The Twelfth American Civil War was nearing the end. The airships from Chicago were closing in on Detroit, with a set-down on the eastern side of Lake Michigan, so the expandable pigs could feed after the long trip over Lake Michigan. The Western Legion had already taken over Chicago and the publishing industry. The Western Legion wanted Detroit and the factories. Once Detroit was in the hands of Captain Oswald Maxwell, there was no telling how much farther he would go. He would have control over the farms of Nebraska, the publishing houses in Chicago, and the factories of Detroit. He could build the weapons that would destroy what was left of the Southern Brigade and gain control of the ports on the Atlantic Ocean. Eventually, Captain Maxwell would take his fighting ships across the ocean and begin his reign of terror over Europe.
The only hope laid in the hands of Professor Lottie Comstock, who had the key to Captain Oswald’s heart. Her brother, Silas Comstock, was the general of the Southern Cavalry who had been holding her captive for the past three months. No one knew where she was and many believed that Captain Maxwell’s actual goal was to find her, but only he knew.
“Steward, bring me a messenger pigeon,” General Comstock shouted in the brass horn.
The steward replied, “Yessir. On my way.” Moments later he arrived with a large metal cage, carrying a pigeon wearing a pouch containing a time piece that also served as a bomb if the pigeon was in danger. During the training, the pigeon learned to recognize the face of the sender and receiver. Once the message was received, the pigeon’s memory would be wiped by a magnet in the time piece. Comstock’s sister was responsible for creating that technology during the previous war when message sending became problematic.
Reaching into the pocket of his military overcoat, Comstock took out the message. He placed the message into the small pouch and set the time piece by pressing the timer so the receiver of the message knew exactly when the pigeon departed Comstock’s bunker. He checked his pocket watch against the pigeon’s time piece to be sure they were coordinated. No one knew where Comstock was bunked. Unfortunately, the timer could reveal a general area, but the small bomb would destroy whoever tried to intercept the pigeon and the message.
“Steward, in five minutes, show the pigeon this picture and release it.” He handed a rolled up photograph and walked away. He knew the steward would obey or face horrible consequences.
As he turned away from the steward the bunker rocked with the noise of an explosion. He ran toward the smoke. No one had to tell him where it came from; his brother Harley Comstock was working on an expandable metal pig that could be used as an airship to rival the living airships that Maxwell used.
“Harley, what happened?”
A smoky faced Harley removed his leather goggles, revealing white circles around his eyes, and peered into his brother’s eyes. “The welder exploded. I need more horse power to keep it going.”
“You’ve already got five horses running on the mills. I can’t afford to give you any more,” Silas said.
“Maybe you need to create an alternative fuel for your welder.”
“Or maybe you need to attach yourself to a mill, so I can use your man power to keep it running strong.”
“Funny, my brother. I sent the message to Lottie. Do you think she’ll agree?”
“She hates Oswald. According to her last message she said, ‘His breath smells, his teeth are crooked, and he beats the expandable pigs’,” Harley chuckled in a girlishly high voice. “There’s no way she’ll say no. She wants to return to the university and continue building working on her travel machines. If Waldo takes over Detroit, she’ll never get back to work and get her machines built.”
“She’s our only hope. That pigeon cannot be intercepted.”
“Where is she?” Harley asked.
“I cannot tell you,” the General said. “I am the only one who knows. The pigeon will, too, but since it cannot speak, no secrets will be revealed.”
*****
The pigeon arrived at Professor Lottie’s hideout without trouble. Once the pigeon spotted Lottie, it flew to her, turned its back so she could remove the letter and reset the timer to wipe its mind. Before she could open it, Captain Oswald Maxwell snatched the letter from her fingertips.
“Darling, you know the message is for me. At least you could let me read it first, as I’m sure it is from Silas.” Lottie stroked the Captain’s cheek.
He pushed her hand away. “That is precisely why I’m reading the message first. I don’t want you to keep any secrets from me. Once you have the traveling machine ready, we’ll destroy your brothers and the Southern Cavalry.”
“I know, darling Waldo. Let’s read it together.” And they did.
The next day, Lottie brought her traveling machine to a prearranged location to meet her brother. Because she was in hiding, she no longer used assistants and had to drag the traveling machine in a cart. She wore the disguise that her brother told her to wear, dressing like a gypsy wearing a red velvet skirt and bustle with a tight black corset over a ruffled unbuttoned shirt. Silas instructed her to wear her hair down with one side pulled back in a big lacy comb. She had to leave her functional pants and vest in her closet. She felt practically naked without her goggles and leather cap; she was always worried about potential explosions. In her normal, functional day wear, no one even noticed her; but today, it seemed like every man in the town stopped and stared. How was she supposed to stay disguised when she was so obvious? She assumed that Silas had a plan.
He did and so did Captain Maxwell.
Captain Maxwell followed her. He, too, was in a disguise, looking like a simple airman. He knew the siblings would meet at apothecary shop on Main Street. He decided to remain outside with his motor bicycle, sitting on a bench across from the shop. Using his spy glass, he watched Lottie saunter up the street, dragging her covered cart behind her. Silas wanted to see the traveling machine. Silas also watched Lottie walk across the square toward the apothecary shop. It seemed to him that the cart seemed light because she wasn’t struggling in her high heel gypsy shoes. When she finally made it to the front door, he opened it for her, “Hello, sister. If you weren’t related to me, I would invite you to join me for supper.”
“Lucky me. I already have plans for supper in my hidey-hole,” Lottie smiled. “I can’t wait to get out of this disaster of a gown. My feet are bleeding in these shoes.”
“Mr. Apothecary, we are in need of a salve for my lovely sister’s feet.” The apothecary shuffled into his back room to start mashing a cure for her sore feet. This gave them time to talk. “Let me see the traveling machine.”
Lottie pulled back the cover on the cart and showed her brother the machine. Silas inhaled sharply as he took in the machine that looked like a golden pig, complete with windup tail, and a handle across the feet just the right size for an airman to hold onto. On the top of the pig was a metal pole with folded rotors and foils so the pig could fly, carrying the airman on the bottom. Silas was hoping that the machine was ready, so his Southern Cavalry could start using the small flying machines to attach the large Western Legion airships. His sister held the key, if he could only keep her away from Maxwell.
“Is it finished?” Silas asked.
“Almost,” she replied. “I have to make sure the pressure is reliable.”
“Where will the guns go?”
She pointed to the snout. “The controls are on the handle. Where is the apothecary? I don’t think it takes too long to make a foot salve.”
“I’ll go check.” Silas walked into the back room. Knowing that was the code, Maxwell walked into the shop.
Silas walked back out, “He’s gone.” Then he noticed Maxwell pointing a gun at his head.
“Welcome to my town, General.”
“Lottie, how could you betray me?” He looked into his sister’s eyes. Maxwell put his free arm around her waist and kisses her cheek. “Lottie, you know how dangerous he is. We can’t give up the ports.”
“You are useless,” Lottie replied. “All you do is take, you never create anything on your own. All of your ideas are mine or Harley’s. I want to be an equal partner, not just someone who has to hide and wear disguises making me look like a common whore. Waldo wants me to rule with him.”
“It’s true,” Maxwell said and he cocked the gun.
“Here’s your salve, General,” the apothecary placed his gun at the back of Captain Maxwell’s head. He cocked his gun.
“Lottie? What is this?” the Captain asked.
“We can’t have you taking the ports, darling Waldo. Plus, I need the factories,” Lottie replied, looking to the apothecary. “Kill him.”
The apothecary pulled the trigger felling the Captain. He turned his gun on the General, too.
Lottie took the salve, recovered the cart, and left the shop.