Boom Time

by Michelle E Lowe

  “Where are you going?” Leon’s goon, Carl, said.

  Pierce could have sworn he heard someone struggling to breathe behind the stairs. It sounded like it could’ve been Leon, hiding from the gunfight, but Pierce had no time to find out when Carl yanked him up by the coat collar.

  “Is there another way out of here?” the man snarled in his face.

  There was, and Pierce had been heading for it when this wanker had suddenly delayed him. He then noticed a bullet wound in Carl’s arm and plunged his thumb into it. Carl hollered bloody murder and loosened his grip enough for Pierce to clock the man clear across his screaming face. Pierce pushed him sideways and away from him.

  Suddenly, the sound of crashing caught his attention. The Machine Man was tumbling down the stairs, sounding like a rubbish bin as it went. It hit the bottom near Pierce’s feet and rose faster than he expected it would.

  “Christ!” Pierce shrieked.

  Carl was gone. Most likely, he’d tucked tail and taken cover behind the stairs.

  Pierce darted down the last few steps and into the speakeasy. He closed the door and as he was turning the lock, he was knocked backward, landing hard on the floor. The Living Automaton entered. Pierce’s mind strained against his terror. He clambered to his feet and ran for the bar. He leaped onto it and dropped down to the other side. He grabbed the rifle from under the counter and rose.

  The Machine Man was approaching.

  His rifle blast knocked the thing back a few steps. Bullets ricocheted off the metal body and tore its fancy suit like dandelion seeds being scattering in the winds. Pierce slid the pump-action on the rifle and shot at the head. The thing defended itself by raising its arm to shield its eyes. The blast knocked the wanker’s hat right off and ate up its hand.

  Pierce realized the entire monster was built from bullet-resistant metal, and unless Pierce shot out the eyes, he really didn’t stand a chance. He’d used up his ammo and now had no real time to reload before the thing came at him again. Pierce dropped the rifle and ran toward the ladder leading up to the roof of the tunnel.

  The bloody automaton pulled a gun. Bullets smacked the wall and dinged off the cash register. The thing was, fortunately, a piss poor shot, but it slowed Pierce down enough to allow it to speed-walk over.

  As Pierce started to climb the ladder, the Machine Man ran out of bullets. It was only a few feet behind him. Pierce clambered up the ladder rungs and vanished into a narrow tunnel that burrowed straight up to the sewer lid above.

  The fucking lid weighed a ton, and the fact that ice was pasting it in place helped not at all. Pierce pressed his back against the tunnel wall to give himself better leverage and pushed up on the lid with as much might as he could muster. A gleam of pale light slid into the tunnel as the lid grudgingly moved just enough for Pierce to stick his hand through and push it aside.

  “Ace!”

  Sharp metal fingers clutched his ankle, crushing it. Pierce hollered in agony and quickly grabbed a rung with both hands as the Machine Man pulled him down. Despite its gnarled hand, the Machine Man had climbed up after him. He looked at the thing below him. Winter’s light revealed the face of a monster. The artificial cranium was heavily scarred from the various types of metal that had been welded together to create it. The gasping sound of its breathing was the most troubling part. Were there human parts inside?

  The thing pulled on his ankle harder, trying to bring him down—to his death, most likely. Pierce started kicking at its head with his other foot. The strain on his arms was great. He wanted to knock the cocker down into the tunnel in the hopes that it wouldn’t take him with it, but the automaton had hooked its other arm firmly around a rung. Pierce doubted it felt pain, but eventually one of them had to give. He kicked again and smashed through a goggle lens, knocking its head slightly askew. When it rotated its head back, its eerie round eye, now fully exposed, pinned on him. The horrid sight disarmed him briefly.

  Another bone-crushing tug forced Pierce to focus. His grip was weakening and if he failed to do something quickly, he’d find himself nose to nose with the thing.

  “Let go, you twat!” he bellowed, giving it another hard kick.

