Heart's tale

Chapter 2 part 1

"Hold it!"

"What?"

"The wheel!"

"What?"

"Hold it! Oh, moons!"

A strongly-built man, wrapped in duct tape from head to toe, let go of the wheel, and the acceleration immediately threw him backward, cracking his head on the back seat. But the harness that held his feet in the pedals kept the inertia from tearing him out of his seat. The aircycle continued its descent between bridges and pipes, skipping the busy quarters of the middle tier and plunging swiftly into the darkness of the Salt Works.

The vehicle dived, hitting drums, signs, and buckets of salt hanging here and there, at the risk of crashing in the air, tore down flaming sailcloth, and dashed like a comet between a freight train and the frightened faces of the machinists. The wheel was intercepted by a blue-colored octopus in flying goggles, who at the last moment managed to yank it toward him and roll it away from the stonework of the warehouse wall – and the aircycle dived into the alley between the factory pipes, knocking down a sign quoting The Last Poet: "Don't spill salt! That's your role!"

"Damn it! Careful!" the big guy wailed as he tried, in his unusual position, to pull the doll stuck in the second motor. His fingers kept slipping off the smooth surface of the blades, and the duct tape slid off his body in the wind, covering his eyes and obstructing his vision. The aircycle punched through another pipe and bounced, causing the man to shout:

"I do have a spine, remember that!"

"I remember more than I want to!" the octopus shouted back with a stream of bursting bubbles that immediately hit the big man's nose. He sneezed, which added vibration to the aircycle, and the octopus grasped the shaking wheel more tightly, trying with all his tentacles to keep the right direction. The big guy all wriggled uncomfortably into the gap where the doll's limbs were caught in the twisting mechanism of the motor, and shouted:

"I'm not comfortable doing it upside down!"

The octopus yanked something under the wheel and the aircycle flipped 180 degrees, so the man had to grab the engine with his hands to keep from falling:

"Raud! You! Ashkarashana! Turn it back! Aaah! Idiot!"

"Who's an idiot?"

"What?"

"Nothing!"

"Turn it back over!"

"What?"

Before that, the big guy still managed to yank something in the engine – the doll flew out of it, hit the exhaust pipe with a loud thud, and disappeared into the spinning vortex of space. The big guy, rubbing his jingling forehead, pulled himself up to the wheel and pushed the octopus away:

"Go to the machine gun."

The octopus squinted his eyes at the blood that covered the man's face, but moved to the back of the motorcycle. And the big man, maneuvering between the buildings, let the motorcycle go even lower, into the steam sector of the tiers where the sunlight didn't penetrate.

The headlights slid through the web of pipes as if through a cave riddled with streams, taking by surprise the ropes, chains, valves, and ancient, heartforsaken spider-like mechanisms that watched over the state of this dark realm. Frightened, they hid and scattered, caught in the trembling cone of light, dropping their instruments that were eager to hit the fugitives on the head. There was nothing to breathe because of the soot and smoke from the furnaces, but worst of all was the steam – it suddenly rose in hot streams from one side to the other, burning and almost blinding the big man. Blood ran down into the man's eyes, and the ringing in his head grew stronger and stronger. The aircycle crawled slowly through the labyrinth, where the infernal sound of a steam boiler could be heard in the depths.