Ch. 3
The elevator in the building was only used for heavy lifting or those physically unable to walk the stairs, so Elsbeth had already taken a trip downstairs with all of their luggage and equipment. After locking up the condo and helping the Old Man distribute all the ripe foods to the rest of the residents, they headed out.
Walking down now, the stairwell suddenly seemed to plunge forever downwards, a tedious and ominous stretch that Elsbeth had never felt before. Now that they were finally setting out, she felt something unsettling about the whole undertaking, but she still could not put her finger on the source of the feeling. It was just there in the background, like an alarm going off two blocks away.
Trey followed behind her mother tightly gripping The Old Man’s hand, for once not her usual excitable fearless self. That itself was odd as she was the most independent of children, but today as they embarked on this adventure outside of all that was familiar, she too seemed to be ill at ease. The familiar calluses of the Old Man’s hands were comforting.
At street level the wind snatched at their clothes, pulling them out of the shadows of the buildings that towered above them, silent and mostly empty. An empty facsimile of the New York that once was. A wind powered rikisha awaited them at the curb, its canvas wings unfurled, straining against the breeze like a bird eager for flight.
“We ready?” Elz asked, looking over her companions as if checking to make sure they had not changed their minds.
“Always!” Trey responded, determination and the slightest bit of trepidation in her voice. The Old Man nodded.
“Then lets get going.”
They climbed aboard the rikisha, and the driver, a faceless figure swathed in rags, set them in motion. The contraption moved smoothly forward, gathering momentum until the cityscape became a blur. The wings adjusted to catch the wind and they silently cut through the quiet streets. Occasionally another vehicle would cross their paths, but the city was eerily empty, a shadow of its former self. Soon buildings gave way to greenery, and the far end of Central Park materialized, where their true conveyance awaited.
“You will find all your luggage already inside.” The rikisha driver spoke for the first time, indicating the enormous airship parked in the grass in front of them. “There is a dossier in the main cabin.”
“I have my tablet.” Elz responded distractedly. Communication through the tablets were the norm, traceable and convenient, but even though the comment of the dossier confused her, she was more distracted by their apparent new mode of transportation.
The dirigible was a sleek leviathan, its silvery skin reflecting the morning light as vividly as the steel and glass buildings they had left behind.
They disembarked the rikisha, and they approached the airship, Trey gaping up at it in awe.
“Like a giant fish,” Trey murmured.
“A whale,” The Old Man contributed gently, “swimming through the sky.”
Elsbeth nodded in agreement. As they approached the waiting airship, a door on the side opened and they all stepped in with only a little hesitation. The sounds of the city ceased as the doors closed behind them with a hiss of pressurization.
“Welcome aboard. Make yourselves comfortable. We’ll be taking off shortly.”
There was no one to greet them. Just the voice coming from speakers in the walls, who introduced himself as the captain. He requested they make themselves comfortable while he took off and asked that they wait until given the all clear before they gave in to the urge to explore.
The three travelers sat in the nearest seats and took in their surroundings as the airship lifted off the ground.
The interior of the airship was spacious and expansive, with walls and high ceilings that seemed to stretch on forever. Everything gleamed a brilliant white and it had a sense of newness, as if it had just been built and never used before. The air was cool and fresh, with the slightest scent of mint. There were no windows in the main cabin where they had entered but Elsbeth could see rows of them far above on a level that appeared to have a balcony.
On the ground floor, the lack of windows and the soundproof nature of the cabin created a sense of isolation and detachment from the outside world. The light from the windows high above cast interesting shadows, softening the starkness of the white walls.
The main cabin was furnished minimally, but thoughtfully. Couches upholstered in dark gray filled the center of the room, offering a place for relaxation or conversation. Matching Armchairs sat in in neat circles around coffee tables made of glass and steel, their surfaces polished to perfection. A folder sat on one of the tables but most of them were bare except for sparse centerpieces: geometric sculptures that echoed the architecture of the airship, or small-scale models of the vessel itself. Each piece looked as though it had been chosen with purpose, though The purpose was unclear.
A bar or island formed a boundary between the lounge area and an open space where Elsbeth could see a kitchenette. It was compact but efficient: glossy white counters bristled with appliances she barely recognized. Just beyond it, tucked in a corner, was a glass structure that looked like a miniature greenhouse - perhaps for growing fresh produce on long journeys.
Display cabinets broke up the monotony of white walls here and there, stacked with any and everything: old books, antique maps, vinyl records - reminders of a world that once was. Their inclusion was incongruous at minimum, and Elsbeth was beginning to believe that someone had snatched this airship from a showroom somewhere. Still, amidst the ship's modernity, the items lent an air of nostalgia and coziness.
A wide staircase near one corner led up to the balcony level Elsbeth had spotted earlier. The railings were solid with recessed blue lights following their path upwards. The balustrade enclosed what looked like another living area above, offered more privacy with its plush armchairs and personal reading lamps.
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“Ladies and Gentleman, this is your captain speaking. You are now free to move about the cabin.”
The Old Man chuckled as if privy to some inside joke. Elsbeth looked to him for an explanation, but he just shook his head. “From before.”
“Mommy, come see.” Trey called from further back in the airship. Elsbeth followed her voice down the short hallway in the back of the main cabin. She found Trey standing in the doorway of a bedroom.
The bedroom was a masterpiece of compact design and minimalism. The room was bathed in the muted glow of recessed lighting that lined the ceiling. The brushed metal walls painted a stark picture of function over comfort, yet there were touches of homeyness too.
A small writing table rested against one wall, a pen and notepad resting neatly on top as if waiting for words to scribe. As in the main cabin, a set of shelves lined the walls, housing an assortment of books.