  A crack sounded from the neck area. A gear flew off and a pipe broke. The head slumped to the side, but it was still attached by the middle tube. A weak spot! Pierce couldn’t reach the tube directly, but a swift kick straight down on top of its head did the deed for him. The glass tube cracked and then broke completely. Air wheezed from the tube, the creepy eyes rolled about within their chambers. Short, desperate gasps sputtered from its rectangular mouth. It relaxed its hold on Pierce’s ankle and moved its hand to the damage. The head hung at such a crooked angle that it surprised Pierce that it didn’t fall completely off.

  The moment he was free, Pierce pushed the lid away just enough for him to fit through. Snowflakes and small ice pellets tapped against his face. The frigid air never felt so welcoming. The Machine Man thrashed as it suffocated, its arm still locked on the rung. By the time Pierce made it out, the automaton was still and lifeless.

  Unable to escape one way due to it being a dead end, Pierce had no choice but to head for the mouth of the alley. The Living Automation had wounded his ankle but, fortunately, it hadn’t broken any bones as Pierce had first believed. As he reached the sidewalk, he saw police cars skidding around the corner and down the road from both sides, sirens wailing. The road was practically vacant, leaving Pierce pretty much exposed. Before he was spotted, he hurried to an automobile parked at the curb directly in front of the mouth of the alleyway and opened the unlocked front passenger door. He dove in, keeping his head down, and shut the door behind him. Red flashing lights flew by and tires skidded to a halt in front of the building.

  There was an immediate reaction to the police presence.

  The Machine Men exited like armed toy soldiers, unleashing a volley of gunfire at the coppers. The first cars leading the charge were cut to pieces. Officers inside the vehicles thrashed about as bullets ate away at them. The other vehicles quickly made a tight perimeter around the unfortunate lot, and soon more officers got out, using the automobiles as protection.

  “Take those freaks down!” an older officer ordered through a megaphone.

  A burst of gunfire exploded from the bull. Bullets dinged off the Machine Men’s metal exteriors.

  The passenger door of the car Pierce was hiding in opened and Pierce found a pistol aimed at his face.

  “Move,” Violetta ordered, getting in and forcing him to sit up.

  Bloody fuck, where did she come from?

  She shut the door and tossed the keys into his lap. “Drive.”

  Shite! I hid in the wrong car!

  “Er,” he started to say, “I don’t know how to—”

  “I said drive!” she demanded through clenched teeth.

  Pierce sorely wished he’d taken Lucy up on her officer to teach him how to drive. Even so, he had no choice in the matter. As the gun battle blazed on only feet from the vehicle, Pierce put the key that he recognized as being a car key into the ignition and cranked the engine. Going only by what he’d seen others do, he shifted the gear into reverse and eased off the clutch. The automobile shook as it moved backward and then stalled.

  “What are you doing, you sap!” she yelled in his ear. “Get us moving!”

  Their lousy attempt to make a break for it didn’t go unnoticed.

  “Halt!” commanded a nearby officer, turning his gun directly on them.

  Pierce’s need to keep himself out of cuffs, or being shot, jolted him into action. He cranked the engine again, shifted the gear, and gunned it. Both he and the woman screamed in terror as they flew backward down the road with bullets coming at them.

  “Turn us around!” Violetta shouted.

  Pierce yanked the wheel, sending them spinning uncontrollably. Pierce waited for the impact. He pressed on the brake, which did little good on the slick road. When the tires finally found enough traction to stop t
he blasted car, Pierce saw a lamppost only an inch away from the grill.

  “What the hell is wrong with you?” Violetta demanded hotly. She shifted the gear for him and clicked the hammer of the gun back. “Go!”

  Officers were already jumping into their own vehicles, ready to chase them down. There was no time to make another mistake. Holding his breath, he let off the clutch and finally got them going. They fishtailed as they went, but Pierce managed to keep the contraption going.

  “Turn here,” his passenger ordered, pointing that gun of hers to a byway up ahead.

  Pierce didn’t fancy the idea of turning off anywhere while driving over icy roads. He had no knowledge of how to handle the blasted machine, much less handle it in snowy weather. When they turned, he slammed on the brake, sending the car into another tailspin. Again, the world outside went flying. He tightened his grip on the wheel, trying to stop the automobile from spinning, which was a losing battle.

