The City Revolts: Age Of Madness - A Kurtherian Gambit Series (The Caitlin Chronicles Book 4)

by Daniel Willcocks

  Caitlin sighed. “I don’t know. I’ve never had that happen to me before. There’s something there that makes my heart flutter—do you know what I mean? Something that fogged my mind and made it harder to focus.”

  “You know that’s okay, right? Everyone has feelings. Everyone submits to them sometimes.” Izzy glanced around quickly to make sure no one was listening. “You should know that from our little escapade the other night.”

  Caitlin’s face creased in deep thought. She was silent for a moment as she tried to recapture the two events. She had felt trapped in the enclosed space with Izzy and electricity had fired there. When she watched Triston move in battle, she’d sensed his power, prowess, and skill. In Silver Creek, she had never felt anything close to the response he had triggered, and she had to admit, she wasn’t sure she liked it at all.

  She closed her eyes and tried to remember what it was all for. Her thoughts reminded her of the people she had liberated at New Leaf and those she had protected from the Firestarters in Ashdale Pond. She recalled the feeling of triumph as she looked around the happy faces of the people who thought the world had grown small and dangerous, unaware that life could be something more. They were all people like her who wanted nothing more than to be able to walk out of their front doors without fear of the Mad or some manic dictator’s regime.

  That was why she was there.

  Well, that, and to make sure her Were friend stayed alive and kept himself out of trouble.

  Caitlin took a deep breath and cleared her mind.

  “No. It’s not okay,” she said. “What happened the other night was nothing more than weakness. As was today. It’s a weakness I can’t afford. Not until the world is safe once more and the Madness is gone. I’m sorry. It was a mistake.”

  She moved ahead and clicked for Jaxon to join her. The dog pulled his nose out of the rubble and trotted to match her stride. His ears lowered as though he sensed the tension in their conversation.

  Caitlin glanced back long enough to see Izzy wipe a small tear from the corner of her eye.

  Remember what it’s all for, Kitty-Cat. Remember what it’s all for.

  Chapter Seven

  Silver Creek, Silver Creek Forest, Old Ontario

  The streets were so quiet that Jamie could hear every rusted squeak of the wheelbarrow’s wheels. He walked slowly, uncertain of a direction. With a frown, he tried to recall the last time he had visited Silver Creek and the direction he had been whisked off in by Dylan and his men.

  “It doesn’t look like the party’s started yet,” Mabel croaked and groaned as she sat a little straighter.

  He silently agreed.

  There was hardly anyone in sight. Before, he had seen dozens, if not hundreds, of citizens roaming around the town—heading to markets, taverns, visiting friends, or going about their daily chores. Now, he saw a handful of guards who patrolled the streets with their swords in sheaths.

  Occasionally, as they continued in the direction in which Jamie remembered Mother Wendy’s tavern to be, he glimpsed heads poke nosily out of windows with concerned expressions on their faces. The few times he passed someone who wasn’t in uniform, they refused to stop and chat. Instead, they kept their head down and quickened their pace under the watchful eye of the guards.

  When they reached the street with Mother Wendy’s at its end, a guard stepped forward and halted them both.

  “You’re a stranger to this town?” he grunted through a thick, wiry beard.

  “It would seem so. It’s been months since my last visit,” Jamie replied.

  “It’s my first,” Mabel added, much to Jamie’s discomfort.

  “Under whose authority do you roam these streets? These are dangerous times, y’know? Only one nominated member of each household should be out at any one time. That includes Ashdale citizens, too.” The guard glared at Mabel.

  “Why? What kind of lunacy is that?”

  The man shrugged. “Captain’s orders. Like I say, these are dangerous times.”

  “The captain? Do you mean Dylan?”

  “What a lovely name,” Mabel interjected and smoothed the front of her dress. “He sounds like a man who can croon. I’d love to meet this Dylan.”

  The guard raised an eyebrow.

