by Michael Rigg
It was here, in the discarded blackened wastes of Philadelphia that a long-fingered gray hand with sharp fingernails retrieved a crumple of papers. Carefully, the hand unfolded the paper. The name on the Writ of Acquisition was compared to the name in the wallet, which was recovered earlier.
Blood red eyes turned skyward, peering through the darkness of criss-crossing landings and grated walkways, searching.... For a human called Perek Grubbs.
~~~~~~~
Alice kept her travel papers clutched tightly in hand. Bryce had instructed her on what to say and do, smiling with confidence and telling her to simply glance in his direction should she become confused.
"You're Alice Hampton, a haberdasher's assistant. Simple enough, thanks to Wilco," he had said. She nodded.
Bryce and Alice stepped up to the first line of SkyTrain passengers, all of them muttering and grumbling about the delays. One man said, "I hear a worker fell to his death." Another answered, "That shouldn't affect transport.” “I need to get home. What is the holdup?" A woman said, "I hear the police are investigating. It's murder."
Alice exchanged glances with Bryce but otherwise tried to act nonplussed. She smiled and tugged Bryce's sleeve when she saw Lucien approaching from an upper level. He made his way down the empty exit stairwell adjacent to the packed boarding stairwell that went to the upper level and the waiting SkyTrain. Workers with welding masks were busily repairing the fin Wilco had damaged to get rid of Frederick Denk. By the tone of the bustling waiters and gawkers, the train would proceed... eventually.
Bryce lifted his chin. "What have you heard?"
"Well, I spied no sign of Pandora, but it seems Wilco has been pinched."
"Pinched?" Alice asked.
"Arrested," Bryce explained. "What was the charge?"
Lucien pushed up his spectacles. His mustache twitched. "I would hazard to guess murder. He was identified as a saboteur on the dorsal fin of the SkyTrain, his accomplice having been vaporized by the Network current."
Alice cringed and looked toward the gleaming ship's fuselage high above them.
"You said murder."
Lucien glanced around before continuing in a lower voice. "Indeed. While they're calling the Network death the righteous cost of a saboteur's work, a body was found on the deck above us. I would guess it's one of Grubbs' henchman. Half his head's gone." Mustache twitching again, Lucien touched the brim of his bowler and nodded to Alice. "Sorry, madam."
Bryce muttered, "Pandora."
"I fear so."
A police officer appeared with a transit porter up the line from where they stood. The authorities were checking boarding passes and identification. Bryce said, "We can't stay in Philadelphia. It's far too dangerous."
Lucien said, "Agreed. No telling how many other slugs Thorne & Wolfe have creeping about."
Alice turned her eyes up to Bryce, "What about Pandora and Wilco?"
"If Pandora wasn't captured too, she'll get 'im out." He smiled knowingly, the only one of the three of them—as far as Bryce knew—who knew Pandora was a witch. Of course knowing what he knew, Bryce had every confidence in his high-spirited little friend.
"But—"
Bryce's smile froze her. "She'll get him out. I trust her... And she'd want us to high tail it out."
What he said was true, and Bryce knew the scrapes the young pilot had escaped before. Her witchcraft and anonymity were her best weapons. Releasing Wilco from custody would be as easy as blinking... or, quite literally, crossing her fingers.
Before too long the policeman and porter stepped up to them.
The porter said, "Papers and ticket, please," and took Bryce's boarding pass and identification. The policeman stared at Alice as she tried to shrink behind Bryce's coat. "Here you go, Captain," the porter said and handed Bryce back his papers after punching a hole in his ticket.
"Papers?"
Alice handed them to the porter as he tipped his cap to her, surprised her hand wasn't trembling.
"Haberdasher, eh?"
"Yes," Alice said, keeping her answers as small as possible.
"Shoulda come by to see ya. Always on about by my wife o'er these damn breeches." The man routinely stamped her boarding pass and handed it back, then moved on to Lucien. Alice only smiled and nodded in response.
