Patron Short Fiction: Jack be Quick


The leaner came upon the city gate more quickly than Rabbit had expected. The rider was soot-covered, and wore a large box on her back, the straps crisscrossing over tightly fitted clothes which looked like they would belong on a bandstand if they were cleaner. The woman stopped the machine about ten meters from Rabbit. She lifted a pair of goggles from her eyes, revealing pale, non-sooted skin beneath. She glanced at Rabbit and smiled before kicking down the leaner’s brace, and swinging a leg over the machine. She lifted the seat, revealing a cargo space, from which she drew a wicker basket filled with colorful orbs. From this angle, Rabbit could see, even through the soot, the box on her back was a wood and brass instrument with pipes and cranks. It had been a pipe-organ she had heard. Rabbit tensed, this might be one of the people SpringHeel was always talking about. The woman turned away from the leaner with the basket in the crook of one elbow and looked toward the burning city.

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