20 Express and Other Tales of Note

Excerpt from "Antebellum"

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The transition from autumn to summer is a harsh one. Dygar coughs into his fist and clears his throat. "How do the Jhe handle this?"

"They don't," Redyn replies in his usual monotone. His mount is flanking Dygar's on the right, and no doubt Dygar's Shadow is cataloging everything before and behind. "That's why you had to go to them," Redyn adds.

"Hrrm," Dygar scratches three days worth of dark stubble, "but how can the Steppe be so bloody cold?"

Redyn laughs, albeit absently. "It isn't even winter up there, yet."

"It is!" He waves a thickly-layered arm for emphasis. "Have you failed to note that we've been wearing furs all this time?" Around them, some of their guards chuckle.

"Yes, you'd best take them off before you complain about the heat."

Dygar decides that they will see about that, and refuses. "I'll be all right. This is part of being a soldier, isn't it?"

"Don't ask me; you've ten with which to discuss it."

He does, indeed. Dygar leans ahead in his saddle to address the leader of their exhibition. "Captain, are you feeling the effects of this abrupt temperature change?"

"Sure as Queltzer's balls, your Highness," Captain Omar agrees over his shoulder.

Dygar does not ask what that is supposed to even mean.

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excerpt from "320 Express"

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The storm is unforgiving.
"Pray, tell me why I let you talk me into this!" Clef shouts over the roaring winds. He clings fast to the heavy rope swinging about from the zeppelin's sail. Ironically, it is the most stable aboard the flying machine -- living or no.
"My dear fellow--" and Zed's rebuttal must take a pause whilst the speaker takes a tumble about the deck. "My dear fellow, you must admit, it was a good idea at the time." A violent lurch, and Zed once again takes a tumble, rolling into the guardrail with a painful grunt. His pistol falls from his hand, hits the deck and discharges; it's a small, insignificant action compared to what is going on around them.
Clef strains to keep still, but it's an impossible task. Soon he's swinging back and forth along with the zeppelin's other passengers, albeit not quite so violently. At one point, Clef and Zed cross paths; the latter seizes Clef's shoulders and they begin to swing to and fro as one.
"I don't think it was ever a good idea!" Clef snaps, rekindling his anger at the entire situation. "Look what you've gotten us into!"
"Me?" Zed shouts into his ear. "Forgive me if I if I just so happened to pick the one zeppelin with an incompetent pilot!"
"So you acknowledge it," Clef says, strangely satisfied despite the situation. "Would that your admission of guilt would save us."
Around them, the zeppelin's crew attempt to regain control of the flying machine. It's rapidly proving to be a lost cause: Clef and Zed are propelled forward as the zeppelin dives toward the earth.
We're going to die, Clef admits to himself. We're going to crash and there won't be anything left to scrape off the streets.
"Clef, darling," Zed ventures, "seeing as how we're going to die and such, I thought I'd let you know that I've always liked you. You're a right good chap, sir."
"You weren't so bad, yourself!" Clef replies. "Except for the part where you got us killed."