The Deadlock Trilogy Box Set

by P. T. Hylton

  He groaned again. It sounded like he was in pain. Then Frank noticed vines growing up from the ground, slowly crawling up Jake’s leg.

  Frank watched in silent terror as a vine curled itself around Jake’s leg. Jake groaned again, and Frank realized it was squeezing.

  “Jake,” Frank said. He meant to whisper, but his voice sounded loud in the silence of the cave.

  Jake didn’t move. His eyes stared straight ahead and his finger kept moving across the page.

  “Jake!” Frank said, louder this time so it echoed off the walls.

  Still nothing. The vine was crawling upward, and it didn’t seem to be moving so slowly now. It was almost at Jake’s knee.

  How was that possible? A killer vine growing in a cave? It had to be caused by that damn book.

  Frank shook Jake. Nothing. He tried to pry the book away from Jake. Even though Jake was only holding on with his left hand, his grip was like iron.

  Frank blinked back tears of panic and desperation. “I don’t know what to do.”

  Except, suddenly, he did.

  He scooped up the knife and gripped it tight. His brother was going to be pissed, but he didn’t see what other choice he had.

  He brought the knife down, stabbing the book.

  Then he began to scream.

  It felt like being electrocuted. Or rather, what he imagined being electrocuted felt like. Something was flowing out of the book, through the knife, and into him. It hurt—bad—but there was something else there, too. He felt strong. Under the pain, there was power coursing through him.

  Jake blinked and looked up, staring at Frank with wide eyes. He looked as helpless as Frank had felt a few moments ago.

  The book in Jake’s hands burst into flames. Frank had his hands inches away from the book, but he felt no heat. Jake didn’t seem to be feeling the fire either, even though he was holding the book on his lap.

  After a moment, all that was left of the book was a pile of ashes.

  Frank staggered back, dropping the knife, and gasped. The pain was gone now. All that was left was the power. But that power…

  Frank took a breath, and it seemed like he could feel each and every molecule of air. Not only feel them. He thought, if he’d wanted to, he could rearrange them. He heard a voice—What’s happening to him—and realized he was hearing Jake’s thoughts.

  He reached for the knife, and before he could get to it, it came to him.

  It was too much. Too much power. He could hear things. Earthworms digging. Birds adjusting their balance on the branches outside. The electricity buzzing through the power lines by the road.

  He couldn’t handle it. His mind felt like it was on fire. It was all too much.

  He felt the pain of a rat as it lay dying from a wound a muskrat had given it the day before. He tasted the cigarette smoke being exhaled by a man in a cabin half a mile away.

  And above all, he felt something else. A power even greater than his own. No, four powers. He could see the things they’d done. My God, they’d devoured stars.

  And if they noticed him…he knew they would consume him. And how could they not notice him? His power was singing at the top of its lungs. It couldn’t happen. It had to stop.

  He needed to quiet the power. But even then, it wouldn’t be enough. What if they heard his thoughts? He had to hide it. So he did. He used the power to hide itself. He built a brick wall in the back of his mind in a place no one, not even he, could see.

  They left the quarry, leaving the knife and the pile of ashes inside. When they were outside, Frank noticed a tiny bit of power still floating around. The wall in his mind was still solidifying. He used the power to build a similar wall in Jake’s mind. Jake couldn’t remember either, not if they were going to be safe.

  As he was still building the wall in Jake’s mind, Frank began to forget. What was he doing? What were they doing there?

  They wordlessly got on their bikes. By the time they’d arrived home, Frank had forgotten the quarry had ever existed.

  4.

  King’s Crossing, Wisconsin

  January 2022

  Frank snapped his head up. It had all come back to him in a moment. How had he forgotten? All that time they’d spent there. What did it mean?

  He looked down at Jake. “I remember,” Frank said. “I remember the quarry.”

  Jake nodded. Was it Frank’s imagination, or did Jake look a bit stronger than he had a moment ago?

