The night watch was lax, and the guard was missing. One man’s negligence was Jacob’s convenience. He slipped into the brig with ease. He placed the plate down on the table opposite the prison bars, aware that it might have looked like he went there just to have a mocking midnight feast.
“Keep this quiet,” Jacob whispered, “and I’ll smuggle in some more.”
He turned to view the prisoner, expecting some reluctance and defiance, the kind of qualities he knew he would have had if their roles had been reversed. But there was no one there. Instead, there was a monstrous hole in the cage, as if the hungry captive had eaten through the bars.
27 – SABOTEUR
“Who let him out?” Rommond growled, when he arrived after the alarm was raised.
Blame immediately fell on Jacob, despite his fervent protests. Even Taberah came to him privately to ask if he did it, promising she would not tell, while perhaps keeping her fingers crossed behind her back. Jacob was not sure she believed his denial. Had he been a detective instead, he knew he would have picked himself as the prime suspect too.
“I’m telling you, I didn’t do it,” Jacob said as the interrogator turned to him. He seemed more pleased with this turn of events, which undoubtedly distracted him from his failure to elicit any useful information from the prisoner.
“The guard found you in the brig.”
“With a sandwich,” Jacob said. “Maybe I used it to cut through the bars.”
“We should lock him up,” the interrogator said as he turned to Rommond.
“Where?” Jacob asked. “The brig’s kind of not that secure.”
“We could confine you to quarters,” Rommond suggested.
“Hell, Rommond, are you going to starve me as well? Who’s the real demon on this submarine?”
Rommond sighed. “Let him go.”
“But he’s dangerous,” the interrogator objected.
“I said let him go.”
The interrogator reluctantly agreed, and Jacob got up and strolled towards the door.
“Jacob,” Rommond called back. “Try to stay out of trouble.”
Jacob smiled. “I’ll try.” Trying was easy. The problem was that trouble had a way of finding him.
* * *
Jacob headed back towards his quarters, halting every now and then to look behind him. He had the distinct feeling that someone was following him. He listened for a while, but heard nothing. I hope I’m not getting paranoid, he thought. Yet it was just like Rommond to have him followed, to see if he really was behind the breakout.
He reached his room and paused at the door, looking down the corridor on either side. No one was around. Even Whistler was not nearby. Jacob wondered if the general had ordered him to stay away.
He entered his quarters and lay down on the bed. Everything aboard the Lifemaker was becoming too much. He had not signed up for this. He had not signed up for anything at all. He wondered if now that there was only a month’s air supply left, Rommond might issue orders for the submarine to surface soon. Then maybe Jacob could get out, could get away from all the turmoil, all the accusations. He seemed to be fighting with and for the Resistance, but they never afforded him any trust. With so many betrayals, he could not honestly blame them.
He felt restless, and he knew the best cure for that, the best way to quiet his mind. For some it was alcohol, and others Hope. For him, it was counting coils. He got up and pulled the crate from under his bed. He opened the lid and began to rummage inside. The feel of the metal, the cold iron, was so very reassuring. He squatted down beside the crate and began to count the coils, arranging a pile of them on the floor.
Then he heard a footstep behind him, and there was something familiar about it, something revealing in its rhythm, but before he had a chance to turn around, he was struck on the head with a blunt object. The pain was quick and sudden, but the darkness was quicker. He collapsed to the ground in body, and his mind collapsed into nothingness.
* * *
When Jacob awoke, the pain had returned in force. What he did not feel when he was unconscious, he felt now multiplied, as if all the aches were saved and stored for that moment of waking. He groaned as he tried to open his eyes, and grimaced as the light from the oil lamp attacked them. He could not see much; everything was a blur of shadows and silhouettes, and while his eyes were adjusting, he began to notice his other senses. He could feel that he was sitting down on a hard wooden chair, and he could feel that his arms and legs were tied to it. He tried to move them, but the bonds were tight. He could hear a minute metal sound, and he could have sworn it was like someone flicking a coil into the air. He wondered if it was just his mind seeking out something familiar, something comforting. It was the smell, however, that struck him the strongest. Perfume. Not a sweet, delicate smell, but a strong, pungent one. There was something familiar about that smell.
