The White City

by John Claude Bemis

  Grevol tipped his head to Nel. “I am pleased you are here to witness this, Mister Nelson. You and your kind. You are the last of a backward, superstitious breed. You would have mankind live as animals, wallowing in the forests and reeking of sweat and decay. But I am helping to elevate mankind beyond the savagery you Ramblers so desperately cling to. I’m fighting to bring mankind into a world of greatness and industry. The future citizens of this nation will celebrate my triumph.

  “Oh, I’m so pleased, old Joe Nelson.” Grevol smiled. “Pleased you have lived long enough to see this historic day. Pleased you will witness the esteemed guests who sleep in our city tonight coming to fully embrace my vision for the future. Pleased you will join me as my Machine brings a new dawn for mankind.”

  The Gog grasped both hands to the walking stick before him. A pulse of green light bloomed from the knob. The light filled the encampment, and with it the terrifying roar of engines rose. Ray covered his ears against the deafening screams of grinding gears and the howls of spinning turbines. He staggered as he realized that what he was hearing was coming from beyond the barriers of this world. Deep within the portion of the Gloaming corrupted by the Gog, the Machine had come to life.

  The Gog’s walking stick dimmed.

  The thunderous noises vanished.

  The world became dark.

  THE DARKNESS WAS SILENT AND COLD. RAY COULD SEE nothing, hear nothing. He reached to touch the track at his feet, fearing for a moment that even it might have vanished.

  But then Jolie touched his arm. He grabbed her and pulled her tight so he wouldn’t lose her in the silent ocean of black.

  Conker brushed against Ray and, fumbling a moment, found a grip on his shoulder before gasping, “I thought we lost you.”

  Si whispered, “How will we ever—”

  A solitary point of green light formed in the encampment. The knob on the Gog’s walking stick gleamed thinly. At first all Ray could see were the knob and the green light illuminating the Gog’s smiling face. But as Grevol began speaking, the knob grew brighter and brighter, casting its sickly green light across the agents massing behind him.

  “Now it is over, Mister Nelson,” he said. “The people of Chicago, our visiting president, and other fine leaders are falling under the Darkness’s sway, as you all are by now. My clockwork sirens will be ready soon for any who resist this revolution. So embrace the future, Ramblers. Come with me.”

  From the lashing rain, a flame rose. Fire, true and orange and lapping high in the air. Redfeather held up his flaming hand, and the bright light spilt over pirates around him. Nel said, “Your Darkness holds no sway over us, Gog!”

  The pirates howled, clattering cudgels and blades against the barrels of their rifles. Nel drew a tin from his toby.

  The Gog snarled and waved a hand. “Men!”

  The wall of black-suited agents rushed forward. The Gog marched toward Nel. When he was only paces away, Nel cast out the tin, and a powder flew from it. A wall of blue flame erupted on the ground where it landed. Grevol’s suit was quickly encased in the odd fire.

  The Gog waved his walking stick, and the flames whipped apart.

  Nel held out his hands and the flames drew back to him, disappearing for a moment in his palms. He thrust his hands out, releasing the flames once more at the Gog.

  The Pirate Queen’s men spread out as the agents drew closer. But before the agents reached them, figures suddenly emerged from the cabins and tents scattered over the encampment grounds. Among the agents were now cowboys firing pistols and Sioux and Comanche shooting rifles at close range and swinging clubs and hatchets.

  The pirates shrieked a terrifying battle cry and rushed forward into the fray. The confusion seemed to linger only a moment before the Gog’s agents reorganized, positioning themselves to face the charging pirates while fighting Buffalo Bill’s men in their midst.

  Nel fought to drive Grevol back with the flames and other charms from his toby, but with his stick, the Gog batted away each assault.

  “Mister Cody!” Nel shouted.

  With the rain pooling in the brim of his hat, Buffalo Bill drew a saber from his belt and lifted it as a cavalryman leading a charge. Several from his contingent pulled open the massive gates at the back of the coliseum. Lantern light spilled out from the interior across the encampment. A line of horsemen galloped out—hussars and Cossacks beside vaqueros and Arabs. Horse hooves thundered against the muddy earth. Behind them raced Buffalo Bill’s army. Indian and Mexican fighters, cowboys and soldiers. Iron Tail fired a rifle as he led his men. The Rough Rider congress rushed into the battle beside the pirates.

