Hearts Out of Time

by Chris Lange

  They all stared at her, bafflement spreading on their faces. So great was her disillusionment, she couldn’t have cared less. What? Besides British-Lordy-Garrett, shouldn’t they all be patriots?

  She shook her head twice before walking to the door with dignity. Although flustered, she turned to Jake Cooper one last time. “You’re an officer of the United States of America, and you stand for justice and valor. You weren’t supposed to be that way. You cannot be that way.”

  Nobody attempted to stop her as she exited the carriage. Cautious with her steps while the train sped on toward Gold Run, she went to the gun room-laboratory, opened a window, and gulped for air. She felt flushed and downhearted, struggling with too much emotion in a single day and night.

  She wasn’t used to this kind of difficult life, being for the most part happy with an ordinary day at the gallery, a quiet evening painting in her workshop, and the occasional party. Not here though.

  Here, it was all about blood, killing, treachery, fear, and despair. She had a galling sensation of loneliness, hacked off with them all. Yet she wasn’t a glum, dispirited person, but more of a bouncing-back girl.

  She stayed in the room for a good half an hour, enjoying the wind in her hair, the sun on her face, the steady locomotion. When she felt reinvigorated and more or less peaceful, she figured it was about time to join the others.

  Glancing at the cages above the door on her way out, she tapped the wire netting lightly and made throaty, cooing sounds at the four pigeons. Although she’d never seen the point in keeping animals in cages, these birds seemed content enough, maybe because they got regular exercise and a measure of freedom, given their job. Who bred and trained them? Certainly not Jake Cooper.

  One bird squeaked, perched in an open cage, and watched her with big, round eyes. Carrier pigeons might not be as reliable as cell phones to carry information, but they were way more fun.

  Back in the parlor, Tracy found her traveling companions brooding on their own thoughts and avoiding each other. At least nobody was gouging somebody else’s eyes out. Good for them.

  The Drifter slowed down.

  Apart from Weedon, they all went to the windows, on the lookout for whatever was coming.

  Tracy followed them, praying not to witness another attack from the Old West. “Shit, what is it now?”

  A pistol already in her hand, Jessica craned her neck left and right over the men’s shoulders. “I’m not sure, Tracy. I don’t see anything.”

  Neither did she, even though she stood on tiptoes. Just dust billowing around, the wheels squealing a little as they reduced speed.

  When the train finally came to a halt, Jake backed away from the window. “It’s okay, ladies, I know this route. We’re at the Gold Run mines.”

  At last, they’d arrived at the terminus. What for? Clearly not much because nothing could be spotted there apart from vast, empty plains on one side, trees growing up a hill on the other side, and the metallic tracks running between them.

  No building, house, barn, shed, nothing. Not a soul in sight. Apprehension tightening her lungs, she flicked a shard of glass.

  “Guys, this can’t be the right place. There’s nothing here.” Tracy strained her eyes, still hunting for any manmade structure, and was about to give up when Garrett pointed out the hills.

  “I think it’s the right place. Look, the mines are over there.”

  Where? She hadn’t noticed them in spite of her squinting but she sure did now. About a thousand feet away, the hills seemed to have mouths.

  “Are we going into the mines?” Tracy asked. The mere thought of passing into oppressive, suffocating tunnels daunted her. She didn’t want to wind up trapped in there despite her concern regarding her dad.

  Garrett nodded, his tone bland as he cast her a glance. “Don’t let that idea trouble you. I recall with perfect clarity William telling me his complex was situated by the mines, not inside. Although . . .” He trailed off, crinkling his brow.

  A worried expression on her face, Jessica said, “Although we should be able to see it from here.”

  Could a whole complex just vanish without a trace?

  Weedon must have been wondering the same thing because he rubbed his chin while observing their surroundings. “Unless it’s on the other side of the hill.”

