Warren’s breath caught in his throat and his heart stopped beating as his eyes fell on a horrifying sight.
The woman’s face was ashen gray. Her ears were bleeding. She couldn’t have spoken if she wanted to. Her eyes and lips were sewn shut.
“Thank you so much for your contribution,” a different, sinister sounding voice came from the beggar. “Warren Corbie.”
He had never told the beggar his name.
Warren tried to jump back and found that he could not move.
He heard Sprocket screaming in his head, “NO! That’s them! Finder! Blocker!”
At the same time he was struck with the worst headache he had ever experienced. It felt like an axe slowly cleaving his brain in two, like a hot knife through butter. He cried out in agony.
A strong, wiry hand took hold of the neckline of his shirt and snatched him backwards. At the same time a brown hand threw a drab-colored can of something between him and the sinister beggar.
“Cover your eyes!” the voice in his head ordered. He still could not move.
Edgar, he had no idea how he knew it was her, threw an arm around his face, effectively covering his eyes and ears. She pulled him into a tight hug and rolled on top of him just as a deafening explosion followed a flash of light.
There was a snap inside his head and the curious spell over his limbs was broken. He was jerked back onto his feet. Edgar had taken one arm, while Sprocket had him by the other and they were dragging him away. He scrambled to his feet and went with them.
The alarm had been sounded. The market was compromised. They could hear the whistles of the police as they came flooding in.
The world around them suddenly erupted in sound. There was a screech and an orange, tabby cat zig-zagged between Warren’s legs. People yelled and the whole world began to move very quickly. Venders shouted and snapped their cases closed. Shoppers fled, people scattering in every direction for the drainage pipe exits.
“Wait!” shouted Warren through the din. “Morris! Where’s Morris?”
“She’s fine,” Edgar reassured. “She’ll catch up with us later.”
“Keep moving!” scolded Sprocket right in his ear.
They dove through the mouth of a drainage pipe. Sprocket took the lead, Warren came next, then came Edgar taking up the rear. This drainage pipe was much smaller than the one they had entered. They had to navigate it on their hands and knees. They scrambled along in the dark, traveling by feel. The air was dank and reeked of things they didn’t want to think about. They fumbled to put on their masks as they fled. Every now and then a rat scurried out of their way.
The pipe suddenly branched.
“Left!” Sprocket called back over her shoulder.
They obeyed just as beams of light appeared down the pipe behind them. Edgar hurried them along at a furious pace.
They came to another branch.
“Right!” Sprocket called again and they turned just as she directed.
They scrambled on for another hundred feet before she stopped them. The pipe emptied into a cesspool far below. The stench was like nothing they had ever encountered. It was so much worse than Toggle’s place. They could smell it through the masks. Sprocket then directed them by feel to a ladder and they climbed upwards two levels to enter another larger pipe which led steadily further.
It opened into a small chamber where they could stand. Here she stopped them. Removing a device from the pocket of her pants, she scanned for life signs. Then she nodded. “Good! We lost ’em,” she said in satisfaction.
They were all panting, steam fogging up their masks, adrenaline still pumping.
Warren shook his head. “That smell! That’s enough to stop anyone!”
Sprocket chuckled. “That’s why I come this way if I’m being chased. The police are far too sensitive, even with their masks on.”
Edgar shook her head. “Is that sewage or the fog?” she asked, meaning the reek.
“A little of both,” she replied. “That stink has saved my ass more times than I can count.”
“Morris,” Warren moaned.
“I told you before, boy,” Edgar said. “Morris is fine. We have this arrangement. If there’s trouble, we split up. She knows these tunnels as well as Sprocket, maybe better. She’ll circle around and meet up with us later. I promise.”
Sprocket laughed. “Listen to your mum, boy,” she told him still chuckling. “Morris is tougher than you know. She’s got brass balls and iron tits!”
“Sprocket!” Edgar admonished sternly. But the young woman was not put off.
