by SJ Davis
Bodhi forced on his clothes, tripping over the legs of his trousers as he exited the room. His white shirt crumpled over his forearm as he reached under his mattress to grab his ray gun. Going first to Josephine’s room to wake her, he tripped on an old parasol she left leaning against the outside of her door. He whispered, “Josephine, get up. It’s urgent.” No answer. “Josephine, get up!” He pounded on the door. No answer again. Smashing open the door, he skidded to a halt inside her room. Her room was in shambles. Glass pieces littered the room, the lamp had fallen and was smashed, papers were strewn about the floor, but the bed was undisturbed.
A sick nausea roiled in his stomach as he ran straight to Caroline’s room. “Caroline. It’s Bodhi. Get up,” he yelled into the door.
Caroline cracked her door, holding her nightdress to her throat, “Good heavens, Bodhi. What on earth is it?”
“We must leave immediately,” He reached into her room and grabbed her by the wrist. “We are under attack. Anson’s zeppelin is hovering overhead and Josephine has gone missing!”
“Get the Tabulator!” panicked Caroline.
“My God! There’s a fire!” yelled Bodhi. “Take my handkerchief, cover your mouth and stay low.”
They both rushed to the landing, bumping and stumbling into one another on the narrowly winding staircase. The acrid smell of burning fabric filled the Minister’s apartments.
“Put these goggles on, you’ll be able to see clearly in the dark,” instructed Bodhi.
“Night vision?”
“Exactly, and the side levers are adjustable.”
Caroline kicked the burning embers lying in her way and she shook the sparks from the bottom of her nightdress. She staggered to a quick halt outside the study. The entire room was shrouded in a filthy mist. Gray flakes of burnt books and paper fell like snow. The back wall had been axed in, the carpet lay blackened, and naked joints and rafters framed the charred hole.
Harsh currents of air blew into the room; the windowed door to the balcony burst into knife edged shards as a bright light temporarily blinded them. Bodhi tossed Caroline a ray gun as he ran toward the desk. “Cover me,” he yelled to Caroline over the din of the explosion. Scanning the room for movement, Caroline coughed bitterly.
Bodhi stood on a chair to reach above one of the bookcases. “It’s so bloody pitch dark and dusty in here, I can’t see anything. But this is the last place I hid the Tabulator!”
“Just feel around for it, Bodhi; it must still be up there.”
Behind her bullets sprayed the walls leaving angry holes and gashes. Caroline crouched down, even lower to the floor.
“I can’t see through the smoke!” she cried.
Bodhi jumped down and pulled Caroline flush to the wall. “Stay quiet,” he ordered, his hand over her mouth.
They could hear footsteps entering the room, but neither of them could see clearly as the oily smoke waved a flag of filth around them. Bodhi and Caroline stood as still as possible, their backs to the wall, barely breathing. Caroline fingered a small figurine from the cabinet that she was hiding behind. She threw it towards the middle of the room. Bullets fired with dead accuracy at the spot where the figurine had landed.
The air became still and silent. As the shooters started to reload, Bodhi jumped from the wall and back-kicked one of the intruders on the side of his head. Without losing momentum, he landed another kick to the abdomen of his companion as he turned around.
The shooters fell on their knees as one of their weapons slid across the floor. Caroline jumped on top of one of the men and put her stun gun into the side of his neck, knocking him unconscious.
Bodhi struggled with the second intruder who drew a sharp blade. Bodhi saw the blade shining as it reflected the smoky moonlight. Twisting the arm of the stunned man, Bodhi cracked held him in a headlock. The stainless steel knife sailed across the room missing Caroline’s face by inches.
Bodhi reached around for his ray gun tucked in the back of his trousers. The darkness in the room made it difficult to shoot with any accuracy. He aimed blindly as his opponent rolled across the floor. Bodhi’s missed him by several feet.
“Damn,” muttered Bodhi.
As Caroline crawled under the smoke towards Bodhi, the first intruder regained consciousness on the floor and reached under his shirt for another pistol. Caroline rolled over, perched low, and landed a fierce sidekick into his stomach, temporarily disabling him.
