Steamside Chronicles

by Ciar Cullen

  I leaned back on the pillows and let the whirling in my brain settle. I could go listen to my ancestor give an Egyptology lecture. Was it wise? Would it matter? Should I shoot him and see if I disappeared?

  “Screw, I don’t hate you for this.” He winced again and I sighed and folded the paper.

  “But wait, there’s more!” He laughed nervously.

  I didn’t join him, but folded my arms, waiting as patiently as I could for him to find his nerve.

  “Jack.” He looked into my eyes, his own narrowed in anguish, a deep furrow between his brows. “The Ra Society meets in secret. The members hide their identity better than CIA operatives. I don’t know if it’s safe for you and Claudin to be together in the same place, but it’s your choice.”

  “What the fuck are you talking about?”

  “It’s a major Twenty-Eight moment. I don’t think you’ll disappear, but I’m still worried for you. And I can’t let him see me.”

  “You can’t let him see you. You know my great-great-whatever, and he knows you.”

  “Right.”

  Screw paced the short length of my room. He rolled and lit a cigarette; I waited as patiently as I could before strangling it out of him. My friend had secrets far deeper than being adopted and doing time in the big house. My friend. Was he? His hand shook a bit as he took a deep drag and leaned against the wall.

  “I always pictured this moment differently.” He turned and faced me. “I can’t lose you, Jack. You’ve kept me sane.”

  “Dude, seriously, that look isn’t going to work on me. I’m not one of your groupies. Spit it out.”

  “I’m a former member of Ra. I’ve been in 1890 longer than you, longer than all of you.”

  “Jesus.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Go ahead.” I don’t know if I was more angry, hurt, or curious.

  “The good news is that there are only about ten of them, Jack.”

  “Them? Aren’t you one of them?”

  He shook his head. “I quit. Didn’t like their agenda.”

  I motioned for him to pick up the pace. He nodded and squatted against the wall.

  “Just like you, I ended up in Normal. I just never told you. It was like heaven when I found you and Petti.”

  “So you were alone and it was bad. Got it. Explain this Ra group.”

  “They shred—they call it trip—through space, and they mess with events, for gain. Money and power.”

  “How? They don’t come Steamside. Where do they go?”

  “Pretty much anywhere they like. Cleopatra’s Needle really is a vortex. Petti’s right. The Society members go everywhere, anytime they want. You could too, with the knowledge they have.”

  “Which you will immediately give me.” I now knew what high blood pressure feels like. My cheeks were on fire, the blood pounded in my ears. All this freaking time, and we could have left New York without a horse, train, or ship, without cowering behind our stupid Wall and playing a video game with our own nightmares.

  “No, you don’t get it. They’re really from 1890, and still stuck in 1890. We’re the only ones from the future. They’re society types—antiquity freaks—who stumbled upon the secret of the obelisk. They skip around, playing beat the archaeologists to discover treasure and massage their self-image as masters of the universe.”

  “Wait!” I took a gulp of whiskey and rubbed at my aching head. “Just give me a second.”

  People say ‘I need a drink’ all the time, and don’t mean it. I wanted something stronger. I wanted juice, which was locked up in my cabinet a foot away, but the desire appalled me.

  Screw stood and paced again. “Have you caught up yet?”

  “No, I haven’t fucking caught up yet. Why should I believe anything you’ve told me?” I thought about everything I’d shared with my best friend. How much had been real? I didn’t know a guy could get his heart broken by another guy—well, not a straight guy.

  “That’s it, I promise. Not that my promises are going to mean much after today. I’m the only Modern Ra member.”

  “So my ancestor is one of these Ra loonies, and goes flitting around the world to steal artifacts and God knows what else.”

  “Right.”

  “And about ten of them know how to do this, using the Obelisk.”

  “Right.” Screw almost added a question mark to his response.

  “Do you know if the Obelisk vortex whatever sucked us here?”

