Clockwork Universe

by John W Dennehy

  “All set,” Niles said, stepping around to the front door.

  Niles slid behind the wheel next to Cunningham. A rear door was left open with bags shoved against the opposite side. Kevin looked at Sarah perplexed as to what they should do.

  She seemed to pick up on the conundrum. “Typically, you would assist a lady into a coach, and then climb in after her. However, difficult situations call for the most chivalrous steps to be taken.”

  “Which seating would you prefer?” he said.

  Sarah smiled widely. “A gentleman should bear the discomfort, rather than a lady. As for me, I’m quite capable of boarding this motor coach myself.”

  Kevin started climbing into the back when he felt a gentle tap on the shoulder. Turning, he saw Sarah handing him her bag. He climbed in and sat squished against the luggage with the portmanteau and Sarah’s bag both on his lap.

  Delicately slipping onto the back seat, Sarah smiled and then shut the door with a reverberating echo. The sound demonstrated intense physical strength lurking beneath her elegant dress.

  Chapter Five

  Niles drove the Rover through dense traffic, cutting around slow moving dray horses pulling wagons. Further away from North Station, the city revealed more of the same misgivings: dirt roads, steam buggies, and wagons, as well as people clad in Victorian attire.

  Not a sole dressed in blue jeans or modern day fashion. Kevin had hoped what he witnessed on the train and at the station were merely part of an elaborate movie set. Such a prospect was dashed as the bizarre scenes extended further into the city. Then, he finally noticed what was strikingly different, aside from the carriages and dress. Kevin sunk into despair.

  The old Custom House reigned over the city with its clock tower jutting above the skyline. All of the modern skyscrapers were missing. Kevin realized that he was somewhere completely different, a strange world, but he could not comprehend how it had happened.

  As the Rover took a turn, Sarah swayed and pressed Kevin into the luggage. He gasped for air. The shock of his situation and claustrophobic quarters made it difficult to breathe. Kevin felt blood drain from his face.

  The Rover straightened out and Sarah moved away. She seemed to sense that something was wrong. “Are you all right?” she inquired. “You look a little queasy, I dare say.”

  “Just need to catch my breath,” Kevin replied.

  “Have you ever been in a motor car before?” she said. “Perhaps it is making you sick. It is quite common for people to grow ill in motor cars, especially when they are new to the experience.”

  “This isn’t my first ride. I’ve been in a lot of them.”

  “Well, what the devil is wrong with you then?”

  “Just a little jam-packed in here. Makes it difficult to breathe.”

  Niles looked over his shoulder. “Should have opened the window,” he said. “Tight fit back there, tight fit.”

  “Can’t do it now,” Kevin said. “The luggage is pressed against the crank.”

  “Well, I can get to mine,” Sarah offered, cracking her window.

  “Thanks.”

  “Is that better?” she said.

  Kevin nodded. “Much better.”

  “Ole Niles was kind enough to pick us up,” Cunningham blurted. “We all owe cheers to my comrade, Niles.”

  “Thank you, Niles,” Kevin and Sarah said in unison.

  “She’s a smart one, boy,” Cunningham added. “You should keep an eye on her.”

  Kevin canted his head.

  Cunningham looked back at him and seemed to note the confusion. “What I mean,” he explained, “is don’t let her out of your sight.”

  “Why would you say that?” Kevin asked.

  “Listen, young lad,” Cunningham explained. “If she were my girl, I’d hold on to her damn tight. That’s all that I’m saying.”

  “But she’s not—”

  Sarah’s giggling cut off Kevin’s response.

  “That’s what you think,” Cunningham added. “So, where are you all traveling from? I’m coming straight down from Canada after a successful hunting trip.”

  “Just coming into the city from New Hampshire,” Kevin replied.

  “And I’m on my way home to my parent’s house, after spending a few days with my auntie,” Sarah said.

  “Your parents live on Beacon Hill, correct?” Cunningham asked.

  “That is precisely where they reside.”

