Fogbound- Empire in Flames

by Gareth Clegg

  Nathaniel stepped forward. “Mr Maddox, Rosie is correct—”

  “Back up there, Bazalgette.” Maddox pushed Nathaniel, almost sending him sprawling. “Who asked your opinion? This is between her and me. I have nothing against you or your friend at the moment, so let’s not get into something you can’t handle. Remember your place and who you’re dealing with.”

  Nathaniel stepped back, catching his balance as Rosie’s face grew dark. Maddox loomed over him, having matched his step. A flurry of motion and the harsh echo of a slap rang out, followed by the thump of Maddox hitting the deck in a crumpled heap. Rosie stood there, between him and Nathaniel, hands on her hips, defiant. “And you, John Maddox. You remember your place in this. Don’t make me kick your arse up and down this damned boat.”

  Maddox snapped his head around to face her. Nathaniel felt his stomach clench. Maddox reached up and rubbed his jaw, a thin trickle of blood ran from the corner of his mouth and smeared under his meaty hand. He laughed. “Well, at least one thing I taught you stuck in that messed-up head of yours, kid.”

  The anger seemed to drain from her, and she was a petite young woman again, albeit dressed in a shabby grey blanket held together with a few hairpins. She reached down to offer the big man a hand up, which he accepted. With a quick tug of her arm, she pulled Maddox to his feet. It was all wrong, the angles and moments of leverage and force didn’t work. Nathaniel was silent, recreating the event in his mind. No, it just didn’t make sense. She couldn’t be that strong.

  “John,” she said, “in fact, Nathaniel, Isaac this involves you too. We need to stick together. We can’t afford to quarrel and fight amongst ourselves, especially now. I’m not afraid of anything, John will attest to that.” Maddox nodded his assent. “The only thing that worries me is Josiah. There’s something about him that’s just wrong, broken. He doesn’t care about anyone else. He’ll take everyone down with him if they get in his way.”

  “So, you’re saying we should all kiss and make up?” Isaac asked, his face creasing as he puckered his lips.

  Rosie stared at him for a moment, then sighed. “Has anybody ever told you that you’re just a dirty old man?”

  “All the time, love,” he croaked, nudging Nathaniel with his elbow and winking. “All the time.”

  Brown complimented Nathaniel on the job he’d done treating Simmons’ injuries as they moved him to the makeshift surgery set up in the church’s back room. “I need to clean the socket. If we leave the remains of the sclera and flesh untrimmed, it will lead to infection.”

  “How risky is the procedure?”

  “All surgery carries a risk, but at least we don’t need to open him up.”

  “Could I assist?”

  The reverend thought for a moment before replying. “I don’t see why not. It would be useful to have someone to help, and you seem to be a talented amateur already. Yes, let’s talk a little about the requirements.”

  It took just over an hour. Nathaniel watched and provided instruments while Jack cut away the excess tissue while describing what he was doing. He finished by allowing Nathaniel to sew the eyelid shut.

  There was nothing further to do for the fractured lower orbit around the eye. It would have to heal naturally but didn’t appear to be too extensive, and the prognosis was good for a natural recovery over the next couple of months.

  Nathaniel joined the others in the rectory and explained everything had gone well. “Jack expects Simmons might be mobile in a day or so. He’s provided extra morphine and two bottles of laudanum for the pain.”

  “That’s great news,” said Rosie. “I suppose we shall have to see how he handles the loss of his eye, and when we can move on from here.”

  “Yes, he’s sleeping now, but I will stay at his bedside, so he has a friendly face when he wakes. Before that, we should discuss our plans.”

  “Where are we headed next?” Rosie asked.

  “Strange as it may sound,” Nathaniel said to the others. “We are searching for the crash site of Angel-One.”

  “Well, from what I hear,” Isaac said, “we’re in the right area. It crashed east of the city near Canning town if I recall.”

  “That’s useful, Isaac,” Nathaniel said. “Does anyone else know anything more?” He looked to Maddox and Rosie, but they were silent.

  “Oh,” Rosie said. “Isaac, didn’t you say Jack has been here for some time, even before the invasion?”

