Tin Fingers: Book 2 in the Arachnodactyl Series

by Danny Knestaut

  With the automaton distracted, David redoubled his efforts, and the mechanical ass froze.

  As Ikey crouched down, the magnetic currents coursing through the beast called to and coaxed his arm. Invisible fingers drew it forward. The current asked him to turn to his side and rest his iron shoulder against the automaton’s cylinder. Ikey plunged the pliers into the slot he needed to access. The magnetism pinioned the pliers firmly against the side of the metallic slot.

  “Stop,” Ikey said.

  “Did you fix it?” David panted.

  “Stop!”

  The cranking ceased. Ikey plunged the pliers the rest of the way in as the creature reached for Ikey’s shoulder.

  He snapped the pliers down.

  The ticking and grinding inside the creature evaporated. Its open hand hovered inches from Ikey’s shoulder.

  Ikey let out of sigh of relief as he sank back onto his heels.

  David turned around. He muttered something in Russian to Gavril, who stood in the doorway. Gavril said something back, and then David took off down the hall.

  Ikey staggered to his feet.

  “You owe me your life,” Gavril said. “Save David, and I forever am in debt to you. I pray for you.” He grasped the wire crucifix under his shirt.

  With a nod, Ikey took off, his ears peeled for the ringing of iron footfalls.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Ikey and David raced down a flight of stairs where they ran into a pair of mechanical asses. While David immobilized the one, Ikey led the other on a short chase up the stairs. As the automaton neared the top step, Ikey grabbed the stair rail and kicked his foot out. His heel connected with the top edge of the cylinder. The mechanical ass fell backwards and clattered down the steps in a teeth-jarring crash. Its head snapped off and rolled up to David’s feet. While David panted and cranked hard, Ikey raced back down the stairs and disabled the second mechanical ass with his pliers.

  “I don’t know how much more of that I can take,” David said as he dropped the magnet to his side. “My arms are starting to feel like rubber.”

  Footsteps echoed along the hallway. Not iron footsteps, but those of a person in a hurry.

  “Come on,” Ikey said. “I think our cover is blown.” He grabbed David by the arm and yanked him along.

  The two raced through a series of halls and rounded a corner to find Rolfe standing before the open door of the main boiler room. A mechanical ass stood by his side.

  A grin sprouted beneath Rolfe's mustache. “Gentlemen. It’s quite dangerous to be out by yourselves after hours.”

  Ikey rushed forward, David on his heels.

  “I know what you’re trying to do,” Ikey hollered. “You’ve no right.”

  Rolfe snapped his fingers at the automaton and pointed to Ikey and David. The mechanical ass lumbered forward. Its arms lifted in a hail of clicks as it reached for the men. As Ikey slowed, David surged past, the magnet held before him like a battering ram. He let out a cry and smashed into the beast. It toppled over, and as it reached for David, he cranked hard at the magnet. The beast’s hands froze.

  Ikey raced past. Rolfe crouched and pulled a four-inch knife from the leg of his boot. He brandished it before him.

  “You have no idea what’s going on here,” Rolfe said as he blocked the entrance to the boiler room.

  “You’re going to kill everyone in the workhouse.”

  “Or at least in this half of it,” Rolfe said. “An inevitable tragedy, of course, but tragedy is the only thing people respond to. Let the papers get a hold of this. Several sympathetic writers are poised to tell the personal stories of the men and women who will die here tonight. They will raise such a commotion, and the cost of rebuilding will be so great, that the Lord of Kerryford will have to think twice before doing so.”

  “Will they tell your story as well?” Ikey asked.

  Rolfe’s glance shifted into the boiler room, then back to Ikey. His left hand touched the breast of his coat where it lay across his heart. “It’s most unfortunate that I have to meet my end like this, but I will gladly forfeit my life if it ends the suffering of these men and women here.”

  Ikey’s fists clenched. “This will hardly end anyone’s suffering.”

  “Suffering is the road,” Rolfe said. He swallowed and glanced into the room again. “It is not to be confused with the destination.”

  Ikey lunged forward and swept his mechanical fist at Rolfe.