  A storefront window came up fast and the inevitable crash rushed up even quicker. People ran in all directions. The car jumped the curb and plowed through the window, shattering glass everywhere and smashing into the displayed merchandise. The car stopped halfway in, the rear tires hanging outside. Pierce lifted his head from his arms, which he had used to guard his face from the impact. The shopkeeper peered up from the counter right beside them. Thankfully, he seemed to be the only person inside. The sirens snapped Pierce out of his stupor. He glanced over to where the woman lay half-conscious against the door. She moaned and reached to the wound on her forehead. Pierce grabbed her pistol and opened his door.

  “You’re on your own, love.”

  He staggered through the mess he’d created and darted out through the side exit, vanishing down the alleyway. He made it to a nearby byway and joined hundreds of people leaving work. The streetlamps beamed on as Pierce merged with the crowd.

  Pierce had but a single nickel to his name. He’d left all the loot Kelly had given him at the speakeasy, along with the key to his security box. He could easily prove that the box was his, but the bank was closed at this hour. He needed to make it through one more night.

  He found a telephone booth and used that last nickel to call up Kelly Quinn.

  “Machine Men?” Kelly asked on the other end after Pierce explained everything to him.

  “Aye. They killed just about everybody. Even Leon, I think. The cops arrived and there was a shootout.”

  “Tell me where you are and I’ll send Frank out to get you,” Kelly demanded. “You can stay the night here.”

  Pierce almost declined so he could head over to Lucy’s place, but with so much heat on him, and after the argument they’d had, he thought it best to stay clear of Lucy until tomorrow, when he could collect his money from the bank.

  “All right,” he said to the mob boss.

  Thirty-One

  Lucy’s Guest

  The officers had successfully gunned down the Machine Men.

  After Violetta Romano’s mad dash through the side exit of the building, the old man stepped out of his hiding spot beside the rubbish bins. The Italian might have survived the car crash, but she lost her freedom minutes later when the cops arrived.

  Soon, that bloke, Sergeant Geo, would be sniffing about down in the Train Way. Geo had been planning to trap a group of bootlegging mob bosses all at once, and he’d gotten his bloody wish when he received a call over the radio of a shootout on Bleecker Street. Compliments of the old man himself, who’d needed to do so in order to help destroy those wretched Living Automatons.

  There wasn’t much time.

  The elderly man had entered the kitchen area while the Machine Men were going out to the front to face the officers—on Violetta’s orders, no doubt—while she made a break for it. There were people lying about on the floor, some dead, others wounded. He ignored them and headed down into the speakeasy. The smell of cordite still hung in the air. The warmth of the heaters had mixed with the cold coming in from the basement. The old man went over to the booth where Pierce had been sleeping and rummaged through the lad’s belongings. He pocketed Pierce’s billfold where he kept the key to his security box, along with the cash that that bastard, Kelly Quinn, had given him. He took the pocket watch that Lucy had given Pierce and even the copper lighter with the compass in it that was left sitting on the table.

  “’Ello, old friend,” he greeted Marvin, who showed itself from within the suitcase. “You want to come with me now?”

  The mantis climbed over his hand, across his sleeve, and into his coat pocket.

  The old man then strolled to the bar, grabbed a bottle of whiskey, and climbed up the ladder, his bones groaning.

  The Living Automaton hung by its crooked arm. The head dangled completely sideways, the unguarded eye wide and rolled up to where only the red veins over the whites of the eye showed. It was no longer a threat, but that didn’t prevent a shudder from going briskly up the old man’s spine as he passed it by. He hadn’t been so close to these things since his short time fighting in the Second Machine War.

  He reached the surface and made his way to the sidewalk. The cops who had not gone chasing after Pierce and Violetta were now standing around, gawking at the fallen Machine Men. They never noticed the elderly man leaving down the street.

