Clockwork Looking Glass

by Michael Rigg

  The meal laid out before me included steak and a baked potato, but since I was only allowed my left hand and a spoon (again, I assumed, more of Thorne's paranoia) there wasn't much I could do even if I was hungry. Instead, I sipped the red wine he poured for me, but only a tiny bit. I needed to stay alert and functioning for the next opportunity I'd have when they untied me. I figured he'd have to let me completely loose if he wanted me to help him with gaining access to Atlantis. Although... I still had no clue how that was going to work.

  "I'm not hungry, thanks." I laced my voice with disdain for the scrawny pale little bastard and kept my eyes on him, trying to make him as emotionally uncomfortable as I was physically. Thorne dabbed the corners of his mouth with a white silk napkin and said, "Well, then, I think I've had enough. Truly, Alice, I really do mean to be a better host than you're giving me credit for."

  "I find that hard to believe, Mr. Thorne, when I'm all trussed up with a noose like this."

  He wagged a finger and twitched his mustache. "Oh, now tut-tut Miss Alice. You know full well I'm not a trusting man, particularly since my company was infused with ghoul blood." When he said that, his face paled even more and his scalp wrinkled under the glass dome helmet.

  "So you have a ghoul working with you now, huh?"

  Thorne chewed his tongue, studying me through one half-squinted eye. "It's a despicable creature, Alice, a vile abomination of human error."

  "Is that so?"

  He nodded. "Mm. That's so." Then he drew a quick breath and added, "You're an enigma. I can sense that. I'm not saying that you're a witch or anything, but I find it odd that the entire world seems to rotate around you. I mean... First, a contract—a multimillion dollar contract—is forfeit. A manhunt ensues. A ghoul rises to human levels of power. A military mobilizes. And now the entirety of the Imperial fleet seems focused on protecting you."

  "Is that so?"

  "Don't toy with me, Alice." Thorne sat back and folded his arms. He tilted his head and narrowed his beady eyes before licking the grease from his lips. "What's your story? Who are you?"

  There were a couple ways I could play this. I could play it off like he was crazy and I was no more different than any other woman in this reality. Or, I could tell him the whole truth, all the way down to the nightmares and stories of Clockwork Carpenters with beady eyes like his and silver hair, phantom dreams and time travel.

  If I maintained I was a nobody, he wouldn't buy it. Thorne wasn't a stupid man, and he had a point. And, as I kept telling Bryce, this was all my fault. If, on the other hand, I told him the complete truth, he'd not only believe me (my eyes glanced to his ridiculous glass helmet), he'd protect me. He'd keep me safe at any cost. I could easily see by his vast material riches, and all the opulence crammed into this tiny submarine cabin, that he was protective of things that brought him wealth and success.

  A woman from another time and place might be very valuable to a man like Thorne.

  So I told him the truth.

  I started with, "I'm not from your reality," and ended with, "And that's when your thugs kidnapped me here." I left out small details about my time with Bryce, his professed love for me, the incidents at the estate at Seven Orchards, and a few other things like how I took down Thorne's lackey, Perek Grubbs. When it came to the pirate ship, I fictionalized a series of happenstances leading to our escape and credited Bryce for most of it. I didn't want Thorne to know I could defend myself.

  He sat back in his chair at the table across from me, arms folded the entire time. Periodically, his beady eyes flashed and glimmered. Other times he'd raise his hand to his ridiculous mustache and twirl it with his thin girlish fingers. After I finished my story, I winced against the pain of the rope around my neck and he smiled.

  "Do you know something, Alice? I believe you."

  "I have no reason to lie," I said, making a theatrical show of wincing painfully against the ropes. I was only half-acting. I was starting to get cramps in my neck and legs.

  "Do you know what else?"

  "No clue, Mr. Thorne."

