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

by A. H. Rousseau

  “No!” Cassidy yelled. “Go farther!” They rode down to the end of the road and paused in the intersection.

  “Which way, miss?” asked the man. Cassidy looked confused and upset. Then, she closed her eyes and squinted hard. “Miss?”

  “Shh!” Cassidy hushed. She cocked her head to one side and made out the faint sound of horses to the left and then right at another corner. “There,” she said, focusing on the sound. She opened her eyes and grabbed the man by the shoulder. “Can we get on that street by going around?”

  “How do you mean?”

  “By going right, down there,” Cassidy pointed to the right along a line of tightly packed buildings.

  “I believe so. That small path down there on the left.”

  “Fantastic! Do it!”

  “Ye, yes, miss. Straight away.” The man turned the horse to the right and rode hard down to a small street between two houses. The duo than pounded through a small square with houses on both sides, people dodging and jumping out of the way as they careened through the crowd. Coming out of the square, the sounds of angry citizens behind them, they turned hard to the left, kicking up dirt and pebbles as they went. The road ahead narrowed into a small alleyway between buildings. “Uh, miss?” the man asked nervously.

  “Just keep going!” Cassidy commanded.

  The horse rocketed down the road, squeezing down the alleyway, nearly smashing into a woman coming out of a door. The horse erupted into the street on the other side, sending people and carriages leaping and swerving. The horse came to a stop in the middle of the street, and Cassidy looked behind them. Heading straight toward them were the two carriages. Cassidy got off of the horse and pulled the gun from underneath her dress.

  “Miss? Do you need help?” the man asked, now visibly frightened.

  “No,” Cassidy said, holding the gun up as she walked toward the carriages. “Stay there.” She pointed the gun at the first carriage. “STOP! Do not move!” she ordered. The driver stopped the horse and looked at Cassidy with wide-eyed terror. “Do not move. Do not fucking move! I will shoot you!” Cassidy walked toward the carriage quickly but carefully, her aim alternating between the driver and the carriage. She got up to the carriage and ripped the door open.

  Inside was nothing more than a well-to-do couple in Paris fashion. They stared at Cassidy in silent terror. Cassidy's mouth hung open as she looked around in the carriage.

  “What?” she whispered to herself. She looked around the carriage, then under the carriage. She looked to the two people, her face confused and afraid. She then ran to the rear carriage her gun aimed at the driver. She ran up and ripped the door open. Finding two young children and a nanny. The children were on the verge of sobbing. Cassidy looked about the carriage in a panic.

  “No... no.” she said as she looked.

  “Is this a robbery?” asked the nanny.

  Cassidy stared at her, confused. “... No... It was... a rescue.” Cassidy backed away from the carriage. “I'm sorry,” she said. Confused, she looked up and down the street. Carriages and people were everywhere. She turned and searched. There was nowhere to go.

  “Miss?” the man on the horse yelled. “Are you alright?”

  “No,” Cassidy whispered to herself.

  As the life of Los Angeles began to restart around her, the sun low in the sky, Cassidy stood there, in the street, confused, upset, tattered, and alone.

  3

  Cassidy walked slowly into Gideon's hospital room.

  “Cassidy! What the hell is going on!? How's Jebediah?” Gideon demanded, loudly and visibly concerned.

  Cassidy was silent as she sat heavily onto the edge of Gideon's bed.

  “Jeb's gone. Someone took him. Probably whoever aimed to kill him earlier.”

  “What?!” Gideon's choked out.

  Cassidy nodded. “I chased them, but they got away in the crowds.”

  “And what else?” Gideon asked, upset.

  “What else? That's it. Nothing else. They got away.”

  “Well, descriptions, anything! What else did you see?”

  “I didn't see anything else,” Cassidy said glumly.

  “There had to have been something. Some clue. Let's go over this while it's fresh in your mind.”

  “Nothing! I saw nothing,” Cassidy snapped. “They wore the same goddamned suits that every man in this god-forsaken shit hole wears, driving the same goddamned carriages that everyone drives. They disappeared.”

