Cassidy St. Claire and The Fountain of Youth Parts I, II, & III

by A. H. Rousseau

  ---

  Gideon's hand felt around under the back of the Professor's coat. A sudden movement signified the removal of something from his skin. As Gideon pulled his hand out from under the coat cloth, the object was revealed to be a dart. He held it up. “A dart of some sort.”

  “Let me see that,” said George. Gideon handed the dart to him.

  George looked up at the window and squinted. “How did it get through the window,” he contemplated out loud.

  “Here. Let's roll him over,” said Joseph, motioning to Gideon. The two situated themselves on the side of the doctor and, with no small amount of effort, rolled him over onto his back. Joseph pressed his ear against The Professor's chest, then near his mouth. “He's still alive.”

  “Still alive?” asked Gideon. “Why go through all that trouble if you weren't planning on killing him?” The Professor moved slightly and moaned.

  “He's conscious!” yelled Joseph. “Professor! Professor!” Joseph held The Professor's face with his hands. “Professor! Can you hear me!?” The Professor moved slowly and unsteadily. He pushed Joseph's hands away and looked up, toward the metal horse. “Hhhhh... Hhhhh,” he said in long, breathy expulsions.

  “What? I don't understand,” said Joseph. “Try saving more air before you speak.”

  The Professor slowly moved his hand up and pointed toward the metal horse.

  “The horse? You're pointing to the horse?” asked Joseph. The Professor slowly nodded.

  “What about the horse? Is it important?” The Professor's head fell back and rocked on the ground, his eyes barely staying open. “Is there something inside it? Professor, please! Stay with us!”

  CRASH!

  The sudden sound of crunching metal, stone, and a deep rumble made the three of them jump. As the building shook, they all looked around frantically.

  “What the hell is that?!” asked George.

  As if to answer the question, a massive, metal, armored cart smashed through the windows and French doors, sending glass and metal shrapnel raining down on the room. Joseph threw himself over Jacobson to protect him from the rain of glass. Gideon and George shielded their heads as they ran for cover behind a large, mahogany cabinet that lay between the metal horse and the office entrance, with a variety of glass vials, tools, papers, and folders on top. As metal and glass was still coming down. Joseph yelled out “Is everyone alright!? Any cuts!?” Gideon and George both shook their heads and said they were fine. Joseph yelled to George, who was behind the cabinet with Gideon, “George! Just stay back and keep under cover!”

  Joseph rose to his feet and grabbed Jacobson's coat, trying to pull his body away from the armored cart. Two metal doors on the back of the vehicle swung open and men, armed with the polished, chrome guns and wearing thick leather coats and helmets with protective goggles over their eyes, dropped to the ground. They slowly, ominously, walked toward Joseph, their guns raised. Joseph stared at them with wide, scared eyed.

  BANG BANG BANG!

  The two armed men jerked and staggered slightly as a volley of bullets from Gideon's card sharp guns hit them. Joseph ran for the cover of the large cabinet along with George and Gideon as the two men from the car opened up their guns for a volley. The trio huddled behind the cabinet as wood, shrapnel, glass, and paper exploded around them as the screaming rain of bullets threatened to eat away at the cabinet.

  “They're here for The Professor,” said Gideon.

  “No doubt,” replied Joseph. “Have you ever been in a gun fight?”

  “Yes,” said Gideon. “But nothing like this.”

  “Well get ready to have some fun,” said Joseph as he shuffled slightly, getting into a position more conducive to springing up.

  “You alright?” Gideon asked, turning to George.

  “What the hell do you think?” George responded.

  “I mean are you hit?”

  “If he were hit, we'd know about it,” interjected Joseph.

  “Yeah. I'm a lover, not a fighter,” added George.

  Gideon turned back to Joseph who had brandished a large shotgun, cocking it.

  “Where the hell did you get that?” asked Gideon.

  “None of your business,” said Joseph.

  “Do you think this cabinet's going to provide any more cover?” asked Gideon.