She released a long, slow breath.
"Seem nervous, miss," the policeman said.
Alice swallowed. "Me? no."
The policeman tilted his head and squinted. Water dripped from his Bobby helmet. He must have been near a drain pipe or the fire brigade who sprayed down the fins of the SkyTrain since the rain had stopped almost an hour ago.
So as not to arouse any suspicion, Bryce maintained his gaze on the cop without looking down at Alice.
"You carryin' any weapons, miss?"
Alice laughed slightly. She lifted her arm and pulled back the sleeve. "No, sir. No Ident, as you see."
The policeman thrust out his lower lip. "Interesting that a haberdasher would be traveling with an Overwatch Guardsman." The cop, obviously Imperial, glared at Bryce. "She mend your skivvies for you, Captain?" He said 'captain' with a sneer.
"She's my—"
"Fiancée," Alice blurted.
The cop raised an eyebrow. "Indeed?" Then he burst out in laughter. The Transit porter, who was already several persons down the line from where Bryce and company stood, looked back and laughed as well.
Bryce's complexion became scarlet and the chord in his jaw tightened as others in the line turned to gape and chuckle. Some whispered. Others pointed over their shoulder. Lucien also looked as though he'd swallowed a canary, but Alice smiled brightly and hugged Bryce's arm. She laid her head on his shoulder and beamed. Bryce's embarrassment played into her spontaneous ploy easily. No longer murder suspects, they now became a joke to the Imperial authorities in the city, a heroic Confederate officer marrying a low-level haberdasher's assistant from the Empire.
After the cop and Transit porter left, Bryce looked down at Alice sternly. "You shouldn't have done that, Alice."
Alice looked to Lucien who struggled to hold back a smile of his own. Then she looked at Bryce, reaching up to pet back loose strands of his blond hair. "Now now, darling," she beamed, "You know I only look out for your best interests as you look out for mine."
Bryce chewed his lower lip and looked away. Alice didn't see him slowly smile.
CHAPTER 11, “Night Crossing”
As we stepped aboard the humming SkyTrain, ducking our heads and climbing a short metal stair-step into the main cabin, I poked Bryce's arm. "Hey. Sorry about the fiancee thing. It's just.... I knew it would throw him off."
Bryce's casual smile dropped slightly when he met my eyes. "No apologies, Alice. I'm sure it will all be forgotten by and by."
"Was it really that big a deal? You seemed irritated." Which was true enough. With each glance and sneer from other passengers boarding the SkyTrain, it seemed my twist of the truth brought us more unwanted attention than if we'd flat-out declared that we knew the man who was arrested on the fin of the SkyTrain.
"Not at all," he said flatly. I looked to Lucien who pursed his lips and shook his head slightly, but vehemently, as if tasting something sour, or encouraging me to drop the whole thing.
Changing the subject, I said, “It's odd, isn't it, that they'd be letting us go aboard after all that's happened.” I looked along the length of the shiny metal capsule we were boarding. I touched my hand to the hull as I stepped inside, vaguely thinking I'd done that before. A good luck charm before flying? Had I flown before? Certainly not on a SkyTrain. I knew I'd never seen anything like this.
Lucien said, “An easy matter to make repairs. The authorities are doing a smashing job. No reason not to
allow us to depart, yes?”
“I guess so.”
We made our way toward the back of the cabin. The interior of the SkyTrain was short and we had to duck slightly to make our way down the raised center aisle, high-backed seats with ornately patterned upholstery lined both sides. I didn't know if all SkyTrains were designed like this, but the one we were aboard was fashioned in bright solid gold throughout, with wine colored seats and laced curtains over the rounded portals.
Bryce led us beyond a red velvet curtain to a narrower area lined with gold velvet curtains on both sides. A set of curtains was open and I saw that they concealed upper and lower sleeper bunks. Bryce stopped at one of these and checked the number on his ticket. "Okay, Alice," he smiled, indicating a lower bunk. "This will be yours. You should get your rest. Lucien and I will take shifts on the upper bunk."
