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

by A. H. Rousseau

  “...Miss? How did....? What the hell is going on?” the man asked as Gideon stood there dumbfounded.

  “Just keep him away from me!” Cassidy yelled, running behind the man. As soon as she got back there, she blackjacked him on the back of the head, likewise sending him face-first onto the floor.

  Cassidy and Gideon stood there, looking at the man. “Where did you get that thing?” asked Gideon.

  “Sent away,” replied Cassidy.

  ---

  George sat on the cell floor, his legs up, his arms on his knees, his head curled down away from the ceiling lamp. The bar door looked out over a bare hallway with another single bulb lighting it. George lifted his head at the sound of a metal door opening in the hallway and of shoes tapping on the floor. Appearing at the bars was Mister Martin.

  “What the hell were you doing in the printing room?” Mister Martin began.

  “Just looking around,” replied George quietly.

  “How did you get in there?”

  “I took the elevator and got off.”

  “That's a lie. The doors are all monitored. Who let you in?”

  “No one let me in. I'm not lying. I simply got off the elevator and walked in. When I saw the stacks of money I became curious.”

  Mister Martin stood there, shadows falling from his brow down onto his face. He stared at George. “You haven't gotten along well since you came here.” George didn't answer. “If you want to leave, you may leave.” George looked up slowly, suspiciously. “You will not be paid. You will not leave with your sister. You will simply be returned from whence you came.” Again, George did not respond. “Is that what you want?” George still didn't respond. “Look, boy. I have no time to play games with a petulant child. We already have to deal with some cantankerous fools making life difficult for others, I don't want to contend with another insufferable bastard. To work here is a privilege of the highest order! You should be honored to be here!”

  “I'll stay,” George finally said. Mister Martin nodded. “I'll stay,” George said again.

  Mister Martin sighed as he came down from his agitation. “Alright... You get to stay here for awhile. I'll have a meal sent in.” Mister Martin then nodded and walked off.

  George adjusted himself on the ground and hung his head in sorrow. “You're making a mistake,” said the voice of an old man. George looked up, confused.

  “Who's there?” asked George.

  “Another prisoner, like yourself. One who has been here for some time.”

  “What's your name?”

  “My name has long lost any meaning.”

  “Oh... How long have you been here?”

  “Since the beginning. Some of the first dirt moved in service of this colossal construction were moved by my own hands.”

  “And how long have you been a prisoner?”

  “Since birth,” the voice replied.

  George didn't immediately reply. He sat there for a moment, puzzled by the response. “Why are you here?”

  “Because, I fell out of favor with those who control this operation, but am too important to let go. The fact that they are willing to free you is a blessing. If you were truly important, they would never let you go. They would either kill you or do what they have done to me. As such, you are making a mistake.”

  “Why?”

  “These people are not who they seem.”

  “Yeah, that's rather obvious, don't you think?”

  “No. They are far more dangerous that they appear. A foe who wants the same things as you is a foe that can be understood. But a foe that wants something that you cannot possibly understand is... fearsome.”

  “Are you saying that they're lying with their grandiose talk about the world and the future?”

  “No. I'm saying that they are telling the truth. Think on it. Every conqueror throughout history has been motivated by the same things. And these people are conquerors. We know them to be. Their great machines of war could only be of use to a conqueror. And yet, they do not seek money, or land, or resources. They do not seek slaves or tribute. Just think how terrifying that is. There is no negotiation. There is no reason. There is only a terrible conviction.”

  “What do you mean by all of that?”

  “They plan to go to war. But it will be a war like we have never seen. Philosophers have long thought that a world controlled by thought and reason would be one free of conflict. But instead, it will birth a new form of conflict. It will operate on a higher level because it was founded on a higher level. The only similarity... will be the suffering.”

  George continued to look down, breathing deep, melancholy breaths. “Why?” Asked George. “Why do it at all?”