  Joseph pursed his lips as he analyzed the cabinet, looking it up and down, and giving it a rap with his knuckle. “...Yyyyyes.”

  Gideon turned his body slightly such that he was facing away from Joseph and George. “I am an agent of the U.S. State Department! Either—”

  BRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR!!!!!!!!!!!!

  Gideon's speech was interrupted by another hail of gunfire. The trio again fell to shielding their heads from flying shrapnel as the papers and tools on top of the cabinet exploded into wreckage. After the assault had ended, Joseph looked to Gideon. “A noble effort,” he said. “Let's respond.”

  The two raised themselves just above the edge of the cabinet and had managed to fire their guns once. “Ohjesuschrist!” yelled Gideon before both of them ducked back down behind the cabinet.

  BRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR!!!!!!!!!!!!

  “This is not going well!” said Gideon.

  CLANG! Chick… chick! Joseph and Gideon looked at each other with concern. They both then glanced over the cabinet to see Professor Jacobson gone and the doors to the metal cart were now shut and locked. The rumble from the cart amplified in volume and frequency and the cart began to move out of the room, shaking back and forth as it drove over the rubble. Gideon and Joseph leapt to their feet and ran over to the windows as the truck rolled out of the wrecked garden and into the street. Bystanders were everywhere as the large cart hit the pavement and, with a rumble and roar, began to accelerate beyond anyone's ability to keep up by foot.

  “I wish Cassidy were here,” said Joseph.

  “Why?” asked Gideon.

  “She would have thrown herself onto the cart.”

  ---

  Cassidy barreled through the crowd, knocking people down as she went, apologizing with each hit. The man ahead of her seemed to dance between people in the crowd like a dancer. His speed and grace were unearthly. Nearly two blocks ahead of Cassidy, he turned right, behind a corner building, and out of sight. Cassidy screeched to a halt and looked around quickly. Looking back, she backtracked a few paces and heaved herself down an alleyway, vaulting over piles of junk and boxes. She emerged on the other side only to be presented with an even busier street. People, horses, carriages, carts, cable cars, and a massive group of children being led by nuns ran everywhere. “Oh what the hell!” Cassidy yelled. She pulled out her revolver and fired it into the air.

  BANG! BANG! “GET OUT OF MY WAY!” she screamed at the top of her lungs.

  In an instant, the sidewalk was clear, with people leaping into the street and pressing themselves up against the buildings. The slim man emerged, trotting, looking behind him, up at the corner. Still poised to run, he looked down the road to Cassidy. A brief pause before Cassidy holstered her gun and lunged forward again with the fire of a cheetah hunting its prey.

  The two continued their chase straight down the street. As they ran, the roadway became increasingly cleared of people and carriages. Free from obstacles, it was Cassidy who gained the upper hand, slowly closing in as the slim man tried to dodge around people and carriages in a bid to outmaneuver her. As they neared a large intersection, the slim man turned hard to the right and ran across the street, diving through a passing cable car, landing and rolling immediately into a full-bore run, to go down the intersecting road.

  Cassidy banked out into the road but was hit by a passing carriage as she glanced to her side. She spun like a top before falling onto the ground. A gentleman on a horse trotted up to Cassidy and hopped off. “Cassidy?!” he yelled, coming down off his horse.

  Cassidy lurched off the pavement with an angry/dazed look on her face. “Robert!” she yelled as she stumbled past him. “I ne
ed your horse!”

  “What? Why do you need my horse?!” Robert yelled back as she mounted the large, white steed.

  “Don't worry! I'll bring her back just fine! I promise!”

  The horse reeled up and launched itself into a full run down the street. The horseshoes echoed and clapped as the horse and rider pounded down the road. Cassidy looked left, right and ahead, trying to find her target. She finally spotted him up ahead, still running at full speed.

  “I've got you now, you son of a bitch,” Cassidy said, cracking the reins. As she neared the man, she heard a familiar rumble. She looked left and saw one of the same machines that acted as a getaway vehicle during the train robbery. Instead of tracks in the rear, this version had large, rubber wheels at all four corners. The vehicle pulled up next to her and matched her speed. Cassidy stared at it, shocked, and was knocked from her daze by a change in the horse's demeanor. She turned forward.

