Railroad! Collection 2 (The Three Volume Omnibus)

by Tonia Brown

  But more importantly, at the center of the slide, there came into existence one Deputy Tyler Duncan.

  “There he is!” Dodger shouted.

  The professor released the button.

  The light faded, and the slide ceased growing.

  “We must act quickly,” the doc said. “Go and fetch him, Mr. Dodger.”

  Dodger sprang into action, clambering up the side of the enlarged glass slide as quick as he could.

  “And be careful!” the professor shouted after Dodger. “It’s bound to be dangerous.”

  At first Dodger wasn’t sure what the man meant. But once he set foot on the glass, all became apparent. The surface was as slick as ice. This didn’t discourage Dodger in the slightest. He put it to his advantage, pushing off from the edge and sliding clear across fifty feet of slickness until he was face to face with the deputy. Now nearly atop the man, Dodger could see that the deputy was only half his normal size. Dodger didn’t have time to check him for signs of life. The professor had explained before they began the process that the increased size would only last for five minutes at the most. After that, the deputy would shrink again, unless the doc could stop it from happening.

  “I’m coming back now,” Dodger said. He grabbed the deputy by a belt loop, dug his heels into the glass, and pushed off again. The pair slid across the surface, and almost off the side. But thanks to a quick and strong pair of metal hands, they stopped just at the edge.

  “What would you do without me?” Mr. Torque asked as he helped the pair of men to the ground.

  “Thank you, Mr. Torque,” the doc said. “Bring him here.”

  With a gentleness that surprised Dodger, the clockwork man cradled the half-pint deputy to his metal chest as he carried the man to the professor’s makeshift infirmary.

  “Is he still alive?” Dodger asked.

  “He appears to be,” the doc said.

  “How bad is he?”

  “We need to stabilize his size before we can deal with his health.” In one quick motion, the professor snapped the belt into place around Duncan’s waist, then gave the knob a turn to the left. With the action, the deputy swelled in size, just a bit. “That’s promising.” The doc turned the knob farther, and with each click, the man grew larger and larger. “Tell me when to stop.”

  Dodger signaled for the professor to cease at what he hoped was correct. “I think that’s his normal size.”

  “We can work out such trivial details later,” the doc said. “For now, let’s mend his broken body.” The doc knelt beside the cot to inspect the fallen man. “Bilateral contusion of the chest wall with evidence of broken ribs. Contusion runs the length of his abdominal cavity, not good. Bloody discharge from his mouth, indicative of internal bleeding, though presence of froth also suggests a punctured lung. Pupils equal and reactive to light, thank Athena for small favors. Lelanea, I think an eight will do here.”

  “Will it be enough?” she asked, drawing up a measure of the compound.

  “It will have to be. What I wouldn’t give for a number thirteen right now.”

  Lelanea passed off the injection to the doc, who administered the dose as close to the heart as he could.

  “Now we wait,” the doc said.

  Dodger watched with some amazement as the deputy underwent the various phases that accompanied a number eight. From this side of things, it looked as though the man were undergoing some kind of seizure, the kind that got you a quick trip to the loony bin in days of old. He shook and shimmied, flopping like a shore-stranded fish on a sweltering day. Yet no sooner had the shaking started than the deputy settled down, and all was still.

  The doc moved in again, inspecting the deputy once more. “Breathing even and unlabored. Pupils still equal and reactive. And my, my, yes, the bruising is fading. As are some years, it would seem.”

  Dodger glanced up at Duncan’s face, and my, my, yes, the years seemed to melt away, leaving the man looking thirty years younger. Maybe more.

  The professor motioned for Dodger to join him at the bedside. “Try to rouse him. It’s best he is met with someone he recognizes, after all that has happened to him.”

  “Duncan?” Dodger asked. “Are you still with us?”

  “I’m afraid you’ll need to be firmer than that,” the doc said. “This man has had quite a shock.”

  Dodger laid a heavy hand on Duncan’s shoulder and gave him a shake. “Deputy Duncan! Wake up!”

