With a sigh, I picked up my tools and began working on the bike. It looked like Ronan had reworked a few bits and refortified the patches on the tires. I grabbed a wire brush and worked cleaning several parts. I reminded myself that I also had the sisters’ music box to fix, as well as the solar panel to play with. But first things first. Once I was sure that all the bike’s parts were in good enough condition, I headed to the supply cupboard to find grease. I grabbed a small jar and started working. Lost in thought, I was surprised when a massive shadow suddenly fell over me.
I turned to find the big man standing there holding a fuel can.
“I didn’t hear you come in,” I said, standing.
I grabbed the rag off my belt and started cleaning my hands. I was a total mess.
The big man set the can down then smiled.
I nodded. “Thank you. I’m sorry, but I never caught your name.”
“Tiny,” he answered.
I stifled a laugh, quickly covering my mouth.
Tiny chuckled knowingly.
“Shall we see if she’ll start?” I asked, looking at the bike.
Tiny nodded.
I opened the fuel cap and filled the tank just enough to test the bike.
“Once the engine is warm, we’ll be all set. But first, we need to get her going. How about a push?” I asked.
Tiny nodded once more.
I opened the garage door and walked the bike out. I hopped on.
“Okay, just give me a push. Let’s see if we can get a rolling start.”
Tiny grabbed the back of the bike and started running, pushing as he went. I pulled on the choke and gave it a jump. The old bike groaned reluctantly, the engine stalling. Frowning, I tried again and again.
At last, the engine purred to life.
I pressed the gas.
Tiny let me go.
The bike shot off.
Laughing happily, Tiny clapped.
I gripped the handlebars and drove the machine around the park, a cloud of dust rising behind me. It worked. It actually worked. I loved the feel of the machine under me, the vibration rattling my wrists. I slowed to a stop and revved the engine, kicking out clouds of smoke as I cleared out the cobwebs. Hitting the gas once more, I made several passes to ensure nothing was going to fall off or catch fire. Ronan arrived at the garage and watched, as did several other members of the community. They smiled on as they often did when I came up with yet another new device, then turned back to their work.
I drove the bike back to the garage, parked it, and then turned it off.
I smiled at Tiny. “Thank you.”
He nodded happily, patted me on my shoulder, and then headed back toward the stage.
“Talkative gent,” Ronan said.
I chuckled. “I need to go,” I said, eyeing Park Building.
“But you just got it running.”
“Right, and now I have the bargaining chip I need.”
Ronan nodded.
My resolve firm, I headed toward the building. I wondered what Ash had said to Ramsey in the first place that convinced him to let her take her group to Low Tide. What smooth words had she used? All I had was a machine. I hoped it was enough. I headed upstairs to the third floor. As I walked down the hallway, I noticed the blind was drawn on the door to the clinic, but I could hear the squeak of metal inside. Leaving that curiosity for the moment, I went to the door of the meeting room and knocked.
“Come,” Ramsey called.
I entered slowly.
The old man was standing over a table looking down at some documents. He had a scarf around his neck, something I had not seen him wear before. It looked…odd. Carrington and Gutierrez were missing.
“Sir,” I said calmly.
“Ah, Keyes. I heard an engine roaring and was not surprised to look out to see you whipping around on a motorcycle. How in the world did you ever manage to get it running?”
“Um, well, I…”
“And it seems you’ve impressed our guests. Legba was very happy with the work you have been doing. It is good of you to do what you can to ease their journey.”
I inhaled deeply then said, “Speaking of which. I understand Enrique will be traveling with the Dead Troupe to Low Tide. I want to go with them.”
Ramsey paused. He stood perfectly still for several moments, so long that I started to wonder if he’d heard me.
“I was thinking—”
“No. Enrique will go. That’s enough.”
I steadied my nerves. My hands were shaking. Lacing my fingers together, I hid them behind my back.
“We can take the bike. It will hold two people. I’ll ask the Dead Troupe to haul it with them. If...if we can’t find anyone at Low Tide, Enrique and I can use the bike to return. Surely you see that with the Dead Troupe, it will be safe. Mister Ramsey, I can’t just sit here and wait to find out what happened to my sister. If I go, if I can see for myself, then…then I’ll know.”
Ramsey sighed. “Keyes, don’t you see we are trying to protect you?”
“I do. And you need to stop. I didn’t ask anyone to protect me.”
“That is our job. We guide the community and protect its members. If Ash is there, the Dead Troupe will bring her and the others home. If they are merely delayed, Enrique will bring news. Your bike…you’re right that it is helpful. If the machine is trustworthy, please let Enrique take it with him. If there is no news or bad news, he can use it to return safely. Either way, you will learn of your sister without endangering yourself.”
How could I explain to him that I needed to go? I needed to see. If Ash wasn’t there, I would need to see what had happened, if she had met with foul play. I needed to see it with my own eyes.
There was no way to get him to understand that.
There was no way I would ever convince any of them to let me go.
“Enrique can take the bike. I’ll get it ready,” I said then turned and walked out.