  Garrett grabbed a weapon belt, flipped back the lapels of his coat, and fastened the band around his hips. “Improbable. Finalizing the complex took years. It’s William’s greatest achievement and he wouldn’t have wasted time working in an unsuitable location. I think we ought to inspect this place. We may find a clue. I was to visit the complex with William. Now I wish it had been sooner.”

  The weapon belt gave him a gunslinger’s look. Tracy felt her insides vibrate as he grabbed a gun and holstered it.

  Jake checked his Colt, refilled his gun belt, grabbed a rifle, and made for the door. At the threshold, he turned back to them. “Let’s have a look around before nightfall. I’ll go check on the horses in case we need them, then I’ll catch up with you. I don’t mean to sound discouraging but I don’t think we’ll find much around here.”

  Seeing him act like the reliable and dedicated gunslinger he should have been was sort of painful. In spite of his roguish, attractive appearance, she wasn’t about to dismiss the insulting words he’d thrown at her.

  Weedon got up from the couch, grimacing, his arm obviously hurting more than he acknowledged.

  Jessica rolled her eyes and shook her head at him. “Shouldn’t you stay here?”

  “No, old girl, I’m coming with you.” Weedon cocked an eyebrow when she didn’t reply but reloaded her weapons instead and tucked the knife she used on the unlucky cowboy into her ankle boot. Then he flashed his best Weedon smile. “You won’t get rid of me that easily.”

  “I knew you’d say that,” Jessica said in a resigned voice.

  “I bet you did.”

  The vampire huntress grinned, revealing a depth to their friendship Tracy hadn’t noticed before.

  “Miss Richardson,” Garrett said, interrupting her thoughts, “stay beside me at all times. We do not want you wandering off by yourself. There are no white knights in the area.”

  His words dripped sarcasm but his eyes gleamed. Tracy couldn’t believe he was trying to tease her. Garrett making a joke, fancy that. Playing along, she answered like a rosy maiden, “As you wish, Mister Burnes.”

  He half-grinned, and her heart forgot to beat. His rare expressions of pleasure touched her like a shaft of sunlight in the gloom, a window of freedom in a padded cell.

  Not far from him, Jessica swung her last pistol into its holster. “All set. Let’s go.”

  They got off The Drifter single file, all but Jake, who had decided to stay with the horses.

  Weedon took cautious steps, keeping his wounded arm close to his chest.

  Did they have painkillers in this time? Tracy wondered. Stretching her legs felt good after hours cooped up in the cars, however luxurious they might be. Happy to be out, White Fur bounced in circles around them. As Jake rightly surmised, sunset wasn’t far away.

  They started walking toward the hill, the air cooling with the imminence of night, long shadows spreading their wings across the deserted landscape. This place had the exact right look for an alien invasion.

  They were halfway to the mine’s entrance when she heard a low buzzing, similar to a quiet alarm being triggered. What the heck? Alert, Tracy sensed the invisible barrier as soon as she touched it, and froze.

  Oh, Dad, what have you done?

  Before she could assess the threat, she heard a whooshing sound, sustained by the silence of the vast plains. The hissing was followed by ground-level, clanking noises.

  From where they stood near the foot of the hill, the ground suddenly seemed to f
all apart. To her pounding heart, it wasn’t so much falling apart as cleaving.

  Jessica seized Weedon’s good arm, turned tail, and pulled him along. “Run!”

  The two of them fled.

  Petrified as she watched the dry land in motion, Tracy nonetheless tried to make sense of the shifting and tilting. Man-size squares appeared to be lowering, as though cut out from the ground.

  Beside her, hackles rising, White Fur began to growl when the delimited shapes came back up. Except that they weren’t squares, but trap doors with four-footed, canine forms atop them.

  The whooshing sound ceased as soon as the trap doors locked into place.

  White Fur’s guttural rumbles heightened into vicious snarls at the sight of the threatening, dark forms poised to jump.