  “Sorry,” Gideon said quietly as he looked away in thought. “Well, what are we going to do?”

  Cassidy snorted and growled in frustration. “I sent a telegram up to Barnabas, letting him know what happened. I also went to the local police, but they're useless. I think that you should send a telegram as well to your men up in San Francisco.” Cassidy lifted her head. “Your men...”

  “What?”

  “Your men. Do you think his removal from the hospital could have been the State Department's doing?”

  “It's possible... I suppose. But I'm one of the point men for the west coast, and I haven't heard of anything like that.”

  “Maybe outside of the State Department. A super department?”

  “Uhhh,” Gideon shrugged. “That's... possible? I just...”

  “You didn't seem to be aware of the operations here. Maybe they have even more,” Cassidy said, excited at this prospect.

  “Uh, again, that's true. I wasn't aware of the extent of happenings here, but still, I was aware that there was something. I can't imagine some secret... I think I would have been kept up-to-date on those things.”

  “I thought you said you weren't very important?”

  “Huh?”

  “You said you never went out to nice restaurants.”

  “Oh, that. Well you only get to do those things if you are powerful. Responsibility and power rarely go hand-in-hand. I have a lot of responsibilities, but very little power. Which is again the reason why I think I would know about any goings on in the city.”

  Cassidy chuckled as she calmed down. “Businesses are like that, too. People love to delegate responsibilities, but hate to give up power. That way, they can be the big man, while being able to blame others when shit goes wrong.”

  Gideon let out a laugh. “Wow. Yeah. That's exactly how it works.”

  “How sure are you that this isn't the government?” asked Cassidy.

  Gideon looked sadly at Cassidy. “Pretty sure.”

  Cassidy sighed and rose to her feet to pace. “How much did Jebediah tell you about our destination?”

  “Mostly everything.”

  “Good... good. Because it looks like we're doing this alone. You ok with that?”

  “Of course. It's... disconcerting, but I'll manage. These are the situations that I train for.” Cassidy stood by the window, looking out. “And how about you? Are you alright?”

  Cassidy stared outside, into the stars and the waxing moon. “No.”

  ---

  It sounded as though someone was knocking on the door with a sledgehammer. George and Anna were jolted awake in their beds. George sat up and grimaced when three more thundering knocks came. “Yes?!” he yelled, irritated.

  The mechanical man walked in and bowed.

  “Oh. It's you. What is it?”

  The mechanical man pointed to the small, ornate wooden clock on the wall. It was six o'clock. “I presume it is the morning,” said George. The mechanical man nodded. Another man walked in behind the mechanical man. He was pushing a cart of breakfast food. George and Anna both sniffed the air as it came in.

  “Wow. That smells good,” said Anna.

  “Yeah,” replied George. They both got out of their small beds, still wearing their old clothes, and walked over to the table. As they got near the table, the mechanical man bowed again and walked out. After he left, a young woman walked in carrying two bags.

  “Hi. My name is Angela. Here are some fresh clothes for you. We had to guess on your measurem
ents, but I think we came close.” She placed the two bags on the ground. “There will be hot running water in your bathroom for another forty-five minutes, so you should take advantage of it quickly. Otherwise you'll have to wait twelve more hours. I'll be back to pick up your laundry in an hour.”

  “Hey, where are we?” asked George. The young woman ignored him and locked the door as she left.

  “Friendly,” said George, turning back to the food. Anna was already pawing at some of the items. She picked up a piece of bacon and bit into it.

  “It's crispy,” she said. “And tastes like brown sugar.”

  “Wow,” George added. “This is like a lumberjack's breakfast. They don't fool around up here, do they?”

  “What work do you think they have for us to require such food?” asked Anna.

  George sighed. “I don't know. It can't be hard labor. We're not exactly strongmen. I can barely stand up.”

  Anna chuckled. “Do you want to eat or bathe?” she asked.