  Rolfe leaped back. Ikey’s fist grazed the lapel of Rolfe’s coat. As Ikey recovered from the wide swing, Rolfe slashed at Ikey’s exposed flank. The tip of the knife trailed through the fabric of his shirt and nicked the flesh of his belly.

  Ikey staggered back, fists up. “I won’t let you do this.”

  “I’m not asking your permission.”

  The gaslight streaming through the boiler room door sputtered out. As Rolfe glanced back inside, Ikey drove his fist straight at Rolfe’s head.

  Rolfe dodged. Ikey’s fist sailed past his face. Rolfe jabbed his knife at Ikey’s ribs. He swept the thrust away with his iron arm.

  “What the devil is going on here!” bellowed The Alligator.

  “I’ve caught your saboteurs!” Rolfe cried. His face split into a wide grin.

  Without taking his eyes from Rolfe, Ikey called out, “It’s Rolfe! He’s trying to blow up the workhouse. He’s the saboteur.”

  The cranking noise behind Ikey ceased. Footfalls pounded down the hallway. The chain of The Alligator’s mace slapped against his thigh, then went quiet.

  Ikey held his breath. The urge to glance over his shoulder burned at him. A jumble of noises tumbled past him: the footfalls of the rushing Alligator; David panting and scrambling to his feet; the click of the mechanical ass’s limbs as it pushed against the floor and tried to right itself.

  But Ikey dared not take his eyes off Rolfe, the brandished knife, his arms held out at his sides in mockery of a common thug. In his face was little of the thoughtful man from the infirmary.

  A scream rose up. Rolfe glanced down the hall. The wild look dissipated from his face as he shifted his weight, turned and plunged the knife forward as David crashed into him, the magnet held out at arm’s length, gripped in his iron hand as he cranked madly.

  The blade curved upward and clinked against the magnetized plate.

  David’s momentum whipped Rolfe around until his back was to Ikey. Rolfe yanked on the blade. It popped free. He drew his arm back.

  Ikey stepped forward. His iron fist flew. It cracked against the back of Rolfe’s skull with a sickening thud and snap. In the second it took for Rolfe to drop away, Ikey thought of the sound, that familiar snap of bone. He was the machine now. The unfeeling machine.

  As Rolfe crumpled, David threw himself to the floor as well. But he wasn’t fast enough. The brass-studded block of the mace caught him upside the head. His mop of hair parted like the block was a plough blade cutting a furrow through his head.

  David collapsed onto Rolfe as the mace ricocheted and passed just over Ikey’s own head.

  Ikey staggered around in surprise as The Alligator drew his mace back again. The monster’s teeth were bared, his eyes wide and bloodshot.

  A clang echoed from inside the boiler room.

  The Alligator paused, his tension held as he glanced into the gloom.

  Ikey raced through the doorway. The air zipped open behind him. Brass snapped on cement where he had stood a second earlier.

  Ikey glanced at the gas line. Light from the man-sized grate on the boiler across the room splashed the far wall in dark orange stripes. The rigged mechanical ass hefted an ax over its head, then let it fly again.

  Sparks flew.

  Ikey thought of the Kittiwake, the hammer claw struck against iron hinges and the whole world unraveling into ribbons of flame.

  The pipe popped open as the ax head bounced away. The broken end drooped under its own weight.

  The light from the doorway was blotted out by The Alligator.
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  “We have to stop that,” Ikey yelled as he pointed at the mechanical ass. He needed the magnet. He looked back at the doorway. The Alligator charged. The mace whirled through the air over his head. The Alligator whipped it down.

  Ikey dodged. The head caught him along his mechanical arm. His shoulder yelped in pain as brass raked against his elbow and yanked the arm down, pulling on the hooks embedded in his shoulder.

  “It’s going to turn on the gas,” Ikey gasped as he stumbled away.

  “Then stand still a moment,” The Alligator grunted.

  Ikey turned and raced for the ax. The Alligator lumbered after him.

  The valve squeaked as the mechanical ass turned the gas back on.

  Ikey snatched the ax from where the ass had left it. He called over his shoulder, “We have to turn off the gas—”

  The mace arced over The Alligator’s head and crashed down. Ikey lifted his mechanical arm up over his head as he darted away. The chain struck his arm. A brass knob nicked his cheek bone, an inch or less from his glass eye before the head of the mace wrapped itself around Ikey's arm.