“What?” she fired back. “He’s probably heard worse than that by the time he was five, if he was raised at Miss Madeline’s.”
Warren shook his head. “Before that actually. I heard talk like that in utero but Mom told me to forget about it until I was older.” He paused. “I just remembered.”
Edgar sniffed. “Then go back to forgetting!” she advised, frowning. “Language like that will get you nowhere in life.”
Sprocket cooed teasingly. “Ooo! Looky, looky who’s become all maternal! Morris told me you didn’t have a nurturing bone in your body. Boy, have you changed!”
Edgar replied with a fiery glare.
“The beggar…” Warren said distantly. “What was he?”
Here Sprocket frowned and shook her head. “That was the Finder and the Blocker in disguise. She finds, he blocks. Separate they’re bad enough, even with their limited range. Put them together and their power is magnified. Together the blocker has the strength to turn your brains into pudding. And I think he would have if I hadn’t broken his concentration with my flash-bang.”
A light began to flicker on a device on Sprocket’s wrist.
“What’s that?” Warren asked.
“My daily news,” she replied. “There’s been an emergency report.”
She flipped open the lid and scanned the readout. She frowned.
“That’s odd,” she muttered. “It says there was an explosion on Ruffian Street in Hostler’s Hollow. Several underground dwellings were completely destroyed.”
“Toggle!” Edgar and Warren said at the same time.
“Hang on a minute,” Sprocket switched to a similar device on her other wrist and punched in a code. “Toggle? Are you okay?”
The wide face of their friend appeared on the tiny screen.
“Of course. I’m fine!” he replied somewhat indignantly. “Why wouldn’t I be? Ah good! You found Edgar and the boy! Excellent!”
But in the dim blue light of the wrist screen, they could see the expression on Sprocket’s face morph from confusion to realization to abject fear.
“Toggle! Get out of there right now! It’s not safe! They’re coming for you!” she shouted at the screen.
At the same time the screen’s picture seemed to wiggle. Toggle looked behind him.
“What the…” he muttered. “Was that an earthquake?”
“Get out of there right now!” Sprocket yelled.
Again the screen flickered. Then the picture just blinked out and went dark.
“Toggle! No!” Sprocket moaned in pain.
There was an ominous rumble under their feet. The ground suddenly rocked violently and just as abruptly went still. The stillness was frightening.
Sprocket’s face turned to Warren and the glare she gave him was accusatory.
“They killed him because of you,” she said in a hard voice. “Why? Toggle was harmless. What are you that the government would kill someone like him? You’re just a boy.”
“Enough!” Edgar growled. “Save Warren and you stick it to Toggle’s murderers. Now get us outta here!”
Sprocket looked back the way they had come, wavering as her thoughts raced. Then she looked forward. Her gas mask hissed. Finally a determined expression came over her face. She nodded and stalked toward another pipe.
“This way,” she ordered in a hard voice.
She said no more. She continued to lead them in a dizzyi
ng array of directions down many different drainage pipes, some big enough to stand up in, some they had to crawl through on hands and knees until their sense of direction was completely lost. She kept them going at a fast pace, sometimes almost losing them. They wondered if she truly meant to get rid of them, deep underneath the bowels of the town. Edgar noticed, with some concern, the battery packs on their masks were getting dangerously low.
Just as Edgar was about to voice her concern, Sprocket’s path led them down a pipe that emptied onto the very road where they had first parked their cab. In fact they were just across the street from it.
Edgar breathed a heavy sigh of relief.
“There!” Sprocket announced and gave a quick but wary look about. “I’m done with you!”
“Wait!” Edgar said as she took hold of her arm. She pressed some bills into her hand. “For all your trouble.”
Sprocket looked at the cash and then gave Edgar an insulted glare. “I’ll not be taking your blood money!” she snarled and threw the bills back in Edgar’s face. “And I’ll not have anything to do with either of you ever again unless you catch the ones who killed Toggle. Good riddance to you and your wayward brat.”
