The Inexplicables (Clockwork Century)

by Cherie Priest

  “The hole.”

  “You want to set … the hole … on fire?”

  “Not right now … but later. You’ll see … what I mean…”

  They stashed the diesel fuel behind a stack of stones that had been blown off the wall. They hid it with a few extras, and now that they were away from the park and the tower, they rested. Houjin marked the spot with a small pyramid of rocks.

  “What’s that for?”

  “So we can find it later, or tell other people how to find it. Come on, let’s get back to the Station and hand off this dynamite. I don’t think the Doornails will take too kindly to us stashing it down in their living quarters, but Yaozu has places he can keep it.”

  Twenty-five

  Rest didn’t come easy for anyone that night. More than a few people stayed up and worried, or went out to the Station hunting for news. And the men who worked out at the Station—most of them known for violence and a disinclination to be friendly—chatted nervously with the Doornails and Chinamen alike about where they’d found the dynamite and how much damage it might’ve done, had they not unhooked it and stashed it someplace safer.

  They replaced everything they found with forgeries made out of pebbles wrapped in paper. These false sticks wouldn’t fool anyone on close inspection, but Yaozu didn’t think the tower men were likely to double-check them. After all, he’d given the order that the lines must be left in place—and the lines were long, some running as much as four or five blocks in length.

  Everyone was counting on the fact that the tower men did not intend to come any closer to the Station than necessary.

  Rector’s sleep in his new room was as restless as everyone else’s; he tossed and turned, and dreamed badly—of rotters and inexplicable monsters, and of Zeke’s ghost—but Zeke wasn’t dead, and that’s how he knew he was dreaming. He shook himself awake and heard the high-pitched fuss of the fox in the room down the hall … which wasn’t much more pleasant than the dreams of things that wanted to eat him.

  But he was awake, and there was nothing to be done about it.

  He pulled on his boots and listened to the unhappy creature until it quieted, and its vocalizations were replaced with the soft, muttering syllables of someone speaking gently.

  Rector knew it was Zeke even before he got down to the fox’s room.

  The door was cracked open. He pushed it, letting a little more light inside.

  Zeke crouched next to the cage, his fingers precariously close to the fox’s quivering, pointed nose. The boy looked up when Rector entered. “Oh, hey Rector. Just checking on the fox. Angeline told me he was down here.”

  “Making plenty of noise, ain’t he?” Rector rubbed at his eyes, and scratched at the sweaty, itchy seams where his mask had sat against his face for too many hours.

  “He’s scared. And he doesn’t feel good.”

  “He drank the water. That’ll make anybody feel like shit.”

  Zeke nodded and said, “I brought him more, though, and he drank that, too.”

  “You get him to eat anything?”

  “Some jerky.” He held it up, and Rector saw that he’d been hand-feeding the fox through the slim wire bars.

  “You got to be careful. If that fox bites you…”

  “He’s not trying to bite me, he’s only trying to eat. I think he’ll get better, if he gets enough grub in him.” Zeke gazed at the fox as though he’d give almost anything to pet the thing’s ears.

  “Don’t be a dummy,” Rector warned. “That fox ain’t nobody’s dog. It’d bite you even if it weren’t sick. That there’s a wild animal, and if it gets better, it’s going right back outside the wall, where it belongs.”

  “That’s fine. I don’t mind turning him loose; I just don’t want him to be so damn sick. I feel sorry for him, is all.”

  Rector sat down beside Zeke and drew up his knees. “I’d feel sorry for you, if we had to cut off your hand or something.”

  Zeke smiled, but didn’t withdraw his fingers or the jerky he offered the fox. The animal took another bite, chewed it, and then retreated to the cage’s far end. It turned in a circle and flopped down, looking dejected … but maybe less dejected than it had the day before.

  “You couldn’t sleep either?” Zeke asked.

  “I been asleep. I just woke up.”

  “Everybody’s riled up. All this talk of dynamite and fire … the Station is going to war with the tower. Only the tower don’t know it yet.”

