SECOND DRAFT: Hard Bank Left

5

Wind kicked against Krys's dangling feet. She often thought about her shoes falling off, dropping however many hundred feet to the Earth below because some lace was loose, or because the wind buffeted them in just the right way. In addition to her shoes falling, what-if the bar were to suddenly disappear? What would stop her from just slipping off the catwalk? What would stop her from just jumping into the void? Wouldn't it be nice: to just feel the wind trying to force its way through her clothes, caress her face? Swimming through the current of the sky, a stream unlike any on the land below, she would glide effortlessly until she reached the ground, eyes closed, embracing the inevitability.

"Krys?"

With a jolt as though the warm hand on her back was the ground slapping her awake. Krys found her face pressed against the icy bar of the catwalk railing. Had she been drooling?

Graham had to shout a little for her to hear him. "You doing okay? I could hear your snoring over the wind."

Krys sat up, looked around; the sun was setting, turning distant clouds a dark and hazy tint of fuschia. With a yawn and a stretch she mused, "How long was I out?" not fully expecting an answer.

"About three hours."

"An' you just left me there?"

"You seemed comfortable."

"Comfortable?"

Graham shrugged. "Who am I to judge your choice of sleeping arrangements?"

Krys stood, or at least attempted to. "Oh god! My legs are numb."

"Well, they have been dangling off the side of an airship for three hours."

"And whose fault is that?'

"Well, it ain't my fault you decided that falling asleep there was a good idea."

Upright and groaning over her prickling legs, Krys hobbled toward the bow of the ship. Down the stairs, past the laundry-sitting room, past her bedroom, she stumbled into the pilotry and flopped into her chair. Graham, having followed her, settled in the doorway. Shadows kissed the room in a soothing blue. Light dancing off the fractured chunks of what was left of the moon fell, cool and soft, licking the edges of the glass-like dome.

"What's with you and not sleeping well?"

Krys eyed Graham with mock contempt and suspicion. "Says the man who never sleeps."

"Hey, I sleep!"

"Yes, for twelve hours at a time, a couple times a week."

"Sst. Mm. Quiet you."

Krys rubbed the corners of her eyes, pinching her nose in the process. She tucked her knees to her chest, leaning back, and gazed blankly at what she interpreted to be a vast empty space below them.

"Where are we?"

"Over Lake Michigan."

"Ah. Heading for the rendezvous?"

"Yeah."

"I wonder what the Maldren's have set up this time."

"Probably something big, knowing Raide."

"Yee. I'm just curious. She wasn't very specific in her missive. Did you fill the ballasts?"

"Yeah. Got a bunch of little things taken care of while you were out. So what's going on, Krys. You've had me genuinely worried about you."

"This is the second time we've had this conversation today."

"Well it's pertinent. I need my pilot to be on top of her game and you've been... " He paused, trying to find the words. "Not... All here."