In the distance, she saw dark lines of more ghuls marching toward her.
Harriet shot again and again, until her fingers were raw flesh. She paused for a moment, allowing them to heal and then fired another volley from the Carver Mule.
A score of ghuls fell dead.
She charged the Hwarang ghuls, colliding with a crack of iron and wood. She slashed with her spadroon and felt the impact of bone snap against the blade. She felt the weight of Freedonian soldiers pushing in from the front as well as at her back, curses and screams and iron raking against iron and the rending of flesh.
Harriet felt the riptide of ghuls falter as the fighting shifted to the left. She saw a break in the line and lunged forward, stabbing to her left with the point of her sword.
The steel tip ripped into flesh and bone.
A Hwarang ghul fell to the ground at Harriet’s feet.
She stepped over the fallen body, attacking the next creature who tried to fill the gap. She stabbed the ghul in the throat.
The Hwarang ghul’s blood sprayed – a fine mist, warm and red-green. The monster grabbed at the sword stuck in his neck.
Harriet ripped the sword free. Another gush of blood.
The ghul grasped at the wound as he fell to his knees choking and gurgling on his own ichor.
“Naleul ssaum , manyeo!” – “Fight me, witch!” – Colonel Kim howled.
Harriet snapped her head toward the direction of the voice. The Hwarang Colonel charged toward her, sword at the ready.
Harriet pushed through the crowd of battling Freedonians and ghuls, her sword held above her head. She stood at an opening a few yards from the melee, whirling her spadroon before her.
“Isanghan…na-ege manyeo leul hochul goemul,” Harriet said. “Funny…a monster calling me a witch.”
“Dangsin-eun Hangug-eoleul!” – “You speak the language of Joseon,” Colonel Kim said. “Where did you learn?”
“Here and there,” Harriet replied.
“Well, in war, we are all monsters, are we not?” Colonel Kim said.
“Some, more than others,” Harriet said.
Colonel Kim nodded. “Indeed.”
Tightening her grip on her sword, Harriet approached Colonel Kim. As she closed, Colonel Kim fell into an easy stance, geom sword raised behind his head. Harriet adjusted her step, circling to her right — just outside the reach of Colonel Kim’s sword swing.
The Colonel shuffled, shifting to keep Harriet in front of him. He held himself with an easy confidence, assured in the superiority of his two-handed long sword and the brigandine armor vest and greaves he wore under his garments. His reach was longer; he had no reason to attack first. Harriet would have to get in closer to use her spadroon, and during that time, Colonel Kim would have a chance to use the geom.
“Arrogance is good,” Harriet thought. “Pride always cometh before a fall.”
She continued to drift around the Hwarang ghul leader, maintaining the same distance and letting the tip of her sword dance hypnotically before him while her mind unconsciously focused on the subtle changes in Colonel Kim’s posture and position.
The sun beat down, and Harriet felt sweat bead up on her neck and drip down the inside of her arms within her blouse.
Having completed two complete circuits of the Colonel’s stationary position, Harriet settled into a low stance, sword ready, and waited.
She did not have to wait long.
The Colonel leapt forward, the geom lashing out at Harriet’s neck. It was a marvelously delivered blow, but for all the swiftness of Colonel Kim’s attack, signs of his intent had been readily clear to Harriet.
As the geom snapped toward her, Harriet stepped forward and to the outside, slamming the pommel of her sword and her left forearm against the Colonel’s arm, blocking the blow before it could even be fully extended.
Colonel Kim reacted quickly, folding his arm back and bending it at the elbow. His momentum carried him forward, and his elbow hit Harriet hard at the base of her rib cage.
Harriet felt half her breath abandon her body. She tightened her abdomen to retain enough air in her lungs to fight on.
She felt the sword coming. As the geom came hurtling down, Harriet darted to her left.
As she moved, she raised her sword. The blade slashed across the Colonel’s throat.
Metal rang off metal with no sign of blood. His armored shirt had saved him from the fatal cut.
Colonel Kim countered with a slash of his own.
Harriet took a slight step backward with her lead leg.
The geom blade whirled past her nose.