  “It’s likely. Ra knows how to use the vortexes—there are more than that one—to move spatially, but not temporally. But one thing is for sure—there weren’t anachros until Fenwick came along. I think because we’re from the future, we’re causing the living dreams. But Fen, her very thoughts bring damnation.”

  “Do you think we can figure out how to make it do time as well as space?”

  “I don’t think we can dial up a date on it, if that’s what you mean. As far as I know, Fen is the only one to have skipped through time—and that was more like a dream, right?”

  Did I trust Screw? Did it matter? “Fen went back to Modern again. I don’t think it’s a dream.”

  Screw whistled through his teeth. “She didn’t stay?”

  “It was the same scene. Worse. They were putting her into an ambulance. And she said…” She said she came back for me… “Never mind.”

  “I see. She should probably avoid the lecture as well.”

  “Seriously? You know Percy Fenwick?”

  “Pretty well, actually.”

  “Holy shit.”

  Screw fumbled with his pocket watch. I thought he might tear up. “It probably won’t matter to you, but try to put yourself in my place. You were all I had, the only thing keeping me sane. I was afraid of what you’d do if you knew. I didn’t want to involve you with Ra. They’re dangerous, Jack. I mean, shoot you while you sleep dangerous.”

  Screw sat near me on the bed and seemed to want to comfort me, but couldn’t find a physical way to do so that wouldn’t make me more uncomfortable. “I think we need to figure out what old Percy and Claudin have been up to in Egypt.”

  “Not that mummy curse stuff again?”

  Screw shrugged. “Dude, I saw a six foot tall rabbit last night hopping around Steamside. If you hadn’t noticed, you’re not in Louisiana anymore.”

  “Where’s the good witch when you need her?”

  “I think she’s back in my room. Unless, of course, she’s actually the bad witch and the cause of all this.”

  Barber brought dinner for us, and the three of us ate with a minimum of conversation. When I fell off to sleep, with my friends still in my quarters, it was to the sound of shots off the Wall. Yeah, Fen was a great shot. I’d be better in the morning, I promised myself.

  * * *

  I walked up and down the “street” of Steamside, hoping I’d hear his voice, or the sputter of his velocipede. Percy trotted alongside me, like a dog, which was kind of freaky, but I was happy for the company.

  Steamside was quiet, as if it were up to something. Like shimmering into nothingness. I breathed easier when a band of Dodgers, a few hauling burlap bags, rounded the corner from Normal. Calliope smiled in her pretty little way, and in my lovelorn state, I fancied that she looked sly. Perhaps Jack hooked up with her to get back at me?

  No. She called me over with a wave and slipped something into my hand. “Don’t tell anyone. This will go great with your blue dress.”

  “They’re all blue.”

  “No, your Punk dress.”

  A cool beetle pin with wings that moved and looked almost mechanical. “Hey, thanks. It will look good.”

  “Catch you later.”

  Huh. That wasn’t the evil Calliope of my fantasy.

  Petti fell into step with me so quietly I jumped when I noticed her.

  “Miss Fenwick.”

  “Miss Pettigrew.”

  “Out for a constitutional with the cat, I see. Must walk the cat at least twice a day.”

&nbs
p; “I don’t get it either, but he follows me.” I shrugged. It was the least of my worries. Petti bent over, plucked Percy from the ground, and carried him like a baby.

  “Steamside seemed quiet up until a few minutes ago. Made me a little…”

  “Queasy?”

  “Yes! God, Petti, you get everything.”

  “It’s called anxiety, Fenwick. You’re in love and it’s making you insane. You’re looking for my brother and wondering why he won’t come for you. You’re trying to convince yourself it would be a good idea to go to him. Then in a split second, you’re terrified to face him. He’s pouting. My guess is that he’ll do so for a long time. I mean, weeks. And that you may have lost him forever.”

  My legs went to jelly. God, it’s what I thought, but you look to other women to say things like “I’m sure he’ll call,” or “He must be tied up at work,” or “He doesn’t want to appear too eager.” It’s part of the female code. And then when he never calls, you discuss all the reasons he’s an ass and you’re better off.

