The Chronicles of Harriet Tubman- Freedonia

by Balogun Ojetade

  “A few bumps and bruises?” Pei Ming echoed, raising an eyebrow. “Umm…”

  “Do you need me to come?” Constable Kojoe shouted from the pilot’s seat.

  “No,” Harriet replied. “Too many ‘Law Dogs’ will just set these warriors off. Just keep this bird fired up!”

  Harriet revved the engine of the monowheel and exploded out of the door.

  Black Mary somersaulted out behind her.

  Pei vanished, reappearing ten yards – her limit with each displacement – from the airship. She vanished again, reappearing after another ten yards. Pei repeated this process until she appeared beside Mary and Harriet, who now stood beside her monowheel about five yards from Wabli Ska.

  The warhorses were decorated in war-paint. Scarlet circles were painted around the animals’ eyes and nostrils; and green hand prints were drawn upon each horse’s hip. Each horse had a small leather medicine bag weaved into its bridle and black-tipped eagle feathers braided into its forelock and tail.

  The warriors wore deerskin shirts and trousers. Their cheeks bore a red and crimson stripe and all but Wabli Ska wore two eagle feathers sewn into their hair.

  Wabli wore a bonnet made of black eagle feathers with a white tip.

  “Evenin’, Wabli.” Harriet said, raising her hand in greeting.

  “Good evening,” Wabli answered. “Why are you here, Harriet?”

  “We have two murders on our hands,” Harriet replied. “One is a Chinese monk; the other one is a Negro girl. The Chinese symbols for war were carved into the girl’s back.”

  “What has any of that got to do with me?” Wabli said. “Or you, for that matter? Since when does a monster-hunter work for the Law?”

  “It could be a Green committing these crimes, but before we head out to the Green Lands, we need to weigh all of our options,” Harriet replied.

  “And I’m an option? Wabli spat. “Get your ass out of here, Harriet, before you get yourself hurt!”

  “We just want to talk, Wabli,” Harriet said. “You know me; you don’t want your people to die and I don’t want to hurt anyone, but if you make a move, I’ll kill you all.”

  “I always wanted to see if you were as bad-ass as they say,” a young warrior shouted. “Let me handle this, Chief!”

  “Boy, shut up when grown folks are talking!” Wabli commanded. “I watched this woman kill two Wendigo with nothing but that damned shotgun on her back. You are not gonna fight her…”

  Wabli threw the tomahawk at Harriet’s head. “We are!”

  Harriet dropped to one knee as she drew her shotgun. The tomahawk whizzed by her left ear.

  Mary drew both of her Colt Dragoon revolvers and fired. Two warriors slumped over in their saddles, blood pouring from their foreheads.

  Pei-Pei Ming vanished. A moment later, she appeared, sitting behind the young warrior who asked to fight Harriet. Pei grabbed his chin with one hand and the crest of his head with the other and then twisted forcefully. The young man fell from his horse and landed on his chest. His head – now turned backward – stared up at Pei with dead eyes.

  Harriet fired a volley from her shotgun, blowing three warriors off their horses before they could string an arrow on their bows. She then leapt toward Wabli and struck him in the chest with the butt of the shotgun.

  Wabli tumbled off the horse and landed, with a thud, onto his back. He recovered quickly, however, rolling to his feet and running toward the airship.

  “He’s going for the airship,” Harriet shouted. “Stop him, Pei, but don’t kill him. We need to question him. Mary and me will clean up here.”

  Pei nodded as she crushed a warrior’s windpipe with a swift chop. She vanished, leaving Harriet and Mary to deal with the warriors.

  Harriet leapt high into the air as she fired the shotgun. A warrior’s head disappeared in a cloud of red mist.

  She landed – rolling to avoid a volley of arrows – and then popped to her feet, squeezing the shotgun’s trigger in rapid succession.

  Five more warrior’s fell.

  The remaining warriors turned their horses around and retreated toward the village.

  Mary grabbed Wabli’s horse by its hind legs and hurled it at the fleeing warriors. Three were crushed under the horses weight.

  Harriet hopped on her monowheel and headed back to the airship. She arrived to find Wabli face down on the ground in handcuffs. Pei stood over him.