  Duncan gave a groan as his eyelids fluttered.

  “Wake up, Tyler,” Dodger said.

  Duncan mumbled something.

  “What was that?” Dodger asked. “Speak up. And wake up!”

  “My friends call me Duncan,” the man said. This said, Duncan’s eyes flew wide as he sat straight up with a loud gasp. Throwing a fear-filled glance about, he asked in a tumble of questions, “Where am I? What’s going on? Who are you people?” His hands fidgeted around the empty holsters of his gun belt.

  “Deputy Duncan,” Dodger said as calmly as he could manage. Though in truth, he wanted to holler and scream and whoop with joy. “Do you remember me?”

  Duncan stared at Dodger for a few blank seconds. Slowly, ever so slowly, a smile crept across the man’s face. “Dodger? Good God in Heaven. Is that really you?”

  “Yes, sir. It’s me.”

  “How did we get here? What’s going on?” Duncan looked about at the crew, the train, and finally the enormous slab of glass only a few yards away. “What in the hell is that?”

  “That,” the professor said, “will be back to its normal size in approximately twenty seconds. And it is my firmest wish that you do not join it. Though I can’t make any guarantees to the contrary.”

  “If that be the cashe,” Ched said. “It wash nish meetin’ ya, shir.”

  “What are you talking about?” Duncan asked.

  “I’ll explain in a moment,” the doc said, while putting his index fingers into his ears. “I also recommend you place your fingers in your ears right about now.”

  “Put my what in my what?”

  Dodger shoved his fingers in his own ears and shouted, “Just do what he says!”

  A very confused Duncan followed suit.

  The muffled voice of the professor counted down, “Five, four, three, and there she goes!”

  All at once, the fifty-foot-wide, six-foot-tall glass slab shrank. With a soft pop, the glass slab returned to a glass slide, and just when Dodger was about to ask why they were all standing around with their fingers shoved in their ears, the soft pop was followed by a thunderous clap.

  Was the doc ever wrong?

  “What was that?” Duncan asked with a surprised yelp.

  “Air rushing in to fill the vacuum left by a large amount of displaced matter,” the professor said. “And much to my delight, you appear to still be here. It’s safe to remove your digits now.”

  Duncan dropped his fingers from his ears, looking more confused than ever.

  “May I be the first to welcome you back to this size of things?” the doc said, extending a hand of welcome to the deputy.

  “I don’t understand anything this man is saying,” Duncan said.

  “You get ushed to it,” Ched said.

  Dodger chuckled. “Let’s get you inside, where we can explain things properly while you grab a bite to eat.”

  “I’m not hungry,” Duncan started, but winced as his guts growled, betraying his own words. “Well, I guess I am a little, after all.”

  “I knew you would be,” Dodger said, with the authority of one who had been there.

  ****

  back to top

  ****

  Chapter Thirteen

  Small Comforts, Big Hearts

  In which Dodger’s crew provides succor

  For a man who lingered in a microscopic state for several hours only to return from the brink of death by the same science that put him there, Duncan took everything in remarkable stride. He also put away five bowls of Feng’s best suk
iyaki. But Dodger couldn’t fault the man for that.

  It didn’t take long to relate the events, even as complicated as they were. With his usual flourish of orating skills, the professor painted a beautifully worded narrative of the whole affair, from the assistant’s betrayal to the apparent death of the deputy, at which Dodger translated it into laymen’s terms for the bewildered deputy.

  “Pardon me for repeating myself, sir,” Duncan said. “But that is just one hell of a story.”

  “I know!” the professor exclaimed. “It’s excitement in living form. And you lived it. How marvelous for you.”

  “Shoundsh like jusht another day to me,” Ched said.

  “Oh, ignore him. He’s just jealous he missed out on the adventure. I told you to go, but no, you had to be a big coward!”

  Ched shrugged rather than argue the point.

  “How are you feeling now?” Dodger asked.