It was only when I was part of the way down the hallway that I realized Ramsey had said something more, something that sounded like more reasons and platitudes. But I was in no mood to hear anything else. I didn’t care if he thought I was rude. I was tired of this argument, and I was getting nowhere.
Heading back down the hallway, I paused as I reached the clinic. I knocked gently on the door.
“Nat?” I said in a whisper.
There was movement inside then I saw his silhouette on the blind. “Keyes?”
“Yeah.”
The door opened a crack. Nat looked down the hallway behind me then motioned for me to come inside.
“You may want to brace yourself,” he whispered, waving for me to follow him.
He headed down the hallway to a room in the back of the clinic that had a large window. On a table, Nat had something hidden by a drape. It wasn’t large enough to be a body. Nat grabbed the corner of the drape then looked at me.
I nodded.
He pulled the drape back to reveal the head of the wailer, eyes missing, the skull cap removed, the brain showing. In a bin beside it was what looked like a heart, the eyes, and other fleshy lumps.
“I was just about to remove the brain,” he said.
The terrible smell that wafted off the remains, and the smell coming off of the fluid in which they sat made me gag. I covered my mouth and nose.
“He’s stinky, that’s for sure. But the embalming fluid is worse. It’s half rancid itself. I just hope it holds long enough for me to study the organs.
“The Egyptians,” I said from behind my hand.
“Sorry? What?”
“There is a book in the library on the Egyptians and their embalming methods. Maybe you’ll find something there on preserving the organs.”
Nat nodded. “Thanks.”
“You said he,” I said, lowering my hand. “Definitely a he?”
Nat nodded then pointed to one of the organs floating in the stinking fluid. “Definitely a he.”
“What…what are they
then? Man or beast?” I asked.
“Both, maybe. More man than beast. Their physiology is like ours only shifted a bit because of the twisted way they move. Mammals. I…I need to study them more.”
“If they are mammals, do they think like us? Reason?”
He nodded. “Yes, I believe so. Their wails and howls are a form of communication. I’d like to start studying their communication patterns.”
I frowned. “If they were men, or come from us, then what happened? I mean, what made them like this? How?”
Nat pointed out the window toward the sun. “The wailers were born from the sun. Maybe in some places, people took a direct hit of the radiation which didn’t kill them but changed them, or maybe there was some other impact we don’t understand. No one really understood space well. We have no idea what actually happened. So many people died when the event happened. The wailers emerged years later. The sun made them. That’s all we’ve ever known. But I hope to learn more. The answers are there,” he said, pointing to the brain. “The only problem is, all I know is what I’ve had handed down to me or from a book.”
“You’re doing well so far. Don’t doubt yourself. What do you expect you’ll find?” I asked, looking down at the organ.
“An overdeveloped amygdala, and an under-developed prefrontal cortex. You can see, here, my theory may be right,” he said, pointing to the front of the brain. “This controls reason and logic. It appears smaller than that of a human brain, but I will need to remove it to study the proportions carefully.”
I suppressed a shudder as some of the gooey blood and stink of decay wafted up.
“I think I’ll stick to gears,” I said, leaning back. “You know, the device on the top of the Dead Troupe’s trolley emits a high-frequency sound which hurts their ears.”
Nat picked up a pair of tweezers and played with the ear, bending it back and forth. Once more, my stomach rolled.
“I’ll have a look,” he said.
Nodding, I stepped back. “I have some things to take care of. Really, it’s good work, Nat. Don’t let Ramsey stop you. This is important.”
He nodded then smiled at me in appreciation.
“I need to go. I’ll let myself out.”
“Make sure the door is locked behind you?”
“Sure,” I said then turned to leave.
Nat was already busy again.
I knew the elders were just trying to do what was right for everyone, but at what expense? What if Nat could find a way to keep the wailers away by studying their physiology? And what harm was there in letting me go with the Dead Troupe to Low Tide?
None. And I would go, whether they liked it or not. Now I just had to ensure I bought myself a ride.
Chapter 12
I headed back to the garage, where I worked on the twins’ music box. I needed to replace a spring and reset the gears. After just a little tinkering, I had it working once more. I wound the key then sat and watched as the ballerina—her plastic faded, her cloth tutu tattered—spun in circles. Soft music filled the garage.
As the dulcet sounds played, I opened my toolbox and looked inside. Grabbing my most essential tools, I packed them in my satchel. I also picked up my notebook in which I kept all my sketches of designs. There were a few things I would need from the house as well.
Sure, Enrique would be pissed when he realized I was along for the ride, and I needed to get Legba to agree to take me, but I’d had enough of no. I was going. Even if Legba said no, I was still going.
But first, I needed to check the solar panel.
Tools and music box in tow, I headed back outside. One of the sisters was just emerging from the trolley when I arrived. She wore an unusual red, black, and white checked costume. I looked carefully at her. The sisters were identical, save the tiny beauty mark above Lyra’s lip. This was Nara.
“Keyes,” she said happily. “You coming to the show?”
I shook my head. “I need to finish my work on the panel. But I did fix this,” I said, handing her the music box.
Nara’s face lit up. She set down her bag and took the music box from my hands. She turned the key. The lid sprang open, and the ballerina started dancing.