Caroline felt along the floor to reach the bookcase, the smoke filling the room in spite of a blown out wall. “I’ll grab the Tabulator. Hold your fire,” she directed Bodhi.
The first intruder, taken aback by the female voice, turned on his torch and illuminated her squarely in the face. He grabbed Caroline by her waist and throat, and then held her against the wall.
“Ouch,” she yelled as he ripped off her goggles to get a better look at his opponent.
Nico was shocked to see Caroline’s face looking back at him. “Caroline? What the hell are you doing here?” he hissed at her, his voice cracking, obviously upset.
“Nico? Get your hands off me! This is the Prime Minister’s house! I live here! What are you doing here?”
“We searched your rooms, they were empty.”
“What are you doing here? And where is Josephine?” asked Caroline pushing Nico in the chest. He flung her arms away.
“What?” said Nico. “I have no idea where Josephine is.”
“Stop. I know where Josephine is,” said Yeshua with a darkened expression. He peeled off his hood. He looked like a man who had already lost, his dark hair swung into his gray eyes, he slumped and sat cross-legged on the burnt carpet. His shoulders hung and his chin rested on his chest.
“Where?” Bodhi ran to Yeshua, pulling him up from the floor and shoving him against the wall.
“Don’t.” Nico pulled Bodhi from Yeshua. “Grab the Tabulator and let’s go. Anson’s robots will be dropping from ropes any moment.”
“How do you know?” demanded Bodhi. “How do you know about Anson?”
“Anson is as predictable as his machines,” replied Nico, unperturbed by Bodhi suspiciousness. “What else would he do? He’s lurking above the roof, for shit’s sake.”
“But what about Josephine, we need to find her,” worried Caroline.
“We will find her. But she’s not here,” said Yeshua.
“What do you know about Josephine? And how do we know that you aren’t fiendish traitors?” snarled Bodhi, reflecting on the visit to the professor’s residence. “Partnering with Anson to return the Tabulator?” he asked indignantly. “Yes, indeed, that’s all quite plausible!”
“No. Why would we want you to steal it, and then we take it from you? Think logically,” Nico said.
“I don’t know what to believe,” said Bodhi.
“You can believe that if Anson harms Josephine, he’s a dead man,” said Yeshua, bleeding slightly from his mouth. “And Anson gets nothing from us. Nothing.” He spit the potent stench of hot cinders from his mouth towards the fireplace.
Perched on the back of a leather wingback chair, Nico stretched out like a spider. “Got it,” he said as he retrieved the Tabulator threw it inside his messenger bag.
“Josephine hasn’t been herself since the advent of her headaches,” said Bodhi. Nico and Yeshua exchanged quick glances. “Let’s take our leave,” agreed Bodhi. “Then you both will tell me all that you know.
London
The Evening of June 22nd 1865
Yeshua and Nico grabbed top hats, gloves, and overcoats of Bodhi’s as they rushed out. Caroline made do with a long fur-lined woolen coat over her nightdress as she clutched the Tabulator in an old embroidered carpetbag. “Must we go to Francesca’s?” she said with a slight whine. “There are alternatives, surely. Viable alternatives.” Their footsteps echoed on the wet side streets, Caroline’s fur dragged in the puddles. “We can register anonymously at a nice hotel!”
“Those are the first places Anson woul
d look,” said Yeshua. “And you’d leave a paper trail unless you paid in cash, which would, in itself, raise suspicion. So no, a first class hotel sounds lovely, but it is not an option.”
“Francesca will keep us out of Anson’s path,” said Bodhi. “She’s dependable, Caroline.”
“It will ruin my father if it is discovered that I’m taking residence in a house of ill repute.”
“You will be well hidden there,” decided Yeshua. “And right now, Caroline, you’re taking refuge.”
“This gets worse by the moment,” she answered, her steps slowed in the evening streets, her gaze lowered.
The gaslights hissed along the street corners, the warm and fuzzy glow dimmed as they closed in on Madame Francesca’s. “Well, we are almost here, we’ll try to make the best of things,” she said.