  “For the same reason that I helped them dig this blasted thing so long ago... a search for meaning, a search for purpose. It is a truth, apparent to all who ruminate on it, that life is meaningless. There is nothing out there. The only purpose is that which we give ourselves. That is terrifying. That is lonely. There is no grand plan. We are floating, small, cold, and alone, in a vast emptiness. That horrifying desolation breeds madness in those who become lost in it. And trust me when I say, everyone here, is lost.”

  ---

  Cassidy stood over the table, the lantern hanging on a hook above, looking over maps. Gideon walked in from the front door, quietly shutting it. “More of the same in the next two trailers,” he said.

  Cassidy sighed. “I wish Jeb hadn't just run off. I want to look around, but I... annnhhhh!!! God dammit, Jeb!” Gideon walked up to the table, stepping over a line of nine, unconscious men.

  “Think we should do something with them?” Gideon asked.

  “No,” Cassidy replied wearily. “Although I am running out of characters to play if another walks in. I think I'll do the Southern Belle again.” Cassidy sighed, leaning on the table. “I'm not seeing anything like I saw with those machines. None of this is special. It's just a bunch of guys in a goddamn swamp.”

  Both Cassidy and Gideon turned quickly at the sound of creaks on the wooden stairs leading into the trailer. Then... nothing. Cassidy quietly, quickly, walked over to the door and hid in the darkness with her blackjack ready. The door creaked open slowly as the figure quietly walked in, shutting the door behind him. His face entered the dim light of the lamp, revealing Jebediah.

  “Mr. Secretary!” yelled Gideon.

  “What?” Cassidy yelled just as she was swinging. She aborted her assault but still whacked Jebediah on the top of the head.

  Jebediah grabbed the top of his head and turned around. “OOOWWW! Why did you what the hell is going on?” he demanded, seeing the pile of unconscious bodies on the floor.

  “Don't blame us,” Cassidy said. “You're the one who ran away.”

  “Alright, what? That did not make any sense,” he replied, still rubbing his head.

  “Where the hell did you go?” demanded Cassidy. “You just ran off without warning.”

  “I apologize for that. Reconnaissance was what I used to do, so it came naturally.”

  “Yeah, pooping and sex are both natural, you don't see people spontaneously doing it when entering a room.”

  “Well, it depends on the people,” replied Gideon.

  “Don't help him,” said Cassidy.

  “Look, it doesn't matter!” protested Jebediah. “I have the layout of the camp.”

  “Big deal, so do we.”

  “What? How?”

  “These three offices are being used to coordinate the camp. We have all of their maps.”

  “You're kidding!” said Jebediah, interested.

  “No, come look,” said Cassidy. The four of them walked back to the table, stepping over, occasionally on, the bodies as they walked. Up at the table, Cassidy laid out a large, detailed map. Jebediah spent a moment analyzing it.

  “Alright, I assume you've guessed that this area is the camp,” he said, encircling an area with his finger. “These are the three trailers that we are currently occupying. These are
the barracks we can see, there are more barracks on the other side of this marshy patch. All of this is a group of large, portable generators. This is a large warehouse filled with boats. And this... this appears to be an ancient sailing ship of some sort sticking out of the marsh. I can't make out many details since it is covered in plants and a scaffold for men, but it doesn't look shockingly old. Perhaps early explorers.

  “The Fenix,” said Cassidy quietly.

  “What?” asked Jebediah.

  “The Fenix. The old man told me that Spanish explorers discovered the wreck of Ponce De Leon's last ship, The Fenix, wrecked deep in the Bayou. What else could it be?”

  “It could be anything, but seeing as this continues to sound more and more like a ridiculous adventure novel, we may as well go with that assumption.” Jebediah turned back to the map. “This building next to the warehouse appeared to house weapons, but only very small arms. These men are not prepared for any sort of battle. And finally, the most interesting point, I overheard a conversation between a laborer and a supervisor of some sort; they are looking for the fountain of youth.”

  “Then George and Anna must be here!” Cassidy said, her face lighting up.

