"You ever need rride back, you kall Jemison."
Lucy smiled and nodded her head as the cab rolled away, blowing steam out from its upper pipes. When it had gone, she took the piece of faded yellow paper from her backpack and looked again at the information.
"This is the right place. I don't understand. There’s nothing here," she said, looking around for any signs of Stan.
"Oh, but I'm here." The man's voice startled her. "And I see you're here. Tell me, are you lost? That would make it so much better if you were lost, sweet cakes."
Lucy started to back away. "I don't have any money, I swear! Please, leave me alone," she said, her voice shaking with fear.
"It's not your money I want, honey. What I want is..."
A loud snap filled the air forcing the man to his knees. As he grasped at a leather strap around his throat, Stan stepped out of the shadows holding the handle of a bullwhip. Coming closer to the stricken man, she said, "The lady asked you to leave her alone. I believe she even said please. I suggest you listen." Pulling on the whip, Stan released the man's neck. As she did so, he leapt forward trying to rush the older woman. "You just don't listen, do you, deary?" Stan had grabbed a small brass barreled pistol from the holster strapped to her thigh, and just as the man made a vain attempt to stop in his tracks, he felt the cold metal pressing against his forehead. "Now the way I see it, I can pull this trigger, making a mess of you and myself; or, pay attention to this part now, son, you can remove your shoes and pants and start running in that direction there," she threatened, while pointing to the right. Sweat started to bead across his forehead, swirling around the indentation formed by the end of the barrel. Shaking from head to toe, he shifted his eyes to Lucy.
She crossed her arms. "You’re seriously looking to me for help?"
The man closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He slowly kicked off his boots and tossed them to the side. "My pants, too? Really?" he asked, almost in tears.
"You could have just walked away, but you went and made me pull old trusty here. That deserves a little more," Stan told him.
The air expelling from his rib cage wasn't the only sign of nervousness. His hands shaking, he could barely unbuckle his belt. He glanced up at Stan hoping for a change of heart. "That's a nice belt! Leather?" she asked. "Toss that over here, then drop the trousers and run. We don't want to see your pasty butt any longer than we have to," Stan told him as she pressed a little harder with the pistol.
Dropping his pants to the ground, he stepped out of them and stood there frozen in fear.
"Gross!" Lucy started to dry heave.
"Now run!" Stan shouted and fired a single shot directly above his head.
"Did you see that? I think he soiled himself!" Stan laughed as the man ran. "We better get inside before we catch a whiff of that," she added, still laughing as she pinched her nose.
"Where did you learn to do that?" Lucy asked her.
"All in due time, dear. Now come on, we don't want to cause any more of a commotion," Stan told her as she led her toward the building. They walked up the steps to where the doors were once opened to anyone. Now they stood barred shut, and covered in spray paint.
"How do we get in?" Lucy asked.
Stan smiled, "Oh, you have a lot to learn, kiddo."
She turned toward the graffiti on the boards. In particular, a section in bright colors that read, "Rangers takE All Prisoners!" She used her index finger to trace the letters R.E.A.P that Lucy had noticed were all capitalized. The floor shook briefly and then started to lower them deep beneath the building. "It's okay, Lucy. You'll see."
Lucy looked around in amazement. Gears the size of buildings were being turned by smaller gears and wires. All turning, whirring and whining to keep up.
"Your grandfather did most of this," Stan told her. "He was certainly a man of many talents."
"I'm beginning to think Gramps was more than just a nice old man," Lucy said, unable to hide her awe-struck expression.
Stan laughed out loud. "You have no idea, kiddo." She placed her arm around her shoulders. "You have no idea..."
4 Synod of Reaping
The platform touched down, and they appeared to be inside what appeared to be the world's largest workshop. Every kind of tool, spanner, shaper, or machine one could imagine, and a few Lucy was sure didn't have names, were there. Tables were piled high with gears, and free-standing walls were covered with blueprints tacked to them. A tall automated brass and gas walkabout bot approached them. "Welcome back, Ms. Stanley. I see you brought a guest."