  "You, my dear, are going to make me wealthy beyond all imagination." He stood up and began to pace in the small area of the room not cluttered by his junk. The wheels started turning behind his eyes and he gestured excitedly as he re-built the empire in his mind with me at the center of it. Well, off-center. "I once had a girl in my employ who maintained a watch on my ghoulish partner, but she was sloppy; lost her head. It was a shame to let her go because I was beginning to develop feelings for her. She did so much to wipe away the frustrations in my life, but there was something missing about our relationship, and I'm not speaking merely of intimacy—that was inevitable. I'm talking, my dear, about rarity."

  I winced again when he looked at me. "Rarity?"

  "She was nothing. She was one of the faceless bodies that paraded in and out of my office doors, a servant to the greater machine. You're nothing like her, Alice. You have something in your eyes that compels me." He moved to the table and picked up his steak knife. I watched the lamplight of the submarine cabin glint off its blade as he resumed his pacing. "I think for the first time in all my dealings with women, I don't look upon you as a mere plaything of the flesh, oh no. You, my dear, are an extreme value, a treasure of limitless possibilities."

  He stopped and faced me. "Are you truly the key to Atlantis? Was the monster right? Can you open its doors?"

  I kept my eyes on his. There was no point in lying because the lie would be as sure as the truth, and really just as good. "Honestly... I have no idea."

  Thorne let his eyes drift away from me as he tapped his chin with the steak knife. He appeared to think on something for a long moment before finally speaking again. "I believe you," he whispered. "I—" then his eyes fell upon me as if seeing me tied up for the first time. A wash of sympathy seemed to come over him—or perhaps he was reacting as if seeing a scratch on one of his expensive trophies. He came at me with the knife. I leaned away from him, but he was quick to hold up his hands defensively.

  "Oh no, my dear. No no. I won't harm you. I'm going to cut you free."

  He smiled as he began sawing away at the rope with the serrated blade, adding, "We're miles below the surface, Alice, and this vessel is filled with men loyal to me. I feel I can trust you. After all," he paused, "I imagine if you could escape and make your way to the surface, you realize the only thing waiting for you above is Teivel Hearse, the ghoulish monster of the night." He chuckled, making a joke of it. “And, of course... the Imperial Navy.”

  "I'm not an idiot, Thorne. I know there's no hope of escape."

  "You seem to know me better than anyone," he said softly as he resumed cutting. "You know by looking at me that my interests lie within investments and procurements; anything that will gain me power and wealth."

  My eyes fell upon a small gold statue of two naked women entwined around a serpent, and each other. "I get that idea," I muttered.

  "I see you now for what you are, my dear. You're a treasure, and I promise to keep you healthy and happy for the rest of your days." He cut through the strand that held my neck, then he started on my arms. "I'll get you your own house. I'll get you all the richest food of the Empire, your own servants...." After he cut through the rope holding my other hand to the chair, I raised both my hands to my rope-burned neck and massaged it while Thorne knelt and cut the rope tying my ankles to the chair.

  He said, "You'll live the life of a queen without a king. I'll never touch you, Alice. I fear that doing so would lower your value to me and I don't want that. Instead, I think I'll—"

  I never heard the rest of his plan because as soon as my leg was free I grabbed him by the ears and brought my knee up sharply to connect with his nose. I didn't have a lot of leverage sitting in the chair, but I did
n't need it. The hit dazed him and made him drop the knife. That gave me time to jump to my feet, grab the gold statuette, and swing it up at his jaw. Thorne's head snapped back, the glass skullcap flying loose and thumping along the floor, and he fell to the deck unconscious.

  Moving quickly, I got up from the chair and slipped to the hatch. I pressed my ear against the thick metal but couldn't hear anything on the other side. If there were guards or servants out there, I doubted they caught the commotion. The only problem was that I couldn't hear them either. I had no idea how many—if any—men were on the other side. Turning, I moved to Thorne and checked his pulse. He was alive and well, just out cold, so I took him by the arm and lifted him around my shoulders so I could plop him into the chair. Then I tied him up.