Harriet thrust her sword up into Colonel Kim’s left armpit, exposed after his failed attack.
The Colonel collapsed around Harriet’s spadroon, grunting in pain.
Harriet grabbed the shoulder of Colonel Kim’s robe, clutching a fistful of cloth. She pulled the cloth toward her chest, yanking Colonel Kim off balance. It would be easy to throw him now. Once the Colonel was on the ground, the protection provided by his armor would be negated and it would be much easier to deliver a finishing attack.
Fire exploded across Harriet’s back.
Colonel Kim had managed to twist the geom and plant it into Harriet’s back, just missing her spine.
Struggling through the pain, Harriet drove her right knee into Colonel Kim’s groin.
Colonel Kim staggered backward.
Harriet’s back muscles shrieked in agony as Colonel Kim tried to hang on to the geom as he stumbled.
Harriet managed to twist away and pull the handle from the Colonel’s fingers. She reached behind her, desperately trying to grasp the haft of the geom lodged in her flesh. More pain lanced up her back and into the base of her skull as she twisted her body. Her fingers slipped on the bloody handle.
Colonel Kim wobbled, his legs struggling to hold him upright. Harriet caught sight of a shadow at the base of his neck. Her spadroon had cut the Hwarang leader after all. Not fatally, but she had drawn blood.
Harriet’s hand found the haft of the geom and pulled it free. Now she had two swords.
Colonel Kim exploded forward, raising his straight leg high until his knee touched his chest. He then whipped his leg in a downward arc toward the top of Harriet’s head.
Harriet darted to her left, sweeping the bloody geom up and slamming its handle against the bones in Colonel Kim’s ankle.
The Colonel cried out in agony. In desperation, he snapped his right hand out, driving his metal-shod fist into Harriet’s throat.
Harriet’s throat closed. Gagging, she felt her grip on the geom loosen. The Colonel struck again.
Harriet barely managed to tuck her chin down.
Colonel Kim’s fist scraped across her jaw.
Harriet stumbled backward.
Colonel Kim pressed his advantage, pounding Harriet with short jabs.
Harriet reeled from the blows. Blood poured from her nose.
Colonel Kim coiled his back and then launched a powerful palm strike toward Harriet’s solar plexus.
Harriet jabbed upward with Colonel Kim’s geom, shoving the point of the blade into the base of the Hwarang’s hand.
Colonel Kim’s fingers closed into a fist. His wrist cocked at a strange angle.
Harriet felt the knife grind against bone. She shoved and twisted the blade.
The Colonel screamed.
Harriet dropped her hips and twisted her body around as she swept her right leg backward.
Colonel Kim flew off his feet.
Harriet, still holding onto his arm, fell with him. They crashed to the ground. A bone-snapping crunch followed.
Harriet rolled to her feet.
The leader of the Hwarang struggled to turn over. His right arm flopped lifelessly against his side – the hand had been run-through by Harriet’s sword, and the elbow was bent at a hideous angle. The sleeve of the Colonel’s white robe was now dyed burgundy by blood.
The Colonel Kim flopped onto his back, screaming a
nd crying.
Harriet knelt beside the downed Colonel Kim. She shoved her spadroon into his eye.
The Colonel thrashed for a moment and then his limbs stilled.
Harriet drew the Carver Mule from its pouch and fired in Caleb’s direction.
The bullet hit Colin in the torso.
Blood splattered Caleb’s chest.
Colin collapsed. A line of smoke rose from a gaping hole in Colin’s back.
Connor dropped to his knees beside his brother. “Colin! No!”
Harriet fired again.
Connor’s head disappeared. His headless frame fell over on its side.
“Rip her apart!” Caleb commanded.
Hordes of ghuls rushed her from all sides.
Harriet fired volley after volley with the Carver Mule as she slashed, stabbed and hacked away with her sword.
Many ghuls fell. Many more took their place.
The ghuls overwhelmed Harriet, pummeling her and clawing her flesh.
“I guess it’s my time, Lawd,” Harriet whispered. “I’ll see you directly.”