  Lucy woke the next morning feeling groggy and worn out. She hadn’t gotten a lot of sleep since the other night. She had lain awake, crying with heartache. When she’d caught Isaac dancing with that other woman, the sight had ripped her to pieces. What was he trying to prove by telling her that whopper of a tale? Was he trying to distract her from what she’d caught him doing? Lucy wanted to slap him.

  She tried to wear herself out by catching up on laundry. She was very much behind. Lucy hoped she would never see the likes of Isaac Chaplin again. He may have swept her off her feet, but he’d also ended up dropping her to the floor. What was she thinking, going with a gangster? Even one as charming as Isaac. It still didn’t mean he didn’t have other girls on the side. It was probably why he had been so patient when she refused to sleep with him right away.

  Lucy needed to redirect her focus on her own damn life. She had it all planned out, and if she didn’t stop acting like a fool for a man who would eventually get her killed or put in jail, she’d lose everything. Yet, none of this good reasoning helped ease the hurt and humiliation she felt.

  Lucy stared aimlessly out the window, ignoring the coffee she held. By the time she took a sip, it had cooled. The bitter taste touched a section of her brain that prompted her to think on her and Isaac’s last conversation.

  The book.

  When she first mentioned it, he’d wanted to know if she had it. He seemed very hopeful that she had brought it with her and was disappointed when he learned that she hadn’t. What was in the book? While at his place, she hadn’t bothered to look at the raggedy thing. Now, she wished she had. Nevertheless, did she care enough to return to his apartment and find it? She shook the thought off and went about getting ready for the day. After the thought popped back in her head, though, it wouldn’t leave her alone. Unable to shake it off, Lucy found herself taking a trolley to his apartment building.

  Butterflies fluttered relentlessly inside her stomach as they did when she had come by previously unannounced.

  The door was still unlocked, which meant he had never returned home. A part of her hoped that he was there. Then the feeling passed when she thought how he must have stayed the night with that woman he’d been dancing with. She thought about leaving but decided that since she had come all this way, the least she could do was go in.

  The space was as vacant as before. She picked up the book from the middle of the floor and read the faded title.

  “The Adventures of Pierce Landcross.”

  Isaac had claimed that that was his real name.

  As she opened the book, a creak sounded behind her. Lucy looked around but saw nobody. However, a sudden, eerie feeling that she wasn’t alone came over h
er. Without hesitation, Lucy left the building altogether.

  On the ride to her apartment, she glanced inside the book and saw photographs of Isaac, dressed in 1800 fashion clothing, wearing a top hat. He appeared somewhat older.

  “No,” she whispered in disbelief. “It can’t be real.”

  There wasn’t much legible text to explain anything, but it was enough to heighten her curiosity. She had to find Isaac.

  Lucy couldn’t unlock her door fast enough. She needed to get to her phone, call around to places like the diner or the theater, and try to locate him. If calling didn’t work, she’d return to the speakeasy.

  The moment she entered her apartment, her heart went up into her throat. Someone was standing in the middle of her apartment. She was a dark-skinned woman with pointed ears and long hair. She seemed to be wearing strange clothing. In her hand was a knife.

  “Hello, child,” the intruder said. “You must be his mate. I smelled your scent on his bed when I was waiting at his dwelling.”

  That dread that Lucy had felt inside Isaac’s place was legitimate, after all.

  The woman moved quickly, grabbing Lucy by the throat and slamming the door shut. “And you’re going to help me find him,” she growled in Lucy’s ear.

  Thirty-Two

  Pierce, If You Are Reading This, No Worries, We Made It Out

  Pierce got a halfway decent night’s sleep in the same guest room he’d stayed in before. In the morning, he had breakfast alone in the breakfast nook. Kelly never joined him. The night before, Pierce had explained everything in full detail about how Leon Clark had shown up and then detailed the attack by Violetta and her Machine Men.

  Pierce reckoned the reason Kelly never made it to breakfast was that he was at a loss. For the second time, he’d lost it all. Pierce sort of felt bad for the bloke, but despite those feelings, as soon as he collected his money from the bank and talked to Lucy, he was out of the city. He was leaving for California, and goddammit, he refused to let anything stand in his way—not even that blasted elf.