  “That’s right. I suppose we could ask him.”

  “Ask me what,” Jack said as he descended the stairs into the living room.

  “We were talking about the end of the resistance during the war when Angel-One came down in flames. You was here then, weren’t you?” Isaac asked.

  “Yes, it was a tragedy. Crashed north of Canning Town right on top of the Holy Trinity Church. Thousands had been seeking refuge from the Martian Fighting Machines, none I know of survived. Of all the places, it had to come to earth there.”

  “You’re sure?” Nathaniel asked.

  “I saw it for myself from the bell tower. Terrible, and so unfortunate.”

  “Why do you say that?” Rosie said.

  “Well, if it had crashed earlier, it’s all fields and farmland, once you clear the gasworks. And if it had stayed in the air a little longer, it would have plunged into the Plaistow Marsh. But no, it fell dead into the centre of the housed area between the two. Some would say the Devil was at work that day.”

  Isaac stood. “Holy Trinity is just off the tramway on Barking Road. I’ve dropped there, before the war when I was driving cabs. It’s about three miles from here.”

  “Can you take us there?” Nathaniel asked.

  “It’s not possible,” Isaac replied. “The river runs dry north of here, can’t get old Betsy through, I’m afraid. I could draw you a map though, not sure how useful it will be now, but it might help get you close.”

  “Can’t you come with us?”

  “As much as I’d love to go haring about in the middle of the desolation Fogside, I need to look out for Betsy. I’ll hang around here for a while, catch up on old times with the Reverend. But no, I’m not leaving her on her own, she’s too precious. Besides, who’d look after Simmons?”

  Nathaniel was silent for a second. “No problem, Isaac. The map will do fine. I’m sure that between us we’ll find the church, won’t we?”

  Maddox turned to Rosie, who was already smiling. He hung his head and blew out a long breath. “All right then. Overland trip it is. I best get packing my gear.”

  Nathaniel gave Rosie a slight nod of thanks. “We can set off tomorrow morning. That will give us time to have the Reverend check us over, and I want to speak with Simmons before we leave. Make sure he’s coping.”

  Simmons woke with a blinding headache in darkness. His mouth was dry and tasted of something vile and bitter. Sweat dripped from him, soaking the bedsheets. He reached up to massage his sore head, his fingers caught on gauze covering the right side of his face. What was going—

  “Bazalgette,” he shouted, the crumpled form lying on the observatory floor came flooding back into his mind.

  “Simmons, it’s me. It’s all right, you were injured, but you’re fine now.”

  Bazalgette’s voice was a more welcome sound than he could ever have imagined. If he was talking, then he was safe.

  “Josiah? Are you all right?” Simmons asked. “Why is it so dark?”

  A blue spark of electricity leapt into being and ignited a candle wick, shedding a small glow. Within a few seconds, the room came into focus, or half of it did.

  “Whoa, let’s slow down a little,” Bazalgette said. “First things first, we escaped from Greenwich and Josiah. Second, I’m fine, fully recovered. And third,” Bazalgette seemed to pause as if thinking through his next statement before speaking, “you received a serious injury. I did my best to patch you up, but you’ve lost your right eye.”

  “What?” Simmons said. “What happened?”

  “I p
resume you must have fought with Josiah after I passed out, do you remember? Josiah turned on us. All he wanted was the microfilm.”

  “The schematics,” Simmons said, his fingers reaching to probe at his bandaged face.

  “Try not to touch it,” Bazalgette said. “It’s been cleaned up by a surgeon, but it will be sore as hell. He only finished,” Bazalgette checked his pocket watch. “About twelve hours ago. You need to let it heal. Also, you have fractured the orbit, so don’t go prodding at it.”

  “The orbit?”

  “The bone around your eye got broken in several places. Jack, the surgeon I spoke of, did his best to position it all so they would heal, but it will be a while. We can’t do anything to hold them in place. Your body needs to do the work.”

  “Oh,” was all Simmons heard himself reply. “Well, it explains the damned headache.”