Harriet heard a loud buzzing overhead. A moment later, the ghuls skittered away from her and rallied around Caleb.
The Ghul King and his subjects were covered in a pinkish-green goo; the same pinkish-green goo from Dr. Carver’s laboratory – the Carver Mushroom.
Harriet looked up toward the buzzing. A Grasshopper flew overhead. The door to the Grasshopper opened and Mary leapt out. She landed on the ground with a thunderous din.
“Happy you decided to join us, Mary, Harriet said. “After I was almost killed.”
“The key word is almost,” Mary said.
“What have you done?” Caleb hissed. “What is this?”
“That is the Carver Mushroom,” Mary said, drawing one of her revolvers. “Your end. Mine, too.”
Mary jammed the muzzle of the gun into the soft tissue behind her chin.
“Mary!” Harriet gasped. “What are you doing?”
“Yeah, negress,” Caleb said. “What are you…errk…King Louis was the King of France before the revolution; and then he got his head cut off, which spoiled his constitution… annyeonghaseyo…annyeonghi jumusyeoss-eoyo.”
The ghuls repeated the nonsensical chattering of their King.
“See, Harriet,” Mary said. “The mushrooms are connecting all of our consciousnesses. I feel its pull, too. We are becoming one.”
“So?” Harriet said.
“So, if one of us dies, we all die.” Mary said.
“Mary, don’t do this,” Harriet said. A tear fell from the corner of Harriet’s eye.
“I’m already dead, Harriet,” Mary said. “How long do you think the MAHO can contain my power? I’ll burn out in months. And if I don’t do this, the world will be overrun by Caleb and his army within a fortnight.”
Harriet reached for Mary’s gun. “Mary!”
Mary backpedaled away from Harriet. “I’ve already infected the ghuls at the National House and the ones on West Paces.”
“Mary, please,” Harriet cried.
“It’s the only way,” Mary said.
“I know,” Harriet replied.
“I love you, sis,” Mary sobbed.
Harriet turned away from Mary and walked away. “I love you, too, Mary.”
A shot echoed across the sky.
Ghuls collapsed all around Harriet, for as far as her eyes could see.
She peered over her shoulder. Stagecoach Mary lay, face down on the ground. Caleb lay dead a few yards away from her. The surviving Freedonian soldiers struggled to their feet and then busied themselves tended to their wounded and to their dead.
“Lawd,” Harriet sighed as she walked away. It was time for her to heal and to mourn the loss of a dear friend before heading home.
CHAPTER twenty-three
October 1, 1870
Harriet and Dr. Carver walked into Friendship A.M.E. Church. The church was empty. Most churches were at three a.m. Harriet followed Dr. Carver to the pulpit. Dr. Carver placed the palms of his hands on the floor. A panel beneath Dr. Carver’s hands opened, revealing a ladder descending into darkness. Dr. Carver descended the ladder. Harriet followed suit.
At the bottom of the ladder was a small room. Within that small room was a single item: the Spirit Engine.
“Here we are,” Dr. Carver said. “Thank you, for all that you have done.”
“You’re welcome,” Harriet said. “This has been an interesting journey and I am happy I could help.”
“I thought I was stronger than a word,” Dr. Carver said. “But I just discovered that having to say goodbye to you is by far the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do, Harriet.”
“Don’t be silly,” Harriet said. “You still have a Harriet Tubman.”
“She is very much not you,” Dr. Carver said. And as you said, I will see her again soon, but I wonder how you say goodbye to someone forever?”
“I reckon you just say ‘goodbye,” Harriet replied.
“Well, goodbye, Moses,” Dr. Carver said.
“Goodbye Dr. Carver.”
Dr. Carver pulled the lever on the Spirit Engine. A moment later, a tear opened before Harriet. She leapt through it. The tear closed and then it – and Harriet – vanished.
CHAPTER twenty-four
January 1, 1871
The members of Mount Gilboa Chapel filed out of the tiny church eating bowls of Hoppin’ John – a dish of black-eyed peas and rice eaten on New Year’s Day to bring a prosperous year filled with good luck – and collard greens for wealth and prosperity.
