Cogs in Time Anthology

by Catherine Stovall

  “Cassie!” Max’s voice rose in a demand for her attention as his large hands circled her waist and spun her to face him. “Cassie. Dr. Anderson is gone. They punched his card a year ago.” He instantly regretted the harshness of his words as her bottom lip trembled and the color drained from her face.

  “He wouldn’t have been old enough to die. He wouldn’t have been sick. He was younger than my father.” Each new revelation brought the reality of the nightmare that Wren had become down on her.

  “If you will sit down and listen. The device can’t be removed or simply shut off. The only way to stop the mechanism is to stop the clock. The only way to stop the Time Clock is to destroy it, but it’s not too late, beautiful one. I have a plan, but I couldn’t do it, not without seeing you first, without knowing if you would commit the final act of defiance at my side.”

  “You see, Cassandra, I didn’t realize when you left that I’d be fighting for nothing. I never understood that. All the time I had spearheaded the revolution, it was because I wanted a better future for you and I. Without you, the victory was nothing. Now that I have the opportunity to make it up to the people, and truly give myself over to something greater, I couldn’t do it without you. I love you.”

  Flopping down on the small bed, Cassie fell silent. His words stunned her almost as much as the pure compassion in his expression. She had felt the same for him since they were no more than children, but never spoke the words. The expression of their feelings had been in their shared laughter, tears, and the occasional passion found behind closed doors.

  Sitting beside her, he took her hands in his. “Now, you shut up. Say something!”

  “You bastard!” Her anger rose, and she felt as if she could slap his handsome face. “How dare you? How dare you wait all these long years to tell me that you loved me? I wouldn’t have left, had you only asked me to stay. If you had only spoken those words, I would have stayed forever. Why now, when you are at death’s door?”

  “Sometimes it takes the permanence of death to show someone what they should have been living for.” His words ended with his lips a breath away from hers.

  She closed the gap with a sigh, “I love you, too.”

  ******

  The airship depot was the newest addition to Wren City, entirely constructed of steel and glass, it shimmered in the sun as Cassie and Adrian approached. The noise of the crowds, wagons, and horses filled the air, bringing a vibrant feeling of life to the area. However, Cassandra couldn’t shake the shadow of death she envisioned hanging over the people.

  “Quit fidgeting, Cassie. You look as gorgeous as you ever did.” Adrian smiled down at her, his sandy-blonde hair catching the light and his nearly black eyes glowing with pride. “Just like old times, girl.”

  Cassie laughed for the first time since she had arrived in Wren. Adrian was right; the outing was definitely reminiscent of the days leading up to the revolution. They had often used her as both a distraction and a walking piece of resistance propaganda back then. The mayor’s daughter dressed as one of the rebels and gallivanting around town on the arm of known radicals and conmen had drawn everyone’s eye. Cassie had loved it all.

  Smoothing a hand over the tight, black bodice of her dress, Cassie exclaimed, “I still can’t believe you guys kept all my old costumes. I never thought I’d wear them again.”

  Adrian gave her a wink to match his cocky grin as he took in the sight of her. He loved everything from the small hat and veil perched jauntily on her head, to the short-fronted skirt that barely covered her lily-white thighs before tapering back into a long train. He adored her right down to the chains and locks that crossed over the laces of her boots—everything trimmed in silver cogs and gears.

  “You know, this one was always my favorite. I miss the revolution fashions. Perhaps we will bring them back into style. Now, let’s go buy two tickets to the Sky Merchants.”

  Cassie held her head up high as they entered the revolving door and marched across the marble tile to the ticket office. The disdainful glares as she passed among the people would have angered her five years before, but the sight of the timepieces, proudly displayed on women’s chest as if they were fine jewelry, made her pity the society women and men.

  Though she breezed through the crowds as if she were completely at ease, Cassie’s fingers dug into the bend of Adrian’s arm and she whispered through a wide smile, “What’s with the decorative boob show?”

  Laughing aloud, Adrian bent to kiss her cheek as if she had made some sort of joke and whispered into her ear. “Not now, Cassie!” The urgency in his whisper was much less pleasant than the adoring look he gave her.

