Clockwork Mechanicals - the Complete Trilogy

by Peter R Stone

  “That’s...amazing!” Robby says. I don’t think he can quite believe what he’s seeing. I don’t blame him. I can remember how surprised I was the first time I saw them.

  We hear a thump on the door and turn in fear. It could be Davis bringing us food, or the Mechanical come to imprison us.

  Strangely, the door doesn’t open. Instead, we can hear the sound of metal scratching metal, and then the doorknob suddenly clatters to the floor with a loud bang.

  We hear more strange sounds and then the door creaks open.

  I have no idea what to expect, but I jump back in fright when a bronze cockroach the size of a man’s shoe scuttles into the room. It scurries along the wall just like a real cockroach.

  As we back away from it, I realise that it’s just another clockwork Mechanical. Its body is full of gears and there is a large spring curled up in its abdomen, complete with a key to wind it up. Its feet are actually tools like you would find in a Swiss Army Knife. One foot is a saw, two are screwdrivers, and the other three are a file, a bottle opener, and a small adjustable spanner. The cockroach must have dismantled the door handle with its feet. The question is – is it a good Mechanical or an evil one?

  “What is that thing?” Megan asks in alarm.

  “Is it d-d-d-dangerous?” Robby asks.

  “I don’t think so,” I reply, when I notice that the butterflies have not stopped flitting merrily about Megan. “Look at the butterflies – they’re as happy as Larry.”

  “Who’s Larry?” Megan asks.

  “It’s just an expression,” I explain.

  “About Larry?”

  “No, it just means you’re very happy.”

  “So why didn’t you say that in the first place?”

  Before I have a chance to answer, the door opens wider. I wonder who could be out there when Spidey scurries into the room. As soon as he spots me, he rushes over and drops the bolt at my feet with a CLUNK.

  “Found it, did you? Good little fella,” I say as I squat down and pick him up. I gaze affectionately into his eight red eyes. I’m so happy to see him again.

  Chapter Seven

  Although Spidey is buzzing happily like a cat purring, his little legs are going up and down rapidly because he wants me to put him down. I pop him back on the floor and he bustles backwards, wagging his abdomen as he waits for me to throw the bolt.

  I notice that Robby is staring at Spidey with his mouth open.

  “This is Spidey,” I say.

  “How did yo-yo-yo-you get it so an-an-an-animated?” he asks.

  “What do you mean?”

  “That clockwork s-s-spider – Spidey. How did y-y-you get it to become so lifelike?”

  “He’s always been like this,” I say, confused.

  Robby shakes his head. “Not when you br-br-br-brought it in for ‘Share & Care’ it wasn’t. Wh-wh-wh-when you wound it up, it just moved in a s-s-s-straight line until it needed w-w-w-winding up again. Now it loo-loo-loo-looks like it’s...alive.”

  “Hang on, are you telling me that I brought Spidey into ‘Share and Care?’ ”

  “Yes.”

  “Please, tell me more. I’ve lost my memory, remember?”

  “Okay. You br-br-br-brought it into school and sh-sh-showed it to us for ‘Sh-sh-sh-share and Care.’ You told us that you’d m-m-m-made him out of scrap – out of scrap – out of scrap you found in your dad’s...junkyard.”

  “My dad owns a junkyard?”

  “Y-y-yes.”

  “And I made Spidey out of scrap?”

  “Yes.”

  I look at Spidey with renewed interest. That I made him comes as a big surprise to me, but that just makes me even more puzzled about the fact that he’s alive. Another thought occurs to me. I look over to the butterflies, and then the cockroach. I wonder if I made them too. I guess I may have, for although the butterflies are all the same size, each one is different. Like they’ve been made from scrap metal as well.

  I reach for Spidey’s bolt so I can throw it for him, but hesitate when the cockroach runs down the wall and comes over to me. The shoe-sized clockwork bug head butts my leg and then gently bites my jeans with its small mandibles. After that, he does a circle and a half, snuggles up against my shoe, and starts to purr. Just like Spidey.

  “Aww, isn’t he cute,” Megan squeaks with delight. “You have to name him.”