He heard a voice emanating from the silhouette ahead of him. “Wakey, wakey,” it said.
Jacob responded with a groan. He tried to strain his hearing. The voice was also somewhat familiar, but it was muffled and warped by the ringing in his ears.
“Wakey, wakey, Jakey boy.”
The figure came closer, out of the shadows, and it was unmistakable who it was: Cala. She stood before him, hand on hip, flicking a coil into the air, and smiling her famous smile, the kind of smile that said she was about to have a lot of fun.
“You,” Jacob grumbled.
Cala gave a mocking curtsey. “The one and only,” she said. “You look surprised to see me.”
“Maybe it’s less surprise and more disappointment.”
Cala’s smile soured. “Don’t be like that, Jake. You’re spoiling the mood.”
Jacob tugged at the ropes that kept him in place. “I think this spoils enough.”
“You never used to complain,” she replied with a grin. She came closer and sat on his lap, and stared into his eyes, as if she could tie them up too. “You even said you liked it.”
“We’re not together any more!” Jacob shouted.
“Right then!” Cala replied, clambering off him and stamping her heels into the floor. She often wore platform boots. Jacob was not sure if it was to make her taller or if she just liked the feel of them. She was always unpredictable.
Jacob looked around for anything he might be able to grab to cut himself free. He could not tell exactly where he was, but he knew it was not his room. As he glanced about, he saw a body slumped in the corner, half-hidden in the shadows. It was the prisoner.
“Why did you set him free if you were just going to kill him?” Jacob asked.
“To see how you’d all react,” Cala said. “I was going to let him wander the ship and cause some damage, but he wouldn’t do it. He was no fun. So I killed him.”
“Is that what you’ll do to me?”
“Depends if you play or not.”
“First, tell me how the hell you tracked me here.”
“You’ve never been hard to find, Jake,” Cala responded.
“Even ten thousand leagues under the sea?”
“Even deeper.”
“I’m glad you don’t work for the Regime.”
“I don’t really work for anyone, Jake. I play. Life is the biggest game.”
“You can’t win life.”
“No, but you can have a lot of fun while playing.”
She flicked a coil over to Jacob. He would have caught it if his hands were not bound. It struck him in the face and landed on the floor. The light was dim, but he could see the strange markings on it. It was the same coil that Whistler had discovered earlier, the one that did not bear the icon of the Iron Emperor.
“So, what’s this?” he asked. “You looking to topple the Iron Emperor and put your own image there?”
Cala cackled. “Hardly. Though I guess that would be kind of fun as well. But Jake, baby, that’s not a real coil.”
“Well, it wouldn’t be accepted most places, sure.”
“No, Jak
e. It’s a tracking device. You’re not the only one can smuggle things, you know. When I saw you in Blackout, I kept watch from the shadows. And when they started loading up the truck, I snuck one of those little beauties into every crate.”
“That explains a lot,” Jacob said. He tried to crush the device beneath his foot.
Cala giggled. “Like that matters now. I already found you again.”
“With tricks and toys.”
Cala smiled broadly. “Oh, you should see the toys the Brigade has.”
“Stolen, no doubt.”
“Who cares?”
“The people they stole them from.”
“God, Jake, when did you start caring about them?”
“I’m not the man I used to be.”
“So you say, Jake, baby, but I think that’s all a mask. I think you just need a reminder of who you really are beneath. That’s partly why I’m here.”
“How did you get on the Lifemaker?”
“The same way you did, Jake. I walked on. Security wasn’t exactly tight. With all the fuss of the evacuation, it was easy to smuggle aboard. When I tracked you to Dustdelving, I just couldn’t pass up an opportunity like that, to see the deeps, to watch you from the shadows, to get to feel what it must be like to be a ghost, haunting everyone. And it was fun at first, until I started getting bored. So I thought we all needed a little excitement. A few holes here and there in the air tanks would do. God, Jake, you should have seen the panic.”