  Clamping her mouth closed on the thousands of questions that brewed inside her mind, Cassie allowed herself to be guided to the glass ticket booth. However, she couldn’t help the small gasp that escaped when the thing inside the receptacle turned toward them.

  “How many and to what destination, please?” It almost looked like a human woman, almost.

  The skin was too waxen and had an odd sheen, but was nearly the right color. The silk hair was beautiful. Any woman would kill to have such golden locks, but when Cassie looked closely, she could see the stitching that held it to the scalp. However, the worst were the eyes. Two bulbous, shining, painted eyes, lined with thick and spiky lashes, stared at her in a wide expression. Cassie knew she was gawking but couldn’t help her astounded fascination as she watched the mechanical woman’s hands move on the strangely jointed wrist and listened to it interact with Adrian.

  “Two tickets to the Sky Merchants. That will be ten dollars, please.” The voice held a hint of the Southern accent known well in the city, but the click and grind of the gears that controlled the recording device added a strange mechanical whine.

  Adriane shoved the money into the tray, collected the tickets, and ushered Cassie toward the boarding area as she strained her neck to watch the next customer approach.

  “Cassandra, you’re going to break your neck. Haven’t you ever seen a mortech before?” Even as he dragged her along, hissing his displeasure, Adrian smiled at her as if he loved her more than life.

  Cassie, unfortunately, couldn’t act as well and her anger took her voice louder with every word. “Stop it, Adrian. Stop looking at me like that all the while you are snarling in my ear. No, I have not seen a mortech before. The University doesn’t approve of such abominations.”

  “Cassie, quiet please. We have a part to play, my dear. You can cuss me when it’s done, but if you want to save Max, you’ll play along.”

  She saw real emotion for the first time in the conman’s face, causing her to remember why they were there and to clamp down on her outrage. Sliding her arm back through his, Cassie mentally berated herself as they made their way to where they would board. Don’t let yourself get caught up in the old game, Cassie, you have only one goal this time around. Maxwell must live.

  As they stepped out of the cool and shaded building into the sunny day once again, she quickly forgot their small argument. The airships loomed up above them, large metal and wooden ships attached to great blimps, all divided by the price of their ticket and the luxury a passenger could afford. Cassie couldn’t help but look longingly at the first class ships made of shining, lightweight metal, where the passengers rode within the belly of the ship and dined on exquisite food.

  Their own ship was a rough-hewn wooden boat, sturdy and wide, with a full deck of passengers from the middle and lower classes all riding the wind in order to shop, work, and browse the bazaar that floated amongst the clouds above. Cassie couldn’t help but marvel at the large, elongated parachute hovering above them. Patched in places, and clearly worn, the only thing that remained fresh and untouched by the elements was the insignia. The phoenix, hand painted in red, orange, and yellow, blazed on the gray canvas like a sign from God.

  “Adrian, whose ship is this?” The suspicion in her voice couldn’t be hidden.

  The young man looked positively wicked a
s he answered, “Why it’s yours, my dear. Well, your father’s, to be exact. He bought a fleet of them and runs charters upward and outward on the half hour.”

  Cassie shook her head. “Always the daring one, Westing.”

  Feigning hurt; Adrian grabbed her hand and placed it over his heart as the airship began to rise. “Am I in trouble, my fair one? You only call me by that damnable name if I have displeased you.”

  Hating the feel of his timepiece under her palm, Cassie pulled her hand away and wiped it on her dress. “You are always trouble, Westing, but I wouldn’t have you any other way.”

  The two of them fell into a comfortable silence as they rose up into the white fog of the clouds and watched Wren City turn to nothing but a spot below.

  ******

  Max had his own part to play, while Adrian and Cassie took the airships to the markets in the sky. His hands shook from need as he stared across the room at the promised release the bottle of whiskey would offer him. Without Cassie there to remind him of the glimmer of hope he had, the want of an escape plagued him as he awaited the arrival of his unwelcomed guest.