  Mary sprinted to Harriet’s side, her steam-powered leg hissing in time with her rapid breaths. “That was fun!”

  “Wabli, did you kill the monk and the girl?” Harriet asked.

  “Yes,” Wabli confessed.

  Harriet was stunned. “I’ll ask again…”

  “No need,” Wabli said, interrupting her. “I did it.”

  “Wabli, your father…”

  “Don’t mention my father!” Wabli hissed. “Just…don’t…please.”

  “Okay, Wabli,” Harriet said, pulling him to his feet. Let’s go.”

  ****

  “I am so sorry, Chief Constable,” Harriet said, taking a seat in front of Chief Constable Magaska Hota’s desk. “I know how close you and Wabli are.”

  “Yes, it saddens me,” the Chief Constable said. “But I am also happy the murderer has been brought to justice.”

  Pei-Pei Ming handed Chief Constable Magaska Hota a form and a pen. “We just need you to sign the Writ of Execution and we will carry out the sentence.”

  The Chief Constable took the pen in his left hand and signed the form. “Please, make it quick. I don’t want my son to suffer.”

  “You misunderstand, Chief,” Harriet said. “Please read the name on the Writ carefully.”

  The Chief Constable perused the form. “Is this a joke?”

  “No joke, sir,” Harriet replied.

  “Why is my name on this Writ?” The Chief Constable inquired.

  “Because you the murderer,” Harriet replied. “Shi Yan Bo suffered rib fractures to his right side; that tell me it was from a powerful left-legged strike. The damage on the left side of his neck came from an attack from behind, with the killer’s left hand.”

  Harriet stood up. “The girl got defensive wounds on her right forearm, caused by a razor attack with the killer’s left hand…and just now, you signed the Writ with yo’ left hand, but when Wabli attacked me, he threw the tomahawk with his right hand.”

  “You have a good son, former Chief Constable,” Pei-Pei Ming said. “He would rather die than see it happen to his father.”

  “Oh, please,” Magaska Hota hissed, staring down at his desk. “He just wants to be a martyr. The fool thinks it will further his cause.”

  Harriet drew her shotgun. “If you look up from that paper…if you move your head one inch, you’ll lose it.”

  Magaska Hota laughed gleefully and clapped his hand. “Oh, you are a smart one, aren’t you? You know what I am. Very good.”

  “Yeah, the Lawd done made it clear,” Harriet said. “You a Two-Face. The Stonecoat was a lefty, too, by the way. I guess all you Greens is.”

  Harriet did not take her eyes – or her weapon – off of the monster as she addressed Pei Ming. “Pei-Pei, the gaze of a Two-Face paralyzes so it can drain its victims’ blood without them putting up a fight. They also like to cause war and strife…easier for them to hunt during the chaos.”

  “She can’t read a lick, but she’s smart!” Magaska Hota chuckled.

  “What I don’t know is how you took possession of the Chief without breaching the Wall,” Harriet said, ignoring the Two-Face’s taunts.

  “I have been with Magaska Hota since his family brought him here when he was twelve,” the creature replied. “I – of course – had to lay dormant in my host for quite a while before I could take over. During that time, the boy got married and conceived a son. Wabli and Magaska Hota were very close by the time I took over and Wabli noticed the change. I guess he hoped that his death would shock Magaska Hota into waking up and casting me out, but it’s too
late. Magaska Hota’s soul is dead.”

  “That’s all I needed to know.” Harriet pulled the trigger.

  The Two-Face’s head was blown from its shoulders. A greenish-black ichor spewed from the creature’s neck. Its headless body shuddered and then collapsed onto the floor.

  “He is going to cry,” Pei Ming sighed.

  “Wabli Ska?” Harriet asked.

  Pei shook her head. “No…the janitor when he sees this mess he has to clean up.”

  “I’ll give him a few leaves of that funny smellin’ tobacco Mary keeps hidden in her bag,” Harriet said. “That’ll put a smile on his face.”

  “I just teleported up a Stonecoat’s backside,” Pei-Pei replied. I could use something to make me smile, too.”

  “Then, come on child,” Harriet said, walking toward the door. “Next stop…Mary’s place.”