  Grevol smiled. “Mister Cody, I thought a showman like you might resort to theatrics.” Then Grevol called over his shoulder in a booming voice, “Mister McDevitt, you may release them now!”

  Half a dozen steamcoaches entered the encampment from the Midway. Agents hurried to unbolt the back compartments. As the doors dropped, ghostly white Hoarhounds rushed out onto the battlefield, roaring and snapping their steel jaws.

  “Let’s go!” Conker shouted, hoisting Si to her feet. “There’s nothing we can do.”

  Ray and Jolie ran behind them, the rain whipping against their faces, down the elevated track and past the battle raging on the encampment. Soon they reached the huge train depot for the Expo.

  Jolie pulled his hand, and Ray followed her into the empty cavity of the Expo’s enormous train station. Tomorrow thousands of new arrivals would reach the White City. But what would they find? What future would be awaiting them?

  Si led them to the far side of the depot, where wide steps spilled down to the empty streets of the Expo grounds. The electric streetlamps flickered with only a thin light to guide their way. It was as if the Darkness had filled the air with an oppressive phantom haze. The grand buildings loomed all around, the echoes of gunfire and cries reverberating off their facades.

  “This way,” Si said as they came around the corner of a building. She pointed to a long fountain filling an enormous empty courtyard. At the far end, illuminated faintly by the ghostly light, was the golden statue Big Mary.

  “Ediet and Yvonnie,” Jolie gasped. “My siren sisters. They found a grate in the fountain. A drain. They said that is where my captive sisters went.”

  “The Nine Pound Hammer must be down in that drain,” Conker said. “Let’s go!”

  They raced down the length of the fountain. The dark clouds that Nel had drawn hung low over the White City, phantom tendrils whipping at the rooftops and being sucked toward the battle. The ominous winds wailed around them. Rain filled the streets.

  A wagon with sanitation workers had stopped midway along the thoroughfare. The men were transfixed by the noise of gunfire and shouts beyond the Expo. They turned their heads to watch the four pass them and brought their dumbfounded gazes back to the flashes and chaotic noises rising from Buffalo Bill’s encampment.

  Jolie reached the far end of the fountain first and leaped over the low wall to dive into the water. Ray stood on the fountain’s wall and looked up at Big Mary. She stood on a massive pillar, rising well over sixty feet in the air. Plated in gold, she held a globe in one hand and a staff in the other.

  Jolie surfaced. “I found the drain. The grate is off it. My sisters must already have gone down.”

  “Can we get through?” Conker asked.

  “I do not know what is down there,” Jolie said, climbing out onto the stone edge. “The current pulls hard, and I could not get too close without getting sucked in.”

  “If Stacker got down there and back, then we can too,” Ray said.

  “Unless it’s some sort of trick,” Si muttered.

  “Like he wants to drown us?” Ray said. “He’d have found a more inventive way to murder us.”

  “We have to act quickly,” Jolie said. “I will go retrieve the hammer and swim back up. Wait here.”

  “Hold on, Jolie,” Conker said. “I should go.”

  “You do not know what
is down there. I can breathe under the water and swim back out.”

  Conker hesitated before saying, “Well … be careful.”

  Jolie nodded. She exchanged a glance with Ray before diving into the water and disappearing.

  The minutes passed as Ray anxiously watched the water. After a time, Conker murmured, “She’s been gone longer than I figured. How could Stacker swim down that drain and back and still hold his breath? That’s what I want to know.”

  “Maybe he didn’t,” Si said. “Buck said Stacker wandered at night. He’d located the captive sirens, and Jolie said that drain is where the sirens entered Grevol’s hall.”

  “So what’s that mean?” Ray asked.

  “Stacker might not have gone down this way,” Si said. “There might be a way to get beneath Big Mary without going through the fountain. Some passage that Stacker discovered.”