  Duncan pushed away from the table, looking satisfied at last. “Much better. In fact, I feel a good sight better than I have for some time.” He lifted the mirror Miss Lelanea had lent him, marveling at his sudden gift of youth. “I can’t believe how young I look. And feel. I still don’t claim to understand it all.”

  “Neither do I,” the doc said. “I have never seen a number eight reverse a subject’s age in such a manner, but I suspect it has something to do with your recent exposure to the infinitium rays combined with the level of alcohol in your bloodstream.”

  “But I haven’t touched a drop in weeks.”

  “Nevertheless, the body keeps the memory of such things, doesn’t it? Yes. I believe your recent bouts of intoxication had an influence on the effects of my medicinal compound. After all, I’ve seen evidence of it before.” The professor raised his brow at the driver.

  Ched ignored it just as well as he did everything else.

  “There are a few new rules for you to follow, though,” the professor said, returning his attention to Duncan. “This belt is very different from the shrinking belt. It is keeping you large, you see?”

  “I think so,” Duncan said.

  “This means that your normal size—your real size, I’m afraid—is very, very, very, very small.”

  Duncan seemed unsure about this. “How small is very, very, very, very?”

  “I can’t be certain, but I think you were in the range of point zero, zero, zero nine millimeters. I think. But I may be off a fraction.”

  Duncan looked to Dodger for a translation.

  “Picture the size of a flea,” Dodger said.

  “That’s pretty small,” Duncan said.

  “You could be a flea on a flea’s flea.”

  Duncan sat back, staring blindly at the belt around his waist as he absorbed this news.

  “Are you going to be all right?” the professor asked.

  “I suppose so,” Duncan said. “I can never take it off?”

  “If you take it off, you will revert to your normal, smaller size. So I’m afraid that means no, you can’t remove it. Ever. But you can employ it to change your size if you wish.”

  “Like the other belt?”

  “Very much so.”

  “Will the thing go small with me?”

  “Of course. I told you it was special. It works both ways. Left, you get bigger and right, you get smaller.”

  “I can get bigger than this?”

  “Not by much. I’m afraid you are near the upper limit right now. You might squeeze another few feet out of it, but you can go as small as you like.”

  “As small as I like?”

  “Yes. And the same rules apply as from before. You can shrink something with you as long as it remains within six inches of your field, but you can’t enlarge something beyond its original size.”

  “I understand. I think. That’s a lot of stuff to remember.”

  “That is understandable. You take as long as you need to work it out while we head back. Speaking of which …” The doc looked to Ched again.

  “Perhapsh I should go and get the enginesh up again,” Ched said.

  “Wait,” Duncan called after Ched.

  The driver turned in the doorway, hooking his thumbs in his overalls as he waited.

  “Where are we going?” Duncan asked.

  “Back to Shunnyvale,” Ched said.

  Duncan’s high spirits drooped at this announcement. “Do I have to go back?”

  “You don’t want to go home?” the professor asked.

  “Sir, I don’t reckon I have a home anymore.” With difficulty, the man related his tale of woe, this time admitting that he had indeed taken his wife’s life by accident. He explained his descent into the bottle, the loss of his job, his house, and eventually the love of life itself. “It got pretty bad toward the end. The breaking point came a few weeks ago, when I was so drunk that I couldn’t find Mabel’s headstone. My own wife’s grave, and I was too hammered to remember where it was. That’s when I decided enough was enough.”

  “What a sad story,” Miss Lelanea said.

  “How terrible,” the professor said. “But I don’t see why you shouldn’t return to Sunnyvale and your wife’s resting place. From what I understand, they think you a hero now. I’m sure you’ll be rewarded and maybe even returned to your former place of glory.”

  “I realize that, sir,” Duncan said. “But that’s the trouble. Isn’t it?”

  “I don’t think I understand.”

  “If I go back, then what’s to say I won’t fall back into the same mess where I was before? What’s to say I’ll stay in their good graces? Bad memories don’t just evaporate because you do one good deed.”