  “Good,” Jake said. “It’s strange when I think about it. I know we used to go there. I can remember us riding our bikes there day after day, and I remember going in the cave. But I don’t remember anything that happened inside the cave. It’s like there’s a cloud over it or something.”

  Frank smiled weakly. “Yeah, sorry, buddy. I think I was the one who put that cloud in your head. Only I didn’t finish. That’s why you remember part of it.”

  “We went back, you know.” Jake looked at Christine. “You remember? Where we found the knife?”

  Christine nodded and smiled. “You wouldn’t go in there. I thought that was pretty weak, making your wife go in the dark cave because you were too scared.”

  “Yeah. I didn’t know why I did that. It was like I couldn’t make myself go in.”

  “But the message you gave to Sally Badwater,” Frank said. “Why’d you tell me to meet you at the quarry?”

  Jake looked off into the distance. “I don’t know. I was confused, going through the mirror. You’ve felt it. You know. It’s disorienting. I wanted to give Will the message about Sean. But also…” He looked into Frank’s eyes now and put his hand on his brother’s shoulder. “I remember being safe in the quarry. I remember you saving me. Not the details, but the feeling. The feeling that you would do anything to help me. And I needed to feel that again.”

  And suddenly, Frank knew what he needed to do.

  The books absorbed the potential of humanity, and Jake was hurt because he’d overused the book. Could it be the book had absorbed too much of him?

  But Frank had absorbed an entire book. The potential of an entire town.

  And Jake had regained a bit of his strength when Frank had touched him, both when he’d first come through the tree and again when Frank touched his forehead a few moments ago.

  If Frank could somehow share the energy with Jake…if he could give back what the book had taken…

  Frank concentrated on the hand resting on Jake’s forehead. He focused on letting the energy flow out of him and into his brother.

  Jake’s eyes suddenly shot open and he gasped.

  Frank pulled his hand away and Jake visibly relaxed.

  “Holy hell, Frank,” Jake said. “Whatever you just did…I think you fixed me. That was some strong stuff.”

  Frank grinned, love for his brother suddenly washing over him. “I think I almost gave you an overdose.” Frank’s eyes were filled will tears. His brother was back. For real this time.

  Zed crouched down next to them. He was smiling wide now. “I knew it. The book here in King’s Crossing hid itself away from the compass. The only other thing I’ve seen do that is your locks. That was my first clue. I tested the theory by trying to open a portal here in the shed to bring Rayd through. That worked, even without the book. Because you were here. The same power that’s in the books is in you.” He put a hand on Frank’s shoulder. “What did you see? What did you remember?”

  Frank hesitated. He’d come to trust Zed over the last seven years more than he’d ever thought possible. He’d given Zed the book willingly. He’d trusted him with his life today.

  But it was still Zed. Frank wasn’t ready to share everything with the man who’d sent him Away. Who’d tried to kill him and everyone he cared about. Who’d tried to steal Rook Mountain from time itself.

  “It was like you said,” Frank replied. “I remember burning the book in Rook Mountain.”

  At that moment, the door flew off the shed, as if ripped free by a tornado. This was all the mor
e confusing when Frank saw the man standing in the doorway had no arms. Vee.

  Vee glared at them and growled, “Zed.”

  He stepped inside, followed quickly by a woman with blond hair and a tall, muscular woman with black hair.

  And behind them was Alice. The girl stumbled into the shed. “Sorry,” she said, tears in her eyes. “They read my mind. Then I couldn’t Pull Back. They locked me down.”

  Frank had no idea what she was talking about, but that hardly seemed like the worst of his problems at the moment.

  The blond woman smiled when she saw the book in Zed’s hand. “Ah,” she said. “You’ve found the book for us.”

  5.

  Sophie stood statue still.

  Sophie didn’t consider herself someone who scared easily, but Vee frightened the hell out of her. She’d seen Jake turn him into a tree, and he’d still managed to kill Jake. Well, not kill him, she supposed. He was alive now. This whole time travel thing still confused her.

  The blond woman stepped forward. She carried herself with such authority that Sophie realized she had to be Vee’s boss.

