“Been here before, Jeb?” asked Cassidy.
“Oh yes. Many times,” replied Jebediah. “During the war, I spent a few years here. Obviously, then it was far less built-up than it is now. The trains coming through did much to develop the area.” Jebediah thought for a moment. “And also, the city was something of a hellscape right after the war.”
Cassidy watched as well-dressed and cosmopolitan black couples walked past them. “A large number of negros here,” she observed.
“Yes,” replied Jebediah. “After emancipation, they poured into the city. The city is still rather unfriendly, but they are making progress, I'd imagine. It's good to see.”
“I should open something here. Factory maybe,” Cassidy said somewhat quietly to herself.
“Hm?” inquired Jebediah. “Why would you do that?”
“Oh, sorry. Thinking out loud. I'd open something here because they need jobs. Follow the groups that need work and your factory is always staffed.”
“That's quite magnanimous of you,” replied Gideon.
“Magnanimous nothin',” said Cassidy dismissively. “A good company needs good employees. If all of the other companies are refusing to hire good employees just because of the color of their skin, that means there are buckets of people down here that I want working for me.”
“You've been living out in San Francisco for too long,” said Jebediah. “Out here, you will be most disheartened to find that the whites are less than friendly to any person, regardless of color, who helps the local negros. All across the old Confederacy, governments have passed and are passing laws to keep the old slaves down. That's what I meant when I said I was glad to see them making progress. Every step they take is against the headwinds of those who are in power.”
“I'm not too worried about that. Laws like that will never last. Negros make up, what, fifty-percent of the people down here? More?”
Jebediah nodded. “Around there.”
“Exactly. No way those laws persist, not when so many of the people are colored. Mark my words, fifty years, at most. Fifty years and we'll have negro governors, senators. I bet we'll have a negro president by nineteen-fifty.”
“Your optimism is impressive,” said Jebediah.
“It's not optimism. It's realism. People fight. They won't just roll over and take it.”
“I think you are underestimating the strength of those in power,” said Jebediah.
“And I think you are underestimating the strength of those without any power at all,” replied Cassidy.
Cassidy and Jebediah looked at each other as they walked, jointly recognizing the end of the conversation, before they turned forward and focused on the walk ahead.
---
The trio approached a large, three-story brick building with about a dozen windows on each floor facing the street.
“We're going around back,” said Jebediah. “Hurry along.”
Cassidy paused at the corner of the building while Gideon dutifully followed Jebediah's orders. She squinted as she looked up at the front of the building, her eyes traveling up a center column of larger windows. They rested at the top of building, where an insignia was almost visible in the light of the moon.
“Cassidy? Please come along. I'd rather not waste time, now,” called Jebediah from the shadows behind the building.
“I'm sure you wouldn't,” said Cassidy quietly.
Jebediah and Gideon stood by a plain wooden door at the back of the building. Jebediah reached out and grabbed a rope hanging from a decorative metal pulley, giving it a good tug.
“Where are they?” asked Jebediah. “They had better not be out at the saloons.” He then tried to open the door, shaking it. “Let's try the other side,” he said. The three began to walk away to the other end of the building.
Cassidy paused, then turned her head to face the dark shadows against the neighboring building. Her gaze was that of a tiger, ready for battle. Her body slowly, nigh-imperceptibly, oriented itself for a fight. Her hand slowly gripping her revolver.
CLATTER!
A stray dog came running out from hidden junk and ran down the alleyway into the street.
Cassidy let out a relieved sigh and shook the willies out of her body. “Take it easy, Cassidy. Take it easy,” she said to herself before trotting to catch up to Jebediah and Gideon.
At the second door, Jebediah pulled another rope. Nothing.
“I don't know whether to be angry or concerned,” he said. “Maybe one of the windows.”
Cassidy's booted foot flew out of the shadows and smashed into the door. A crunch and a spray of shattered wood was followed by the door slamming open and bouncing slightly off the back wall.
Jebediah slowly turned to Cassidy with a wide-eyed look of extreme frustration.