  “Not far from our lodgings,” Niles said. “We’ll unload and then drive you home. Mr. Barnes, where are you going, certainly not right back to New Hampshire?”

  Kevin sat there for a moment, uncertain as what to say. He’d been so caught up in trying to understand the monolithic changes that he hadn’t begun to fathom how he fit into things.

  “Pray tell, lad,” Niles insisted. “Certainly, we can’t be driving you up to New Hampshire. A fine colony, but we’ve got work to do.”

  Kevin pondered the question, but didn’t have a response. He noticed Cunningham peering over the seat, looking at him suspiciously.

  “Well, young man, let’s have it,” Cunningham finally said.

  “You can just drop me on Tremont Street… somewhere convenient.”

  “Somewhere convenient?” Cunningham pondered. “How the blazes do we know what’s convenient unless you tell us.”

  “I mean somewhere that’s easy for you.”

  “Oh, right you are,” Cunningham said, rubbing his walrus mustache. “Don’t mean to pester you, son. But you do stand out as a bit odd. Are you in a fix?”

  “Perhaps… I don’t really know for certain yet.”

  “Well, maybe we can help,” Cunningham suggested. “Being from New Hampshire, how familiar are you with the city?”

  Kevin looked out the window and noticed that most of the streets and historic buildings were the same. He could walk blindfolded around Boston and find his way. “Quite well,” he replied. “I attended a University here for a couple of years.”

  “A University man,” Cunningham said enthusiastically.

  Niles chuckled. “Silas and I are from England and served the British Empire together for many years.”

  “Niles was an officer,” Cunningham explained. “Earned the rank of Major before taking retirement.”

  “And Silas was a Sergeant Major,” Niles said.

  “An enlisted man,” Cunningham offered. “I worked for a living.”

  They both chuckled.

  “Being from out of town,” Cunningham said, “we could use a gun bearer.”

  “A sort of scout,” Niles added.

  Kevin considered the offer. He really had few options and began to fear being shut out in the cold with little money in his pocket. And then he wondered what type of currency would even pass in the city.

  “There’ll be a few pounds in it for you of course,” Cunningham pressed.

  “And some lodging,” Niles said.

  The proffered exploit and safe lodging were too good to resist. “Sure, I can help you out. But I have to check on… some business first.”

  “Right, right on,” Cunningham said. “We have a deal then.”

  Sarah looked at Kevin and smiled. “Quite an adventure,” she said. “And to be part of such a big hunt for the most dangerous creatures.”

  “Dangerous creatures?” Kevin repeated.

  “Most certainly so,” Sarah replied. “Absolutely the most dangerous creatures to have ever set foot in the New World. I barely escaped one of them myself.”

  ****

  Later, Kevin pondered what he had signed up to do, then the Rover pulled onto Tremont Street. They drove past historic churches and graveyards and turned at the corner of Boston Common. The entrance to Park Street Station stood intact.

  Kevin noticed a sign on the side of the rectangular building just below the green corrugated metal roof.

  Any semblance of subway transportation as he knew it was gone. The sign read: TROLLEY LINE, and included an elaborately carved ste
am trolley under the writing. Beneath the carving, it stated Park Street Station in flowing cursive.

  Niles took a left at the top of Beacon Hill onto a cobblestone roadway. Turning in front of the Bulfinch State House, an immense Union Jack flew in front of the building. The rich blue and red flag, trimmed in crisp white, fluttered proudly in a cool breeze.

  Kevin felt his stomach sinking.

  The Rover had a firm suspension, sending the shock of the uneven roadway into his spine. Jostled by the bumpy road, and the sight of the British flag, caused Kevin to grow nauseous. He could barely survive in a feeble modern world, depending upon his parents to provide room and board, while he worked an assortment of gigs that barely earned drinking money. The thought of competing in a world full of so many able men and intelligent, capable, and proper women was daunting.

  “You’re looking pale again,” Sarah said, lowering the window further.

  “Thanks,” Kevin said, breathing heavily to steady himself.

  “We’re almost there,” Niles said.

