The White City

by John Claude Bemis

  “Will you watch your friends die one by one?” Stacker asked, regaining the cold smile on his face. “I think not. Pick up the knife!”

  Jolie did not move. Ray squirmed, testing Eviet’s hold over him, but there was no escaping her song. He felt as if he could hear Jolie’s thoughts, her struggle to escape Stacker’s trap. If she did not kill herself, did not form the siren spring, they might all die by Stacker’s pistol.

  And if she did, then wasn’t that her aim all along? She had come into the White City with the intent of sacrificing herself to form the spring that would heal the Wolf Tree, end the suffering of those afflicted by the Darkness, free her sisters. What choice did she really have? Except that to form the spring here might not get the healing water to her sisters. She had to create the spring beneath Grevol’s hall. It was a risk.

  Stacker nodded to Jolie. “Retrieve your knife.” She glared at him. Stacker called out to Yvonnie and Ediet, “Bring the others closer. If I lose Buckthorn, I’ll need other incentives. Who will die after Buckthorn, Jolie? Conker? Your old travel companion Si has already suffered my wrath. The boy I don’t know, but I sense your affection for him. He will do just fine.”

  Against every urge to do otherwise, Ray walked forward, dragging his feet through the basin. Jolie knelt slowly and found the knife. Her knuckles were bone white as she clutched the shell’s whorl handle.

  “Now,” Stacker said. “I’ve been distracted from my aim. Ah, yes. Buckthorn, you were telling Jolie who you are. It took me a bit to unravel it. Grevol discovered your connection to the sirens when we first arrived in Chicago. And I sensed something too. Pieces that did not come together until you tried to strangle me. Only then did I realize why you would be so upset over a siren’s death. So go ahead, Buckthorn. I think it’s best that you tell her.”

  Buck did not struggle this time, but he made no sound, his lips drawn tight.

  Stacker sighed heavily. “If I must. Jolie, my dear friend Buckthorn here is your—”

  Buck threw his head back, his skull striking Stacker’s face with a crack. Buck grabbed Stacker’s gun hand and pulled it down. Stacker howled and pitched forward onto Buck. The gun fired, echoing loudly around the chamber.

  Buck was on one knee with his hands to his chest. Ray heard a terrible wet hissing coming from him as the cowboy gulped and gasped for breath.

  Stacker stood, the pistol no longer in his hand, and sneered at Buck. He lifted his boot and kicked the cowboy with the heel. Buck splayed on the stairs, his hands falling out at his sides and smacking heavily on the wet stone. He did not move.

  Jolie screamed. As she reached the top step, Stacker swung backhanded across her temple. Jolie fell from the steps, splashing into the water. She rose to her feet, a ribbon of blood running down her face. “No! No!”

  “Let us try again,” Stacker said calmly, motioning to Ray, “with another.”

  Ediet locked her eyes on Ray, the wail of the sirens’ songs filling the chamber. Ray ascended the steps. Si watched helplessly. Conker fought to stand but then fell back until his face was nearly submerged in the water.

  “The knife, Jolie,” Stacker said, taking Ray by the shirt collar. “Let no more die for you. You can make it quick. I find no pleasure in your suffering. You have this final task before you. Sacrifice your life and spare your friends.”

  Serenity came to Jolie’s face. She took a step toward her sisters. Stacker snapped open his razor. Ray felt the blade draw up against the soft skin of his throat. Jolie’s gaze met Ray’s and a subtle flicker came to her eyes. An apology, maybe? A reassurance that she would not let Stacker harm him?

  Jolie turned the shell knife around and with both hands placed the narrow point against her chest. Ediet and Yvonnie’s eyes widened. Jolie faced Stacker. “Before I do this,” she whispered, “I must know. What did you want Buck to tell me?”

  Stacker licked his lips and gave a weary smile. “He was your father. You did not know this, did you? Even your sisters never told you.”

  Jolie squeezed her eyes shut and when she opened them, tears streamed. She whispered, “Then I am glad he will not see—”

  The gunshot did not seem as loud as the last one. Maybe all the blood roaring in Ray’s ears and the terrible siren song dampened the explosive noise. Ray’s vision felt hazy, his mind thick and unable to understand at first what had happened.