"Indeed, Walter. This is Lucy Ducit..."
"Lucy! My, you have grown." Walter interrupted as Stan shot the bot a glare. Walter stopped, stuttered a bit, and then added "Yes... yes. Mr. Otto spoke of you often."
Unaware of any previous meeting, Lucy asked, "Have we met before? You said I've grown."
"Pictures, kiddo. Conrad liked to show you off around here. Walter has been here longer than most. He's seen a lot," Stan told her.
Nodding in response, Lucy walked with care through a wide opening that led them into a large hall filled with paintings of funny looking farmers and a rather large one trimmed in gold with a group of men in a tiny boat. "What is this place? Are we the only ones here?"
"There aren't as many as there used to be. The Countess has seen to that," Stan told her. "We are a special group. Everything will be explained over dinner. Walter will show you where you can rest up until then."
The steam bot touched the front of his head and bowed formally. He seemed different from the bots she’s grown up around. "Follow me, Miss Ducit, if you please." He led her to a staircase and informed her that it led up to the Great Hall. Once there, Lucy understood where the 'Great' part came from. The room was enormous. Filled with statues of warriors and princes, and paintings of kings from ages ago. It was as if time had stopped and preserved all that was there.
"Was this a museum once?" Lucy asked.
Walter opened his arms from his waist outward, "Welcome to The New York Metropolitan Museum of Art. In its heyday, it was a glorious sight."
Lucy continued to follow Walter through huge corridors beautifully mastered by skilled architects and engineers of a bygone era. At the end of the corridor, the pair entered another large room.
"This was Mr. Otto's favorite room. I think this would be sufficient for you as well. It was called Gallery 305: Medieval Art. Mr. Otto was fascinated by this particular forgotten time."
Lucy looked around the room at the paintings of castles, men in armor from head to toe, and various weapons. The most wondrous sight, though, was up at the front of the large room. Reading the faded writing beneath, she discovered it to be the choir screen from the Cathedral of Valladolid and a balcony with the large Byzantine painting. The shadows danced across the ceiling making for joyous wonders. It was already apparent that Walter liked to share his knowledge, and this looked like a perfect opportunity.
"This building was called the Metropolitan Museum of Art, Miss Ducit. Gallery 305 was an original room and then it was expanded from to what we have here today. The people would hold grand parties here called The Met Gala..."
Lucy held up her hand to interrupt the lesson. "What did Stan mean by ‘There aren't as many of us as there used to be?’ And why did ‘the Countess see to that?’"
Walter stood perfectly still. For a moment, Lucy assumed he had malfunctioned. She tapped him on the forehead. “Walter?” she said. He then spun to his left to leave and said, "That is not my lesson to teach."
"Then whose lesson is it? When will I get answers?" Lucy called after him as Walter exited the Gallery.
Lucy plopped down onto a marble bench between two sets of armor, each holding long swords. "What were you hiding, Gramps? Who are these people?" she said aloud, before sighing heavily.
"We are called the Synod of Reaping, and Conrad was hiding your birthright."
Lucy sprang to her feet and turned to defend herself from a man who had seemingly just
appeared behind her. "You people have really got to stop sneaking up on me!"
The older gentleman stepped into the light. He had a soft smile surrounded by a salt and pepper beard. His ebony skin was wrinkled and worn, but he seemed to have aged well. He wore a fedora hat, and a worn pair of flight goggles decorated with a brass dragonfly sat on the brim. He radiated dignity and honor and stood before her with his hands clasped in front of him. "Forgive me, Miss Ducit. My name is Gerard Hamilton, and I am the one that sent for you. Conrad and I were some of the first of our generation to realize that we possessed the gift. For over forty years, there was no one I trusted more than him, and he trusted me. That's why he left his diary with me. I assume you received it?"
Lucy nodded her head and patted her backpack.
"Good. He said you would be one of the few people able to figure out how to open the enigma box. In your free time please look over it - learn from it. It will not only act as your guide for what we do, but it will also give you more insight into your grandfather," Gerard told her.
