the smuggler’s bible

White Ratchet

The zeppelin fleet blossoms before the sunset like a grey flower spreading across the hillside. Downwind, White Ratchet can smell the motor oil and grease. He climbs off the hood of the truck and pulls his goggles over his eyes.

“Well?” Hammer Claw asks from the passenger seat.

“Bombing run.”

“How’s the timing? Can we beat them?”

“If we have courage,” White Ratchet says, turning the key.