Bodhi knocked on the door, four times quickly, followed by two slow raps. The cold metal of the door being unlatched cut the silence. The door opened and Francesca peeked through a crack in the door.
“Hello, again, dear Bodhi,” smiled Francesca as she peered through the heavy door. She unchained the door and hurried them inside her warm foyer.
“We need a safe house, Francesca. I was hoping we could impose on your goodwill and hospitality. We will pay you, of course, rent of some sort,” said Bodhi, rifling his long fingers through his hair.
“For the four of you?” she asked.
“No. Just for two. Yeshua and I won’t be staying,” said Nico. “But first, what kind of accommodations do you have for Lady Caroline? She has concerns.” Caroline kicked Nico in his calf. “What?” he yelled. “You are!”
“No need to worry Lady Caroline, you won’t be put to any sort of work. It will be my pleasure to accommodate you. I will open the Gold Room and the Painted Chamber. Lucky for you the Coal Hole and Skeleton Room are far too popular to relinquish.” Francesca smiled at Caroline.
“Dare I ask what the Skeleton Room provides?” Caroline said as she adjusted the damp fur around her neck.
“It’s a room designed to scare the staff and patrons alike, some clients find fear an added excitement to their experience,” answered Bodhi. “And they are willing to pay accordingly.”
Caroline patted her bag. “Just as well it’s taken then, right?”
Francesca led them upstairs through the kitchen stairs. In the back hallway, as they crossed the second floor, several young men loitered wearing the blue and gray scarves of Eton. They formed a semi circle around a young girl who stood against the north scarlet wall.
“Victoria bathed today,” joked one of the young men. The smell of lavender and oleander wafted through the hall, as the girl shook and lifted her skirts. Looking at the each of the young men, she loosened her corset.
“Is there no privacy here?” asked a mortified and disgusted Caroline.
“There is as much privacy as one requests. These gentlemen simply inquired about a more public display,” she smiled back. “So, I merely provide the environment for satisfaction.”
“Keep going. You’ll be fine upstairs,” said Bodhi, still staring over his shoulder at Victoria.
The third level contained no rooms at all; just a large hall filled with costumes, mirrors, velvet chairs, and feathered boas. A pink and overweight man, without pants, but otherwise nicely dressed, sat strapped backwards to a chair, excess skin spilling over the sides of his restraining belt. An older woman, wearing stockings, a leather corset, and a peacock feathered eye mask, held a tiny birch branch and spanked his thighs until a series of small welts appeared.
“This is a freak show,” sighed Caroline, coughing in disgust and furrowing her brow.
“This is an interesting study in the conventions of power; begging the question of who really possesses it, in different sets of circumstances,” noted Bodhi.
“Let’s see what kind of interesting arrangements we have to look forward to upstairs,” said Caroline.
“We need to leave now. We’re past 1 hour and forty five now,” said Nico. “We only have fifteen minutes.”
“Take me with you,” said Caroline. “It’s quite impossible for me stay here.” She started to hyperventilate.
“That would be a disaster. What would we do with you?” said Nico.
“Here you are. Two bedrooms up here, both clean and vacant.” Francesca smiled brightly as if she was proudly hosting the royal family.
The machine-loomed floral rugs were frayed and the floors were scuffed, but the cleanliness satisfied Caroline. The bed was a cast iron creation elaborately dressed with a canopy, pillows, flounces, and other lacy trims. A marble topped table sat under the front window and a round bamboo table was skirted for a nightstand. Candlesticks on crocheted doilies sat upon a walnut dresser that was embellished with carvings, pediments, and ornate brass drawer pulls. A mirror tilted on the top.
“This will have to do,” Caroline whispered aloud. “I can do this.”
THE NEXT MORNING, Caroline was feeling much better. She had insisted upon fresh bed linens, even though Francesca assured her the existing sheets were quite clean. She inspected the mattress thoroughly and upended the bed frame in search of bed bugs before she deemed it hygienic enough to sleep on.