  CHAPTER four

  September 19, 1870

  Kraken’s Almanac belched a cloud of steam into the air, high above the docks at the Port of Dover. John Brown sauntered down the ramp onto the dock, carrying a worn, leather suitcase. In the distance loomed the steam train of the South Eastern Railway. There’s our ride,” Brown whispered.

  Caleb squirmed under his vest. “Let’s shake a leg, then!”

  John Brown sprinted toward the train.

  “All aboard!” The conductor shouted as he stepped up into the train.

  Brown leapt into the train behind him.

  The conductor turned to face Brown with his hand extended. “Your ticket, sir?”

  “I am a representative of Professor Kleinhopper,” Brown replied.

  “Ah, yes. We were expecting you a bit earlier,” the conductor said. “Welcome to England!”

  “Thanks,” John Brown said. “Could you kindly tell me where my seat is? I’m mighty tired.”

  “Certainly, sir,” the conductor replied, signaling John Brown to follow with a wave of his hand. “Right this way.”

  The conductor led him through two coach cars filled with passengers who smelled of cheap cigars and Earl Grey, past the dining car and into a car lined with maroon velvet, an oxblood leather couch and chair and a hand-carved mahogany table.

  “Here you are, sir,” the conductor said. “Lunch will be served shortly. I hope your car is to your liking.”

  “It is,” John Brown replied, smiling. “Thank you.”

  The conductor bowed slightly and then left the car.

  “Lemme see,” Caleb said.

  John Brown unbuttoned his vest and one button of his shirt. Caleb peeked out and perused the room. He whistled in approval. “That nigger’s got class!”

  “Unlike you!” Brown hissed. “Must you always be so vulgar?”

  “My apologies,” Caleb said. “I forgot you was a nigger…I mean negro-lover. But when we kill this other nigger…excuse me…negro, Baas Bello, you will not be bothered with my vulgar ass much longer.”

  “We cannot get to Whitechapel soon enough.” John Brown sighed.

  The train ride continued on in silence. John Brown did not dislike Caleb, but he resented him because, while Caleb’s ability to infect others was still active, his power to possess was not. The moment they were separated, he would possess Banneker and use his wealth, resources and army of knolls to topple the United States government and finally build his Black nation, over which he would rule. He, of course, would have Harriet and Black Mary hunted down and executed. They were the cause of his hellish marriage to Caleb – it was either that, or die – they had thwarted him at every turn and he wanted justice at any cost.

  John Brown exited the train at its stop in the East End of London, in the Borough of Tower Hamlets. Outside of the station was a line of horse-drawn carriages. Each driver wore a black, wool Inverness coat and a black top-hat. Except for one man, who wore a smaller John Bull top-hat with a red band and sported a red velvet smoking jacket.

  “That’s the one,” Brown said, walking toward the carriage.

  The carriage driver peered down at him.

  “For Professor Kleinhopper,” Brown said with a nod.

  The driver pulled back on an iron lever that extended from the floor next to his right shin. The carriage door opened.

  John slid his suitcase onto the top of the carriage and then climbed inside it. He sat back and enjoyed the coolness of the plush leather against his back and thighs.

  The carriage took off. John Brown stared out the window. What he saw disturbed him. On the streets and alleys of the East End, hordes of urchins toiled. They were ragged and filthy, their feet bare; their expressions, grave and careworn. For these children, life was nothing but hard work, empty bellies and the constant struggle for survival. Much like the enslaved Black people in America. “After I have built my Black Empire, perhaps we will storm the East End and make it a better place,” Brown thought.

  The carriage came to a smooth halt.

  “Whitechapel!” The carriage driver shouted.

  John Brown stepped out of the carriage. The driver handed him his luggage and then rode off.

  “How are we going to find this damned Spirit-Engine?” Caleb whispered, peering out from the space made by the vest button John Brown left undone. “This place is just one big mess of filth and factories.”

  “Baas Bello is wealthy and, most importantly, Black,” John Brown replied. “He would not find many safe spaces among these people. Where, however, can a man with money – regardless of his race, color or creed – go and be shown some measure of respect and even loyalty, if he’s willing to pay for it?”