“What?” asked Cassidy. “Doors are expensive. This'll teach them to be ready next time,” she said, walking confidently into the building.
After walking through a small entry room, dimly lit by a single gas lamp, they entered into a large hall. Squares of moonlight beamed in from high windows and struck the opposite wall, providing a small amount of light. Their footsteps on the marble floor echoed in the chamber. Cassidy sniffed the air. “Do you smell that?”
Jebediah was also sniffing. “Yes,” he said in a low, concerned voice. “Gideon. Turn that gas lamp up,” he said, gesturing to the dim lamp in the entry room. “Let's see if we can find the lamps in here.” Gideon walked back into the room and reached up to the valve next to the lamp, turning it counterclockwise. The pillar of light extended out into the hall, slowly revealing papers, an overturned chair, and finally, a leg in bloody trousers.
“Jeb,” said Cassidy, grabbing her gun.
“I see it,” he replied. Their bodies tensed and lowered; their heads moved around the room, scanning for anything of danger.
Gideon stayed low, his guns extended out at ninety-degrees to one another. “You'd think if anyone was here, they'd be aware of us by now,” he said.
Jeb nodded. “... I agree.” Jebediah stayed at the ready as he slowly moved toward the leg. He stepped just out of the shadows to inspect the body, his back still visible in the light. “He's cold and limp,” he said. “He's been dead for days.” Jebediah then stood and holstered his gun. “Whatever happened here, happened some time ago.” He walked back over to Cassidy and Gideon who were likewise storing their weapons. “The gas valves are probably in one of the corners.”
Cassidy and Gideon walked to their respective corners, obscured in darkness. They clattered and stumbled before Gideon finally called out. “I found one.” The hiss of gas signaled the brightening of the lamps along one wall of the hall. As the lights came on, the carnage became evident.
Dried pools of blood covered the floor like an arrangement of crimson carpet. Furniture, some of it destroyed and fragmented, was scattered about the room. Papers, books, and personal effects littered the floor. Bodies lay everywhere. Gideon, shocked and still holding onto the valve, looked down. The body of a man no older than himself, his eyes shriveled and dry, his skin pallid and dead, lay but an inch from Gideon's foot, staring up at him. “Ennhh!” Gideon ejaculated as he jumped away.
Jebediah's face was cold and expressionless. He didn't blink. He just gazed out over the room as Gideon walked down the wall to the large, central entryway, where another valve was affixed on the wall. Gideon turned that one to bring the room into full light. Cold, dead bodies lay draped over fixtures, on the floor, and in piles, barricaded behind furniture. Spent bullets twinkled on the floor. Pools of dried blood cracked into macabre mosaics. The great hall was now a mausoleum.
“Jesus Christ, Jeb...” Cassidy said. “What happened?”
Jebediah didn't immediately respond. “... I don't know,” he finally said. “I don't know.”
Act III
1
The orange glow of the morning sun was just flowing over the horizon of Houston. Birds were waking, and a cool breeze came in from the gulf.
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Cassidy stood at the end of a line of bodies in the great hall. Large, dark circles pooled beneath her tired, sunken eyes. The hall was cleared of clutter, the furniture righted, and the destroyed furnishings relegated to a pile near the back door. Jebediah sat quietly in an armchair by an unlit fireplace, blood-spattered marble walls on either side.
“Thirty-two,” said Cassidy in a low, sorrowful voice. “Most by a bullet, one of them had his throat cut.” Jebediah breathed deeply in his chair but didn't respond. “Have you decided what you're going to do?” she asked. Jebediah didn't answer. He didn't even move. Cassidy nodded and walked through the main door to a large lounge. The plush carpet on the floor was crushed and stained by large pools of blood. Sitting in a corner was a wrecked grand piano, with large parts of it blown off. Gideon stood in the middle of the dark room, sunlight just peaking through the thin, tall windows. Cassidy walked slowly up to him.
“I think that there are bodies which were removed,” he said quietly and wearily.
“How you figure that?” she asked, equally quietly and wearily.
