[Lemurion]

Here's the first scene of my NaNo.

******

Doc Vandal held the autogyro steady over the stricken Zeppelin. Acrid smoke rose from the wounds in the airship's flanks as it dove towards the New York skyline. It took all his strength to keep his 'gyro in place against the hot updraft. Without taking his eyes off his target he called to his passenger in the rear cockpit.

"Get ready to take over, Vic!" he yelled over the engine. "Just a few more yards and I'm going to jump."

The stick waggled in his hand, telling him that he'd been heard and Vic was ready to take the controls. Gritting his teeth, he advanced the throttle and the little plane inched forward. Just a few more feet and he'd be in position. They broke past the updraft and the rotor windmilled like crazy as the gyro dropped toward the Zeppelin's hull. Doc let go of the controls and pulled himself onto the left wing, trusting Vic to keep control.

Winds buffeted his head, sending his scarf streaming behind him. The airship seemed to rush upwards towards him, the forward hatch growing from a quarter to a manhole cover in seconds. Gathering his breath, he bent his knees and leaped, aiming just in front of the Zeppelin's forward top hatch. The autogyro shot away barely missing his head, Vic's long red hair streamed behind the cockpit as she dove for safety.

Doc had barely enough time to notice she had reached a safe distance before he smacked into the airship's skin. Pulling his fighting knife, he drove it through the fabric, giving himself an anchor. Fighting the wind, he twisted back to face the hatch, which had opened during his fall.

A black furry head popped up through the opening - followed by a machine pistol. Doc rolled sideways as a spray of bullets ripped a line through where he'd been laying. His knife ripped free and he stabbed several times at the Zeppelin's tough skin before halting his slide. Gripping his knife with his right hand, Doc drew his pistol with his left and snapped off two quick shots. His assailant slumped, and Doc started working his way toward the hatch.
Reaching the hatch, he saw that his assailant was a gorilla brownshirt.

"Damn Nazis," he muttered as he squeezed past the ape's bulk and into the access tunnel. The metal was hot to the touch, so he knew he didn't have much time before the ship turned into a torch. Doc slid down the ladder, stopping just before what his memory told him should be the main deck. Slipping his pistol back in its holster, he drew a small rebreather from a pocket in his vest and slipped it in his mouth. Taking two sleep grenades in his right hand, he dropped silently to the deck and drew his pistol.

Moving very quietly for such a big man, Doc made his way forward toward the control cabin. The ship was an older cargo Zeppelin, relying on hydrogen for lift rather than the more effective lyftrogen gas that had largely supplanted it on newer airships. Most of the older hydrogen ships were used in places like Africa, where the lack of roads and other infrastructure let them remain competitive despite their low carrying capacity.

The door to the control cabin had a small window, and Doc pulled a small periscope from his vest. Crouching below the window he extended the periscope to look around. Whistling to high for a human to hear, he counted his targets. The airship had a crew of four, two pilots and two engineers. All four were dressed in rags, and standing strangely still. The flesh that showed through their rags had a pale grayish sheen. A gorilla brownshirt stood in the center of the cabin, a machine pistol slung across his back.

"Put your hands on top of your head, you hairless pig." The muzzle of a gun dug into his back.

Doc palmed the sleep grenades and slowly raised his hands to the top of his head.

"Now get up!" The speaker punctuated his order with a jab of his gun muzzle.

Concealing the rebreather in his mouth, Doc got up and turned to face his captor. As he suspected, it was another gorilla brownshirt, with a cap pulled over its eyes and a machine pistol looking like a toy in its massive hand. "In there," the gorilla ordered Doc, gesturing with his gun, and shoving the door open with his free hand. The ape's eyes held a glint of intelligence, and Doc wondered why it seemed so calm while the airship hurtled toward its flaming death..

"Look what I found wandering around," the gorilla said, pushing Doc forwards into the control cabin. "Another hairless idiot sticking its flat face where it doesn't belong."

"Don't worry about vermin," the one from the control cabin snapped. "What about Kerak and the plane? I don't want to be aboard when we hit the Republic State Building."

"Kerak's dead," Doc's captor replied. "Somebody shot him in the face. Plane's ready to go. I unshipped the links and opened the doors."

That was all Doc needed. He popped the rebreather back into position and triggered the grenades, spraying sleeping gas throughout the cabin. Both apes dropped, but the flight crew just stood there, ignoring the gas.

"Zombies." Doc muttered around his rebreather. Clenching his teeth on the mouthpiece he turned and wrested the controls from the pilot's unresisting hands. Whatever the gorillas were using to control the zombies seemed to still be working, which was one piece of good news. The last thing he needed was to be wrestling over the controls with someone who couldn't feel pain. A glance at the altimeter told him they were already below a thousand feet, and still sinking. Luckily they were still over the water, but Manhattan was just minutes away.

Slamming the helm over, Doc reached for the throttles, adding the right-side engines' thrust to the flaming rudder. Buildings were growing in the cabin windows, and he had no time to turn the airship around. His only chance was to try to put her into the Hudson and pray he missed any shipping. The Zeppelin started coming around slowly, but it wasn't enough. Growling deep in the back of his throat, he shoved the port engines' pitch lever all the way into reverse. They screamed in protest as the props fought their own turbulence. Just a little longer, just a little longer.

Slowly the Republic State building moved across his view. They were going to miss.

Now all he had to do was get the Zeppelin over the river when the lift finally ran out. Praying everything would hold, Doc reversed pitch on the port props and then dumped ballast, dropping two tons of water on the streets below. A sudden crack from his left told him he'd been two hopeful. One of the port props was locked in reverse thrust. Doc killed the engine, but he had needed that thrust. At least the ballast drop had given him a fighting chance to make the Hudson. They were already so low he could make out people on the streets below. Most were oblivious to the conflagration above their heads, but as he got closer he saw people drop everything and run for safety.

He was going to make it.

Doc could feel the heat of flames licking at the cabin door, but he had no choice. He had to stay on until they reached the river.

Suddenly he felt a hand at the back of his collar, ripping him away from the controls and throwing him on top of one of the unconscious brownshirts. Cold fetid breath washed over his face, making him thankful for the rebreather. One of the zombie engineers glared at him over rotting teeth. Holding the zombie off as best he could with one hand, Doc grabbed the gorilla's machine pistol and rammed the muzzle into the zombies mouth, shattering teeth. A quick burst blew its head off, buying him breathing time.

Staggering back to the controls, Doc saw they were safely over the river and all the boats in sight were moving away as fast as possible. Not sure if there were any control surfaces left, he pushed the controls forward for a dive and took a running leap for one of the side windows. Crossing his forearms over his face he smashed through the glass and plummeted toward the river.

The Zeppelin had been high enough that he had just enough time to put his heels together and straighten up before he hit the water. The cold river almost knocked the breath out of him - rattling the rebreather he still held in his teeth. Doc kicked hard, driving himself toward the surface in a cloud of bubbles.

His head broke water just in time for him to see the skeletal frame of the Zeppelin hit the water about a hundred yards further out. Something exploded in the cargo hold, but it was drowned by the inrush of river water.

Stowing his rebreather, Doc shook his head and started to swim for the shore where Vic waited with the autogyro.