The girl stared at the small box, which fit neatly in the palm of her hand. After a moment, I realized tears were welling in her eyes.
“What is the name of the song, do you know?” I asked.
She smiled sadly. “‘Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy.’ From a Christmas show.”
I listened to the music with new ears. It had been a very long time since anyone at The Park had celebrated anything, let alone Christmas. But I had seen pictures of decorated trees, and snow, and houses trimmed with lights. Hell, even the Bozo’s menu featured a special Christmas menu including a sandwich made with turkey and cranberries and an eggnog milkshake.
The music died down. The last notes came out slow and distorted. Nara closed the lid on the music box.
“Thank you,” she said then pulled me into a hug.
“Oi, what’s this all about?” Lyra asked as she stepped out of the trolley in a similar costume.
Nara gave me one last squeeze then let me go. “Fixed,” she said, holding up the music box.
Lyra smiled a broad, open smile. “Keyes, you have no idea how much this means to us. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
“Today’s going to be a good day,” Nara said.
Lyra nodded and picked up her bag once more. “Agreed. Well, let’s get on with it then.”
“Is there anyone inside?” I asked, pointing to the trolley. “I wanted to test the panel.”
“Anyone or Bodi?” Nara asked with a grin.
I suppressed a blush. Really, I wasn’t even that interested in him. Why did the sisters seem so convinced there was something there? “Anyone.”
Lyra smirked.
“Manderly,” Nara called back toward the open door.
“Yeah?” a voice answered from inside.
“Keyes wants to check the panel. Can she come in?”
There was a pause.
“We don’t usually let groundlings inside,” Nara told me in a whisper.
Manderly appeared at the door. After a moment, she motioned for me to come inside.
Moving tepidly, I followed her, climbing the steps into the trolley.
I hardly knew what to expect. Inside, I found a wild mess of costumes, weapons, maps, food stores, and all other sorts of crates, bottles, and bins. There were cots bolted to the walls, eight in total, all of them draped.
“This way,” Manderly said, leading me past the sleeping area to a small closet. “The controls for the panel and speakers are in here,” she said. “You may need to start the trolley to get things working.” She held out a ring of keys to me. “Just bring them back when you’re done.”
Surprised by the gesture, I nodded. “Of course.”
Turning, she headed back out.
“Manderly?” I called. “The ignition. Anything I should be wary of?” I asked, thinking back to the trap on the door.
She looked back over her shoulder, a smirk on her face. “I’ll deactivate things before I go.”
I was suddenly very glad I had asked. As she said, Manderly stopped at the front. She leaned under the dash and did something then stepped off the trolley.
I cast a glance toward the back. The quarters inside were very cramped, but there was a table and bench, a small spot for cooking, and lots and lots of boxes.
Pushing aside the curtain that served as a closet door, I stepped inside. I grabbed a screwdriver and removed the panel covering the electrical unit inside. I found what I expected. About half the wires were corroded; some of the bits were totally rusted out. Other wires, however, had been replaced or repaired. I spotted an odd metal box that looked like it replaced the original power converter. It was of an unusual design, made with sterling silver and copper. The mechanics inside the box appeared to be clockwork. I eyed the cables going up from the devic
e toward the panel. Well, I would replace what I did understand then get a look at that box afterward.
It was sweltering inside the trolley, but I tried not to think of it. It was always sweltering. I spent most of the day going back and forth between the garage and the trolley, from the roof to the closet, to replace or clean the pieces. Members of the troupe flowed in and out as I worked, none of them bothering me with questions. The system was complicated. I sketched as I worked, trying to understand how the mechanics functioned. If I could replicate the design, I could use the other solar panels on Park Building to power at least some of The Park, maybe even a water pump. I could only hope I understood correctly. It was sometime in the afternoon when I finally detached the clockwork converter. Working carefully, I opened the device and looked inside. It was very unusual. Someone had reworked the solar power to go through the box then back into the system, converting the power. The plates inside the converter seemed to be made of silica, but they looked strange. Either way, nothing seemed broken. I reattached the box, reaffixing the wires, and feeling satisfied all was in order, headed toward the front of the trolley.
I slid into the driver’s seat. Slipping the key into the ignition, I hoped Manderly had remembered to turn off all the traps. I turned on the engine. The trolley purred to life.
I headed back to the closet and pulled the lever to switch the power on.
There was the strange feeling of static in the air then the clockwork device began clicking. A moment later, strings of colorful lights which had been attached to the ceiling of the trolley flickered on, and the engine of the trolley quieted. Thinking the machine had stalled, I went back to the driver’s seat but found everything still working. A new set of lights on an attachment on the dash, however, had flickered on.
Curious.
I rose and went back to the panel. Everything was running smoothly. Smiling, I stared up at the colorful lights. The glow made me feel joyful.
The trolley shook a little as someone else joined me. I looked to find Bodi there.
He smiled up at the lights then at me. He clapped softly.
Grinning, I took a little bow, socket wrench in one hand, a screwdriver in the other.
Scorched: The Last Nomads Page 7