  “I hope they don’t know it,” Rector said nervously.

  “What do you mean by that?”

  He told Zeke about the inexplicable and Captain Cly, and how he and Houjin had almost been caught. He added, “I can’t imagine they knew who we were, or what we were doing. They might’ve noticed we opened some of the dynamite and took a bit, but there’s always the chance they’ll write it off to boys being boys.”

  “Ain’t that just about the dumbest expression? Boys being boys … what the hell else are we supposed to be?”

  “Damned if I know.”

  “Me either.”

  They sat together in silence for a minute, staring at the pitiful fox, then Zeke said, “I been thinking. Even if we catch the inexplicable and stick him in the jail, how will we give him clean air? If Captain Cly can’t take him, then the thing’s too big to wrestle. And I don’t think he would understand if we held a gun to him.”

  “Miss Angeline seems to think we’ll manage.”

  “I know, and she’s usually right. But the spaces under the jailhouse aren’t sealed; the sasquatch wouldn’t get enough clean air like that. He’s not like this little fox. We can’t just put him in a crate and stick him in a corner.”

  “Then what did you have in mind?”

  “Well, I was thinking, see: How do we get clean air when we’re moving around up topside?”

  Rector said, “Masks. Filters. All that rigmarole.”

  “Right. So what if we put a mask on the monster?”

  Rector leaned back thoughtfully against the wall. “How do you know he’d wear one? He could yank it off.”

  “Not if we tied up his hands, or something. If there are any irons left in the jail, and they aren’t all rusted through, maybe we could hitch him up like a crook.”

  “Sounds tricky.”

  “Yeah, but it’d be easier than convincing him to come with us just because we’re nice people who want to help him. If we can get him to the jail and get him food and water, maybe he’d settle down enough to trust us.”

  “That kind of thing don’t happen.”

  “It don’t?” Zeke pointed at the fox. “That fox is scared to death, but it knows I don’t mean it no harm. If the inexplicables are something more like people, they must be even smarter. Even if he doesn’t understand us, he might understand we’re on his side.”

  “All that sounds real nice, but I’d be afraid to see it in action. And anyway, where would we get a mask big enough to fit him?”

  “The captain has a big head, but he’s got a mask to fit it. So does Mr. Swakhammer.”

  “You want to ask him for a loaner, to stick on a monster?”

  “No, I’m just saying—there are big masks. I saw a fellow wearing one once. It was like a big glass bubble with a row of small filters and tubes instead of two big filters. I think it’d fit over the inexplicable’s head.”

  Rector tried to imagine this mask, and failed. “I have to see this thing.”

  When they left the fox it was resting. They shut the door to let it sleep off whatever it could, then went hunting for the big glass bubble Zeke swore existed someplace. It took them over an hour to find it, in the very back of the second largest storeroom on the bottommost floor. When they did, Zeke held it triumphantly aloft.

  Rector could hardly believe his eyes. “That’s the damnedest thing I ever saw!” he exclaimed. “Who made it?”

  “Doctor Minnericht. It’s a good idea—a mask that you can see out of all the way around. It reminds me of someth
ing I saw in a book once, a drawing about people who go underwater and swim around without coming up for air.”

  Rector had never seen such a book. “People can do that?”

  “I don’t know. It might’ve just been a story.”

  “Let me see that thing.”

  Zeke handed it over. “Sure, but be careful with it. That’s the only one. But you saw the monster—I mean, the inexplicable. Do you think this would fit over his head?”

  Rector weighed the thing in his hands. It was heavy indeed—heavier than it looked, and big enough to hold a few gallons of water. “I think so, yeah.”

  “Then we should try it. Let’s take it to Angeline, when she gets up and around.”

  “What time is it right now?”

  “No idea. Maybe a smidge before dawn.”

  Rector yawned. “No wonder I’m so tired.”

  “Should’ve stayed in bed.”

  “So should you,” he shot back.

  “Well, neither one of us did—so let’s go to the kitchen and get some breakfast. Then we’ll see what Angeline has to say about the mask idea, and she can tell us if she thinks we’re crazy.”