  “Ignore her. My grandmother’s memory’s not what it was. Besides, the gate guards allowed us passage. Why are we stopped now—”

  “I remember enough,” the old woman interrupted and leaned toward the guard as she moved a hand conspiratorially to the side of her mouth. “When he was a wee boy, he went through the funniest phase of running naked around the house, tucking his wee-wee between his legs, and shouting, ‘Nana! Look at me. I’m a real girl—’”

  “Nana, please!” Jamie said, and his face reddened.

  The guard struggled not to laugh and his demeanor softened as the old woman winked, tapped her nose, and sat back in the wheelbarrow.

  “Look, head on your way and make it fast. We are instructed to recognize faces and allow only those with permissions to pass. If you want to find the captain, be quick about it, and get somewhere safe.”

  “Safe? What’s going on?”

  “I’ll let the captain explain.”

  “Where can I find him?”

  The man shrugged.

  They thanked him and proceeded, and Jamie’s mind wrestled with the strange turnaround in the town. This feeling was magnified when he stepped into a near-empty tavern with no one but Mother Wendy inside. She scrubbed and cleaned the bar which was littered with several precarious piles of mugs and cups.

  Her eyes lit up when she saw Jamie and Mabel enter the doorway.

  “At last! A customer,” she announced in delight and adjusted the front of her dress to accentuate her overly large bosom. Her bulk bore down on them excitedly.

  She was a mess compared to the last time he had seen her. Before, Mother Wendy had been pristine. Her bright red lipstick was a feature every woman envied and highlighted the brilliant smile she used to dazzle and delight her customers.

  Now, though, her coveralls were creased and covered in grime, she wore no lipstick to speak of, and her hair was unkempt and awry.

  “You must have traveled a long way to get here, Jamie. Take a seat, take a seat. I’ll serve you something warming that’ll stick those hairs on your chest.”

  “You remember me?” he said as he helped Mabel out of the barrow and guided her to a seat.

  “Oh, of course,” Mother Wendy said and busied herself behind the bar. “I never forget a face in my tavern. I’ve run this establishment for over thirty years and provided entertainment and refreshment to anyone and everyone who walked through those doors. Never once have I forgotten a friendly face.” She straightened and studied Mabel across the bar top. “Although I’m not sure that we’ve been introduced, young lady.”

  “Oh, this here is my Nana, Mabel—”

  “Whisky on the rocks with a twist, and don’t scrimp on the rocks. If I have another day like today, I’ll likely explode.” Mabel wiped her brow and exhaled loudly.

  “Excuse me?” Mother Wendy replied.

  Jamie spun a finger in the air next to his temple. The proprietor nodded and smiled.

  “Anything you want, Mabel. How about a nice sirloin steak, too?”

  “Ooh.” The old lady smacked her lips together and elbowed her grandson. “I like this place.”

  By the time Mother Wendy returned to the table with a drink for them all, his grandmother had forgotten her food. They sat while the proprietor asked questions of Ashdale Pond and her eyes gleamed as Jamie spoke of the improvements in the town since the removal of the governor. When she asked what had brought them to Silver Creek, Jamie recounted the tale of the Mad attack on Mabel and Mother Wendy’s face grew dark.

  “It’s spreading,” she mumbled under her breath. “Dammit.”

  “What is?”

  She studied Jamie for a moment. “You really don’t know?”

  “I know that this
place is practically a ghost town, and the guards are edgier than a polygon, but that’s about it. I came to see Dylan, not solve a friggin’ mystery.”

  Mother Wendy chuckled, though there was still a note of sadness there. “The town is on cautionary lockdown. Dylan gave the order a couple of days ago. Cases of the Madness have sprung up all over town—men, women, and children. Although, as I understand it, every time Dylan and his guards think they’ve got the situation under control, another case pops up.”

  “How can the Madness simply ‘pop up?’ Can’t he do an examination of the town, one by one?”