  Then he felt Stacker’s falling hand brush against his chest and watched the razor clatter to the wet stones and disappear into the water. Ray looked back. Stacker was still standing, but his mouth parted wordlessly and his eyes stared upward.

  The fabric of Stacker’s shirt was torn and burnt. Pieces of metal protruded from his chest. The teeth of a small gear still turned rapidly.

  Buck lay flat on his back, his head lifted only slightly. Stacker’s long-barreled pistol smoked in his hand. Buck gasped, barely audible, “It’s … never … too … late.…”

  The next shot exploded, and Stacker fell into the basin. His crisp Stetson hat landed a few feet farther and was set adrift in the dark waters.

  Buck’s gun hand dropped against his stomach, and his head fell back against the wet brick as he wheezed and gasped for air.

  The sirens stared at Stacker’s body floating in the basin. Ray realized their song had stopped. Conker stood up slowly from the water. Si ran to his side, glaring at the sirens.

  Yvonnie cowed a few steps back, her knife held out protectively before her. Ediet watched them fearfully and backed behind her sister. Then as Ediet’s eyes found Jolie, tears streamed down her cheeks. “Sirmoeur,” she whispered. “Forgive us.”

  Jolie looked away without acknowledgment. She climbed the steps, hurrying to Buck.

  Conker growled as he faced the sirens. “You’d force Jolie to sacrifice herself? You are no sisters to her!” As he reached for Ediet, Yvonnie had her by the arm. The two dove into the water, coming up at the wall where the pipes protruded. With a leap, one after the other the sirens entered the mouth of one of the pipes and disappeared.

  As Ray turned back, Si was already rushing up the stairs to Buck. Ray and Conker quickly joined the girls.

  “Buck,” Jolie whispered, taking his face in her hands. The cowboy lay motionless on the wet stone. Blood pooled around him. His eyes did not open. A thin hiss came from his lips. The gunshot had punctured his lungs, and Ray knew the cowboy would speak no more.

  Slowly Buck took Jolie’s hand. Tears ran down her nose and spilled onto his beard. She kissed his hand and said, “Patriear. Father. You—you should have told me.”

  Buck squeezed her hand. Si reached forward and stroked back the old cowboy’s hair. Ray took Stacker’s pistol from him and set it on the wet bricks. Buck had given up his guns to set himself on a new path. But now, at this final moment, he had taken them up again. His choice had saved Jolie.

  Conker laid a hand on Buck’s shoulder. “We’re all here. We’re all with you, Buck.”

  Buck’s mouth relaxed, the cracked lips settling into a faint smile. The four knelt together at Buck’s side. After a few moments, Jolie brushed a hand across her eyes and let go of Buck’s hand. “He is gone.”

  You’ve done it, Ray thought. Whatever pain you’ve carried in your heart, Buck, you’ve let it go. You are redeemed. Be at peace.

  Conker stood and walked to the top step. He knelt slowly and picked up the Nine Pound Hammer, the lantern light flickering off the iron head with a hint of iridescent sheen. As he came back down to Si’s side, she put her arms around Conker’s waist and the two looked down at the old cowboy. Ray held Jolie close. “He only wanted your love.”

  “He should have known,” Jolie said, not taking her eyes from her father. “He had it all along.”

  JOLIE STARED AT THE PIPES PROTRUDING, FROM THE WALLS. “They have gone to my captive sisters,” she said. “I must follow them.”

  “They betrayed you!” Ray shouted.

  Jolie looked at him sorrowfully. “Yes, but I still must go. It was not hat
red for me that drove them to betrayal. It was love for our sirmoeurs. And the only way for them to be saved, for the Wolf Tree to be saved, is for me to form the well beneath Grevol’s hall. I must go.”

  Conker walked solemnly to Jolie and embraced her. Si hugged Jolie next, speaking to her, but her words were lost to Ray.

  His feet felt leaden and fixed to the floor. Once Jolie disappeared into the pipe, he would never see her again. Conker and Si backed away from Jolie, and she approached Ray. She stood before him, her arms hanging helplessly at her sides. Ray was trembling, a slight shaking that he could not master.

  “At least we both will die,” she whispered, so soft that Ray was certain Conker and Si could not hear. “I could not bear it if I were to live after you had given your life.”

