Machina Mortis: Steampunk'd Tales of Terror

by Derwin, Theresa

  She fought the paralyzing fear rising within her and searched for a place to hide.

  Through the steam she saw a door in the distance, rimmed in red. If she got there in time, it might lead her out.

  She moved to run but the carousel picked up speed. Her body pitched forward.

  “No,” she cried.

  Her head smacked into the side of a horse. Chloe sank to the ground.

  The faces of the horses spun before her eyes and then a brilliant white light flooded her vision.

  Chloe found herself in a cave with a mask covering the lower half of her face. She pulled it off and immediately her lungs tightened. Made from leather and brass, she thought the mask quite beautiful. Two brass cylinders extended from the bottom with some sort of filtering device on the ends. Unable to stand the dry air and stench of death, she placed the mask back on. At once oxygen returned to her lungs.

  A large weapon that resembled the space-age guns she’d seen in movies hung from a belt at her waist. She no longer wore a Victorian dress but instead a uniform, heavy with brass plating along her chest.

  Chloe pulled out an identification tag from her pocket that stated her name and a photo with her looking in her mid-thirties. It also stated her position as a relief agent for the Human Retrieval Federation. A series of symbols at the bottom of the tag didn’t mean anything to her until she tilted it. She read the words to herself and at once she understood why she was there.

  The mission.

  To save the people inside the caves.

  She ducked her head and pushed through a tight opening. Inside the cave were lines of people chained to one another like cattle. All were women and children, their bodies lean like they’d been starved for weeks. They fell to their knees whenever the line moved forward, as if they were human dominoes. Many coughed and wheezed. All were deathly pale.

  From somewhere ahead she heard a heart stopping scream. Chloe crouched and crawled behind a series of broken boulders for a closer look. Unable to see where the front of the line began, she made her way forward. A communication device crackled against her ear followed by a voice to state her position. She didn’t dare answer.

  She raised her weapon and sprinted onward until she neared the front of the line. A woman held out her chained hands, her face a mixture of dirt and tears. Chloe wanted to help her, but then she’d need to free everyone, and she couldn’t do that until she learned what was going on. With a heavy heart she left the woman and followed the trail of people until it rounded a corner.

  There, the blood drained from her face. Rather than a cave, she now stared at a laboratory, complete with oversized machines in brass and steel.

  A dark figure moved toward an elderly woman and released the chains from her wrists, freeing her from the person behind her. The figure then led her like a dog into a large machine and chained her again to rings hanging from the sides.

  The large door closed just as the woman screamed, and clouds of steam shot out from several pipes that extended along the top.

  After several moments, the door opened, and a mass of figures in black swept forward with tiny cones that they circled along the floor. Once they exited the machine another woman was led inside and the entire procedure repeated.

  Chloe returned her attention to the black cloaked figures. They emptied grayish dust into an enormous vat and then closed the lid.

  Her body sagged. They were burning the humans. The machine, some kind of incinerator, had been built to burn the women and children alive.

  She looked back to the line of people, there had to be hundreds, and she didn’t know how many had already been burned. Weapon in hand, she proceeded forward when a man turned to face her. Dulan. Though his face had changed, she recognized his soulless eyes. Rather than body parts he had cogs and gears that moved and turned.

  A voice crackled into her earpiece. “When you find the ringleader, destroy him.”

  Chloe raised the weapon and aimed.

  Dulan clapped his hands together once. And a thunderous sound followed.

  ***

  Chloe’s eyes flashed open.

  She was back on the clockwork carousel.

  Dulan smirked and she watched a piece of his skin fall from his cheek, exposing brass gears. “Ah, so you do remember.”

  “I-I do. Yes.”

  “That doesn’t bode well for you, my dear.”

  She shuddered. It wouldn’t be enough to remove her eyes. Even sightless she’d remember. In the end, he’d kill her. She just wouldn’t see it coming. He wanted her to remember, and now that she did, she would die.

  For a moment Chloe thought about her future mission. She was meant to save people. She was meant to stop Dulan. She remembered how brave she felt in the cave. Braver than she’d ever been in her life. After all this time that he had been stalking her, the tables would eventually turn. She would be hunting him. So long as she stayed alive, so long as she remembered, she held the power.

  Chloe summoned some of that courage now. “Who are you?”

  “I am the last thing that you will ever see in this world.”

  “You say thing. Then you really aren’t human.”

  He tore a piece of skin away from his lower arm exposing brass gears that enabled his wrists to rotate. “No, I am a machine. I am here to do the bidding for my makers. Once I’ve fulfilled my duties, I will be free.”

  Without a weapon she would stand little chance of destroying a man-made machine. “What are these duties you refer to?”

  “To harvest humans and supply my people with what they need.”

  Her brows furrowed. “And by completing those tasks, what are you free to do?”

  “To be the magnificent machine I was meant to be. I will no longer work for the makers, but insist others work for me.”

  “Why harvest people?”

  “Where I’m from we need power to sustain our floating cities and fuel our airships. Human dust, as we call it, can do just that.”

  “Human dust? You mean ashes.”