"My guide to what? Who are you people?" Lucy asked.
"We'll get to that." Gerard sat down on the bench and patted the seat next to him. Lucy sat down on the seat, keeping her eyes on him. "Have you read any of his diary yet?" he asked.
She shook her head, "Not really. I found this address from the papers being sent to me and I've been on this wild trip trying to figure out what's going on."
Gerard smiled and leaned closer, "Then I will leave with this: We are a group of special people. People with the gift to end the tyranny that grips this world. Read your grandfather's words, hear his voice in your heart, and know his life and passion. When you come to the dining hall, I'll try to answer more of your questions. You’ll get the chance to meet the others as well." Gerard slowly got to his feet with a low grunt. "I don't move as fast as I once did." He gave her a wink and slowly walked away.
Lucy watched him until he was out of sight down the long hall. She opened her dirty backpack and pulled out the diary. "Alright, Gramps. Let's find out what you were up to," she said with a sigh.
She opened the diary and read the first entry dated 12 October 1994:
"Today, I discovered who I really am. I met a man who opened the doorway not only to my past but to my future as well. His name is Dr. Gerard Hamilton, and like me, he is a Reaper. I know what that is now. I will try my best to keep accurate records to further educate others that will come after I am gone."
Lucy read that first page and felt a wave of emotion come over her. She thought to herself, "I can relive your life through your words, Gramps." Wiping a solitary tear from her eye, she added, "I could have helped you..."
Lucy turned the page. The next entry was dated 17 October 1994:
"In only a week, I have seen great evil. The world is headed for dark times if we cannot stand as one against Ruina Baxter. As we search for others like us, we are constantly being harassed and threatened by men in masks. Gerard said these men work for Ruina. She has a personal army being built under the noses of everyone, a multi-million-dollar company, and now has announced her intentions to run for President of the United States. We must shed light on this. The country and possibly the world must know what kind of woman she is before it's too late."
Lucy closed the diary and put it back into her backpack. She mulled over the words she’d just read in her mind, "So, the Countess started all this back in the 90’s? How is that possible?"
She sat there in silence for a few moments before deciding to take a look around. Gallery 305, now her room, was enormous, and filled with relics of the medieval era. At the back of the room was a set of doors clearly made by someone other than the original architect. She opened the doors and found a simple area with a bed, dresser, and some pictures hanging on the wall. There was a small frame hung with a photo of Conrad and Lucy, with an inscription that said, 'My world.' On the dresser sat a strange looking little black box. Plain and uninviting, it was nothing like the enigma box Conrad had made. It had white letters across the front that said, "iHome."
"What an odd little device. I wonder what it does?" she thought as she leaned closer to inspect it. Noticing a smaller part sticking out from the top, Lucy pressed a button and the smaller device lit up displaying the word ‘Autoplay.’ Suddenly a rush of sound flooded the room as instruments, and a screaming man rang out. Lucy grabbed her ears and then started to slap at the device to smash it, or at least turn it off.
"Conrad loved his rock music. I believe that was Staind," Stan said laughing as she leaned inside the doorway.
"I don't know what that was, but it was not music!" Lucy exclaimed.
"Have you had time to look around? Conrad loved this room, he said it helped him think," Stan said.
Lucy nodded her head. "There are a lot of gorgeous things here, I never knew the world could be so beautiful. Did you know my grandfather long?" she asked.
"Conrad and I knew each other for an eternity, or so it seemed. I was there, in the distance, when he married your mother and father, and then again when you were born. Conrad was one of my best friends." Stan smiled trying to hold back tears. "Come on. I'll show you his favorite piece of art."
Stan held out her hand and led Lucy through the gallery. They passed wondrous pieces, bright and beautiful; they’re full of life. The pair stopped in front of a small bronze statue simply titled ‘Dancing Girl.’
"This little girl reminded Conrad so much of you. He said he could see the same bubbly personality in her. He made sure nothing ever happened to this piece.”
They both looked to each other as Lucy's stomach rumbled loud enough to echo through the hall.