"Shifts?"
"I'm still advisin' caution on this journey. The men who traced us to the Bridge are wily. There's no tellin' until we're safe at home what they may do next, or where they may turn up." He looked to the portly butler. "Lucien?"
Lucien nodded in the direction we'd been moving before we stopped at the bunks. "Our seats are just beyond the sleepers, sir. I'll make my way about before we embark and see what I can't sniff out."
"Very good."
We made our way forward into another open seating area. Here the seats were joined in pairs facing other pairs across small tables. Ash trays and small service carts with butter, sugar, molasses and playing cards sat in the center of each table. Bryce motioned to one of these and I squeezed in next to the window. He sat next to me and Lucien sat across from us. Both men remained silent, watching as passengers shuffled past, some muttering or mumbling conversations to one-another. Near the front of the SkyTrain, toward the first seating compartment before the sleepers, a baby began to cry.
I reached out and plucked a set of cellophane-wrapped silver dinnerware from the small service cart on our table and unwrapped it with the zeal of a child at Christmas. Lucien and Bryce watched me as I held up a metal spoon that was fashioned into short tines at the end. Part spoon, part fork. “It's a Spork!”
The men exchanged glances. Lucien huffed and Bryce smiled. “Yes.... Yes, Alice, it's a Spork.”
Lucien said, “Did they not have these where... from wherever—?”
I nodded to an ornate golden handle on the ceiling that was set into a box-shaped protrusion. These were spaced along every other booth in this area of the SkyTrain. I said, “I have no idea what that is, but this is a Spork—but I remember them as being plastic, not metal.”
“Plastic?” Lucien huffed. He shot a confused glance to Bryce who only shrugged. I realized with some shock, and a fair amount of horror, that I knew what plastic was but the common material was alien to these two. I then realized I hadn't seen a single thing made of plastic since I woke up. Everything was brass and bronze, steel, iron, canvas, glass...
Bryce smiled with confidence. “Given time, my dear, I'm sure all of your memory will return. From Sporks to Hydron Boxes, I'm sure it's all a matter o' time.”
I turned to the window and looked out at the city lights. The police had finished their investigation and had moved on. They had Wilco in custody. I supposed that's all they needed unless an investigation was ongoing in some area I couldn't see.
I glanced around the golden cabin once more, then leaned toward Bryce and whispered, "This all appears rather opulent. Is it expensive?"
He grinned. "Not very. A few hundred dollars."
I nodded.
"Each passenger."
I heard footsteps and moving below us and wondered aloud, "But this must be first class, no? We could have traveled coach."
"Coach?" Lucien asked more to Bryce than to me.
Bryce shook his head. "Alice, the 'first class', as you put it, would be below us."
Lucien huffed. "Those of corporate privilege and station receive special dispense for transport, particularly over the country borders. They sit farther from the high voltage that courses over our heads. Safety for the successful one might say."
I nodded slightly. "And we'll be traveling from the Empire to the Confederacy, right?"
Lucien's nod was somber but suspicious and I could tell that he still hurt for me on some level, my lack of memory, and on another, his suspicion about my origins.
Bryce, who had been watching the flow of passengers, nudged Lucien under the table with his boot. "The aisle's thinnin' out."
The butler nodded to Bryce with a touch to his brim and pried himself out of the seat to walk the SkyTrain. I whispered to Bryce, "Do you think anyone followed us aboard?"
His eyes still on the passing travelers, he shrugged with one shoulder. "Anythin' is possible." He smiled at me. "You, above all, should realize that, especially today."