  “Precisely.”

  Her stomach turned. “Why don’t you dig up the graves of those already dead?”

  “Fresh human dust has been proven most efficient. We will save the long deceased for our reserve. Our hope is that it will never come to that.”

  “Why burn only the women and children?”

  Dulan tilted his head. “I don’t understand.”

  “In the cave, only the women and children were chained. I didn’t see any men. Do you separate them? Are they somewhere else?”

  “Ah, now I understand. The men will be the first to go. When you interrupted my plans, the women and children were the ones that remained.”

  She recalled the scent of death when she’d removed the mask.

  “So I came too late? Thousands of men had already lost their lives?”

  He nodded.

  “Why was able to see you? How did I see you?”

  “You slipped into a stream of consciousness that melded with mine.“

  “How is that possible?”

  “Millions of people connect all the times in their dreams and they don’t realize it. Why do you think people recognize faces, or believe they know someone even though they just met? It’s because their paths crossed before. Sometimes in sleep. Sometimes in death. And sometimes in that moment of in-between that can’t be explained.”

  Chloe rubbed her head and gestured around her.

  “I don’t understand. What’s the significance of the carousel?”

  “It draws people. It reminds them of their youth. They let down their guard and forget to be scared.”

  “And that’s how you will trap them?”

  “Yes. I have always been fond of carousels. I designed this one myself. Only the loveliest of ladies become part of my star attraction.”

  “You mean there are others? Then, I’m not the only one who has connected to your stream of consciousness?”

  “Precisely. You are the last. It’s wh
at makes you special.”

  “Why didn’t you just kill me when you first learned that I’d seen you?”

  “I’m not programmed to kill you. I can only manipulate events to try and stop you before you stop me. Besides, I’ve become somewhat attached to you. Trying to make you remember what you saw turned into a game for me.”

  “But you killed Jess. I doubt you were programmed to do that.”

  “No, she is alive and well. For now. She will be burned along with the other humans.”

  Knowing her friend still lived gave her a sense of relief. But the reality of her situation didn’t allow that moment to last for long. Dulan wanted his freedom, and he’d do whatever he needed to gain it. Somehow she had to fight him.

  “You realize that even sightless, I will still remember.”

  “Yes, but you’ll never find me.”

  “Then I will tell others what you plan to do. I will find a way to stop you.”

  “I’m afraid that won’t be possible.”

  “But you said that you won’t kill me.”

  “No, I won’t. You will be my trophy. As I told you, I have a special place for you. Now, let’s not waste more of our time.” Dulan grabbed her hair and pulled her down on her knees. “I promise it won’t hurt for long.”

  She scrambled to get up and caught the razors on his fingertips along her thigh.

  Chloe screamed as he dragged his hand down, slicing her flesh. Ignoring the pain, she kicked her legs against his body. He pulled his hand back and wiped her blood from his razors on his white suit.

  “Hold still, sweetheart. You’ll only make it worse.”

  He clutched the sides of her face and raised his hand, the razors glinting against the lights from the carousel.

  “I won’t let you have my eyes,” she cried.

  “Relax my child, it only hurts a little. Once the darkness comes you will only feel peace. There will be no more nightmares.”

  She fought against his grip until her bones snapped. Chloe watched in disbelief as her skin melted away and shiny brass clock gears took its place.

  “I want you to always remember how brave you were today.”

  A pole slid through her waist and locked into place.

  Then her world turned dark.

  ***

  Chloe startled at the sounds of children’s laughter. She went to turn her head, but found herself unable to. Something about her vision had changed, but she didn’t know what. To her side she noted a stunning brass clockwork horse with a flowing white mane decorated with tiny red roses and lace.

  A small child with long blonde ponytails ran up and pointed toward her.

  “Mommy, I want to ride that horse.”

  Horse? The carousel? She recalled Dulan’s words that he had saved a special place for her.

  Chloe gasped at the sight of the woman behind the child. Jess! She looked ten years older and had a wonderful glow about her.

  “She’s a real beauty honey,” she heard her friend say to the little girl. “Look at her beautiful chestnut brown mane and her pretty blue eyes.”

  “I want to ride her mommy. Can I?”

  “Of course. Here, let me help you.”

  She felt the slight weight of the child on her back. In the mirror above, she caught sight of herself and tried to wrap her mind around what she’d become. Her eyes were nothing more than marbles painted bright blue.

  Another face appeared in the mirror. Dulan. She watched him walk closer until he stood beside her.

  “Pardon me, miss. Do I know you?”

  She heard Jess giggle like a school girl. “No, I don’t think so.”

  “That’s odd, I feel as though we’ve met. But never mind. What do you think of my carousel?”

  “It’s lovely. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

  “Thank you. I built it.”

  “Pretty horse,” the little girl said.

  Dulan smiled. “Yes, she is. She’s very special. In fact I’d say that soon she will be the last of her kind.”

  Memories of the cave and what Dulan had planned rushed at her. It was why he was there. Chloe wanted to scream, to call out to Jess and tell her to take her daughter and run.

  “It was good talking to you both. I will leave you to enjoy the ride.”