So saying, she turned and in seconds had disappeared, whether down another pipe or back into the fog they could not tell.
Edgar heaved a heavy sigh. She murmured more to herself than anyone else. “C’mon. Let’s go home.”
They made their cautious way silently across the street to their cab and entered. Within the cab they found most of the bags with their groceries neatly stacked, a little smudged and torn from their recent ordeal but none the worse for wear.
“Morris?” asked Warren.
Edgar gave a tired smile and nodded.
“Then where is she?” he asked. He peered about frantically in every direction but the fog was too thick to see more than a few feet ahead.
“She’s probably already home waiting for us,” Edgar told him. “Come. We need to leave this place.”
They locked the doors of the carriage and she fired up the engine. Edgar spoke the address into the mouthpiece and the cab shuddered to life, turned itself about and headed back the way they had come.
They arrived home with no further incident. Edgar unlocked the shop and cried out for Morris. There was no answer. She exchanged worried looks with the boy.
They removed their masks and switched the spent batteries and oxygen packs for new ones. They brought in the groceries and put them away. They changed out of their clothes that smelled like raw sewage, bathed and donned fresh attire.
No Morris.
They ate a cold, silent dinner just the two of them.
No Morris.
The hours of evening dragged by without any sort of change.
Still no Morris.
Warren knew better than to ask. He knew Edgar was worried about her mate.
He found Edgar later that evening, sitting on the window seat at the front of the shop. An open book was in her lap. He doubted she had looked at the words on the page for quite some time. She was just staring out the window at the endless fog.
“Did… did she call?” he asked her.
Wordlessly, she shook her head.
“Go to bed, Warren,” she told him. “I’ll keep watch.”
He nodded. “You’ll wake me when… when she comes home?”
She did not turn her head. But he saw her cheeks bulge a bit as she smiled. “Of course,” was her reply.
Warren placed a hand on her shoulder and gave her a reassuring squeeze. She clutched his hand and replied silently in kind. There was no need for words between them. They were both quite worried.
Then Warren turned and headed for bed. But it took him a long time to fall asleep. He kept listening for the door, for footsteps, for the echo of voices raised in relieved conversation. All he heard was an unnatural silence. He finally drifted off to sleep.
He was jarred suddenly awake by a bright light shining in his eyes. There were shapes in brown leather hazmat suits bending over his bed. He thought they looked like astronauts. His head felt thick and fuzzy. He tried to react but his limbs were heavy.
There was a hiss as a muffled voice behind a mask spoke. “It’s him,” a strange voice said. “Tell them we found the key.”
“What about the woman?” said another strange voice.
Warren was powerless to resist. All he could do was lay there helpless as an oxygen mask was forcibly placed over his nose and mouth and listen to these strange people in brown medical suits as they talked over and about him.
“She’s drone class, not as important. Finish gassing her and send what’s left to Doctor Mutter for experimentation,” was the reply. “He’s the important one. Let’s try not to gas this one to death like they did last time.”
Warren fought to move, to speak, to scream, to do something. But his body refused to listen. He tried to hold his breath. But more of the nasty smelling gas was pouring through the mask.
He could only see the blank, emotionless eyes of the figure bending over him. The strange man’s brows furrowed as he saw what Warren was trying to do. The figure then thumped him on the chest, lightly with a closed fist, and reflexively, Warren gasped. He saw the cheeks beneath the eyes swell in satisfaction as the nameless person smiled.
“Now, now, none of that,” the man jeered. “We have big plans for you, my boy. So play nice. Just breathe. That’s all you have to do. Breathe.”
Warren didn’t want to breathe. But things were going blurry and then fading into the darkness. Against his will, he felt his eyes close.
“There,” cooed the brown astronaut above him. “That’s a good boy. Just sleep.”