  “AHH!” she screamed.

  “Whinny!” screamed the horse, just as the eight-hundred-pound living train slammed into a carriage extending out into the street from a driveway. Cassidy flew over the carriage and ass-first into the rear of another carriage on the side of the road. She found herself sitting, surrounded by torn fabric and wood, in the plush interior of an upper-class carriage.

  She opened the carriage door and fell out onto the sidewalk. She stood quickly but uneasily to her feet, staggering in place. She looked back to the horse which was halfway through the carriage, its front legs out one side, its back legs and butt out the other side.

  “Sorry!... Robert's horse!” Cassidy then lurched back into a run, again in pursuit. “Rob's going to kill me,” she said to herself.

  The man was running far off in the distance, the motorcar closing in on him. Cassidy breathed in deeply as her pupils dilated. She grunted as she accelerated into an unsustainable sprint, melting the soles of her boots as she went. She ran for no more than ten seconds when, again, the sound of rumbling came up from behind her. She turned to the left with wide-eyed fury and surprise. As with the previous motorcar, this one matched her speed.

  Cassidy continued to run alternating her focus between the vehicle and what lay ahead. Clacks and clanks emanated as the rear roof of the vehicle rolled down into the trunk area. Cassidy's expression quickly changed to one of significant concern as a large, mounted Gatling gun rose out of the vehicle and extended its barrels forward. A bald man wearing a leather coat and goggles stood up from inside the vehicle and grabbed hold of the gun, rotating it to the right. With a smirk from the man, the barrel of the gun spun up to high speed, emitting a hum.

  “Crap!” yelled Cassidy as she flung herself behind a low-lying brick wall that circled a large private garden. The gun opened up. The rate of fire was deafening as it rained endless destruction down on the wall protecting Cassidy. The car slowed to a crawl as it drove past parked carriages. The stream of bullets cut straight through the carriages, shredding the walls and causing the roofs to collapse down into the bullets, eventually being kicked off the carriages entirely by the force of the shells.

  The bullets raining down on the wall created an ear-shattering racket and a huge cloud of dust and flying debris. Cassidy lay on the ground, her hands over her ears, in the fetal position. “AHHHHHHHHHHHH!” she yelled in terror.

  Ahead, the first vehicle pulled up along the sidewalk. The door opened and the slim man jumped in. The gun stopped firing as both cars slowed to take the corner ahead. Cassidy, immediately looked up as the bullets stopped. Seeing that the gunner had turned forward and was no longer aimed at her, she looked to her right, through the well-trimmed garden that was surrounded by the small brick wall. There was a path straight from her current location to the road on which the two vehicles had just turned. With her trademark boundless energy, she sprang to her feet and sprinted toward the other end of the garden.

  The cars were still moving slowly as she converged with them at the point of the garden's brick & iron entry archway. Just as the rear gun vehicle was in front of the archway, Cassidy exploded out of the garden and, using a hitching post as a foot hold, vaulted her way boots-first into the gunner. The force of the impact bent the gunner backwards over the edge of the vehicle's roof, quickly flopping out onto the pavement. Cassidy slipped down inside the vehicle and found herself between two men. “Howdy fellas!” she said with a smile. The two men, both dressed in thick, tan, leather coats like the gunner, paused in shock. Freeing themselves from the momentary paralysis, one of them, sporting a large mustache, tried to punch Cassidy, who dodged out of the way, instead punching the other man square in his abnormally-fat face. Cassidy then cracked the mustachioed man with her elbow, sending his head flying back and blood dribbling out of his nose. The fat faced man then tried to punch Cassidy, and after she dodged again, he punched the already bleeding mustachioed man in his face again, who let out a pitiful cry as his head flew back.

  By now, the vehicle had accelerated to a high speed and was veering left and right as it dodged people and carriages in the street. The tussling trio inside were tossed about inside of the car like beans in a can, fighting when given the chance.