  “I have no idea where they could be, though. I've seen most of the camp, and this map indicates there wasn't much left. There is no place to keep prisoners. It's more a mining operation than anything else. I don't think they're here.”

  “Everything that that old creep told me has come true. They have to be here,” Cassidy said, getting excited.

  “He may not be wrong,” replied Gideon, coming out of deep thought. “We may actually be in the wrong spot.”

  “How do you think that?” asked Cassidy.

  “We haven't found the fountain. We've found more people looking for the fountain.”

  “Indeed,” added Jebediah. “Look, here, on the map. These lines represent a search grid. They're searching this area with drills and diving teams systematically. And... I would imagine... that these marks indicate an area that has already been searched. They've covered nearly fifty square miles.” Cassidy stood up, away from the table and crossed her arms. “Cassidy, the fountain is not here. They've proven that for us.”

  Cassidy put her head down and stamped her foot. “Then where the hell is it?” she asked.

  ---

  Homer stood on his boat, smoking a cigarette, humming quietly. He was calm in the dark. He turned at the sound of water rippling and bubbling and noticed lights moving under the surface of the water. He cocked his head to one side in curiosity. His jaw dropped and the cigarette fell from his mouth as he stared — men in mechanical, submersible suits began to lumber out of the murk. Humming and clicking followed by each heavy footfall. He sunk down low into his boat, hoping to avoid detection. The sound of quiet, humming motors brought large, cylindrical craft that floated up to the shore then rolled up onto the land on tracks, allowing a payload of a dozen armed men to pour out. Homer peered over the edge of his boat, looking nervously from side to side as more amphibious vehicles rumbled onto shore. After the last of them appeared to disembark, he threw Cassidy's bags on shore and pushed his boat away, silently into the darkness.

  ---

  “I don't know...” said Jebediah. “Maybe it is here and they've somehow not found it. The water was coming right out of the dirt.”

  Cassidy was pacing, her arms crossed. “Gideon?”

  “Nothing,” Gideon replied, rummaging through the maps and papers. “They've been thorough, though. One hell of an operation they have here.”

  Jebediah was in deep thought as Cassidy stopped to look at him, asking a question with her gaze. “What precisely did the old man tell you?”

  “He said go south and follow the blue water.”

  “Follow it?”

  Cassidy's face went flat as she realized what Jebediah was saying. “My god. Do you think we simply stumbled onto someone else while going in the completely wrong direction?” she asked. Jebediah nodded. Cassidy chuckled and smirked. “More wasted time,” she sighed, her smile fading away. “It's worth a shot. Let's go before The Colonel decides to...”

  Cassidy was interrupted by the sound of one of the windows between the desks being slowly opened up. The three stood there and watched as a man in tight, black, leather and cotton clothing with equipment pouches cut close to his body slowly and quietly crawled into the trailer. Silently, he dropped to the ground into a crouch before standing, looking at the door.

  “Howdy,” Cassidy said. The man wheeled around and shot a small cross-bow bolt from his wrist, which whizzed past Cassidy's head, through her hair, and embedded itself in the wall behind them. Gideon, with lightning speed, produced one of his card-sharp guns and pointed it at the intruder.

  “Cassidy?! Are you alright?” Jebediah asked, walking up to Cassidy.

  “Yeah... I'm just, uh, going to need to find some new pants,” she replied, pulling the bolt from the wall.

  “Who are you?” asked Gideon in a threatening tone. The man stood there, not moving. His clothing itself was advanced. On his head, floating in the darkness, were goggles that produced an eerie, dim, red glow from two large glass discs covering the eyes. “Again, who are you?” The man said nothing nor did he move.

  Cassidy grumbled and walked over to him. Pausing in front of him, she punched him in the gut then slammed her knee into his face, then threw him into the filing cabinets. “That's how you ask questions.”

  “Oh yes, how silly of me,” replied Gideon, maintaining his aim on the man.

  Jebediah turned the lantern up to full brightness. “Let's get a look at him, shall we.”