  Kevin felt a draft from the cool air, and took another deep breath. Sitting confined in the back of the Rover, he realized the portmanteau rest on his lap. It no longer radiated heat.

  “There we are now,” Niles said cheerily. He pointed to a large Brownstone looming over the cobblestone road.

  “That looks like fine quarters indeed,” Cunningham said. Turning to the passengers in back, he added, “Niles was kind enough to come in advance and secure our quarters. Haven’t even been here yet. Took a detour up into Canada.”

  “Did you hit anything up there?” Kevin asked.

  “Did I hit anything?” Cunningham repeated. “The Great Hunter always takes down big game, my dear chap. But we tend to leave the spoils to the clients most of the time.”

  “I think that I get it,” Kevin said.

  Niles turned the Rover down a brick alley and brought it to a halt.

  “We can unload here,” Niles said. “And leave the Rover parked off the main road. It’s just a short walk around the corner.”

  They climbed out and divided up the bags. With Niles assisting, Kevin didn’t have to handle the steam trunk. Cunningham headed toward the Brownstone in haste, while Niles followed behind him with the trunk.

  Kevin followed after them, carrying the rifle case in one hand and the leather portmanteau in the other. He’d slung the burlap duffle bag over a shoulder. The trunk bobbled over the uneven sidewalk and bounced up the steps. Kevin’s pulse raced, fearful and exhilarated at taking part in such a fantastic hunt.

  Chapter Six

  Entering the Brownstone, Sarah walked into the foyer of an ornate dwelling. The ceilings were three or four meters high, trimmed in intricate millwork, carried over to the doorways, windows and baseboards. Oriental rugs covered polished hardwood floors. An archway opened into a large living room.

  Cunningham stood in the living room beside his bags. Everyone followed suit and placed the luggage in a pile. The Great Hunter lingered in the middle of the room with both hands on his hips. He was barrel-chested; the shooting jacket stretched due to his girth.

  “Take a seat,” Cunningham said, waving a hand.

  Sarah sat down on a comfortable flame-stitched Chippendale sofa. A tea table was in front of it. Wing chairs flanked the sofa and Niles took a seat in one of them. The room had a large fireplace and a wall of bookcases; a variety of paintings hung about the Brownstone and prodigious windows overlooked the street.

  Keven stood in the doorway, nervously.

  “Take a seat,” Sarah said, motioning to a spot on the sofa beside her.

  He forced a smile and sat down.

  Cunningham paced about, familiarizing himself with his new lodgings. Watching Cunningham, Sarah noticed a dining room adjacent to the living room, just beyond a set of intricate columns.

  Then, the big man sauntered into the hall, and headed toward, what she expected, was the kitchen. The boisterous sound of his voice carried down the hallway, seemingly a pleasant greeting.

  He came back with a wide grin on his face. A middle-aged woman, wearing an apron, trailed after him. The woman looked them over nervously.

  Cunningham stepped toward the tea table. “Would you care to take lunch with us?” he said to Sarah.

  “Most certainly would be obliged,” Sarah said. “Why thank you.”

  The middle-aged woman stepped beside Cunningham. “My apologies,” she said. “I got busy at the sink… with the water running, and didn’t hear you enter. May I get you some sandwiches and hot tea?”

  Most everyone nodded.

  “That would do perfectly well,” Cunningham said, grinning.

  “My name is Alice by the way, if any of you requires further assistance.”

  Alice turned and left the room. Cunningham seemed to peruse the quarters further, and then stepped over towards his gear. “Do you have any experience with firearms?” he said to Kevin, bending over the rifle case.

  “Sure, I’m from New Hampshire.”

  “What does that mean, lad?” Niles asked.

  “Most everyone up there lives in the country,” Kevin explained. “And so, we grow up shooting skeet, target practice, and hunting.”

  Opening the rifle case, Cunningham carefully removed a rifle. He pointed it down at the floor and worked the bolt open, double-checking to ensure it wasn’t loaded. “Ever see one of these?” he said.