  Without realizing it, he rose from the chair and took a single step toward the object of his thirst. Suddenly he felt parched, his throat drying up and closing in as he watched the light from the window play inside the amber liquid. Another step, he couldn’t fight it, he needed her or needed a drink. His fingers brushed the glass just as the dreaded knock sounded three times at the door.

  “Maxwell Gauswald, open up. Wren City Police.” The gruff voice of Chief Oswald Haniker was barely muffled by the door separating him from Max.

  Turning away from the bottle, Max tried to stop the shaking in his hands. He had never feared the police before, but things had changed. Without his liquid courage, and knowing he had put both him and Cassandra at great risk, he fought his inner demons for control as he opened the door.

  “Chief Haniker,” he said as he bowed. “What brings you to my humble house here in the Downs?”

  “Don’t give me any shit, Max. We know she’s here, now, let us in so we can return her to her father.” The chief’s fat round face was red with irritation as his signature twitch made his thick, white mustache bounce on one side.

  “Who?” Max did his best to look surprised, but he doubted his acting skills after they had lain dormant for so long.

  “Don’t play dumb with me, boy. We are looking for Cassandra Dalton and you know it.” Using his oversized belly, Chief Haniker pushed his way inside, followed by two lanky, young detectives.

  “Cassie? She’s come back?” Max slunk down in the chair by the fire place, doing his best to look like a love-struck man who had just learned the object of his heart had returned without a word to him. “When did she come home? Is she…well?”

  “That’s what we’d like to know.” One of the fresh-faced detectives turned on him, his height making him look like a giant in the cramped space. “She ran off last night in a fit, and the mayor is beside himself. They think she may be dangerous to herself, seems she’s had a bit of a break down. That’s why she had to return from The University, she isn’t too stable.”

  The man, his nametag read Officer Theodore Tolen, waited for Max’s reply with one eyebrow raised. The ploy was an old one, not very original. By lying and insulting Cassie, they hoped to draw his protective instincts out and make him slip up in his anger. Max, however, had played the game to many times.

  “Oh, that’s terrible. So sad when a young girl’s sensibilities fail like that, my poor Cassandra.” Turning his eyes up to the chief, he added, “You know, I loved her once. Look around, boyos, you will find nothing here of hers. She has been gone from my life for a long, long time.”

  The two detectives poked around the limited contents of the small room as Chief Haniker sat down across from Max. “Do you know where Adrian Westing, Justice Cavoriti, Julius Granger, or Barington Cross can be found, or if she would turn to them?” The man’s entire demeanor was that of the hardened street cop who had seen the worst of the world, but his tone was a little softer as he spoke.

  “I’d be hard-pressed to give you any information about Adrian. We have barely spoken since…” Max let his words trail off as he gestured to where the timepiece lay hidden under his shirt. “Julius Granger went straight after the revolution. I see him from time to time. He works in his father’s factory as far as I know. Doesn’t have much use for a man like me.”

  Max tried to keep his knowledge of his old friends and revolution captains hidden, it wouldn’t be unusual to know a bit about them, but he didn’t want to reveal more than anyone needed to know. If the connections between them were studied, their plan wouldn’t be hard to figure out.

  Haniker nodded, wrote in his little notebook, and asked, “What about Barrington or Justice—”

  The other detective, Officer George Roeman, found a ladies’ garter belt peeking out from beneath the bed covers, and held it up, interrupting Haniker’s question. “Hey, boss, look what we’ve got here. Looks to be good quality, too, not something the street rats would wear.”

  Max’s heart stopped at the sight of the blue lace undergarment, but to his disbelief, timing was on his side for once.

  “Just what about Justice would you be wanting to know, Chief Haniker? Looking to lock me up again?” The female voice sounded from the doorway, causing the men to turn. “I swear I’ve been a good girl.”

  The redheaded vixen swished across the room, plucked the garter from the shock-faced officer, and turned as she tossed it to Max. “Just ask my Maxipoo here, I’ve been doing real good, and I’d appreciate you keeping your dirty paws off my things.”