  “Zed, it’s time,” she said. “You’ve been on the run a good long while. You put up a respectable fight. And taking out Rayd…well, I didn’t think you had it in you.”

  Zed’s smile widened. “Wilm, you don’t know the half of it.”

  Wilm returned his smile, and Sophie had the strange idea that maybe this woman had taught Zed how to smile through the pain. “What I don’t understand is why? You let Sugar Plains rot and lived in the decaying town for a thousand years just so we wouldn’t get the power. Why? What did it get you?”

  Zed took a step forward and looked her in the eye. “Because fuck you. That’s why.”

  She shook her head sadly. “We gave you life. Endless life.”

  “No,” Zed said. “That’s not true, is it? You gave me life that would last as long as this Earth. And this Earth isn’t lasting much longer.”

  Wilm shrugged. “What did you want from us?”

  “I wanted to be one of you. You could have made me like you, taken me with you when you leave. Instead you made me into some sort of Renfield to your Dracula. Doing your bidding and waiting to be cast aside.”

  The woman with black hair stepped forward. “You’re lucky you got that much. If I had my way—”

  Wilm held up her hand. “Let’s not be dramatic. Give me the book, Zed.”

  Zed snaked out his tongue and licked his lips. “Listen, this book…” He held it up. “This book contains more power than you’ve ever consumed at once. Enough to get you off this world and back to your homes. If give it to you, you’ll go and leave this world to the Ones Who Sing.”

  Wilm shrugged. “If that’s so, it’s so. This world has taken two of our own. The first was my husband. We made Tools out of him when he died. His people were a whimsical sort; they chose the clock as their seal in a land without time. And now Rayd is gone too. This world takes too much and gives too little. Its people squirm under our thumb, never satisfied. Always wanting more. You are the perfect example. You could have served us far longer than you did. You could have used your powers to seek pleasure, but instead you only used it to try for more power.”

  “Our people call that ambition,” Zed said.

  “Our people call it stupid,” the black-haired woman said.

  “These people you’ve surrounded yourself with,” Wilm said. “Did it feel good to lead them? These meaningless toads? As if anyone other than you and Alice is even worth so much as a glance. And I’m beginning to have my doubts about you.”

  Sophie tightened her grip on her husband’s arm. Worthless. That’s how these aliens or demons or whatever they were saw the rest of them in this shed. As worthless.

  And suddenly Sophie realized that might not be a bad thing. They didn’t know about Will and Christine, how they’d spent years hiding the Tools in Rook Mountain before finally facing off with Zed on the roof of city hall. They didn’t know about Sophie and the great and powerful evil that Zed claimed lived inside her. And they didn’t know about Frank. About his fight against the Unfeathered. Or his fight in the Away and against Ones Who Sing. Frank had survived them all.

  Christine, Will, Frank, and her together? Plus Zed and the weird teenager with a sword? That seemed like a pretty formidable force against even these creatures.

  Wilm stepped toward Zed. She reached out a hand and placed it gently on his arm.

  “Did you feel it?” she asked in a voice that sounded almost kind. “Did you feel it flowing out of you? Everything we gave you? All the power? You’re a normal man now. You’ll age. You can be hurt or killed.”

  Zed’s lip quivered as he glared at her, but his voice was steady. “What do I care about aging if the world is going to be gone by the end of the day?”

  Wilm shrugged. “Just thought you’d want to know.”

  Vee rolled his head in a circle and his neck cracked sharply. “Can I rip off his arms now?”

  “What’s the point?” Wilm asked. “He fought us, and he made a good effort of it. But he’s powerless now. Might as well let him watch the end. He’s got nothing left.”

  “You’re wrong,” Zed said. “I’ve got something you’ve never seen before. I’ve got Frank Hinkle.” With that, he dropped the book into Frank’s hands. Both Frank and the book disappeared.

  “Frank,” Zed said. “Run. Run and never come back.”

  THE MAN WITH THE WATCH (PART TWO)

  1.