  Conker knelt to the sidewalk, putting an ear against the ground. He rose quickly. “It’s hollow beneath. I hear the echoes. There’s some big chamber down there.”

  He leaped over the wall and splashed into the fountain.

  “What are you doing?” Si asked, reaching for him.

  “I’ve got a bad feeling,” Conker said. “Something’s not adding up here. I’m going down after her.”

  “What?” Ray said, leaping into the fountain, followed by Si.

  “Conker, wait!” Si shouted. But he plunged beneath the dark surface.

  Ray looked at Si. “What do we do?”

  Si furled her brow. “Come on.”

  She and Ray took deep gulps of air and went under. It was not hard to find the drain. The water drew Ray to it with a powerful force. Fear rose. Fear of drowning. Fear of losing their lives in the fountain while Nel and the others fought to keep the Gog’s attention away from the Hall of Progress. All for nothing.

  Ray touched the rim of the great drain and felt Si’s legs disappearing into it. He fought a moment against the pressure. He needed more air. He wanted to rise again for another breath, but the force of the water pinned him. His legs pulled into the opening, and he clutched at the sides with his fingers. But they were not strong enough.

  He let go and was sucked down.

  Ray found himself falling. There was a brief moment of open air, enough to trick his lungs into gasping, before he landed in a pool. His feet struck the bottom, slimy and thick with loose debris. He choked and fought to find the surface.

  As he broke out, Ray coughed up water that stung his nose and made him retch. He realized he could stand. He could see nothing in the dark, but the echoing told him it was an enormous chamber.

  “Conker?” Ray choked.

  A hand clasped his back. “Quiet,” Conker whispered.

  Ray felt Si on his other side. The three huddled together and moved away from the roaring waterfall behind them.

  “Ray.” Jolie’s voice came from the dark ahead.

  When they reached her, Ray hissed, “What is this—?” But his words were cut off by the unmistakable click of a hammer being drawn back on a pistol.

  Conker called out, “That you, Stacker?”

  Light bloomed above the water several yards away as Stacker Lee pulled a hood from a lantern. It cast a thin light over the water, illuminating the clockwork killer in part as if only half a man, the rest consumed in darkness.

  Stacker lifted the lantern, and a beam of light reflected from his hand. A pistol. He turned the long-barreled Buntline back and forth, making it flash in their eyes. He smiled as if this amused him. Stacker was standing on a stairway coming up from the water and leading to a small shadowy hallway. Next to the hallway, a series of wide pipes, smaller than the one they had come through, protruded from the brick walls, dumping more water into the basin.

  And standing behind Stacker in the shadows was Buck.

  Jolie started forward. “Buck! You are alive!”

  As Ray peered up at him, he saw that Buck was struggling to speak, his long hair drenched with perspiration and his ashen face ragged. “It’s … it’s …” A wet cough brought up black drops that speckled his lips. “Trap,” he gasped.

  Stacker Lee gave Buck an amused look. “Yes, brave Buckthorn. I found him wandering last evening in the dark. I was certain he was being drawn by the Darkness back to Grevol’s hall. But you will be pleased to hear that he was fighting those urges, trying to make his way to the liberty statue above us. Yes, despite your dimwittedness, Buckthorn, you did figure it out and come at last.”

  “So you never had the Nine Pound Hammer?” Conker growled. “This was all a trick.”

  Stacker gave a look of mock hurt. “No, of course not. I have the hammer right here.” He motioned with his pistol to the top of the stairway behind him, and Buck and held his lantern higher.

  Lying on the muddy bricks was the long-handled hammer. Its iron head gave a dull gleam, showing the octagonal faces covered in nicks and scars.

  “Buck was right, then,” Ray said. “You’re helping us!”

  Stacker broke into laughter. “Oh, Buckthorn and his grand notions. No, I’m not that generous. Let me explain what’s going on here.”

  “I’ve had enough of your toying.” Conker lurched forward, dragging his legs heavily through the water. “After what you did to Si, you know I ain’t going to let you out of here in one piece—”

  A girl sprang up from the water behind Conker. Long blond hair fell wet over her face and down across her green woven gown.