  Moments later I stood looking down at Bradford Thorne all trussed up like a roast. I tied both his hands behind the chair and his legs to the legs of the chair, and added a silk napkin gag to his mouth. That done, I moved to his desk and started looking for anything I could use. It didn't take long. The distrusting corporate twerp kept two weapons in his desk drawer. I pulled out the small black stun gun with the glass tube on it (I wasn't sure exactly what it was, but I knew what it did. Both Fats on the pirate ship and the poor kid who worked for Thorne had used something like it on me. I held it in my left hand while I removed the long barreled nickel-plated Colt and tucked it into my belt. Then I transferred the stun gun to my other hand and moved to the door. It was time to see if I was as good driving a submarine as I was piloting a blimp.

  As expected, Thorne took no chances. I pulled open the heavy cabin hatch and peered outside to find a wide-eyed guard flinching from me. As thick as the door was, he couldn't hear anything that went on inside and probably figured it would be Thorne opening the door to ask him to fetch something. The poor man didn't expect to see me there, so he was easy enough to stun unconscious. The black tube gun had no kick at all, and no sights to speak of. It was easy enough to see why from the shooter's end. A faint stream of blue electrical tentacles spread out from the barrel like a cone, wrapping around the man's neck, arms and chest. He convulsed momentarily, then collapsed to the deck. The passageway was empty, so I had no problem wrestling him into the room. I only hoped he would stay unconscious long enough to let me get away because these hatches didn't lock from the outside.

  I dropped him next to Thorne and tied his hands and ankles together with sashes and the table cloth. Then I went back outside and pulled the hatch closed.

  The next couple of bends and turns in the corridor were thankfully free of guards or sailors, but I found myself approaching a main junction busy with activity. Four men were here working at valves or passing tools to one another. The meeting place of four corridors, it opened into an octagonal room of hissing pipes and valves with a ladder in the center that went to the deck above. That's where I wanted to be. I figured, as was the case with most submarines, the bridge would be near the top, in, or just below, the conning tower.

  Swallowing hard, I edged my way as close as I could to the first man, glancing behind me to make sure I wasn't suddenly surprised by someone rushing up behind me. With each step in my crazy escape plan I became more and more aware that the clock was ticking and Bradford Thorne would wake up screaming as he and his friend found a way out of their bonds. If they didn't come running around the corner behind me, I was sure an alarm would sound. I had to keep moving. I was racing against time as well as futility.

  As I raised the stun gun I was hit with an odd thought. How long does it take for this thing to re-charge, or how many times can I shoot it before it no longer works? So I pulled the Colt out of my belt with my left hand and raised it as a secondary. I didn't want to kill anyone. I just wanted to get the hell out of here.

  The first two were easy since they both had their backs to me. The thin lightning wrapped around them and they dropped their tools, drooling as they collapsed to the deck. The third man hefted a long wrench and charged me but I was able to take him out as well with a searing bolt to the neck. As he collapsed, writhing and gagging on the deck at my feet, the fourth one charged forward with only his hands as weapons. Unfortunately, he was also the largest of the foursome. I wasn't even sure the stun gun would take him down so I raised the Colt and snapped, "Get back!"

  Within two steps he was on me, never once flinching from the long-barreled pistol. Instead, he whacked the Colt out of my hand with a backhanded sweep of his left arm and reached out to grab my neck with his beefy right hand. Praying it would be enough, I lowered the black tube gun to his groin and pulled the trigger. It was still charged and just as potent. The blue-white camera flash of electricity punched forward and doubled him over. He grabbed himself with both hands as he toppled toward me, but I was able to quickly sidestep, spin, and blast him again for good measure.

  Once the big guy was down, I froze, quickly checked each of the corridors, then up the ladder, craning my neck to listen. I had to move faster now. There was no way to tie these guys up or conceal them. I had no idea which of these hatches opened to the submarine equivalent of a broom closet. I'd have to leave them. I went to where the Colt landed and tucked it back into my belt.

  Then I heard footsteps above, clanking on the deck as they approached the hatch. It sounded like only one set of boots, but at least they weren't rushing. Whoever it was hadn't heard the commotion above the hiss and churn of the sub's engines.