  Twenty-six

  Angeline did not think they were particularly crazy. In fact, when they caught up to her and Houjin in the Vault’s main parlor area, she rather liked the idea. “It’ll be easier to put a hat on ’im than haul him anyplace civilized for safekeeping, won’t it? Of course, this won’t make it any easier to catch him.”

  “No, that part will be up to us,” Houjin said. He was holding the mask and examining it, no doubt thinking of ways it could be improved. “If only we knew what he wanted, we could lure him out—maybe get him to chase us.”

  Rector shuddered. “I hate everything about that plan.”

  “Food,” Zeke proposed. “Water. That’s all the fox wants, as far as we can tell. It ain’t even trying to bite us or nothing.”

  “It’s a start,” the princess mused. “But running through the Blight carrying a bucket of water … that plan won’t end well. Food will be easier.”

  “What do they eat?” Rector asked.

  Houjin smirked. “He tried to eat you.”

  “I bet I’m delicious. But I don’t want to be monster bait.”

  “Not a monster,” she reminded them. “Call him by his name, Sasquatch. Is that so hard?”

  Rector said, “No, ma’am,” and Zeke shrugged.

  Angeline shook her head. “I’m still thinking about food. Just about everything native to this place lives on the same diet, if it’ll eat plants and animals both. Let’s assume Sasquatch is that kind of creature.”

  Rector frowned. “Why?”

  “Because it’s shaped like us, and kin to us, and we’re the sort of creatures who eat both plants and animals. Which gives me a good idea … You boys stay out of trouble for the morning. I’ll be back in a bit.”

  “Wait … where are you going?” Houjin asked.

  “Fishing!”

  With that abrupt shift in plan, she took off. After she was far enough gone that there was no chance she’d overhear, Houjin leaned forward conspiratorially to ask, “Say, what are you two doing for the rest of the day?”

  Rector shrugged and Zeke said, “I was going to go up to Fort Decatur in case the captain needs anything. Why? You got something fun in mind?”

  A thrilled—but in Rector’s opinion, unnervingly sharp—grin spread across Houjin’s face. “Do you want to come with me to the Station and see what I’ve been doing? I’ll show you what I’m making to fight the men at the tower.”

  “Why are you working all the way out there?” Zeke asked.

  “You wouldn’t want me fiddling with dynamite around here, would you? And before you say it: Yes, I know your mother doesn’t want you there, Zeke. But Yaozu won’t bother you if you don’t bother him. He’s got too much else to worry about right now.” Houjin looked at Rector, using his eyebrows to ask for backup.

  Rector got it and said, “Sure, and I won’t rat you out. Come with us, won’t you, Zeke? Let’s get a gander at Houjin’s toys. It beats hanging around watching the captain moon over your momma, don’t it?”

  He winced. “Figured that out, did you?”

  Rector laughed. “I ain’t dumb or half blind, you know.”

  “Fine, all right. I’ll go with you. But if I’m going to risk getting hollered at, Huey, this had better be good.”

  Leaving the mask behind for now, they hiked together out to King Street Station, taking the underground passages rather than the overland route. Rector found that he preferred the trip to the Station over the trip elsewhere in the underground, because it was almost entirely downhill. Sure, it meant he’d be going uphill on the return trip, but as a destination, it was easier than heading up to that damn park.

  Near the Station’s edge, they reached a fork in the tunnels.

  “This way,” Houjin said. “I want to show you something.”

  Upon reaching a sealed door, he pulled out the lever and gave it a tug. The door squeaked, and the rubber flaps surrounding its edges protested. They dragged it along the ground with a scraping, sucking noise. On the other side of that door, a second sealed door waited.

  Zeke explained, “Two doors between you and the outside air. That’s the rule, if you can make it.”

  Rector checked the polarized glass Huey’d given him. “But the air’s pretty clear, according to this.”