  Sugar Plains, Illinois

  Sometime after 1985

  Zed walked the deserted streets of the place that had once been Sugar Plains, Illinois. It was strange, the way it was happening. He’d expected decay over time. He’d expected things to fall apart once no one was around to fix them, or even to care if they were broken. But he hadn’t expected this. The signs of civilization, of the town ever having been there, were simply fading away. The street under his feet was dirt now. Not long ago it had been blacktop. One morning, the blacktop had simply been gone. It had startled Zed a bit, but probably not as much as it should have.

  He’d spent years outside of time before, decades in each of the four towns he’d ripened for his former masters. But this was longer. Near as he could tell, he’d been in Sugar Plains for three-hundred-twenty years. Yet still the white bird creatures gathered outside town each night, more of them every year. If they were his canary in the cage when it came to gauging the ripeness of the town, it was far too healthy for his liking.

  Still, he believed in the soundness of his plan. The energy would eventually spoil. Or dissipate. Or something. It would become unusable to his former masters. He would wait for however long it took. And then he’d move on to the next town. And he’d repeat the process until there was nothing left for them to draw from. Then he’d watch them slowly lose power and die.

  That thought alone gave him the strength to get through the long, lonely days.

  The last of the people of Sugar Plains had died two years ago. A young girl. She’d been sick for a long time. Zed might have been able to save her if he’d put enough thought and research into the matter, but it hadn’t seemed important then. Now, he was surprised to discover he missed the people. Not individually. One-on-one, people were annoying, like a bit of food stuck between his teeth. But over the last three centuries, he’d come to find he enjoyed people en masse. And he had a skill for speaking to them, for persuading them to his way of thinking. Communities of people, especially gathered together in a crowd, had an energy that was not unlike that of the pocket watch.

  When he was being honest with himself, he had to admit it wasn’t the people he missed at all. It was their admiration.

  He brushed his hand along the trunk of a tall twisted tree as he passed it. The things had been springing up all over town for the past couple hundred years. He wondered how huge they would get before it was all done here. He understood that the trees were the natural expression of the overripe energy wi
thin the town. Something had to be done with that energy if powerful beings from God-knows-where weren’t going to show up to devour it. And so the trees grew.

  The book with the broken world on it had taught him that. It had taught him so much more, too. Sometimes he wished there was someone else here to talk to about it. Preferably a large group.

  He had set out this morning from his mansion on the edge of town—the mansion his people had built for him hundreds of years ago—with no clear destination in mind. But somehow he found himself where he always did on his daily walks. Downtown. It was vain perhaps, but he liked to take his lunch while looking at the statue they’d built of him.

  He stood for a long moment, staring at the statue, before coming to the same conclusion he always did: it was a fair representation. The statue might not look exactly like Zed in the strictest sense. It was an idealized version of him. In the statue, he looked in the way his people saw him. And, even though his people were gone, this memory was a nice reminder of the feeling they’d given him.

  “‘Look upon my works, ye Mighty, and despair.’”

  Zed started at the sound. It was so strange, so unexpected, that he had absolutely no idea how to respond. It had been years since he’d heard another voice.

  The sound had come from behind him, so he slowly turned around.

  Vee was even taller than Zed remembered, and his beard was even thicker. Zed was usually the tallest person in the room, back when there had been people and rooms, but Vee towered over him.

  “This is what it’s come to?” Vee asked. “You lording over a kingdom of rats? Making them build statues in your honor?”

  Zed opened his mouth, trying to remember how to speak.

  “It’s pathetic,” Vee continued. “You’re king of a dead town.”

  “‘Better to reign in hell than to serve in heaven’,” Zed said finally. He figured one classical reference deserved another. His own voice sounded strange in his ears. Oddly formal and distant.

  Vee grunted. He brushed past Zed and walked to the statue. For a moment, Zed was sure the big man was going to attack the statue, maybe punch it or pull it down. Zed had no doubt Vee could do it. The man was built like a tree trunk.