  I pat the cockroach’s broad, almost flat body, and he purrs even louder. I notice that his spring has almost wound down, so I gently wind him up again.

  “I don’t know, how about Roach?”

  “Sounds good to me.”

  I suddenly remember that the door is open, so I jump to my feet. “Let’s get out of here, find the Mechanical, and stop it putting the bomb down the well shaft.”

  “Do we have to go right now? I’m so happy now I’ve got my butterflies back. I mean, I was so worried that something may have happened to them, you know? Like maybe those mean workmen found them or the Mechanical smashed them. But you were right, they’re just fine, and I’d love to play with them for a bit longer,” Megan says.

  “As much as I’d like to stay here and play with the Mechanicals, we’ve got a job to do.”

  “Spoilsport,” she says.

  “I know.” I give her a friendly slap on the shoulder.

  I pick up Spidey’s bolt and throw it out of the room, and then make for the door.

  He darts after the bolt, but stops abruptly when he reaches the doorway.

  I wonder why, but when Roach darts in front of me and stops me from putting my foot down, I pause and look more closely at the doorway.

  And then I step back too.

  “What is it?” Megan asks.

  “Look!”

  I point to the door.

  A dozen bronze spiders, each the size of a Huntsman and just as ugly, are dropping from the top of the doorframe to the floor. When they reach the floor, they start climbing back up. I don’t know how they’re doing it because I can’t see a web.

  I reach out my hand to see if I can feel the web’s strands, but Robby jumps forward and pulls my arm back.

  “What are you doing?” I demand crossly.

  “They’re s-s-s-spinning a web so fine that we can’t – that we can’t – that we can’t see it,” he explains.

  “So? I’ll just push it aside.”

  “You don’t ge-ge-ge-get it, do you? I reckon they’re spinning a w-w-w-web made of m-m-metal. A web s-s-s-so fine that we can’t see it. So if you poke – if you poke – if you poke your ha-ha-hand through it, it’s going to c-c-c-c-cut...you.”

  I think Robby’s lost the plot, but the bronze spiders have reached the top of the doorframe and are dropping back down again. Meanwhile, both Spidey and Roach are pacing in front of the door, making it impossible for us to leave. Even the butterflies seem troubled.

  I run back to the lockers to look for something I can use to test Robby’s theory. I find a log book, rip out a page and run back to the doorway. I carefully push the page forward, and then pull it back again.

  Just as I feared, the page has been cut to ribbons. But try as I might, I still can’t see the web.

  “The strands of the w-w-w-web are a single m-m-m-molecule thick,” Robby says.

  “What?”

  “Everything is m-m-made up of atoms, right? A mo-mo-mo-molecule is two or m-m-more atoms s-s-stuck together. That’s how thick – how thick – how thick the strands of th-th-the web are. Just one molecule. A hu-hu-hu-human hair is a mi-mi-mi-million atoms wide, by the way,” he explains.

  I look at Robby closely. “I know why the Orb chose you to help us. It’s because you’re so smart. I would have just charged through the doorway and hoped for the best.”

  “You may have d-d-died if you did...that.”

  I realise then that the spiders are tiny Mechanicals sent by the big Mechanical – wherever it is – to keep us trapped in this room. This is not good.

  Chapter Eight

  “Ho
w do we get past them then?” I ask.

  “The lo-lo-lockers?” Robby suggests.

  “What about them?”

  “If they’re n-n-n-not too heavy and we can pu-pu-pu-push one through the web, it sh-sh-sh-should...break it.”

  “Right, let’s try it. Megan, give us a hand,” I say.

  “Okey dokey,” she replies.

  The three of us hurry to the closest locker, and quickly empty it of a spare pair of overalls, shoes, boots, a worn backpack, and a few books.

  We grab the locker and try to wrestle it away from the wall, but it doesn’t budge.

  “No good,” I exclaim, my hopes dashed.

  “You need something made of metal, right?” Megan asks.

  “That’s right,” I reply.

  “Well – duh,” Megan says as she picks up one of the steel toe capped boots and dangles it in front of my face.