  Dulan stood in front of her and placed his hands on her brass muzzle. “You see, I told you that she was still alive,” he whispered. “Tomorrow the darkness will return. But your friend will not.”

  He walked away and the carousel started up.

  Chloe returned her gaze to the mirror. She said a silent farewell to her friend and the little girl she would never get to know, and watched as the dark figures approached to come and take them away.

  The Black Banshee

  By Buck Weiss

  Kate Gold stood before her dressing closet. Choosing a dress from among the hundreds that spun past her at a steady rate of speed was never an easy task, but always an enjoyable one. She loved to see the dresses in every hue of the rainbow fly by and she enjoyed pressing and releasing the button just enough that the pressurized air sounded like the slightest melody.

  Yet, this morning, the melody of the closet was overtaken by the loud chime of the front doorbell and Kate hurried to the window of her upstairs dressing room just in time to see the steam-driven bike of a street messenger pulling away.

  She frowned a bit as she thought about the invitation to some stuffy social event that was, at that very moment, being sat on a silver platter and carried by the house butler, Hieronymus, up the stairs to where she now stood.

  “Though it could be a summons from the chief of police,” she said to herself.

  “Of course not, Katie,” she scolded back. “The good inspector always comes by when he needs the help of Kate and Maximus Gold, the newest sleuthing duo in St. Louis.”

  Kate paused for a moment under the newly framed edition of the St. Louis Dispatch. The date of the paper was two weeks before. The headline read, “Killer Automaton Captured by Socialite Snoops!”

  The last part was a bit of bad taste, but Kate was proud of the press none the less. It was their first legitimate case, and though she almost fell prey to the killer herself, they solved it. She knew in her heart that soon clients and police alike would be knocking on their door and asking for the assistance of Gold’s Detection.

  Like an omen, a knock sounded at her door. Yet, Kate knew who it must be and brought herself back to reality. She looked down at her slight ghostly white body. She was wearing nothing but a bustle and the small revolver that her husband had given to her after the automaton fiasco. She shuttered for a moment as she thought back to that time.

  “Nothing to think about now,” she reminded herself. “It won’t be the last time I place myself into a bit of dirty business.”

  She was a woman who never minded getting her hands dirty, daughter of the great Jim and Candace Weatherby, the first couple to pilot a blimp over the great plains and western mountains to the Pacific Ocean and back again. She grew up among savages, both native and European. Her training with the weapon strapped to her leg moved quickly and she mused that shooting a gun was like riding a horse, once you had it you could never forget.

  She was the daughter of the west, yet she also knew the value of being presentable. A value that was honed by her love and husband, the gentleman, Maximus Gold, son of a steamship baron and steel baroness.

  This value reminded her to slip a robe over her bustle and gun before calling for the butler to enter. Hieronymus had been with the Gold family since well before Maximus was born and Kate’s husband swore that the butler had given him candy and winks when he was a child. Seeing the man now, Kate would never believe that the solemn look locked onto his face could ever be erased.

  Hieronymus held the silver platter in front of him and Kate saw the envelope folded neatly on it.

  “Sorry to disturb you, Madam. A young ruffian, riding one of those infernal machines, just dropped this off at the
door.”

  Kate smiled at Hieronymus’ lack of fervor for the newest technology and plucked the note from the tray. As she did, the first thing she noticed was its weight. It was no simple note, but a phonogram. Kate knew right away that this was from someone in the high echelon of St. Louis society. The parchment was folded and tied with a long black ribbon. From the ribbon hung a charm. It looked of iron and was in the shape of a tiny locomotive. Seeing the emblem, Kate had one guess of who the phonogram was from. “Rich indeed,” she thought.

  “Thank you, Hieronymus.” Kate muttered, giving the man a slight nod of the head. “Please inform Master Gold that we will take breakfast in the atrium shortly.”

  “Yes, Madam,” the old butler returned. “But, I believe he might be too engaged in his experiments to… shall we say… step away at this time.”

  Kate smiled again at the butler’s turn of phrase. Master Gold could not be said to “step away,” because he was, in fact, sitting. Kate’s husband had, of late, set himself to meditation in the attempt to project his presence out into a steam driven creature; the same automaton that had killed at least six street walkers on the wharfs of the Mississippi River and the couple had almost died defeating.

  “You see, Darling” He had animatedly said to her at dinner the week before. “If one could only project themselves out into an automaton or even into a contraption fastened to a blimp, a police force could patrol the city without ever leaving the comfort of their own homes.”

  “Yes,” Kate remembered replying. “They could also spy on their neighbors, rob, and kill without actually being at the scene of the crime.”

  “Pshaw!” Maximus replied. “Your western ways have hardened you against humanity.” He grabbed her hand. “We are inherently good beings, my dear. This technology would allow us to be vigilant, but not put men at risk.”

  He paused to sip his wine. “Besides, who is to say that the masses need know or understand the technology of the elite. We must be good shepherds.”

  This was another thing that they disagreed on. Kate knew that there were precious little sheep in the world and most of them would rather face the wolves than feel as if their freedom was forfeit.