  Ray could say nothing.

  Jolie’s hands came up to cup his face. A fragile smile emerged, and she lifted onto her toes until her lips met his. The kiss was short, too short for him, but all his time with Jolie had seemed fraught with fleeting moments.

  She stifled a sob as she pulled away from him. She hurried to the opening of the pipe and crawled into the gushing water, crouching in its spout as the water broke against her body.

  “Jolie!” Ray cried. She looked back. Her eyes were pleading, and there was so much more Ray wanted to say, so much more time he needed with her before they were parted for good. But his words seemed fixed in his throat

  Jolie looked around once more at her friends, her gaze gentle and assuring. Then she disappeared into the dark.

  Ray could not move. He felt frozen with pain and fear.

  Conker stood at his side and held Ray’s shoulders. “I need you, Ray. We must go.”

  Ray nodded. Conker did need him—to hold the spike, to help destroy the Gog’s Machine. All counted on his bravery. They each had their part to play. They each had their sacrifice to make. He took a step, and then another, and reached down to pick up the lantern Stacker had left on the floor. Si was kneeling again at Buck’s side, brushing a hand gently across his face.

  Conker stood over her. “Si—”

  “No,” Si said. “I won’t.”

  Conker sighed. “I said you could come with me part of the way. But now it’s time.… Stay with Buck.”

  Si stood and snarled, “Tie me up, then, or break my legs! I won’t leave you!”

  Conker reached out to take her hand, but she pulled it away sharply. “Si,” Conker said gently. “We go to our deaths. The burden is already too big. For you to die when you don’t have to … I can’t bear it.”

  “Mother Salagi said I’d come to a crossroads! Don’t you remember? I’m not there yet.”

  “Please don’t—”

  “I’m not there yet!” she shouted.

  Ray saw what Conker surely did. The ferocity on Si’s face. They would have to restrain her if they were to keep her from coming with them.

  Conker asked, “Will you go back before Ray and I reach the heart of the Machine?”

  “Yes,” Si agreed eagerly. “I’ll find a way back. I promise I will.”

  “I don’t know if there will be a way,” Ray said. “Once we cross, I’m not sure I’ll be able to lead you back.”

  “Just let me come farther,” Si said. “Just a little farther. Please don’t leave me yet, Conker.”

  Conker looked at Ray. There was nothing Ray could say. “Okay,” Conker said, holding out his hand once more. This time Si took it. Ray held up the lantern, and they followed him into the tunnel.

  The passage was narrow, and Conker had to crouch and walk sideways. Through the slimy brick walls, Ray could hear the gurgling pipes carrying water from other fountains or buildings or various places around the White City. Somewhere in there, Jolie was making her way to her sisters. Could she be just on the other side of the wall?

  He knew if he let his thoughts linger, he would not be able to face what lay ahead. Ray brought his hand to the toby hanging around his neck. He felt the hard edge of the golden spike. He continued on.

  Soon they were in a hallway, warmer and moist with the stormy air outside. Conker whispered, “This is the lower level of the Gog’s hall. I was here before. The garbage chute is down there, and the service exit that goes outside.”

  “Probably the agents are all at the battle,” Si said, holding her knife before her. “Probably …”

  “How do we get to the main floor?” Ray asked. “We have to find that back stairwell where Redfeather and Marisol saw the victims of the Darkness go.”

  “Follow me,” Conker said.

  They reached a doorway to a series of stairs, and one flight up they came out on the Hall of Progress’s main floor. The shadowy displays rose up around them, exhibits and booths showing visitors the wonders Mister Grevol promised would better their world.

  Conker peered around at the high ceiling and cocked his head to listen. “I don’t hear no one,” he murmured.

  “Marisol said the stairwell was in one of the back corners,” Ray said.

  They crept down the walkway between the exhibits, turning occasionally to maneuver the maze of displays. Ray lowered the lantern. “Did you hear something?”

  “What?” Si asked. Then her eyes widened.

  Footsteps. Low and rhythmic, echoing slightly in the massive space.

  “Agents?” Si hissed.

  “I got a bad feeling they ain’t agents,” Conker said. “Hurry!”