  “Why don’t you tell me what you actually think? Damn.” I picked up a pebble and threw it at a rat scurrying across the street.

  “You can hit a target at a hundred yards with a pistol but you can’t hit a rat at fifteen feet with a stone?”

  “Good, sweet. You came out to taunt me today. I’ll have my cat back, if you don’t mind.” I grabbed Percy and he looked at me suspiciously. “Oh, I won’t hurt you, Percy.”

  “Jack’s going to Normal with Screw. An Egyptology lecture at the Met at four. I suggest you spend whatever time necessary to make yourself stunning and go with me.”

  “Won’t he be pissed if I show up?”

  “That’s your problem. Fix it. As much as I hate seeing him gush, he doesn’t do somber well. It’s the lesser of two evils. Besides, I want another crack at old Cleo’s needle, and I can’t go alone. Someone has to be a lookout for the stiff with the Billy club. You’re nominated.”

  “Why aren’t you going with the boys?”

  “You have a problem with authority, Fenwick. I trust you realize that? Have you ever just gone with the flow, even for one day?”

  I thought the question a bit unfair, given we lived in an alternate dimension, but she had a point. If I went with the flow, where would it take me? To Jack’s door.

  “You need me along because Jack told you not to go. I got it.”

  “Splendid.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  She bathed with roses red, and violets blue,

  And all the sweetest flowers, that in the forest grew.

  I was back in Heathcliff mode, as Petti would say. You know those moments when you wake up and remember? That someone has died, or someone has broken your freaking heart. God, I hate that feeling. I tried to snap out of it before Petti could catch me feeling sorry for myself.

  A night’s fitful sleep hadn’t diminished my anger at Fen, nor my obsessive rehearsing of every moment we’d spent together, every word exchanged, every touch.

  The sight of her standing in my doorway, looking beautiful, softened the pain a bit. I armored myself by putting on the Man face as I fastened my shirt collar.

  “What can I do for you, Miss Fenwick?” I blocked the doorway, but she ducked under my arm and scurried past me.

  “I’m going with the flow.”

  “Good for you. What the hell does that mean? And why did Barber let you in here?”

  “I asked him to.”

  “Great bodyguard. I suppose you aren’t here to kill me, though. May I assume that?”

  “Yes.” She sat in my armchair and stared at me, head tilted to one side. “At least for the time being.”

  I ignored her. As long as I could. “That dress is not quite blue.”

  “It’s periwinkle, and it’s blue.”

  “When I ordered you to wear blue, I meant real blue. Not faux blue.”

  “Periwinkle is not faux blue. It’s called periwinkle blue, which makes it a blue. I’m requesting a change to another color. How about green? Is there a form I must fill out? Will you sign a form for a transfer to green? Or would that be a code violation?”

  I glanced at her, praying she wouldn’t ask about the whole color thing. It was one of my lame attempts early on to achieve authority, and I’d stuck with it. Of course, Fenwick would be the first to ever rebel. Our tryst put us on equal footing, and I’d have to work at getting back on track. Problem was, I couldn’t think of much to do that. She was my equal in every way, and we both knew it.

  “I don’t think I’d like you in green.”

  “Well, you sure as hell don’t like me in blue! And you don’t like me naked, either.”

  “You don’t think that. You’re on a fishing expedition, and I’m not biting.”

  “Fine.”

  “Fine.”

  Fen stood to leave, and the air left my lungs. So I’d let her go, and that would be it? She hesitated at the door.

  “This is where you tell me not to leave,” she said, without turning around to look at me.

  “I think this is where you tell me what you’re doing here in the first place. In periwinkle.”

  Her shoulders dropped and she faced me. “When I told you to act like you’re in charge, I meant something else. I meant I’m falling in love with you, and I want to protect myself, in case you don’t feel that way. I didn’t want you to think I’d interfere with your work. That I’d be a good girlfriend or whatever. In other words, I’m here to apologize, in periwinkle. Which is, in fact, a blue.”

  My brain and heart were out of sync. I forced myself to pour a bit of Fitch’s tonic in my palm and run it through my hair, to take time to go through her words. To make sure she’d said it. Yep, she had.