The bed seemed almost opulent, in contrast to the starkness of the rest of the room—outfitted as it was with plush cream linen embroidered with intricate patterns of leaves and flowers. Complementing it were thick pillows that tempted Elz to nap.
There was an odd comfort to the atmosphere of the airship. It was as if every piece within these walls had been carefully selected not just for its function, but also for its potential to make this vessel feel less like a transport and more like a home. Elsbeth felt a shiver run through her at that thought, but dismissed it. She knew better than to let the allure of the new lull her into complacency. It never paid to let your guard down, no matter how safe the walls around you seemed.
“Wow! We could live here.” Trey's excitement shattered Elsbeth’s thoughts. She turned around slowly, her brown eyes meeting her daughter's, which were shining with excitement yet laced with uncertainty. She put her arm around Trey's shoulders pulling her closer.
“For a few days at least, we will.”
They returned to the main cabin, where the Old Man was pulling a duffel bag off of the stack of luggage nearest to the door. Trey and Elsbeth helped him separate the bags and cases into three piles and they proceeded to take their personal items back to the bedrooms. The Old Man chose the smaller room they had looked into and Trey and Elz entered the room across from it. This one was larger than the other with two beds, but decorated in the exact same way.
Once their bags had been settled in the bedrooms, Elsbeth called Trey over and insisted they take inventory of their weapons and gear. Trey pretended to put up the tiniest bit of resistance, but she didn’t fool her mother. This was something that she had to do everyday except on the first of their “down days”, and the routine was as important to her as it was to Elz. Trey felt more confident when she knew she could count on her gear, and being the one to check it herself always made her feel more secure. She reached for her weapons case, but Elsbeth pulled it away from her and handed her a newer, unfamiliar one.
“Try this instead,” Elz said with a grin on her face.
The new case was pink, with a motif of three lion heads in the center of the lid. Opening it unleashed a smell of newness, of freshly worked metal and gun oil. Trey gazed in awe at the contents.
On the right side lay two handguns, their surfaces gleaming in the dimly lit room. The weapons were carefully crafted and balanced. When Trey lifted one, she could feel how perfectly it fit in her hand, its weight comfortably heavy. The gun's body was a lustrous black. Intricate, swirling designs etched on the metal shone with an iridescent pink hue: a flurry of cherry blossoms cascading across pistol.
Beside the guns nestled two knives. Like the guns, cherry blossoms were also etched along their obsidian black blades and handles. In some places, petals detached from the branches were etched in such a way that they looked like they were caught mid-fall, forever captured in pink-tinted steel.
In contrast to their deadly sharp edges, the pink suede like fabric that wrapped the hilts seemed almost tender. Trey ran her fingers lightly over the new additions to her arsenal. A small frown crept onto her face as she inspected them further.
“Mommy, Are you taking away my big gun?”
Elsbeth didn’t respond, she just motioned back to the case with her head. Trey looked up to see what she had missed in the lid. Nestled into the case foam was another gun, almost exactly like the MP9 she already carried, its compact size belying the lethal threat it carried.
Subtle pink shimmering lines exposed a design etched on to every surface of the gun— A mural of three lions surrounded by delicate cherry blossoms. The unusual motif created a stirring contrast against the otherwise industrial design of the MP9 clone. There was no doubt that this weapon had been crafted to be visually mesmerizing - as much a piece of art as it was a destructive force.
The barrel, shorter than her forearm but promising a deadly range, was spotless and perfectly machined. As she peered down its length, she could catch faint whiffs of fresh oil and metallic tang - a reminder of its lethal purpose.Trey's hands delicately traced the detailed outlines of the submachine gun, her fingertips feeling the hardened surface of the polymer body. Its matte black finish devoured all light, lending it an austere beauty that stole her breath away.
She hefted it carefully, surprised at how it fit snugly into her grasp. The contours of the grip were sculpted with precision, molding seamlessly into her palm as if made solely for her hands.
“It’s lighter than mine.” She exclaimed, hefting the weapon. She unfolded the stock and braced it against her shoulder. “Much lighter.”
“You’ll have to practice with them a bit,” Elsbeth said, “until you’re used to the differences. So you won’t be using these for the Magpies.”
“Aww.” A sigh of disappointment escaped Trey as she tenderly closed the lid over her newfound arsenal.
“You know what. Maybe after the Magpies, we can hop over to Ireland if the Creaux will let us use the ship for a few days longer.”
“The cottage?” Trey asked excitedly.
Elsbeth smiled. “The Cottage.”
“YES!!” Trey shouted, and skipped down the length of the main cabin. Els laughed. Of all the stories that She and Mat had had told Trey, the story of their snowy Irish interlude was Trey’s favorite. She’d often asked them if the cottage was still out there and Mat had taken the time to find out that it was still uninhabited.
They’d planned to visit but after Mat had died, Elsbeth’s focus had turned to survival. Still, the cottage was her ultimate escape plan-- the future that she’d been saving for-- and now they would be close enough to spend a few days there. That would give her the opportunity to see what she would need to make the place livable for the long term and if Trey would be able to stand living there. She would also need to map out the plot so that she would know exactly how much of the property she would need to petition the TDC for.
Turning her mind back to the job at hand, Elsbeth caught Trey’s attention as she skipped a hopscotch pattern across the room.
“Okay lady. Lets do a real gear check.”
Trey stopped playing and immediately grabbed her old case of weapons, and her gear pack. She started perusing her gear once again. Elz was extremely proud of her. Trey was carefree and playful yet always snapped right to business when needed. And even though Elz reminded her every time, she knew that she didn’t really have to reinforce the lessons of safety and taking their routines seriously— Trey knew that their lives and livelihood depended on it.