“I noticed a large number of blood pools with no accompanying body. Also, some of the streaks on the floor, and also I can't imagine a building full of agents not putting up one hell of a fight.”
Cassidy nodded. “I think Jeb is completely blown. He's not speaking. Do you have any idea about who did this?”
Gideon sighed. “No... no. Not in the slightest,” replied Gideon. “This is... I can't think of any nation who would dare do something like this.”
“Then forget nations. What about groups inside the country. Maybe some crazy Southerners?”
Gideon thought on it for moment. “Maybe. How they would have found out about this, and why now, and a whole bunch of other questions... I don't know.”
Cassidy sighed deeply. A scrape. A creak. In an instant, Cassidy and Gideon had their weapons drawn and facing the fireplace in the lounge. “You heard that, right?” whispered Gideon. Cassidy nodded. They slowly inched their way in the faint sunlight toward the fireplace. Their heartbeats filled their ears, pounding. Their eyes focused on the bookshelf to the right of the fireplace. A click. A shuffle. A slow, quiet creak. The bookshelf started to push out, away from the fireplace. Cassidy and Gideon silently danced to the far side of the bookshelf as it swung open. After a crack of no more than a foot had opened, the bookshelf stopped. Cassidy and Gideon stood, silent, not breathing, their guns raised. Silence. Silence. Then, from around the corner, a small head with ruffled black hair, shiny in the flecks of sunlight, made its way out. Cassidy slowly pointed her gun at the head.
“Don't move,” she said.
A quiet, low sob, as though from a child, immediately began. “Please... Please don't kill me.” It was a boy, no more than fourteen. Scrawny and half-grown, with big ears that had grown faster than the rest of his body, the boy froze in his tracks. Cassidy's face immediately transformed from one of a hardened predator, to confused. “I don't... I don't know anything... I didn't do anything... I'm just here. I just help.”
“Calm down,” said Cassidy, withdrawing her gun partially. “I don't want to kill anyone. But first, step out into the light.” The boy continued to quietly cry as he stepped out. “Gideon, turn the lamps back up, would you? Open the curtains.” Gideon nodded and retracted his guns. As the lights rose, the pathetic sight became apparent to Cassidy. The boy's shirt and face were soaked with tears, his clothing, two sizes too large for his scrawny frame, was stained all over with blood. Cassidy let out a relaxed breath and holstered her gun. She walked over to the boy and knelt down in front of him, holding his hands.
“What's your name,” she asked.
“Robert,” the boy answered clearly and immediately. “Robert Newman, ma'am.”
“Well, Robert Newman, I am not going to hurt you. I want to help you.”
“Are you Cassidy St. Claire?” Robert asked, wiping his eyes.
“Yes, I am,” Cassidy replied with a smile.
“My father was one of the men here to help you. You were supposed to go to New Orleans.”
“Yes, that's right. That's right. But what happened here?”
As they talked, Jebediah walked wearily in from the hall. “I heard another voice,” said Jebediah.
Cassidy turned to him. “We found a survivor. This boy.”
Jebediah's eyes awakened immediately as he hurried over next to Cassidy, almost pushing her out of the way. He likewise knelt to bring his face closer to Robert's. “What's your name?” he asked.
“Robert, sir.”
“How old are you?”
“Thirteen, sir.”
“Robert, from the very moment you arrived here, tell us everything,” Jebediah said.
Cassidy stood and interrupted Jebediah's interrogation. “This is a terrible idea,” she said. “He's been trapped in a wall for days. Let's get him into the kitchen. I'd imagine that you haven't had anything to eat or drink for days.” Robert nodded as he wiped some snot from beneath his nose. Cassidy adjusted and straightened her shirt as Jebediah looked at her with an irritated expression. “Come on, let's all get something to eat.”
---
Robert sat at the prep counter in the large kitchen. The room was still in a degree of disarray. Piles of pans and supplies sat in the corners. The four of them were all eating sandwiches.