  Just then, gunshots rang out. Men started screaming as a battle grew outside. Jebediah ran to the front window and looked out.

  “You and all your friends will soon be dead,” the man said.

  “Really?” replied Cassidy. “All of them? Because I've got a lot of friends, and most of them aren't here, because, oh right, we broke in here, too.” The man didn't respond.

  “Cassidy, we need to get out of here,” Jebediah said, as the sounds of gunfire and explosions filled the air. Cassidy walked over to the window with him and looked out. In the light of the arc lamps and the moon, the lumbering, mechanical battle suits moved about, firing out small grenades followed by streams of smoke. Cassidy watched as a man came running out of the supply yard only to be gunned down by an unseen killer. Cassidy turned and walked angrily up to the man.

  “Who are you? Who are the people you're killing?” Again, the man didn't respond.

  “Cassidy, we don't have time for an interrogation. We just need to go,” Jebediah said, his voice quivering ever-so-slightly in fear. Cassidy looked at him then looked at Gideon before nodding.

  Suddenly, the intruder launched forward, pushing against the filing cabinet with his foot. He precisely and delicately dived out through the open window. Cassidy followed suit, indelicately and imprecisely flying through and destroying the entire window. She fell to the ground outside as the intruder hustled to his feet. “AHHH!” The man screamed and screeched as he was taken to the ground. Cassidy got up and, looking down, saw right by her feet feet in the moon light, a giant, growling alligator.

  “AHHH!” Cassidy screamed, leaping back pulling out both of her guns. The man screamed and hit at the alligator which was shaking him. Cassidy screamed and started firing wildly into the darkness, screaming as she shot. After a few moments of screaming, shooting, and jumping around as though alligators were nipping at her feet from every direction, she stopped... there was silence. Gideon and Jebediah came running around to the side of the trailer, with Jebediah carrying the dimmed lantern. He turned it up to reveal the carnage. Lying in the bullet-riddled mud were one dead intruder and three dead alligators.

  “Jesus,” said Gideon.

  “You alright?” asked Jebediah. Cassidy didn't respond. She just stood there in wide-eyed shock, breathing heavily. “No time to think. Let's just go.” Cassidy nodded and holste
red her guns. Gideon was already searching the man's pockets. “Atwater, now. Let's go,” commanded Jebediah. Gideon got up, grabbing the man's hefty set of glowing goggles as he went. They scurried through the darkness, eventually making it to their landing site.

  “Shit,” Cassidy said. “The Colonel left.”

  “Can't blame him,” said Jebediah.

  “No,” replied Cassidy, picking up her bags and throwing them over her shoulder. “What are those?” she asked, motioning to the shadows of the amphibious vehicles in the dark. The trio walked over and started to poke around.

  “It appears to be a vehicle of some sort,” said Jebediah.

  “Yeah, and it has more than a few similarities to those motorcarts that we've dealt with,” added Cassidy. “Well, nothing ventured, nothing gained,” she said, tossing her bags into the long, cylindrical vehicle.

  “You're just going to drive it?” asked Gideon.

  “I'm going to try,” said Cassidy, who began throwing switches and levers. With the throw of one switch, the engine inside rumbled to life.

  “You just have limitless luck,” said Gideon.

  “Get in,” replied Cassidy. Gideon and Jebediah both climbed up a small ladder over the edge of the vehicle and sat down as the sounds of the battle continued to echo in the distance.

  “They're putting up a good fight,” said Jebediah.

  The vehicle jerked forward, then backward, then forward again. Gideon was standing for the first movement and dropped the goggles over the side into the water. “Fuck!” he ejaculated.

  “Got it,” Cassidy said as the machine jerked around some more. She drove forward and turned it around on the muddy shore, then drove out into the water.

  “What the hell makes you think that this floats?” asked Gideon.

  “I don't know,” replied Cassidy as it floated. They then slowly made their way through the trees and out into the open water as Jebediah and Gideon looked back to the sounds of battle echoing throughout the Bayou.