  “Why didn’t I think of that?” I face palm myself, grab the boot, and rush over to the door.

  The bronze spiders must have finished their web, because now they’re just sitting in the middle of it, daring us to try to get past them.

  I take hold of the boot with both hands and hack its steel toe cap against the invisible web. At first there is resistance, but then something finally gives way. I keep swinging until there’s no resistance left at all. Some of the spiders fall to the floor while the others climb back to the top of the doorframe.

  I’m about to ask Robby if he thinks it’s safe to leave the room, but Spidey and Roach answer my question when they dart through the doorway together.

  “Quickly, let’s get out of here – before they repair the web!” I say as I rush out after them.

  Robby and Megan jump through the doorway too, followed by the swarm of butterflies.

  We’re free! All the same, I don’t want to stay anywhere near those evil little spiders, so I rush down the walkway, gesturing for the others to follow.

  I haven’t taken more than a dozen steps when I realise I can smell smoke.

  At that very moment, the public address system comes to life and the boss’ voice booms out: “ALL PERSONNEL – REPORT TO THE FREEFALL LIFEBOAT FOR IMMEDIATE EVACUATION. THIS IS NOT A DRILL!”

  The message repeats on a continuous loop.

  Panicked shouting erupts from the workmen on the deck down below.

  One voice stands out – the supervisor’s. He says, “Davis! Get those kids and stick them in the lifeboat!”

  “On it!” Davis shouts back.

  “Wait up – we can’t use the elevator or we’ll run right into him!” I exclaim.

  Spidey, who’s carrying the bolt I had thrown for him, turns around and runs back the way we came.

  “Come on, this way!” I shout as I race after him. He’s awfully fast for a little clockwork machine.

  Megan turns around, but Robby doesn’t move.

  “Come on, Robby!” I say.

  “No way – I’m g-g-g-going to the lifeboat with the m-m-men,” he says.

  “But...”

  “The oil rig’s on f-f-f-fire, Brad! We have to ev-ev-ev-evacuate!” he insists, pointing over my shoulder.

  I turn and see thick, black smoke pouring out of a raised structure on the far side of the oil rig.

  “We can’t go now, Robby, we have to find the Mechanical and stop it putting the bomb down the well shaft.”

  Robby shakes his head vigorously. “We’ll d-d-die if we stay, Brad. This is an – this is an – this is an oil rig. Oil rigs and fire don’t m-m-m-mix too...well.”

  I haven’t got time to argue so I grab his arm and try to pull him after me. “The Orb will rescue us before it comes to that, just like it did on the space station. Now come on!”

  “You ca-ca-can’t tell m-m-me what to...do!” he says as he angrily shakes off my hand. “You always a-a-a-act like you’re better th-th-th-than the re-re-re-rest of us, putting us d-d-d-down, bossing us around.”

  I’m in a frantic rush to get off the walkway before Davis gets up here, but Robby’s got a point.

  “Look, I’m sorry for the way I used to treat you. And you’re right; I can’t tell you what to do. But please listen to this. The Orb brought you here because we need you to defeat the Mechanical. If you leave with the men, Megan and I are going to fail, and millions of people are going to die. And it’s no coincidence the fire broke out now. Remember how I told you that the Mechanical would do something to get all the people off the rig? Well, this is it.”

  “But what if this M-m-m-mechanical isn’t here? We haven’t s-s-s-seen any sign of it,” Robby points out.

  “You saw those horrible little spiders, yeah? It sent them, so it’s here, somewhere. Trust me.”

  “But wh-wh-what if you’re...wrong!”

  “I’m not.”

  “But...”

  “Over four hundred volcanoes, tidal waves, earthquakes. We can prevent this – but only if you stay, Robby.”

  Robby looks me in the eye. “Fine, I get your p-p-p-point. I’ll come. But to save the people – not b-b-because you tell me to.”

  “Good on you, Robby, you’re making the right choice. Now come on, we’re running out of time,” I say, and this time he reluctantly follows.