  I could pout some more, which didn’t make much sense because I was thrilled. Instead, I ran the comb through my hair and turned to her for approval. “Okay?”

  “You’re handsome. You’re always handsome.”

  “I take it you’re going to the lecture with us?”

  “Petti asked me. Is that okay?”

  “Would you instead allow me to be your escort? It seems only proper, as we are sweethearts.”

  For the first time, I enjoyed watching a tear drift down Fen’s cheek. She wiped it away with her gloved hand; I withdrew a handkerchief from my pocket and offered it to her.

  “What time is the lecture,” she sniffed out through my handkerchief.

  “I thought about it too, sugar. Rain check? My room, tonight? And every night after that?”

  “Whoa, pretty sure you didn’t mean that the way it sounded. Every night goes on for a long time.”

  “Time’s relative for us, isn’t it?” My God, I think I’d meant what I’d said. I skipped the makeup kiss and finished dressing. Fen might have been disappointed, but I worried she’d recognize love in a kiss. Women are funny that way.

  But I was such a goner that I actually forgot to tell her Percival Fenwick was alive, well, living in New York, and part of a secret society that tripped through time. And that she was likely to see him in an hour or so.

  Petti got her event. The Met painting room overflowed with society types feigning interest in the speaker, and scholars ignoring the society types. My ancestor could draw a crowd, I thought with a mixed sense of pride and wonder. We didn’t have a clue how we’d get a word with the great archaeologist in the throng.

  Screw paced at the back of the hall, pulling out his pocket watch, eying the crowd.

  “Corwin, won’t you join us closer to the dais?”

  “Thanks, no, Pettigrew. It’s stifling in here, my good man.”

  “Indeed. Any sign of the Society members?”

  He leaned in and removed his monocle. I waited for his whisper, but without saying a word, he nodded toward Claudin Pettigrew as he acknowledged the applauding crowd.

  In each of my cells, a fraction of this man’s DNA matched mine. He checked his pocket watch and from it dangled a scarab. I reached into my own poc
ket and felt the same scarab. The Original Series, 28, for real.

  I sidled between the women and put my hand under Petti’s elbow. “Don’t leave my side. I’ll explain later.” She nodded without looking up, forever trusting of me. Fen glanced at me and indicated Claudin with a quick movement of her eyes. I patted her hand and she stiffened.

  “Will it be all right?” she whispered. “Don’t disappear on me or anything.”

  We concentrated on the lecture, which astounded the audience and bored me to death. Where were the slides, the 3D animation of the tombs he described? Claudin brandished a few pieces of pottery and droned on in his heavy French accent about a new chronological sequence for the Old Kingdom, whatever that was.

  Fen reached for my hand and squeezed it when he mentioned his young assistant, Howard Carter. “Tut,” she whispered.

  I leaned in, and caught a whiff of lavender. “Tut what?”

  “He’s going to find King Tut in a few years,” she muttered between clenched teeth.

  “Jolly for him.”

  When Claudin finished, his fans rushed him like he was a rock star. “Let’s go,” I told the women.

  Fenwick pulled at my sleeve and indicated a tall man standing a few yards from us. She looked up at me, her blue eyes asking what she dared not speak. I don’t know how or why she recognized Percival Fenwick, but I understood the feeling of vertigo, of wrongness. I nodded and squeezed her hand, leaned in and whispered to her that I loved her. I didn’t tell her it would all work out, because I’d stopped believing that the day I saw the Hindenburg.

  Screw whispered, “Let’s go home,” and I trusted his gut instinct that nothing good would come of hanging out with little bits of ourselves.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Rallying the troops.

  Steamside whispered.

  Just days earlier, Steamside partied, rolled with laughter and music, echoed the clank of the pinball levers on Jack’s birthday present, and the happy songs from Fatty’s piano. This afternoon, the Punks spoke in hushed tones and went about their chores in a somber manner. If they gossiped, and they did, they did so behind closed doors.