  Tracy held her breath, half expecting the whole freaking scene to freeze if she didn’t inhale. I’m not alive. She pretended as best she could, like a child playing dead to keep the monster from coming out of the closet. Unfortunately, this incredible show was real.

  They were hounds from Hell.

  Heavy, powerful, three-headed beasts securing the entrance. A dozen of them, the first line of four standing about a hundred feet from her. Much bigger than regular dogs and made of solid metal. Silent. Impervious to bullets or fangs. Lethal. Devoid of life. Unstoppable. Unkillable.

  Her mind racing with panic, she still saw the irony of it. Mythology being another of her father’s interests, he must have used the weird robotics he found here to protect and defend his territory. He probably fixed those robots, metallic embodiments of Cerberus guarding the gates of Hades.

  She might have marveled a long time at her dad’s juvenile, twisted mind, but the robots sprang to life. They leaped, predators rushing for their prey.

  Garrett grabbed her wrist, his fingers digging into her skin. They bolted for their lives, dashing from a death they had no chance to escape. She ran, a torrent of blood pumping in her veins, holding on to his hand, already knowing there was no way they’d make it.

  In spite of the urgency, she half-turned to make sure White Fur followed them. He didn’t. Gosh, what was he doing? Attempting a flanking attack similar to what he did in the wild?

  Her movement threw her off-balance. She tripped, collapsed, her own weight also taking Garrett down. They crashed on the ground, falling on each other. She didn’t feel any physical pain but the helplessness she read in his eyes wrenched her guts. An end-of-the-journey look.

  He knew they were doomed. As though fulfilling his last wish and following his heart at last, he cupped his hands round her face. “Don’t be scared.”

  He spoke ever so gently. Then his lips were on hers, a final shield before ringing the curtain down.

  She had no idea how long they stayed locked together. Garrett’s mouth on hers, their chests heaving from the hard run, their bodies tense from the hounds’ anticipated impact. Yet, no impact occurred.

  “Come on, you two. No need for such public displays.”

  Weedon’s voice came from very close by. And such a lively, hopeful voice it was.

  When Garrett lifted his head to glance up behind them, Tracy watched his features abruptly display bewildered awe.

  “Goodness gracious,” he said.

  What? What astonished him so much?

  As Jessica and Weedon helped her to regain her footing, she gasped at a sight out of this world, out of any world. As if caught in ice, the hellhounds appeared suspended.

  Some of them looked gripped in the act of running, but most had been leaping, now frozen in mid-air, hanging by an unseen force that was definitely not gravity. Great, three-headed beasts turned to stone a few feet above the ground. Her eyes riveted to the bulky, black robots giving the impression of flying, the unbelievable vision quickened her pulse.

  “By George!” Garrett exclaimed.

  “Awesome.” Although still in shock, she wondered if this non-moving phase was going to last a while. Would the hellhounds remain suspended forever or would they jump on them without warning and rip them to pieces?

  While Garrett stared, she glanced at the other two. “Who . . . What stopped them?”

  Obviously ignoring the pain from his wound, Weedon did a little cowboy dance, kicking dust around. “I did. No, please, ladies and gentlemen, don’t thank me. Saving your skin is a real honor.”

  “But how?” Tracy couldn’t believe their luck, or the man’s sudden enthusiasm as he concluded his private dance.

  “It’s magic. Wouldn’t I be a fantastic wizard?”

  Jessica slapped Weedon’s chest while beaming at him, her smile conveying her intense relief at being alive. “Weedon, you silly. You’re such a big fibber. Why don’t you show them? That would be more helpful.”

  “You’re spoiling my fun, you know, but your wish is my command, lady huntress. Here we go.” He opened his hand with a wink and a flamboyant “Abracadabra!”

  They peered at a small, metallic whistle, as black as the hellhounds.

  He kept his hand steady while his tone sent shivers down her spine.

  “Tracy,” he said, “your father gave it to me not long ago. He said I’d know when to use it, and he was right. Human ears don’t hear a thing, nor do White Fur’s. But today, it was much more effective.”