Bodhi knocked on Caroline’s bedroom door to wake her as the sun rose, but she was already up and about. “Good morning, Caroline,” he said. The drizzly rain outside made the room quite chilly.
“Let’s hope it rains a few more days to clean the streets,” Bodhi continued as he pulled back her ruffled curtains. The valances were bright scarlet velvet and the tassels were a shiny gold. The rest of the drapery was brocade layered with lace sheers. “Rains always make the city air smell fresh again,” she agreed. “Let’s open up the windows, shall we?”
“You mean, ‘Bodhi, be a dear and open the windows,’ don’t you?”
Bodhi placed a basin of warmed water and towel on Caroline’s dressing table. He politely left for twenty minutes, reappearing with tea. Caroline smiled as Bodhi sat at the chair by the window. He placed a silver teapot steeping with fresh black pekoe tealeaves on the side table.
“Thank you, Bodhi. I was afraid we would have none of life’s civilities during our tenure here.”
“Caroline,” Bodhi corrected. “Francesca has welcomed us and asked us no questions. Can you stop acting like a Queen for a bit?”
“You are right, Bodhi. I just keep thinking of my father. I am worried about him not knowing where I am, yet also worried that he will find out where I am!”
“I understand. We’ll make arrangements soon to leave and contact him. Perhaps I can stay in the sphere on the old property, and you might be safe in your father’s country estate. The Tabulator should stay here though.”
“The sphere? What on earth is the sphere?”
“An old office of Mr. Rolls. Quite futuristic and secreted away in the woods behind the house.”
“Strange that it would be futuristic. Mr. Rolls was such a traditionalist, by all accounts,” said Caroline.
“But the sphere is also utilitarian and harnesses the power of its environment. The top is covered in glass panels that absorb the heat from the sun and convert the solar heat into power and energy.”
“Fascinating,” said Caroline. “Does Josephine know of it?”
“I don’t know. I haven’t even thought of it in years.”
Caroline picked up her cup of tea and walked to the balcony. She reached for Bodhi’s goggles to glean a good look of the city. Looking down at the pavement from her fifth story perch, she noticed a still figure lying on the bricks of the alley. Lines of crimson flowed through the mortar forming a maze of blood.
“Bodhi! Come over here!”
Below, a sturdy, ruddy-cheeked boy in a cap and vest ran up to the still figure on the street and nudged the body with a kick. The figure lay unchanged and still. As the boy ran off, his cracking adolescent voice shouted, “We got us a dead one over here!”
A delicate girl, whose blonde hair was pinned
tightly under her soiled bonnet, ran up to the seemingly lifeless body in the alley. She bent over to inspect the man, touching his face and opening his left eye. Turning around, she nodded to the group of children huddled at the corner, stuck her little fingers in her mouth and whistled. A ripping sound tore down the streets as a horde of vagrant children ran to the motionless figure, their steps echoed through the empty street. The stampede of urchins rummaged through his pockets like vultures, leaving a crumpled mess of an inert man in their wake.
Bodhi joined Caroline at the balcony window. Looking down, they saw Francesca and a serving girl collect the body and drag him down the side alleyway. Without delay, another child, a young boy, exited Francesca’s carrying a bucket of water. Splashing and clearing the blood from the side street, a woman with a hunched back came out to help, carrying a broom.
“What’s going on?” worried Caroline.
“I don’t know. Stay here,” instructed Bodhi as he dashed from the room. Glancing back at her from the doorway, “I mean it.” He pointed at her. “Don’t move from this room.”
Running down three flights of stairs, Bodhi arrived breathlessly in Madame Francesca’s foyer. “Take him to the dining room. Close the doors and pull the curtains,” instructed Francesca.
Hearing Bodhi’s heavy breath, Francesca whirled around, “What do you want?” Her tone suggested annoyance. “I’m sorry, Bodhi. We’re in a bit of an unfortunate situation at the moment.”
“What’s happened here? We saw the man in the street. Is he a victim of some sex game gone awry? This will draw attention, Francesca!”