“We should have eaten long ago,” said Cassidy. “I'm still tired, but at least I don't feel dead.” Gideon nodded and Robert smiled. Jebediah didn't respond. “Ok, Robert. What happened? Don't spare the details.” Robert responded between mouthfuls of sandwich.
“Well ma'am, a few days ago, my father got a message saying that he needed to be ready in Houston. We live down by the water, in Galveston. I asked my father if I could come and he said yes so long as I took some packages back home. We got here on Tuesday when we got the first news that you were going to be late, so we all just relaxed in the lodge. It was about eight on Wednesday night when everyone was just having fun. There was something of a storm blowing, and the lights went out. First, no one thought anything of it. They cut the gas sometimes in heavy storms. Someone lit a lantern when I started hearing these quiet popping sounds and men started yelling.
“Guns started going off all over the lodge. My dad threw me behind a chair in the lounge and disappeared. For a long time, I heard crashes and gun shots. A lot of fighting was happening. Then I saw near the door to the foyer, two red, glowing circles in the air. They moved around and finally moved toward me. As they got closer, I saw that it was a man wearing something on his face, and the two red circles were above his eyes. He was crouched, looking at me. I think he was deciding whether he wanted to kill me or not. Then my dad came up behind him and hit him in the head with something. He grabbed me by the arm, opened the wall, picked me up and hugged me, then threw me in, saying to not come out.
“I stayed in there until the sound of fighting stopped. I waited for my dad to come get me. He never did... I knew they had lost. I could hear the sound of the other men for hours and hours. I just heard crashing and yelling. I think they were looking for something. I couldn't sleep because I was afraid they'd find me. I don't remember when I fell asleep, but I woke up a few hours ago.”
Cassidy sighed. “Well, now we have two important questions,” she said. “Who are these people and what were they looking for?”
“And did they find it?” added Gideon.
“Where's my father,” asked Robert. The three looked at him, a palpable and visible sadness over their beings. Robert stopped eating and let his eyes travel off into the distance. “Can I see him?”
---
Robert stood over the body of his father. His eyes were closed, his skin, sunken and pallid. Visible in his chest were two bullet holes. The world faded into a blur as Robert looked down at him. Years passed. Robert was fourteen. Then fifteen. Then sixteen, seventeen, and eighteen. He was a man, looking down through weary, aged eyes, at a faded memory of what once was. Ever
y lesson he would ever need, every bit of wisdom he would ever learn, all were acquired then and there in a cruel crush of maturity—in that moment of twenty years.
“The wounds are in his chest,” said Cassidy. Robert nodded. “Whenever you think of your father, know that this is how he would have wanted it. He saved you. And the wounds were in his chest.” Robert nodded quietly. Cassidy walked over to Jebediah, who was standing back by the fireplace with Gideon.
“Pressing him for information won't do us much good. He's so overwhelmed that even if he has answers, they won't be readily available to him,” said Cassidy.
“What other choice do we have, though,” replied Jebediah.
“We have you,” said Cassidy.
Jebediah looked back, puzzled. “I don't know what you mean.”
“You were expecting certain things when we got here. What of those things could have caused this?”
“Nothing. This place was inconsequential. Completely without importance.”
“There had to be something. Anything.”
“I'm telling you, nothing,” Jebediah replied, his tone immediately elevated and upset.
Cassidy looked at him, taken somewhat aback. She nodded without responding and then turned and walked back over to Robert. She put her hand on his shoulder. “Robert, I'm sorry to have to press you for information, but we need to move quickly.”
Robert's face was blank. He nodded, breathing deeply as he collected himself. “Of course. I want to help. Anything at all, ma'am.”
Cassidy smiled. “You're a good man, Robert. You're a good man.”
“What do you need?”
“First, we need to know what they may have been looking for. Did your father mention anything? Did anyone talk about anything? Perhaps they used cryptic words like object or package.”
Robert thought but eventually shook his head. “No, ma'am. Nothing. They seemed to talk mostly about families and work. I heard them mention New Orleans frequently, so I assumed that's where everyone was going, but no one told me.”
Cassidy St. Claire and The Fountain of Youth Parts I, II, & III Page 49