  Max grinned like a schoolboy as Justice snuggled up on his lap and traced one, long, blood-red nail down his cheek. Justice, the wild child, had always played the harlot well, too well in fact. There had been a time or two that she’d actually taken the play acting to heart and filled her purses with the mark’s bills, and got caught doing so.

  “So, Ms. Cavoriti, you’re telling me that you are…seeing…Mr. Gauswald in a…err…romantic fashion or is this business?” Though the idea of discussing Justice’s sexual escapades was uncomfortable, the officer had to ask.

  “Why do you ask? You offering to fill my bed and my pockets, or are you just being nosey?” Justice was as mean as a wet cat when she wanted to be.

  Maxwell took the girl’s hand as he tried to settle her. “Justice, Chief Haniker is asking because they say Cassandra came back to town, and now she is missing. They thought she might be here. Apparently, she has lost her senses.”

  Justice’s green eyes flashed with jealous anger. “You dare come here asking about that high-stepping, little tramp. Why don’t you go ask her daddy where the silly nut job is? Get out! Get out, now. All three of you. I’m telling you, neither Max nor I want anything to do with her. If she comes around here, all she’s going to get is her rich little butt knocked in the dirt.”

  The chief stood, glaring at the woman as if he would gladly knock her on her derriere, and called his detectives to attention. “Come on, boys, I believe our work here is done.” Directing his attention to Max and Justice, he nodded his head. “If you hear anything, you know how to find me. You had better hope I don’t find out that you did something to this girl, Ms. Cavoriti, or else I’ll punch your time card myself.”

  As soon as the door shut behind them, Justice smacked both hands over her mouth and giggled into her palms. Her pale cheeks flushed with excitement as she leapt off Max’s lap and moved to the window to make sure the police were out of earshot. Peering inconspicuously through the frayed lace curtains, still trying not to laugh aloud, she watched until they were gone.

  “Oh, Max, that was loads of fun. Did you see the piggy’s face when I took that garter?” She grabbed the bottle of whiskey and plopped down in a chair of her own, and took a long draught.

  “Justice, it’s good to see you, lady, but did you have to go on and on like that?” Max was half star
ing at the bottle move from her lips while fighting to meet her eyes.

  “You know they were about to bust you. I had to do something, old boy, and you know I play the part so very well.” She laughed, hit the bottle again, and offered it to him.

  Max shook his head, “Got to keep a clear head for this one, Justice. You’re right, and you did good. The less they have to connect her with me, the better. Hey, what are you doing here anyway?”

  “Adrian sent me a note, said I should stop by because Cassie was back and the pot was on the fire.” Giving him a wink, she asked, “So what you got cooking, Max. Are we going to rob the reserve or what?”

  ******

  The Sky Market was everything Cassie had dreamed it to be. Wandering the narrow rows between carts, shops, and pedestrian crowds, she continuously found her eyes drawn to the passing clouds. The festive and energy charged atmosphere helped to lift the chill left by the mortech, until she happened to pause at a jewelry cart. The vendor’s items were the same as any other market she had visited, except for a single locked case.

  Cassie suddenly felt as if her stomach had dropped to her feet as she peered through the glass at the decorative casings, hand-carved dials, and gilded faceplates that boasted clockwork scenes. The idea of the people embracing the atrocity the Time Clock had brought to them stared at her from the diamond eyes of a clockwork panda.

  “Looking for a new bauble, darling. I think this one would be perfect for such a lady.” The stall keeper tapped one long dirty nail on the glass above the panda. “Good luck, the little bears are supposed to be.”

  Cassie stammered, unable to form words, as she stared at the old woman’s creviced and haggard face. The shawl covering her head looked ancient and worn, and her dress had seen better days. Despite her obvious poverty, gold caps gleamed between the woman’s cracked lips in a strange smile, while gems and jewels adorned her fingers.

  Starving, poor, and selling death devices to the rich for pennies on the dollar, and yet covered in glitter and gold. This is why we fought the revolution, for this filth? The thought formed in Cassie’s brain and hovered on the razor sharp edge of her tongue. Only Adrian’s interference kept her from spewing them like poisoned darts at the woman.