  They ran, following the walkway toward the tower at the hall’s center. As they reached the junction where rows of displays extended in different directions, Conker pointed. “Back that way!”

  Ray raced down the aisle. Movement caught his eye. Spinning around, he saw them—scores and scores of clockwork men, their brass skin shining in the dim light of the hall, marching down the rows.

  As they ran, Conker said, “They weren’t working when I was here last. Must have left them active this time.”

  They reached the back wall, the walkway going right and left. “Which way?” Ray asked.

  “Don’t know,” Conker said.

  Ray looked back to see the clockwork men coming down the aisle, their expressionless faces fixed. Si held up her tattooed hand a quick moment before she seemed to remember that it could no longer guide her. With a curse, she sprinted to the left.

  They passed a walkway, where three clockwork men stepped out. Conker rushed ahead of Ray and Si, swinging his hammer in swift blows, sending the broken automatons into a display of small engines.

  “Go! Go!” Conker urged.

  The aisle ended at the far corner, and a passage continued to the right, away from the displays. Ray ran to the first door. He opened it and saw a set of desks stacked with papers, inkwells, and ledgers.

  He went to the next door and the next, opening each one only to see more desks. When they came to the final door at the end of the hallway, he cried, “They’re just offices!”

  “Must have been the other direction,” Si said.

  The three peered back down the hallway. Dozens of clockwork men filled the passage, marching closer and blocking their exit. Conker’s face knotted fiercely. He lifted the Nine Pound Hammer. “Stay behind me.”

  He rushed toward the automatons, swinging the hammer. The heavy iron head clattered on their armor. Metal twisted. Steam hissed. As several automatons took hold of Conker’s arms, Ray feared the clockwork men would overwhelm Conker. But with a roar, Conker wrenched his arms free and quickly swung the hammer around. Brass heads and molded arms snapped from the nearest clockwork men. The ones coming behind were soon unable to reach Conker through the mass of broken automatons.

  Conker leaned his huge body into the pile of smashed and severed parts. Pushing and grunting, he reached wide to contain the heap. Step by heavy step, he drove the tide of automatons back with all his strength. Ray and Si followed behind him as pieces fell to the ground around them, severed limbs, gears and forged parts, molded plates from shoulders, chests, and legs.

  After several
yards, Conker forced the wall of clockwork men back onto the exhibit floor. With one last heave, he released them. The broken bodies fell in a heap. Clockwork men beyond fought to climb over.

  “Run!” he roared, bringing up the hammer.

  Ray and Si squeezed past and raced down the aisle but saw more of the clockwork men coming toward them.

  “We’re trapped!” Si said.

  Ray looked back to where Conker was pummeling with the hammer, swing after powerful swing. A solid blow to the head or chest was enough to destroy an automaton, but as Ray saw the sheer numbers coming at them, he feared that Conker could not keep up the fight. In the hallway, he had used the limited space to their advantage, but here, with more and more of the automatons surrounding them, they were cornered.

  “Get behind me,” Conker said. Ray and Si backed against the wall as Conker fought the semicircle of clockwork men closing around them. As fast as he brought one automaton down, another would clamber forward. Metal hands clutched at Conker’s arms. Some fallen and half-working men grabbed his legs. Conker cried out as he fought, tearing the mechanical men away and trying to get back from the swell.

  “We’ve got to get out of here,” Si said. “Can’t we cross now?”

  “We’ve got to get to those stairs,” Ray said. “Otherwise, we’ll wind up crushed in the Machine.”

  “Well, Conker can’t hold all of them off!” Si cried.

  Ray handed her the lantern and stepped closer to Conker. He had stopped the Hoarhound. Were these clockwork men so different? He grasped the toby. It trembled and grew warm. Tingling spread out from his chest, sending the pulsations through his body and down his arms. He could feel them, these devices of the Gog.

  He understood now. The toby drew the power of the Gloaming. With its powerful and rare objects of the wild, each selected and made potent through Ray’s hoodoo craft, the toby was every bit the opposite of the Gog’s forged servants. His body, his hands, held a repellent force to those mechanical warriors.

  Ray reached Conker’s side. The giant was trying to swing the hammer, but too many hands clutched him now. Clockwork men clung to his back and neck, pulling him down.