  The Alligator yanked the mace back. It wrenched Ikey’s arm. His shoulder exploded in pain as the eyelets in the arm twisted against the hooks and wires in his chest. Without a thought, Ikey swept the ax out in a wide arc, slashing at The Alligator.

  The ax head swung past The Alligator’s gut. The momentum of the swing twisted Ikey around further. A fresh wave of agony leaped into his chest and tore at his muscles with long fingers of splintered iron.

  Ikey gasped and fell to his knees. The ax handle slipped from his clutches and clattered to the floor.

  The valve squeaked again.

  Ikey opened his mouth to tell The Alligator that they’d both be killed, but The Alligator yanked hard on his mace again. Ikey fell forward to the floor and tasted the bitter coal dust that puffed up around him.

  The pain in his arm telescoped away. It became distant, sequestered in a room down a far hall. Think of the iron. The wood. The cart. The ax lay before him. It looked like every ax. Including the one his dad had used to shatter Uncle Micheal’s hip.

  Beyond the ax, The Alligator lifted a boot off the floor, and it disappeared above Ikey’s line of sight as if to stomp hard on some offensive vermin.

  The valve squeaked again, slow and deliberate under the automaton's daft hand.

  Ikey’s free hand shot forward. He grabbed the ax handle and yanked it toward him, twisting it around until the blade of the ax pointed up and the flat back of the head rested on the cement. As the head of the ax neared his face, he pushed himself up and twisted his torso around. His arm screamed even more as it was still caught up in the tangle of The Alligator's mace.

  The Alligator’s boot rushed past Ikey's ear.

  The ax handle pitched, jerked in Ikey’s fist as the monster missed Ikey's head and instead stomped down on the upturned blade of the ax. The Alligator howled. Ikey dropped onto his side. Slack appeared in the mace’s chain. The head of the mace dropped away as The Alligator fell over on his side, crashed to the dark floor like a mountain collapsing in on itself.

  Ikey rolled over again, clutching the ax.

  “You little shit!” The Alligator bellowed.

  Ikey staggered to his feet, pushing himself up with the ax as if it was a cane. His left arm wasn’t responding to commands. He choked up his grip on the ax handle and turned around. The Alligator was on his hands and knees. Dirty orange light glinted off the shifting carpet of steel scales on his back.

  The ax quivered as Ikey’s grip tightened. The Alligator’s head was exposed. One good swing, and he’d never hurt another person again.

  Ikey hefted the ax, lifted it one-handed over his shoulder, ready to wield it like a hatchet.

  An iron foot clanked behind him.

  Ikey turned around as the mechanical ass walked away from the valve and approached the door.

  “Piss,” Ikey hissed. He dropped the ax and raced for the valve. A sulfurous odor washed over him, filled his head as he skidded to a stop before the broken line. He grabbed the valve and twisted it and twisted it, surprised at how many times he had to turn it in order to seal the valve.

  The ax head scraped against cement.

  Ikey turned around. The Alligator limped toward him, lurching and lumbering, his breath loud and sharp, punctuated with grunts every time he placed his weight on his right foot. The flickering light from the boiler grate silhouetted the ax in his hand.

  As Ikey started for the door, the mechanical ass fulfilled its instruction set as it planted itself before the closed door.

  Ikey dropped his right shoulder and charged along until he plowed into the side of the mechanical ass. It tilted to the side and hit the floor with a clang. While the machine tried to right itself, Ikey delivered a swift kick to the doors with the heel of his boot.

  The doors rattled, but held fast.

  The mechanical ass jostled Ikey as it returned to its upright position. He staggered back, then glanced over his shoulder. The Alligator approached, hissing and grunting as he limped along. Ikey turned his attention to the mechanical ass. He dealt a swift kick to the thing’s ghastly head.

  The mule-head snapped back with a crunch, a pop. It tilted to the side, then dropped to the floor.

  Despite himself, Ikey smiled, then bolted as The Alligator closed the last few feet between them.