  “That’s kind of the whole point of this. The problem is that many would rather hide any sign of Madness they show and deny that it’ll take hold than admit it to Dylan and risk being locked up and away from their families. I’ve seen it before—decades ago now when the town was young. Selfish individuals who would rather put their families at risk than admit their problem and look for a solution.”

  “But there is no solution. Those men and women will turn. There’s no cure.” Jamie ran a hand through his hair.

  “No. No cure. Rumor has it that Dylan found someone—the little man from your town, actually—who may have found a prolonging elixir. The concoction apparently slows the Madness and lengthens the incubation period of the disease. It all sounds very complicated.”

  “Stump’s formula?” Jamie whispered, more to himself than anyone else.

  Mother Wendy nodded solemnly. “Is delay really better, though?”

  “I suppose people do get to say their goodbyes at least,” Mabel said in a surprisingly clear tone.

  He smiled. “Welcome back, Nana. It’s been a while.”

  “Don’t patronize me, squirt. Take advantage of me while I’m here. Where the fuck am I?”

  The proprietor’s mouth fell open. “I’ve not seen that filthy a mouth since the old captain used to come in here and throw his weight around. At least you keep that tongue sharp, right?”

  The old lady laughed, coughed, and laughed again. Her eyes bright, she drank a long draught of her drink.

  “You’re in Silver Creek, Nana. A safer place with wooden borders. You were attacked by Mad and barely escaped. I can’t risk that for you any longer.”

  “By the sounds of it, I’m not much better here.” Somewhere in a house nearby, they heard the desperate shrieks of someone in the final stages of Madness followed by the rush of guards. “Out of the frying pan and into the fire. At least at home, they were wild, and there were places to hide. It sounds like you’ve taken me to the barrel where they shoot the fish. Is this really so much safer?”

  Mabel waited for a response. When she received none, she heaved herself to her feet and headed for the door. “C’mon, kiddo. If we’re going to meet this Dylan, we might as well do it while I’ve got my wits about me.” She paused with her hand on the doorknob. “Where can we find him?”

  Mother Wendy looked sadly around her tavern, and her gaze lingered on the empty seats. She drained her cup in one, wiped her mouth, and said, “I might as well take you to him. It’s not like I expect the happy hour rush today. C’mon, cutie, follow your Nana.”

  Jamie rolled his eyes, finished his own drink, and followed them out the door.

  Dylan was mid-inspection when he heard the shrieks of yet another Mad echo around his town.

  “What was that?” a girl with blonde braids asked and squeezed tighter into her mother’s embrace.

  “It’s nothing that we can’t handle,” he said with the calmest smile he could muster. He caught Sully’s gaze and nodded toward the doorway, indicating for his giant second-in-command to investigate.

  It had been a long few days for the captain. Since the initial case of the Madness had been found in the town, he had worked as hard as possible to quell the spread and stop the disease in its tracks. Any infected who were captured had been put into jail cells out of harm’s reach. That meant that Dylan could avoid handling the situation the same way he handled the Mad out in the wild—with a quick slash of the throat to extinguish the light in their eyes. Along with Stump’s concoction which the dwarf had found in an old textbook a former guest had left at his own tavern in Ashdale Pond, he was able to offer some comfort to the ever-growing base of Mad who now overcrowded his prison system.

  “We need to do something,” Sully had muttered under his breath, not forty-eight hours before as another Mad had been subdued and carted off to a cell.

  “I know. But what?” Dylan had responded. “These are our people. What can we do other than trap everyone inside and examine the townsfolk one by one? And if we find an infected, what then? Paint big black X’s on doors like they did with the plague in Britain and hope that that’s enough?”

  But, minus the X’s, that’s exactly what Dylan and Sully had settled on. A curfew was now permanently in place, other than select individuals who were able to acquire supplies. Even those were kept under constant surveillance by the guards. A handful of Dylan’s most trusted Revolutionaries—those who had remained under Caitlin’s charge to protect the town in her absence—went door to door and carried out the examinations. They kept weapons close for fear of resistance or a possible Mad leaping out of a closet to attack them.