  One of her dad’s gadgets? Effective and totally amazing.

  Jessica giggled, tiny lines of happiness crinkling the corners of her eyes. “You should have seen him running and blowing on that whistle. I thought his lungs would burst.”

  Garrett shook Weedon’s hand before dusting the sleeves of his coat. “I am glad they didn’t. We owe you our lives, my dear friend, and I am at a loss of words to express the depth of my gratitude.”

  Careful of his injury, Tracy flung her arms round Weedon while she caught the attention of Jessica. “Thank you so much. I really appreciate what you did, and you too, Jess. Riding, shooting, kicking, and all that. I was astounded. You’re an amazing fighter and you’re way cool. Gosh, I wish I could be like you.”

  “Thanks, Tracy, but I’m just doing my best.”

  Jessica blushed from the compliment as she released Weedon, who chuckled at the vampire huntress’s rosy cheeks. “Okay, girls, let’s not get too emotional, shall we? So now that the matter of the damn ugly robots is settled, what are we supposed to do?”

  Garrett took a step forward, hands on his hips. He smoothed his jacket and indicated with a tilt of his head the frozen hellhounds. “Odd as it may sound, I don’t believe this place to be an entrance of some sort. Our only protection remains the train. However, should those creatures strike anew, I fear our transportation system may not withstand a full assault.”

  “Good grief!” Jake’s bellow came from the train where he waited for their return. His surprised shout caused them all to turn toward him.

  He stood at the foot of the steps, rifle in hand, at last heeding the soaring Hell figures, his face reflecting both astonishment and unease. How did he miss them until now? What had he been doing in the train this whole time?

  When they neared the train, Jake’s gaze seemed lost into a faraway land. “Hell and night must bring this monstrous birth to the world’s light.”

  Tracy wrinkled her brow. The gunslinger quoted Shakespeare now. What would come next? A little sing-song? A lap dance? A Sphinx’s riddle?

  A troubling notion burned her like a flash of lightning, as if embedded in her mind. What was it about a riddle that set her brain in rolling motion?

  Unease crept up her bones.

  Without reason, her limbs seemed to weigh a ton and dread slithered down her marrow.

  Chapter 12

  Why did Jake’s reaction affect her like this? Tracy struggled to bring the idea to the surface, but the more she considered it, the less she was able to
pinpoint the source of her distress. She strove to gather her wits but the elusive thought nagged at her before retreating into a deep corner, then nagging and retreating again.

  If only she could grasp it.

  Jake, Jessica, and Weedon congregated on the train, but she stayed back to place a restraining hand on Garrett’s arm. He looked at her questioningly as she raised herself on her toes to murmur in his ear, “We have to go through the robots. Now.”

  She looked over at the hellhounds, wishing she were anywhere but here.

  He whispered, “Nightfall is on us. Why would you—”

  “You know me. I’m an unreasonable, unreliable, reckless, spoiled brat. Please, Garrett, I just know we have to go.” Her interruption sounded like a tease, but she also didn’t want to hear whatever rational excuses he’d come up with.

  “All right. I’ll call—”

  “Don’t.” She loved the way he quirked an eyebrow while she fretted beside him and squeezed his arm tighter. “He’s your friend and I’m sorry to say this but I don’t trust Jake. This time, it’s just you and me.”

  For once, Garrett didn’t look at all piqued. He nodded, and her skin tingled at the way his lips curved into a dash of a smile.

  “I see. So, am I supposed to trust you on this matter?”

  “I’m positive there’s a way in.”

  “Then by all means.” Garrett motioned her toward the hellhounds, staying close by her side.

  Shadows lengthened, darkness rose. The further they went on, nearing the robots, the more she widened her eyes.

  Her father’s accomplishments appeared far more spectacular than anyone could have imagined, although a bit on the terrifying side. Had she been aware of his projects, her mom would have been proud of him.