  The Alligator stopped in front of the mechanical ass. He leaned back until his arse rested on the cylindrical edge of the automaton’s body. He stood the ax on the top of its head, then rested his wrist on the butt of the handle like a gentleman with a silver-tipped stick, except that his bare chest heaved with desperate breaths in the orange light.

  “There’s no other way out,” The Alligator panted. “No escape. Any minute, someone will come across that mess outside. They’ll burst through these doors. And then. Then I will have you held down. I will chop off your feet. With this very ax.”

  The Alligator nodded, then gripped the handle. “I will then chop off your arm. Then your legs.”

  Ikey tried to lift his mechanical arm. It didn’t budge. Throbbing pain pulsed and pounded across his chest and through his shoulder. Ikey turned away, glanced back into the dark. Into the black corners and the wall behind the boiler where the light didn’t reach. There, he could find Rose. Exchange a few words with her. Let her know how sorry he was. He should have listened to her all along. He should have left Marlhewn when he had a chance. He should never have come down to Kerryford in the first place. He should have never tried to interfere in Admiral Daughton’s scheme. The company she shared with him should have been enough.

  “I’m sorry,” Ikey whispered to the dark. “I should have been grateful.”

  “What was that?” The Alligator shouted.

  Ikey turned back around. The door banged against the mechanical ass’s back.

  Surprise rocked The Alligator’s face as he jolted with the blow. The surprise then melted into a wide grin.

  “Best run now,” The Alligator said. “Hide. Your execution is nigh.”

  Ikey straightened his back. He clenched his right hand into a fist and thought briefly of how to strip the yoke off, shed the mechanical arm and the dead weight that it suddenly was. But it was too complicated. And damn it if it wasn’t the bloody albatross that dragged him down into this mess.

  “Come in!” The Alligator bellowed at the ceiling. He stood and shuffled aside. Using the ax as a cane, he placed the heel of his injured foot against the automaton and gave it a shove. The thing fell over with a clang.

  The door crashed against the dead weight.

  “Push!” The Alligator yelled. He shot a wicked grin at Ikey, then grabbed the lip of the door and pulled. Iron scraped against cement. The Alligator hissed and grunted and yanked. The door opened a few inches. Gaslight from outside fell across the floor in a slash.

  A thin form silhouetted the light, and then Gavril slipped around the edge of the door. />
  “Who the hell—” The Alligator began. His statement was cut off by a scream, a throat-rending yell as Ikey barreled forward, pushing with everything he had. The mechanical arm flapped off his thigh, the dead fist cracked at his knee. He charged, fist pumping, the wind of his shout pulling him along.

  The Alligator turned and lifted the ax.

  Gavril lunged forward. At the end of his hand, orange light glinted off a blade. He slid it into The Alligator’s ribcage as the monster hefted the ax over his head.

  In the dim light, The Alligator's face tightened up, yet his eyes widened until they looked ready to pop from his head.

  Ikey collided with him, drove him back against the door. They dropped to the ground. The ax hit the cement somewhere nearby. A hand grabbed the back of Ikey’s collar and yanked him away.

  Blood trickled from the corner of The Alligator’s mouth. His face was red, wrenched into rage, his other fist cocked back. Ikey swatted at the meat of The Alligator’s arm. It held fast. Ikey smiled. He wouldn’t mind so much if the eye was gone, too. But he regretted that the last thing he would see clearly was The Alligator’s face.

  The blade plunged into the side of The Alligator’s throat. His mouth dropped open. He let go of Ikey’s collar and grasped for Gavril’s wrist.

  Ikey dropped to the floor, then pushed himself up as The Alligator slumped over. His hand flexed once over the dark welling of his neck, and then he was still.

  Gavril coughed.

  Ikey looked up. Gavril clasped his fist before his mouth and worked hard to stifle the cough. “Help David,” he wheezed.

  Ikey looked back to The Alligator. It felt so hollow.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Ikey stumbled into the hallway. David lay on his back next to Rolfe. Blood matted his hair. Ikey crouched. His iron fingers clicked as they struck the floor and curled inward, dead and useless. He slipped his flesh fingers along David’s neck. A weak pulse trembled.

  As Gavril exited the boiler room, Ikey told him to help lift David up and sling him over Ikey’s shoulder.