The brown fist had opened and a flat palm patted him gently on the chest.
“Go to sleep. This is all just a dream. None of this exists. Everything will be better when you wake up. You’ll see. Just sleep.”
Chapter 7
“She’s awake! I win! Pay me!” crowed a young woman’s voice triumphantly.
“I object to calling that a ‘she’,” another female voice muttered. “It’s a drone. Therefore it’s not all that important. The very fact it’s human is debatable at best.”
“I agree,” said another voice. “We wouldn’t even be having this discussion if someone had been on time enough to get us in the front carriage instead of the back with all the cargo.”
“Oh, please play along,” said the first woman’s voice. “I would rather spend the time having a lively conversation than hearing you two snipe about every little thing.”
Edgar opened her eyes to see three young women before her exchanging money. They were dressed in fine Victorian dresses complete with tiny top hats perched on the side of their heads and colorful parasols. Their attire spoke to the fact that money had never been in short supply where they were concerned.
She looked about her. She was encased in what seemed to be a glass casket, strapped onto a rolling dolly which had been secured against the wall. Her hands and legs were bound and she was gagged. The entire compartment her casket was in was shuddering and wobbling from side to side, so she surmised she was on a train heading somewhere.
Warren was nowhere in sight.
She inclined her head to the side to find the compartment had large windows and light was flooding into the carriage. The train was passing through a tunnel. The fog outside was thin enough to see their eventual destination. They were heading toward a city of glass buildings encased under a crystalline dome.
They entered the dome and Edgar squinted against the flood of light that invaded the train’s carriage. Everything inside the dome was bright as the noon on any other planet. There was no fog. The city was surrounded by green fields. The rolling hills were sliced by a winding, blue river and beautiful forests. But upon closer inspection she noticed the grass was synthetic, the trees were artfully shaped, concrete sculptures and the streambed were lined with blue tiles as if it were an indoor pool.
E
verything that looked natural was fake, a synthetic copy of reality.
“Judith, look!” squealed one of the women with excitement and she pointed out the window. “A foxhunt!”
There was indeed a pack of baying hounds pursuing a hapless fox, followed by a herd of horses and riders clearing fences as they galloped along. They passed right underneath the trestle bridge the train was chugging over and it was then Edgar noticed one tiny but very important detail.
The only real thing in the foxhunt were the riders. The animals were purely mechanical. The horses, the pack of hounds, even the fox… they were all robots, gears and formed sheet metal held together with screws.
“Hmph!” sniffed the woman called Judith. “That’s not real. You haven’t lived until you’ve ridden the actual hunt on actual horses and dogs after an actual fox.”
One of the other women rolled her eyes and shook her head disapprovingly. “Yes, where there’s actual bloodshed when they kill the fox,” retorted her friend. “That sounds really civilized!”
Judith gave her friend a scornful look. “Shows how much you know, Mabel,” she sneered. “Most of the time the real fox gets away. Just because they’re real animals, doesn’t mean they’re dumb.”
“But if the fox gets away, what’s the point?” the third woman said. “Aren’t you supposed to catch the fox?”
“This is more humane,” Mabel insisted. “All the fun of a foxhunt with none of the bloodshed.”
Judith sniffed and shook her head. “With a fox that ‘dies’ every time because that’s what it’s programmed to do. No, give me a real foxhunt with real animals any day over that!”
The third woman shook her head in disapproval. “Judith, you’re barbaric!”
“Doesn’t matter,” Mabel said. “We’ll never have real horses here. And it’s better that way.”
“Better?” Judith retorted. “How could that possibly be better?”
“Just take a moment and think,” Mabel reasoned. “We can’t grow hay here or ship it. It would go moldy long before the transport arrived.”
“Horses are dangerous and they stink!” the third woman retorted, curling her lip in distaste. “And who’s gonna clean up the mess all those horses and dogs make? Not me!”
A Slice of Unkindness Page 7