“I did see it. I was there for it all.”
“And didn’t it make all the boredom go away?”
“I wasn’t bored before that,” he said, though he knew this was not entirely true. He was seeking out adventures and mischief of his own; it just did not involve the possibility of sinking the submarine.
“You’re a liar, Jake, and I see right through you! Your mask might work for all these military types, but you and I both know who you really are beneath. You’re a scoundrel, Jake. You grew up in the filth like I did. You know what it’s like to slum it, and there’s no amount of fancy cushions and curtains will cover up who you really are. You like the raw life, the true life, the real life. No pretences. No how-do-ya-do’s. That’s why you can go around climbing that swanky social ladder and you’ll still want to climb back down to where I am.”
“I’d rather go to Hell,” Jacob said.
“Then let’s go there, baby Jake,” she replied, and her earnestness was unsettling. “Let’s go down so deep we can never get back up again. All the gold and iron might be at the top of one ladder, but all the fun is at the bottom of another.”
Jacob shook his head. “You’re crazy.”
“I suppose you think disconnecting the air tanks is crazy. I call it good fun.”
“Hell, Cala, you’re going to kill us all!” Jacob shouted.
Cala shrugged.
“Are you serious?” Jacob asked. “You don’t care if you die?”
“It’s gotta be more fun than the life you’re living, Jake.”
“You really are insane.”
Cala shrugged again. “I’m good fun though, amn’t I? And that’s all that matters.”
“It’s not,” Jacob said. “Life matters. Hell, Cala, I’ve got a kid on the way.”
Cala turned away and clenched her fists. “Is that with that wench Tabby? I’ve seen her, strutting around the place. She doesn’t love you, Jake. No one here loves you like I did. No one here gave you what you really needed, what you really wanted. I gave you that, Jake. I did.”
“That wasn’t life, Cala. That was something to cover up the pain.”
She looked to the side and bit her lip. “I just want the good ol’ days back, Jake.”
“There weren’t any good days back then,” Jacob replied. “It was all bad.”
“Not to me,” she said, snuffling up some Hope. “They were the best times.”
“Those drugs have messed up your memory then.”
“No, they’ve made it clearer,” she said. “It’s you who isn’t remembering right. You go on as if I was just some passing interest, some little dot on your sonar!” She banged her fist on the metal wall. The sound echoed out into the nearby chambers.
“I matter, Jake. I matter!” she continued. “That’s what you seem not to understand. You think I’m just some wacko, coming in here shouting my head off. But I’m more than that. That’s what the Brigade is all about. Making people listen. Making people wake up, wake up from the dream of life. If no one gives you their ear, you’ve got to blow it off!”
“That group is dangerous,” Jake said. “You shouldn’t—”
“I’m dangerous, Jake. I want you to realise that. I want to be able to stand in the shadows and you’ll still see me.”
“Well, you’ve got my attention, Cala, but it’s not the right kind of attention.”
“Does it matter?”
“Yeah, it kind of does.”
“Not to the ignored.”
“I didn’t ignore you, Cala. We broke up. We went our separate ways. That was years ago. Haven’t you moved on? I mean, look at what you’re doing here. This is madness.”
“Jake, what’d you be doing right now if I didn’t have you tied to this chair? Nothing, that’s what! Absolutely nothing. I’ve been watching you for ages now. Ages! Sure, Jake, you ain’t even got a job on this ship. You’re more like a fancy, prissy passenger on this diesel diver.”
“And what are you?” Jacob asked.
“I’m the iceberg in all yous’r way.”
“Sink this ship, and you’ll sink with us.”