  A voice from above shouted toward the opening, "Hey, you guys nearly done down there? Cap says we're almost there and they've discovered a moon pool. Hurry up."

  Moon pool? That sparked a memory from somewhere, another hidden gem in my subconscious. I knew what that was and that my escape was well timed after all. Then I realized the sailor above would be expecting an answer from down here—an answer he'd never get. I started to rush to the ladder, to fire up at him, when two more sets of clanking footfalls echoed toward me from down one of the corridors. If I turned and ran, they'd see the unconscious men within seconds. If I charged the ladder and shot the man above, the other two would hear or see and come running—or pull that alarm.

  I saw no other option. I knew where I needed to be.

  Making sure the Colt was secure in my belt, I dashed to the ladder, I pulled myself up two rungs and shoved the black pistol up toward the open hatch. Bright light shone down at me, almost blinding me, but the man's silhouette as he leaned over the opening was clear as could be. All he managed was, "Eh—" as I pulled the trigger. The blast of light and electricity wrapped around the man's head as the bolt punched him in the face. He convulsed and toppled forward.

  I dove off the ladder as the man fell unconscious through the opening to land in bone crunching heap at its base. Meanwhile, the footfalls down the corridor stopped and I looked to see two armed guards dressed in black naval uniforms with sleeves trimmed with red and white insignia, their white waist belts and holsters bulging with weapons and ammo. And they were looking right at me.

  "Oh, crap."

  One of them pointed at me as the other reached for his pistol. "Hey! You!"

  I aimed the stun gun toward them and pulled the trigger, but either they were too far away, the stunner was losing its charge, or these men wore some kind of protective anti-static webbing under their uniforms. I couldn't even tell if the fingers of lightning reached them, but I had no chance to dash forward and try again. The second one was already pointing his sidearm toward me.

  "Stop!"

  I turned and rushed up the ladder, nearly dropping the stunner as I scurried up. Whatever was above, I knew there wouldn't be any company in the form of sailors up there or they would have reacted when I dropped one of them through the opening. On the next deck up I was relieved to find a handle next to the hatch labeled HATCH OPEN - CLOSE. I pulled and twisted the handle and the r
im of the hatch hissed as a metallic iris twisted shut. With a hiss and a clank I was sealed on the next deck above. I couldn't hear the men below but figured they would simply rush up and open it from their end.

  Gasping, I glanced to the far side of the ladder hatch and saw a similar handle on the opposite side that read HATCH UNLOCK - LOCK. Diving across the iris and hoping they wouldn't open it while I was on it, I wrestled the handle to the lock position before scrambling to my feet and checking out my surroundings.

  It was another junction room, but all the corridors here were met with hatch doors that had all been sealed. Among the octagon of valves and pipes I found another ladder ascending to the next deck up and rushed to it.

  I kept scrambling up and forward, doubling back once or twice when I'd run into sailors. Strangely enough, despite leaving two locked on a deck below me, no one came running, the sub never went on alert, no alarms sounded, and no one came rushing toward me. The engines, however, idled down and then stopped. Hissing roared through the walls of the sub, what I imagined were vents blasting or filling with ballast. Either we were going back up... or going deeper.

  It was then that I suspected Thorne had been found and untied. He'd probably told his crew to let me go, that I was "just a woman" and that I'd have no place to go anyway. Which was true enough. How do you escape a submarine? I had the answer to that when I found a short corridor with yet another ladder up, but this one extended to an open hatch that revealed a high-ceiling cavern of some kind lit by a blue-green phosphorescence. Cool air wafted down from the opening and I smelled brine and ice.

  That triggered a memory. Well, it wasn't so much a memory as a feeling of dread. I knew I had been here before. The smell and the greenish glow triggered something hidden, locked away deep inside me and it made me shiver more than the chill. I suddenly had the urge to break cover, to call out to the men who had me imprisoned and warn them not to go in—but why? In where?