  “God damn, Brown, you’re a genius!” Caleb said. “That old bastard hid it in a brothel!”

  “I’d wager he did,” John Brown said.

  “But in Whitechapel, whorehouses outnumber churches,” Caleb said. It’s gonna take us forever and a day to find the one.”

  “Then we had best get started,” John Brown replied.

  CHAPTER five

  Harriet and Mary crept across the wood-paved alleyway to a high fence made of oak, the shadows of the night providing cover for their movement. Harriet leapt over the fence. Mary followed her, her mechanical leg releasing a soft hiss. The women darted up the back stairs of the three-story wooden house. Harriet tapped on the door three times. She paused for a second and tapped twice more. She paused again and then tapped a final time.

  The back door opened a crack. Harriet slipped inside. Mary opened the door a bit wider and darted into the house. Baas Bello greeted them with warm hugs. He smiled, but to Harriet, his eyes revealed worry, something uncommon for the immortal genius.

  “Harriet! Mary! It is so good to see you!”

  “You talk like you ain’t laid eyes on us in years, Baas,” Harriet said. “It’s only been four months. What’s eatin’ you?”

  “Come, sit down and let’s talk,” Baas said, turning on his heels. He looked over his shoulder as he walked down the hallway. “I have already prepared chai for you. I added cream and sugar just the way you like it, Harriet and Mary, I added your preferred shot of Kentucky Bourbon.”

  “Good old Baas!” Mary said, clapping her hands.

  Harriet and Mary followed Baas into a room with walls built from ebony bookshelves. Thousands of books, in several languages, filled every slot in each of the four walls. At the center of the room was a round, ebony table with four matching chairs. On the table sat three white, tea cups.

  Baas pointed at one of the cups. “Harriet.”

  Harriet sat down, lifted the cup to her lips and took a sip. The cinnamon and ginger in the tea warmed her. “It’s good, Baas. As always.

  “Thank you,” Baas replied. “Mary?”

  Stagecoach Mary sat down and took a long swig. She handed the empty cup to Baas. “That was mighty tasty, Baas. Add a little bit more bourbon to the next round, if you please.”

  Baas laughed. “I’ll be right back.”

  He exited the room, returned a minute later with another cup of chai for Mary and then sat down at t
he table.

  “First, thank you for your work in Oregon,” he said. “Oregon is my grand experiment to see if the people of this land can work together when our various cultures are allowed to be practiced and are equally valued. So far, so good.”

  “So far,” Harriet replied. “But the Greens outside the Gate are becoming more active and more breaches are bound to happen soon.”

  “After this war, I would like for the three of us to settle there,” Baas said. “To protect and help govern it.”

  “I like Oregon,” Mary said. “The food is good; the liquor is strong. Count me in!”

  Harriet shook her head. “Lawd, Mary! Well, if the Lawd show me it’s time for me to settle, I’ll settle, but soldierin’ is all I know. Anyhow, what is goin’ on Baas?”

  “I’m in trouble,” Baas said. “Banneker has struck a bargain with John Brown and Caleb. They have headed to Whitechapel in London to find one of my creations – a thousand year old device I call the Spirit-Engine.”

  “What does the Alchemist need that fo’?” Harriet inquired.

  “To kill me,” Baas answered. “The Spirit-Engine allows travel to a reality nearly identical to our own – a reality where no one possesses special gifts like we do here. No one, except me, that is.”

  “So, nobody like me or Harriet to watch your back over there.” Mary said.

  “You already understand, then,” Baas said.

  “Yeah,” Harriet said. “But what would killin’ that world’s Baas have to do with you?”

  Baas sipped his tea before he spoke. “We are all linked to our double in that reality. When one of us dies here, our double dies there and vice versa. Most of us are unaware of our double. My double and I are fully aware of each other’s surface thoughts and activities.”

  Harriet shook her head. “Lawd! So, how can we help Baas?”

  “Harriet, I need you to travel to that alternate world and stop Brown and Caleb if you can,” Baas said. “Finding the Spirit-Engine won’t be easy and finding my double will be even harder, so even though they are several days ahead of you, you may well be able to intercept and stop them.”

  Harriet nodded. “Consider it, done.”