  Conker’s eyes widened. Then he growled and rushed forward past her toward Stacker.

  The girl drew a shell knife from a braided belt at her waist and opened her mouth to release a piercing note.

  Conker fell to his knees with a splash. The muscles across his back trembled as he struggled to rise. But the siren’s note held him.

  “Yvonnie!” Jolie cried.

  Ray and Si slogged forward to help Conker. Another siren rose from the water before them. Her mouth widened, and her teeth shone against dark lips as a shell knife flashed up in her hand. The song struck Ray, terrible and stabbing. He tried to clamp his hands over his ears, tried to shut off the siren’s voice, but he could not move. Si continued toward the one who had Conker, but as the siren pointed the tip of her knife at Conker’s back, Si stopped, her teeth gritted with rage.

  “Sirmoeurs!” Jolie shouted. “Release them!”

  The sirens ignored her, glaring at their captives and issuing high, shrieking songs.

  Jolie drew her own shell knife. But Yvonnie gave her a fierce look and pushed her blade against Conker’s back, drawing a spot of blood on the back of his shirt. As Jolie looked over to the other siren, she held her knife against Ray’s neck.

  She turned angrily to Stacker. “What have you done to them?”

  “I assure you,” Stacker said, “I have no power over your sisters. They act of their own accord, for they understand our common aim.”

  “What do you mean?” Jolie asked.

  Stacker reached back to pull Buck down the steps until he stood before him. Then he looked at Jolie pointedly and raised his pistol to Buck’s head.

  “Yes, I’m pleased you’ve joined your sisters,” Stacker said to Jolie. “For I was counting on Buckthorn luring you to me.”

  “Me?” Jolie asked. “Why do you need me?”

  “The Darkness has arrived. Grevol has forsaken me.”

  “What is it you want?”

  “You are a siren.” Stacker smiled at Jolie. “You will save your sisters held captive by Mister Grevol. And by doing so, you will also save me.”

  “No!” Ray cried. But Ediet’s gaze was on him again, and her song stabbed into his skull.

  “A siren spring,” Stacker said. “I was so close once. Had I realized how such springs arose, I would not have left so quickly after killing your sister. What was her name? Cl—Clema—”

  Jolie gasped. “Cleoma!”

  Stacker’s eyebrows rose in mock sympathy. “Yes, that was it. Cleoma. I wonder if she created those he
aling waters. That’s neither here nor there at this juncture. And your sisters have forgiven me my trespasses. For they want their sisters freed. Brave though they may be, Ediet and Yvonnie cannot bring themselves to do what is required to save the others. You, however, dearest …”

  “What do you want of me?” Jolie asked again.

  “I simply want to know if you love Buckthorn.”

  “Let him go,” Jolie pleaded.

  “And I hope to,” Stacker said. “I’ve grown quite fond of Buckthorn after all. Please don’t make me do anything wretched to him … to convince you.”

  Jolie hurried toward the staircase rising from the water, saying, “Convince me of what?”

  As she reached the first step, Stacker responded by pressing the barrel of his pistol harder into Buck’s cheek. “At-at. Stay right there.”

  Jolie stopped, her shell knife pointed down but her grip on the handle so tight her hand was trembling.

  “Now, Buckthorn,” Stacker said. “We need to convince our young siren. Jolie, is it? Convince Jolie that you are worthy of her love.” Stacker flashed his teeth—half a snarl, half a smile. “I need a siren spring to rid my heart of this clockwork. Jolie can create one. But you, my blind friend, must convince her.”

  “I will convince her of nothing,” Buck said. “I am no one to her.”

  Stacker smirked. “You forget, I have a way of understanding things, Buckthorn. Call it a gift. I have even figured out who you are to the girl.”

  Buck lurched back against Stacker’s body. Stacker tightened his arm around Buck’s chest, pushing the Buntline pistol so hard into his face that Buck had to tilt his head to one side.

  “Tell her who you are,” Stacker said through gritted teeth.

  “I will not kill myself to make the spring,” Jolie said, and threw her knife with a splash into the water.