  In a moment of calm, the fat-faced man threw himself at Cassidy, trying to press her against the mustachioed man. She was able to wriggle her way out from under him and slammed her back up against the wall separating the driver's compartment from their section. The driver, shocked by the impact, twitched badly, jerking the steering wheel to the side and causing the car to swerve.

  “You idiots!” yelled the driver. “Just open the door and throw her out!” The gull-wing door on the right side of the car opened, and the two men threw themselves at Cassidy. Their combined weight pressed her against the window on the opposite side. She hit at them with her fists, but her arms were up to high to do much damage. The driver swerved hard to the left, dodging a carriage in the road, sending both men and Cassidy flying toward the door. The two men lay next to each other on the floor with Cassidy on top of them, their heads in the doorway. She lifted her torso and raised her fists in preparation for a punch, but the two men grabbed her by the legs and attempted to flip her out the door. Instead, Cassidy, now upside-down, grabbed both sides of the door with her arms and legs while the men bolstered their legs against the opposite wall and tried to push her out.

  Cassidy then spontaneously vomited all over the two men's faces. They started screaming and wiping at their eyes with their gloved hands, doing little more than smearing the vomit around. Cassidy dropped down on top of them and scrambled off, moving away from the open door. “I'm really sorry about that! I took some medicine earlier and my stomach has not been happy.”

  “AHHH!! It burns! It burns so much!” yelled the moustachioed man.

  “God dammit! You morons! What are you doing back there?!” yelled the driver as he swerved hard to the left again, sending the fat-faced man, who had been sitting upright, near the door, tumbling out onto the dirt road. Cassidy then looked at the moustachioed man, who was still rubbing at his eyes frantically. She leaned close to him and placed her hand on his shoulder.

  “I know that it won't seem like it immediately, but trust me, this is for the best!” She then placed her other hand on his shoulder and with a large grunt, shoved him out the door. With both men taken care of, Cassidy gave her head a little shake to loosen up her muscles then looked to the driver through the wide, foot-tall window leading into the driver's compartment. “It's just you and me, now!”

  “Nope! Just you!” responded the driver, who flipped a switch, causing a metal barrier to rise up and block the window leading to the front cabin. The two areas of the vehicle were now completely separated.

  ---

  The policemen were gathered primarily around the wreckage that constituted what was left of the windows and French doors. A few more stood outside in the garden and on the street, interviewing witnesses. Joseph was leaning on The Professor’s desk with George and Gideon standing in front of him. One of the pl
ain-clothes investigators, portly and about fifty years old with somewhat thinning, shiny brown hair and a friendly face, finished speaking with a uniformed officer before walking up to the trio.

  “We’ve put a call into Sacramento, but haven’t heard anything back,” said the detective.

  “I’m not surprised. I’d imagine mostly everyone is gone for the day,” said Gideon, looking tired. “Thank you anyhow, Mr. Thomas. And about the telegram to Washington?”

  “Sent. No response, though,” responded Detective Thomas.

  “Lazy bastards,” grumbled Gideon.

  “Can't blame them too much. Messages going that far sometimes get hung up in Nebraska, or so I've heard,” said detective Thomas.

  “Do you need anything else from us, because we’d like to begin poking around,” asked Joseph.

  “Uhh, nope. I would appreciate you sharing any information you find, though. Oh, and I’m curious. Does this have anything to do with the murder at St. Claire’s factory?”

  “Well, maybe,” replied Joseph. “It seems too much of a coincidence that the murder would happen at the same time as all of this, but, really, we don't know. We came here blind, and we're leaving blind.”

  “Sorry to hear that. Again, any information would be appreciated. Whoever these people were, they ripped up an entire neighborhood during their escape. That leaves me with a lot of paperwork.” An officer stepped into the room through the shattered wall and looked to Detective Thomas, who raised his brow and made eye contact in response. He turned back to the trio. “Ok. I think that I am done here, at least for now. Mr. Atwater, Mr. Reilly, I wish you the best with your investigation.”