  Sarah watched Kevin peruse the large letter “W” stamped on the sling. The wooden stock was pristine and the barrel-bluing in excellent condition. She smelled the sweet scent of gun oil wafting through the living room. The stock had a rubber recoil with the word Weatherby written across it. A big bore elephant gun, she doubted the padded stock provided much benefit.

  “Can’t say that I have,” Kevin finally admitted. “The only really big game that we have in New Hampshire is moose. And you have to go way up north to find them. We mostly shoot white-tailed deer.”

  Cunningham nodded. “Our business is about going after the biggest, most dangerous animals on earth,” he said proudly, putting the stock into his shoulder. “And this is about the finest rifle for doing so.”

  “That… and the Gibbs,” Niles said.

  “And the Gibbs .505,” Cunningham agreed.

  “Tell them about your brush with death in Uganda.”

  “Well, if we’re waiting for lunch,” Cunningham said, grinning. “Niles and I, along with a few gun bearers, were positioned in the African brush. Our clients wanted trophies, but seemed squeamish about alighting from the Rover.”

  They all sat up with interest as Cunningham commanded the floor, holding the rifle and telling the story at the same time.

  “Suddenly, out of the bush, came two water buffalo charging madly,” he said, eyes bright with excitement. “Their horns swung fierce and wide. See, they must have been cooling off in the tall grass, and so we hadn’t spotted them.”

  “They were about twenty meters away,” Niles added.

  “Yes, that’s right,” Cunningham confirmed. “Twenty meters away. Niles was right next to me. Only he didn’t have a gun. It was just me and this Weatherby.”

  Cunningham knelt down, one knee on the floor, holding the rifle with his elbow cocked to the side, like he was about to shoot. “Those buffalo closed in fast. Their horns looking bigger and bigger. You could see the moisture on their noses. They were that close, and kicking up dust.”

  “Didn’t know what to do at first,” Niles commented.

  “So, there I was with the rifle raised to shoot from a kneeling position,” Cunningham said, acting it out. “The buffalo are closing in. Now, they were about fifteen meters away. Niles shouts, ‘Hits ‘em!’”

  Niles nodded in agreement.

  “So, I takes aim and shoots the lead buffalo in the shoulder,” Cunningham said, holding the rifle and pretending to work the bolt. “But it only slows him. He’s charging mad, see. And then Niles yells, ‘Hits ‘em again!’ And now it’s ten meters awa
y. I shoot his other shoulder, and he drops.”

  “The other one continued to charge,” Niles said, smiling.

  “Right, the other one continued to charge, madly,” Cunningham said, “head down ready to maul us with its horns. Then Niles bellows, ‘Hits the other one!’”

  Niles nodded, grinning.

  “So, knowing how the buffalo has such a thick skull,” Cunningham said, again pretending to work the bolt, discharging an imaginary casing and loading another round. “I wait until it’s almost upon us. Then, I fired off a round with the Weatherby .460, right between its eyes.”

  “The buffalo continued to charge,” Niles said, motioning with his hands. “And dropped dead, a meter in front of us.”

  Cunningham stood up with a wide grin, and hitched up his pants. He shook his head smiling, as though the near brush with death was mere nonsense.

  The room fell quiet. Hearing the story, Sarah glanced over at Kevin. He had a solemn look on his face, as though realizing that these men were into a serious business.

  ****

  Later, Alice returned holding a silver tray, loaded with sandwiches cut in half, a teapot, and four cups and saucers. She placed the serving tray on the tea table in front of Sarah.

  “There you are,” Alice said, turning to leave. “Please let me know if you need anything else.”

  “Looks fine,” Cunningham remarked, reaching for a sandwich. “Looks mighty fine indeed.”

  Sarah took charge, filling the tea cups, as the rest of the men grabbed a sandwich.

  “Thank you, kindly,” Niles said, reaching for his tea.

  “This tea is excellent,” Sarah said, taking a delicate sip while holding out her pinky. She took a cloth napkin and placed it on her lap before biting into a sandwich.

  Niles and Kevin followed her example, but only after she started to eat.