“I know that, Jake,” Cala said. “I’m not dumb! Wasn’t the trip to the abyss fun? God, the panic! It was a riot! And I mean that both ways, Jake, both ways. You know, I always wanted to see what was down there. And I didn’t really get a proper look last time, so, hey, if we go down again, while yous’ll all be shutting up your eyes real tight, I’ll have mine wide open!”
“For what, a minute or two? We’ll either drown, suffocate, or be eaten.”
“But isn’t death exciting?”
“Hell, Cala, you’re even more a lunatic than I remember!”
Cala shook her head. “You’re not remembering very well, Jake. You used to go along with all this. You used to come up with half the thrills.” She took another hit of Hope. “Uh! We used to destroy the place. This world … it was always a desert to us. We were the demons back then.”
“And it looks like you still are,” Jacob said.
“And what, Jake, are you an angel now? You shack up with your little carrot-haired friends and suddenly you’ve earned your halo? If there really is a Hell, Jake, you’re coming right down with me!”
She climbed onto his lap again. She leant real close, close enough to kiss him. He could taste the Hope on her lips, and tried to spit it out.
“Don’t be wasting it!” she said. “That’s good stuff, that.”
“Get off me,” Jacob struggled, but the bonds kept him firmly in place.
She took a little Hope on her finger and passed it in front of Jacob’s nose, making aeroplane noises as she went. “Come on, Jake, baby Jake, gotta take your medicine. Breathe, baby, breathe!”
Jacob held his breath and kept his mouth closed. But she was just as stubborn as he was, and his face went blue as he tried desperately not to breathe in the drug.
“Oh, we’ve gotta a bluer!” she cried, shouting to the shadows of the room, who seemed more interested than ever. “That’s the way, Jake. Hold before Hope, blue before white.” She waved the white substance back and forth between his nose and mouth, waiting for one of them to take the influx of air.
Finally Jacob could not hold his breath any longer, and he gasped for air. She shoved her finger in his mouth, and he coughed and spat, and his tongue lolled, and his teeth clenched, but already he could taste the bitter substance, and already Cala was cheering him on.
“Go, baby, go!” she cried. “That’s the way. Give in to it. Don’t fight
it. Don’t fight me. You never used to fight me. Give in. Let go, baby Jake. Let go.”
But Jacob fought. He fought the outer battle with Cala, whose Hope-fuelled muscles overpowered him, and he fought the inner battle with the drug, which coursed through the veins of his own muscles, and entered his brain, a little invasion of its own.
“I don’t want your drug!” Jacob roared as she forced him to take some more.
“This whole vessel’s a drug,” she said. “It’s better than an eyebox. Better than poppin’ and shootin’ and slippin’. We’re inside the needle here, Jake, inside the capsule. We’re so far down, we just gotta get high!”
She forced more of the drug into his mouth, then gagged him with his handkerchief. He couldn’t spit the powder out, and he tried for a long time not to swallow it, but it lingered on his tongue and in his teeth, and it tasted foul and acerbic, like iron. He knew it was only a matter of time before it seeped into his bloodstream.
Suddenly Jacob heard someone at the door. Then he heard Whistler’s voice. “Jacob,” he called. “Is that you, Jacob? Are you in there?”
No! Jacob thought. Go back, kid. Go back, for God’s sake.
But Whistler did not go back. He stepped cautiously into the room, glancing back and forth between Jacob, tied up and gagged, and Cala, who smiled warmly at him.
“What’s going on?” he asked.
“We’re playing a game,” Cala told him.
Jacob tried to speak, but the words were muffled. Get out of here, kid. Run!
But Whistler did not run.
“What kind of game?” he asked hesitantly. He took another step forward.
“I call it Tickle the Liar,” Cala said. “And Jake likes being tickled.”
“Why is he tied up?”
“He doesn’t know he likes being tickled.”
“Umm, okay,” Whistler said.
“Come on in and I’ll show you how it’s played.”
“I think I’ll just watch,” Whistler said, taking a step back.
Lifemaker: A Steampunk Dystopian Fantasy (The Great Iron War, Book 2) Page 16