Stan shook her head and smiled, "It's time for dinner, kiddo. We gather in the lounge on the second floor. You’ll get to meet the rest of the group. Come, I'm sure you're hungry for answers, and maybe some food, too." Stan gave a little wink and tugged Lucy toward the door.
The pair left Gallery 305, and walked to an elevator taking them to the second floor. The doors opened to reveal a set of chairs on a platform suspended by chains. "We only have enough electricity to power the smaller devices and tools. We had to modify the elevator system a little," Stan explained.
They strapped themselves into the chairs and then used the chains to pull themselves up to the ascending floor. "Oh, my God! I never expected this," Lucy said to Stan as she took in the sight before her.
Dozens of small brass and glass bots were scurrying about, all carrying tools of various shapes and sizes. The smell of food instantly caught Lucy's attention, and suddenly a pang tore through her stomach reminding her how long she’d been without food.
"I knew you were hungry," pointing to Lucy's stomach, “That thing is a bit of a snitch,” Stan said while laughing at the growl that had erupted again. Sweet smells of fresh fruit, baked bread, and the smell of crisp pork invaded her senses all at once. As they entered the lounge, Lucy's eyes were drawn to the lines of wooden tables, each with six chairs around it. Most of which were empty. Two tables at the front had people already sitting and talking, with a third partially filled. As Lucy and Stan came into view, all eyes fell on the pair, but Lucy couldn't help but feel they were mainly on her. A round bot on rollers wearing a chef's hat and a square name badge that read, 'Flo' came whirring up to Lucy. Skidding to a stop, it stood there tapping a pencil on a notebook.
"What does it want?" Lucy asked.
"Flo oversees the kitchen. She just wants to know what you want to eat," Stan informed her.
Lucy raised an eyebrow. "Anything?"
Stan gave a nod. "Anything. Flo is very resourceful."
Lucy thought for a moment and then said, "Grilled cheese, please."
The little Flo Bot beeped and buzzed and headed for what Lucy assumed must be the kitchen. Stan reached down and grasped Lucy's hand as she led her to the others. She gave a small squeeze of reassurance and whispered, "You're with friends here."
They approached the tables, and she noticed Ge
rard smiling at her, preparing to speak. "Please, take a seat. I want everyone to go around and introduce yourselves. This is Lucy, and she is Conrad's granddaughter."
A murmur of voices started stirring around the tables as a man who looked to be in his thirties stood. His olive skin tried to hide several scars down his arms, but Lucy's eyes were drawn there first. He had a rather large gun strapped to his back that was covered by a brown leather vest that fit the contours of his shoulders nicely. "Hi, Lucy. My name is Jaso Hamilton, and I'm Gerard's son. We will help you find your way."
Next to Jaso was an older man, in his mid to late fifties, who pushed away from the table to reveal a remarkable type of wheelchair. His hair was silver with traces of chestnut streaked through. Twirling a spanner wrench in his hand, he dropped it into a side pouch like a cowboy holstering a pistol and said, "I would stand to do this, but the Countess took my legs in an ambush by the Davarti. I'm just a tinker now. You need something made or fixed, come see me, James Jordan."
Across from James, a young man started to stand. At first, Lucy could only see the back of him, and she didn't mind what she saw. He pushed his chair under the table and turned to face her. Lucy felt her heart race out of control while her stomach filled with butterflies.
"Careful, dear, you're blushing," Stan whispered to her.
Lucy couldn't help herself. Here stood a tall, handsome guy that appeared to be close to her age. His blue eyes seemed to burn into her very soul. He took his hand and brushed his dirty blonde hair back out of his face.
"Hi, Lucy. My name is Micah Jones. I haven't been here very long myself, but I can tell you these people will help you if you let them, and so will I."
Several others stood and said their names with a little about their stations here, but Lucy was still thinking about Micah. He was beyond beautiful and caught her heart in a way she never expected. She wasn’t accustomed to her body feeling this way when looking at someone.
The Key of Knowledge Page 3