  “Umm, you've already started eating, so I will bathe first.” Anna nodded. “Enjoy the food. Leave me a little, please.” He started to walk toward the small wash room before pausing and turning back briefly. “Oh what the hell... bacon,” he said, grabbing a piece of bacon, and shoving it into his mouth with an audible chomping. “Ahh, morning grease. It's the best kind of grease.”

  George walked into the wash room, making a clattering racket as he tried to get in and shut the door. “God dammit, who designed this shower? The Marquis de Sade?”

  Anna calmly ignored him and bit into a piece of toast with jam.

  ---

  George was eating some scrambled eggs and reading the copy of Utopia that had been on the table. He was wearing work clothes with suspenders, and aside from the shirt being a bit too big, they fit well. Anna walked out of the washroom with her hair still wet, wearing clothing almost identical to George's save for the color, brown instead of his grey.

  “It's comfortable,” Anna said.

  George turned to look at her. “Yes, they did a great job guessing our fit.”

  “The hot water shut off just as I was finishing. It was unpleasant.”

  “Wakes you up in the morning.”

  “Yes... it... does?” Anna replied, confused by the phrase.

  They were interrupted by the loud knocking of the mechanical man. The door opened and in walked both the mechanical man and Mr. Martin.

  “Good morning,” said Mr. Martin. “It's time for your first day here. You will get acclimated then you will be sent off to your respective stations. Please follow us.” Mr. Martin left the room and the mechanical man stood by the door, waiting for George and Anna.

  After they left, the mechanical man closed the door and walked behind them.

  “Mr... Martin? Right?” asked George.

  “Correct,” replied Mr. Martin.

  “What's his name,” George asked, pointing his thumb at the mechanical man.

  “His name is Mr. Falkenrath. That's the only name you need to know.”

  “That's good enough for me. We just seem to be seeing him a lot so I wanted a name to go with the... face.”

  “It is poor timing, then, for you to ask now, since this will likely be the last time you ever see Mr. Falkenrath.”

  “Why is that?” asked Anna.

  “Mr. Falkenrath has many responsibilities. After you are situated, he must focus on other things.”

  The foursome turned and walked down a hallway that ran parallel to the outer wall. After about fifty feet, they stopped and Mr. Martin opened a large, metal gate and motioned for George and Anna to step inside the room. Everyone stepped in and Mr. Martin closed the gate, afterward opening a metal box on the wall and rotating a dial, then pressing a large button. The room jolted as it was revealed to be an elevator. They descended for about ninety seconds and the lift shuddered to a stop. Mr. Martin opened the metal box again and pressed a second button, then he opened the gate again.

  “Welcome to the first area of the machine shop,” he said, motioning George and Anna outside.

  The stepped outside into a warehouse area even larger than the one above. Dozens upon dozens of men and women wandered all about. George and Anna were awestruck. Magnificent machines abounded. Engines roared. Fans spun. Propellers whirred. Cranes lifted and dropped payloads all about the building. In the middle of the room, a few hundred feet away, embedded in the floor, was a gigantic set of pistons moving up and down. A large, six-legged, machine of metal, cables, and wood, nearly thirty feet high, lumbered by, clanking down in thundering footsteps.

  “Look out below!” yelled the pilot, barely visible behind a protective cage.

  “I... I...” George was at a complete loss for words.

  “Are all of these people prisoners?” asked Anna. Mr. Martin and Mr. Falkenrath just kept walking.

  Along the left and right sides of the large area were work spaces with lower ceilings than the center, arched promenade. Tables and shelves, with people and tools scattered everywhere gelled into an energetic mix of semi-organized chaos. They walked under the area to their left and proceeded past tables and machines, with various researchers lifting their heads to watch them as they passed.

  “We'll be handing you off to another new visitor,” said Mr. Martin. “I believe that you've already met.”

  The foursome walked up to a table where a pudgy man with a large contraption of lenses and small lights was attached to his head. He lifted his head, displaying gigantic eyeballs in the magnifying goggles. He ripped the headset off, revealing Professor Jacobson.

  “You!” yelled The Professor.