Below the church, Banneker laughed at the superstition as he sipped tea from a straw. The tea – steeped in a pot attached to his gurney was his favorite, Tieguanyin – named after the Buddhist deity, Guan Yin, the Iron Goddess of Mercy – the most expensive tea in the world, revered for its chestnut flavor, golden color and, most of all, for the distinct, pitch perfect ringing sound it made when poured into a cup.
Familiar footsteps approached.
“Ah, I see you were successful in your separation,” Banneker said.
“Yeah,” Caleb said, stepping close enough for Banneker to see him. “But you forgot to mention that damned Jek creature was guardin’ the Spirit-Engine and that’s how me and John Brown would wind up separated.”
“I honestly thought that was merely a rumor concocted by Baas Bello to scare away potential seekers of the device,” Banneker said. “I thought the journey to the parallel reality would tear you apart.”
“Oh, it did,” Caleb said. “If Brown had made it over to that other reality, he wouldn’t have survived nohow. It was my…fluidity that allowed me to survive.”
“I trust Baas Bello is dead,” Banneker said.
“If he wasn’t would I be here?” Caleb asked.
“True,” Banneker replied. “But wait…how did you return to our reality?”
The corners of Caleb’s mouth stretched across his cheeks in an impossibly wide grin. “Through your mama’s knickers.”
“What?!” Banneker bellowed.
Caleb laughed so hard his shoulders shook. His laughter grew louder; the shaking of his shoulders more violent.
“Caleb…Mr. Butler…what is the meaning of this?” Banneker inquired.
Caleb answered with more laughter. His entire body shook now, so violently that large chunks of flesh sloughed off and fell, in a sticky pile, at his feet.
“What in the hell!” Banneker shouted.
Caleb’s laughter grew more rapid, becoming a cackle that scratched at Banneker’s few living nerve endings. The Ghul King’s face fell from his skull, sliding down the front of his shirt until it plopped onto the top of the flesh pile.
“No!” Banneker screamed.
The laughter stopped.
Caleb was gone. Standing before Banneker was Harriet. She raised the Bello Mule and fired, hitting Banneker in the chest.
Banneker screamed in agony.
“I am immortal, woman,” he coughed
. “So, save your bullets.”
“I know I can’t kill you, Banneker,” Harriet said. “But there’s worse things than death.”
“You think I don’t know that?” Banneker hissed. “I am trapped in this useless body for eternity – a body made useless by your lover! All I have left is my sharp and brilliant mind.”
“And you won’t have that for much longer,” Harriet said.
Banneker laughed. “Fool, you can barely read; you have no chance of breaking a mind such as this.”
“I beg to differ,” Harriet said, with a snap of her fingers.
The second illusion faded. Banneker was no longer in the bowels of Mount Gilboa Chapel. He now rested in a hole in the earth.
“W-where am I?” Banneker croaked. “Harriet, what have you done?”
“I’ve hurt you, and I’m gon’ go on hurtin’ you…forever.”
Harriet grabbed a shovel that rested in a mound of dirt beside her. She scooped up a pile of dirt and then poured it into the hole. Chunks of soft red dirt rained upon Banneker’s mask.
“There is no red dirt in Oella, or in all of Maryland,” Banneker said. “Where have you taken me?”
“Oh, here and there,” Harriet said, scooping more dirt into the hole.
“How? My knolls…”
“Are destroyed,” Harriet chimed in. “Your lab and all your life’s work, too.”
Harriet shoveled another scoop of dirt into the hole, covering Banneker’s dead legs.
“As far as how you wound up here…your faithful, poor, feeble-minded Mary Elizabeth Bowser ain’t at all poor or feeble-minded and damn sure ain’t faithful to no monster like you. She was happy to slip a little somethin’ in yo’ drink that made sho’ you slept like a baby until I was ready for you to wake up.”
“Mary Elizabeth?” Banneker sobbed. “No!
“Yep,” Harriet chuckled.
More red dirt fell into the hole.
“Harriet…please,” Banneker cried. “I will give you riches beyond your wildest imagination.”
The Chronicles of Harriet Tubman- Freedonia Page 13