I nodded and turned my attention back out the window, my thumb caressing the smooth surface of the Spork as if it gave me some connection to the memories I'd lost, and found, a talisman to my past. I wondered where Pandora and Wilco were, if he was okay, if I'd ever see Pandora again and ask her what it was that had shaken her so much about the raised bumps on my back. I shifted in my seat and reached back to my kidney. I could feel them through my shirt. They were still sensitive to the touch but didn't seem any worse. I thought about saying something to Bryce, but decided against it since Pandora's warnings and deflections were clear that I should mention them to no one. What if the marks made me a criminal? What if they confirmed what I feared most—that I'm some sort of sleeper agent for this Thorne & Wolfe company? What if I was something worse than a witch? Would I remember how protective Bryce had been, or would I attack him blindly when he least expected it? Would Lucien kill me? Would Bryce stop smiling at me and maybe throw me from the SkyTrain?
I needed to find a mirror to get a better look at them. It struck me that I hadn't gotten a good luck at myself at all. The mirror in the haberdashery was dirty and clouded. If I could see my face clearly, maybe I'd remember something else. Looking up to Bryce, I said, "I think I should go to the bathroom."
He glanced to an amber light above the arch to the sleeper section. "Not yet, my dear. We're about to get underway. You can hold on for a moment, can't you?"
Almost on cue, a static-laced voice came over an intercom. "Ladies and gentlemen, this is your captain speaking. If you'll all please find your seats, we'll be underway in one minute."
People stuffed bags and purses under seats. A man across from us lit up a cigar and puffed, the air instantly filling with a sour wooden smell. I reached for a seat belt but couldn't find one. "Bryce, there're no seat belts."
"Seat... belts?"
I looked around and saw people shuffling cards, lighting cigarettes, leaning over tables to talk to one another. No one buckled a seat belt.
A moment later, just before the amber light turned red, Lucien re-joined us. "Nothing out of sorts, Captain," he reported.
"And below?"
"Nothing that I could see. It looked to be one passenger and a lot of luggage."
"Aristocrat," Bryce smirked. "No worries."
The speaker popped. "Ladies and gentlemen, we will now be getting under way."
And with that the entire cabin began to vibrate and shudder. I looked out the window and watched the city lights. I expected them to start moving away from us, but they didn't. The hum became louder and louder. People in the cabin shouted to be heard over one another. Bryce leaned back and closed his eyes. I reached over and took his hand, holding it tight. My other hand gripped the edge of the table, my knuckles glowing white. He opened an eye to look at me as he reached over to pat my hand with his other.
Then came sudden silence. It was as if the generators or whatever it was that powered the SkyTrain
were suddenly shut off. I didn't think to realize it was simply the rotation of the enormous wing into the 'fin position' that made all the racket. I looked to the window, my mouth open to ask what happened —
And Philadelphia whisked away in a flash. Just like that. It was there, then it was a streak of lights that vanished in the distance as though the image outside my window was nothing more than a picture that was suddenly pulled away.
"We're moving?"
Bryce squeezed my hand. "At hundreds of miles per hour." He checked his pocket watch, as did Lucien.
I looked below and saw the odd light zip by below us, criss-crossing strings of lights from suburb streets, blurs of airplane or flying carriage lights, but all of it fading as fast as I spotted them. There was a faint shushing sound, the rushing of air outside, but no hum of engines, no vibration of generators. Midnight blue clouds whisked by below us like stretched balls of cotton. "It's so quiet. Like a glider."
Bryce released my hand and patted it before scooting out of our booth and standing. He reached for my hand again. "And it'll be like this for the next few hours or so. You should rest, my dear."
I reached up and took his hand. He pointed me toward the washrooms in the very back of the SkyTrain, then he nodded to Lucien. "Will you accompany her? I'm goin' to the wireless cabin to place a call ahead to have someone meet us at the Shreveport Bridge."
Lucien nodded and started to get up, but I held out a palm to the butler. "I'll be okay, Bryce." I flashed him a smile. "I'm only going to the bathroom. What could happen?"
Lucien's mustache twitched. "Need I remind you how you awoke this afternoon, young lady?"
I focused on Bryce, a quiet plea in my eyes. "Bryce...."