  That had, unfortunately, happened on several occasions. Each time, the Revolutionaries had handled the case like the professionals Dylan had taught them to be. He’d had his doubts at first but seeing them work together in Caitlin’s absence was not only good for the town but reassuring for Dylan. Although he had yet to admit it to Sully’s face, his trust in his men had been shaken since the Mad attack which had happened when Sully had been left in charge of the town.

  He now watched his second-in-command sidle out the door and into the street. There, he would be joined by several guards and any nearby revolutionaries and later, he would tell him the name of the latest victim of the Mad plague.

  Something has to change, Dylan thought. He rubbed his tired eyes and pushed aside a lock of hair that obscured his vision.

  He finished his checks on the girl and her family. A sweet little thing, she was, a girl he had seen running happily through the streets during his patrols. Her mother—a portly woman with a low-set brow and jowls drooping where her cheeks should have been—only scowled and muttered beneath her breath, not even hiding her disdain for the situation.

  It wasn’t until she said, “Nothing like this ever happened when the governor was in control,” that he turned for a response.

  “If you’d like to go back to fearing the guards and eating shit from the governor, then go right ahead. If he were here right now, he’d have already set the town ablaze and destroyed everyone here rather than trying to save them. Is that what you would rather have?”

  The woman flapped her mouth for a moment before she muttered a grudging apology. “You’re right. It’s just—”

  “I know,” Dylan said and brought her into a quick embrace. Her blouse shifted slightly to reveal the skin beneath. Several red blotches were visible on her skin although she didn’t realize it as she nestled into the crook of his shoulder.

  When he finally left the house, he paused for a moment outside and stared into the bright blue of the sky. He glanced at the house, and an unhappy feeling grew in his stomach.

  “The woman—she’s infected,” he said softly to a guard who stood nearly a foot taller than himself. “You know what to do.”

  Dylan left before he could hear her protests and strode down the street with his mind working in overdrive as he attempted to determine what the hell the solution could be.

  On the one hand, he couldn’t continue these measures. If his calculations were right, in barely a few weeks, the Madness could spread through the entire town. On the other hand, what were the alternative options? Kill those already infected? Run away and leave duty behind? Take the healthy and willing on the road with him to find his sister? After all, it had been days since he had heard any news of her whereabouts. He was almost certain she wa
s fine, but how was he to know for sure?

  Oh, man. I best start making some progress before this snowball turns into an avalanche.

  He exhaled loudly, scowled, and headed toward the only man in whom he had any hope of help in the situation. A little guy with a big personality, the local men of Ashdale had simply called him Stump.

  Chapter Eight

  The Broken City, Ontario

  “Somewhere around here, right?” Caitlin paused and looked at the crumbling ruins of an old fountain. The ornament must have once been attractive in the old world but was now nothing more than a bowl in which the moss and weeds flourished.

  Mary-Anne closed her eyes and sniffed the air. “Oh, yeah. The air is ripe with their scent.”

  “So what do we do?”

  “Wait, I guess.”

  The pair had come out into the crisp night air alone—aside from Jaxon, of course. After a day that seemed to drag on in which Caitlin did her best to keep the spirits of her Revolutionaries high, she couldn’t help but feel distracted. Izzy had disappeared the moment they had entered the old library, and Triston returned to his place at the head of the hall beside his Aunt Felicia.

  Caitlin had spent most of the day thinking long and hard about a plan of action. Now that she had actually met Triston, she felt she would be able to talk to him about the Weres. The man seemed to exude compassion, so perhaps that was the starting point in her attempt to turn the town’s perception of the creatures beneath the city.

  But would that be enough? Only two factors held her back. The first was that it would ultimately be Felicia’s decision in her sister’s absence. The other—and this was the crucial part—was that the Weres currently had her sister in custody. How could she even broach the subject until Alicia had been released?

  They sat on the fountain’s edge, and after a short time, Mary-Anne shuffled closer. “It’s okay to have feelings, you know.”