  “Professor Jacobson!” replied George.

  “Excellent,” said Mr. Martin. “I'll leave you all to get adjusted.” Mr. Martin then turned and walked away. Mr. Falkenrath bowed and then did the same. Professor Jacobson followed them for a moment with his gaze before angrily presenting his forearm in a phallic gesture.

  “Professor. What's going on?” asked George.

  “I don't goddamn know,” he replied. “I'm doing work for these bastards for years, then suddenly they kidnap me.”

  “These people?” asked George.

  “Yeah. Don't expect any information out of me, so don't ask. I worked with them sight unseen for almost the entire time. I don't know who they are and this proves even my wildest guesses were wrong. I'm just here, like you two now are. Welcome to the party.”

  “What have you been doing since you got here?” asked Anna.

  “Nothing. These bastards aren't getting shit out of me! Wreck my house. They even had the nerve to call it a rescue from that grizzly bear friend of yours, St. Claire. A rescue! My maid probably already stole my silverware. I should have given her more for Christmas,” he mumbled. “Who's she?”

  “Oh. Yes. Introductions. This is my sister, Anna Brown. Anna, this is the missing professor I told you about.”

  “It's a pleasure to meet you,” said Anna reaching out her hand.

  “Meh!” replied The Professor, not moving. Anna glanced at George before retracting her gesture.

  “And what's your name again?” The Professor asked brusquely.

  “George.”

  “Ah, yes. Now I remember.” The Professor sighed. “Well, I suppose, welcome. This massively ridiculous installation will be your home until they see fit to let you go. I don't know what our specific purpose is. I don't know where we are. I don't know who is holding us. And I don't know how long they will do so.”

  “Albert?!” a voice from across the work area yelled. Another pudgy man dressed in overalls and covered in oil, sporting a big, bushy beard, and wearing another set of magnifying goggles on his head trotted up. “Albert. Who are your new friends?”

  “My new friends, are George and Anna Brown. I met George just before I was kidnapped and now they're here too. It's a party.”

  “Don't listen to this grump,” said the pudgy man. “My name is Frederick Nathaniel Stein, but everyone calls me Fr
ank.” Frank paused, waiting for a response. George and Anna stared at him, unsure of what he wanted.

  “Oh, I get it.” said George.

  “No one calls him that.” said Professor Jacobson.

  “Sure they do. It's my nick name,” replied Frederick.

  “You gave that name to yourself.”

  “So?”

  “It doesn't count if you give yourself a nick name.”

  “Bah!”

  “Well, Frank, why are you so happy. Aren't you a prisoner here, too?” asked Anna.

  “Technically, yes. But even if I wasn't, I don't think I'd ever leave. I've learned more and done more in the past six months than the previous ten years of my life. This has been a paradise!”

  “We did notice that,” said Anna. “We're being awfully well-treated for prisoners.”

  “All part of the manipulation, my girl. It's better to get what you want through kindness than through threats.”

  “Aren't you the slightest bit worried about what they're going to use your research for?” asked George.

  “Of course, but if there is one thing I have learned is that no great discovery stays secret for long, and there are no champions. Everyone is a bad guy. If I worked for the United States, they would use my discoveries to kill Germans. If I worked for the Germans, they'd use my discoveries to kill the French. And if I worked for the French, they'd use my discoveries to kill Africans. Anyone who is concerned about the moral implications of their work would never get anything done, because everyone will use everything to kill everyone. We are an utterly disgusting species.”

  “You're rather happy for being so cynical,” said George.

  “Yeah. You should be more like me,” said Professor Jacobson.

  “Once you untie yourself from the idea that discoveries can have good or bad ends, you free yourself from sadness and stress. Yes, humanity is appalling and by rights deserves to die, but it won't. It will keep plugging along, shooting itself in the face at every opportunity. But at some point, my discoveries will help the lumbering ape that is our civilization take to two feet, and walk with its head held high as it evolves to something worthy of existence. That is a future that I want to work for, even if no one yet alive will see it.”