  Chapter Nine

  We follow Spidey to the end of the walkway. There’s a flight of stairs leading down to the next level. Megan goes down first with the butterflies fluttering happily after her. I go next, with Spidey and Roach running beside me. Robby comes last. All the while, the smoke continues to spread. We can’t even see the structure on the far side anymore.

  The boss’ order to evacuate the oil rig continues to blare out of the public address system in a continuous loop.

  As we leave the stairs to alight upon the walkway below, we hear Davis shouting from up above. He’s reached the room we were locked in and found it empty.

  “Sir, they’re not here!” he bellows to the supervisor.

  “Who’s not where?” We hear the supervisor reply.

  “The kids – they’re not in the room. The door handle is on the floor and the door’s wide open. What do I do?” Davis yells.

  “They could be anywhere, but if they’ve got half a brain between them, they’ll be on their way to the freefall lifeboat. So get yourself over there, pronto.”

  “What about you, sir?”

  “I’m on my way there now!”

  We hear Davis’ heavy boots clomp away as he makes his way back to the elevator.

  “I really wish we could go with them. I mean, I’m not scared of the Mechanical – no, that’s not true. I’m terrified of the Mechanical if you want to know the truth. But I’m even more afraid of fire,” Megan says. “There was this time when I was five – or was it six – when I accidentally put a fan heater under the curtains in the living room. Suddenly there was all this smoke and fire was crawling up the curtains and the smell was so awful –”

  “Sorry to interrupt, Megan, but we really have to...OW!” The back of my neck starts throbbing with stabbing pain. I try to keep walking, but the pain grows stronger with each step.

  I stumble to a stop and put my hand on my neck to massage it, but yelp in fright when my fingers discover something metal. Something with an abdomen, thorax and legs – a Mechanical spider! Panicking, I try to pull it off, but the harder I pull, the more it hurts.

  “What’s wrong?” Megan asks.

  I turn around so they can see.

  “You’ve go-go-go-got one of those w-w-w-web spinning spiders on the back of – the back of – the back of your...neck!” Robby squawks.

  “No kidding!”

  “Here, let me help,” Megan says.

  “No!” I shout. “The more you pull, the harder it holds on.”

  “So wh-wh-what do we...do?” Robby asks, his eyes wide with fright.

  “I know – the butterflies!” Megan says. She holds out her hand and a butterfly lands on her palm with a flutter of its wafer-thin wings. She holds her hand to the spider on my neck and
the butterflies flutter about frantically.

  At first, I think they’re going to try to pull the spider off themselves, but it’s Roach who comes to the rescue. The moment the butterflies start flapping about wildly, Roach climbs up the back of my leg and across my back. This is actually quite painful because he has to stick his sharp little feet into my skin to get a grip.

  He climbs to the spot between my shoulder blades and begins tinkering with the spider. The spider knows it’s under attack too, because it digs its legs deeper into my skin. Tears spring into my eyes, but I refuse to move.

  “What’s going on – Robby, talk to me!” I demand.

  “Roach is t-t-t-taking the spider apart! He’s pu-pu-pu-pulling tiny screws out of its – out of its – out of its back...he’s pulling out the w-w-w-winding key...he’s lifting off the abdomen’s ex-ex-external casing...and wow, he’s pulled out the sp-sp-sp-spring...and there you g-g-g-go, he’s pulling the spider off you now.”

  The pain stops immediately, but I don’t move until I feel Roach run back down my back and leg and spring onto the walkway.

  Roach drops the broken, lifeless clockwork spider on the ground. And just like Robby said, the miniature spring that had been coiled in its abdomen is hanging out.

  “Good job, Roach,” I say, giving him a pat with one hand while I rub my neck with the other. Roach comes closer and rubs against my leg, buzzing loudly.

  Spidey suddenly darts over to me. He drops his bolt and then picks up the lifeless spider. He plops it in front of me, and backs up, wagging his abdomen.

  “You want to play fetch with this?” I ask as I look at the limp spider.

  He takes a step forward excitedly.

  “Okay,” I say with a shrug of my shoulders. I pick up the spider by one of its feet and toss it further up the walkway. Spidey dashes off after it. When he picks it up, he scuttles over to the next flight of stairs leading down, and waits for us.