  “Yes,” Houjin said as he reached for the second door’s handle. “But it hasn’t always been. This part collapsed about five years ago. The place we’re going … it wasn’t always underground.” He drew back the second door. Its seals complained, too, but it slid along the ground and made way for the three boys to pass.

  Beyond it, Rector found himself confused.

  He wasn’t inside a room, or underneath a floor or cellar. He was standing in a beautiful train car. Curtains covered the windows, and the plush seats were clean, plump, and ready to be sat upon. Small tables were installed between two of the rows, allowing people to face one another and chat or play cards.

  Zeke pulled back one of the curtains, revealing a view of nothing at all—except, Rector realized, a wall of dirt. “It’s a shame, ain’t it?” the younger boy said.

  “A shame, I guess. It’s real nice in here. Feels like … like…”

  “It’s a Pullman car,” Houjin supplied. “One of the fanciest they ever made. The gold leaf is real, and so are the crystals. Leaded glass, all over the place. And look at the carpet!”

  Rector gazed down at his feet. His boots suddenly seemed insufficient to stand upon the rug. It was Persian in design, blue with gold vines and tiny orange flowers. Instinctively, he stepped off to the side, not wanting to rub the wet dirt of the underground into the lovely pattern.

  Zeke laughed, and Rector told him to shut his mouth. But he said, “Naw, I’m not laughing at you—I’m just laughing. Everybody does that, is all. This is one of the prettiest places in the city, this little car right here, and even the rough old Station men don’t want to bother it any.”

  “Sometimes Yaozu comes here and smokes,” Houjin said quietly, like he was passing on a secret. “I heard he makes the chemists come in here and clean it, keep it all dusted and shiny.”

  Zeke gave Rector a nudge. “Anyway, come on. We can’t work in here. Yaozu would throw a hissy fit if we smudged one of the brass fixings, or anything like that. Huey, are we headed for your workshop?”

  “Yes!”

  “You have a workshop?” Rector stepped back onto the carpet because he had no choice, but he tiptoed gently to keep from smushing it.

  “I have a place I work when Yaozu wants something.”

  Rector followed behind as Houjin opened the other door at the train car’s far end. Stepping out and through this door, he found himself back in an ordinary-looking tunnel, braced with the usual miner’s rafters and affixed with dirty lamps to light the way. “So the captain don’t mind you hanging out down here?
”

  “I don’t think he likes it, but he doesn’t try to stop me.”

  “Could he?” Rector pushed. Was Houjin secretly a Station man waiting to happen? It was an interesting thought.

  He took one of the lanterns off its hook. Without turning around, he said, “I don’t know. Maybe. If he said I couldn’t fly with him anymore, I’d have to think about it. Maybe I want to live down here forever, and maybe I don’t, but I like having options. And so far, any time Yaozu has asked me to do something for him, it’s always something that’ll help the city out, so the captain doesn’t care enough to make a fuss about it.”

  Rector followed along in silence until he passed a fallen overhang that had collapsed under the weight of rocks and tree roots.

  Houjin saw him looking at it. “That used to be one of the waiting platforms. Part of the wall fell down on it, during a quake. And the back yards where the tracks go are mostly buried now, unless somebody cut tunnels through them.”

  “Like that car back there?”

  Zeke said, “Yeah. But I haven’t seen too much of the back lots.”

  “Because you’re not allowed down here,” Rector recalled.

  “My mother doesn’t like it when I come down here. That’s not the same thing.”

  “Close enough. You said so yourself, the other day.”

  “Well I’m here now, ain’t I?”

  “Must be feeling mighty brave.”

  Zeke sniffed and stood up straighter as he tagged along behind them. “I just want to see what Huey’s working on, that’s all.”

  “So you’ve got a story all lined up for when your ma finds out you was here.”

  “You already said you wouldn’t tell her, and I know Huey won’t. So I’m thinking she won’t find out.”

  Houjin led them deeper, down through an entrance that took them inside the train station proper—Rector knew it because he recognized the pretty marbled floors and the tiles that were set into the walls for decoration. There were runner rugs down here, too, but they looked worn and sad compared to the tapestries in the old train car.