  Dodger shuddered at the statement, because he was living proof of it.

  “But you’re a hero to them,” Lelanea said.

  “And what makes me a hero?” Duncan asked. “What I did or what they think I did? Because they are two very different things.”

  “You practically sacrificed yourself for-” Dodger started.

  “I was trying to die,” Duncan said over him. “Can’t you see that? Do you think I really cared if we got our hands on the town’s money? The truth is, I went with you because I hoped something like this would happen. That either the equipment was faulty or William would shoot me … or anything would happen to end the misery of my life. I just wanted to die.”

  The room went quiet in the wake of his outburst, but only for the briefest moment. While Dodger had no idea how to address the man now that he had all but confessed his desperate actions, the professor was unmoved.

  “Piddlecock,” the professor said.

  “Excuse me?” Duncan asked.

  “To quote your banker friend, piddlecock and balderdash. For a suicidal man, you sure as Hades cling to life about as tenaciously as anyone I’ve ever seen.”

  Duncan looked to the floor, away from the doc, as if made uncomfortable by the accusation of his willing survival. “I got lucky.”

  “Lucky? Lucky? Getting lucky is finding your spanner after you’ve set your mind to buying a new one. What happened to you was more than just dumb luck, Mr. Duncan. You were struck with mortal wounds, which you proceeded to bear for almost five hours without any medical aid. Wounds that would’ve killed a weaker man in minutes. Wounds that I must confess I wasn’t sure I could mend, even with my miraculous medicinal compounds. Now, in my head, I realized that perhaps there is some explanation in the fluctuations of your size that assisted your survival in this case. But in my heart …” the professor paused as he lifted his hand to his chest, “good sir, in my heart, I feel it was something more. I think it was you. I think you had the strength and courage to survive because you wanted to live. And I think you still do.”

  Whereas before, the meeting room was just quiet, now it was still enough to hear the soft ticks and tocks of Mr. Torque’s inner workings. The professor had made his point with great efficiency, so much so that everyone seemed to hold their breath, all waiting to hear what Duncan had to say about it. This moment stretche
d into what seemed hours, days, an eternity.

  And so they waited.

  Mr. Torque ticked and tocked.

  No one made a sound.

  Until Lelanea broke the tension by reaching out to stroke the man’s hanging head.

  “There is no shame in living after the one you loved has passed on,” she said. “It’s not easy. I know. It takes both strength and courage. I think uncle is right; you are both strong and courageous.”

  Duncan raised his damp eyes to hers.

  Over the soft clicks of the clockwork man’s gears, Dodger could just about hear Duncan’s heart breaking.

  “She was my whole life,” Duncan whispered.

  “She still is,” Lelanea said, and pulled Duncan to her. “She always will be.”

  He buried his head in her shoulder, the sounds of weeping filling the quiet meeting room. To be truthful, as touching as it was, the scene was a bit awkward for Dodger. He felt nothing but sympathy for both parties, yet was still embarrassed by their intimate exchange. It didn’t help that he, too, felt the pricking sting of oncoming tears. Much more of this, and Dodger would be just as weepy as the deputy. Thankfully, Duncan didn’t cry for long. After a few minutes, his weeping wound down to that choked exhaustion that follows these kinds of emotional eruptions. Pulling away from Lelanea’s shoulder, he wiped at his wet and sheepish-looking face.

  “I’m so sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to-”

  “Never apologize for crying on a friend’s shoulder,” Lelanea said. “Especially when that shoulder belongs to a woman who offered it to you willingly.”

  “Thanks.”

  “You’re very welcome.”

  “To be truthful,” the professor said, “it’s probably best that you don’t return permanently to Sunnyvale. You see, the belt you wear is powered by the photovoltaic effect.”

  “The what?” Duncan asked, once again confused.

  “The photovoltaic effect. The belt draws the energy needed to work from exposure to solar radiation.”

  Duncan remained as perplexed as ever.