  “You can take this for the pain,” Bazalgette said, handing him a glass of water. Simmons had to orient his head to see it from his left eye. He took the offered drink and lifted it towards his dry lips and paused, running his tongue over them, feeling cracks and rough flakes of skin.

  “What is it?” he asked, fixing Bazalgette with his good eye.

  “Laudanum. Twenty drops every three to four hours. It should dull the pain.”

  “Right, down the hatch then.” He drained the glass in one, the water had a bitter aftertaste, but he felt much better for the liquid. “My throat is parched. Is that normal?”

  “We gave you morphine. It’s a common side effect. The dry mouth will pass as you hydrate. Drink plenty of water.”

  “I should have given him the film,” Simmons said. “I thought you were dead. The bastard near choked the life from you while I watched, I could have saved you from it all.”

  “I’m fine now. It’s not your fault. Josiah is the one we need to stop. We’re heading out tomorrow morning to search for the original pocket watch.”

  “I’m not sure I’m up to it just yet, a few aches and pains, you know?”

  Bazalgette swallowed. “Sorry, I didn’t mean us. You should stay here and recuperate.”

  “Then, who?”

  “Rosie, myself and… John Maddox.”

  “Maddox? Maddox is here? What the—”

  Bazalgette pushed him back into the soft bed. “Whoa. It’s not what you think. They rescued us from Josiah. Rosie brought Maddox to help.”

  Simmons tried to struggle, but his body was too weak. Bazalgette restrained him as simply as if he were a toddler.

  “And you trust Maddox?”

  “Rosie says it was all part of the Black Guard’s plans. They set up the job and laid the false trail of terror Maddox had perpetrated. It was all a ploy to get rid of someone they couldn’t find themselves. So they hired the best.”

  “The best bloody idiot. So they suckered me into finding Rosie for them and now it turns out I’m stupid enough to have been used to locate Maddox as well?”

  Bazalgette released his hold on Simmons. “It’s what they do. They have a vast network of operatives, and they do whatever they need to get their way.”

  “Is that supposed to make me feel better? Because I can tell you it’s not working. I’m a useless, gullible fool, who’s too long in the tooth to finish the job anymore. And with one eye to boot. Bah. Just leave me be, go find your damned pocket watch with your new friends. You’ll be better off without me.”

  “Simmons—”

  “Just get out.”

  Bazalgette rose and reached over towards the candle.

  “Leave it,” Simmons barked. “I might need it to burn out the other eye.”

  Bazalgette stepped back, seemed as if he was about to say something, then thought better of it. The door closed with a soft click as he left the room.

  Damn Bazalgette and his righteous ways. Damn Josiah and his scheming. He was too old for this, far too old.

  Surita, why did you leave me like this? Why couldn’t you let me go with you?

  31

  Simmons hadn’t risen by the time Nathaniel led Rosie and Maddox northward, picking their way through outcrops of collapsed stone between the flood surrounding them. Rubble shifted underfoot, and rocks splashed into the water, dislodged by their passing.

  As promised, Isaac had produced a detailed map to their destination, though Nathaniel wasn’t sure how much help it would be in the changed landscape since the war.

  The clouds hung heavy in the sky, full of potential to release their vast quantities of rain. Nathaniel moved the group onward, and after a few hours, they entered a narrow gulley between two part-collapsed structures. The water had dwindled to mere puddles, ankle deep or less, and their progress quickened.

  As Nathaniel suspected, the landscape had changed, but the map still proved useful in pinpointing key landmarks, even through all the chaos. They moved in formation with Nathaniel taking the lead, followed by Rosie and then Maddox bringing up the rear.

  A large junction appeared before them, and they turned to head north-east along Barking Road. The rusted iron tracks of the old tramway led off into the distance.

  As they drew closer to the remains of Holy Trinity Church, Nathaniel noted the decline in stable structures as the area changed to an ever-increasing scene of destruction. Rubble lined the streets. The buildings all around were ruins of charred brick which grew more ravaged the further they travelled north.

  They stopped to rest, Maddox took a long swig from a canteen and passed it to Rosie who followed suit. Nathaniel drew out the frequency detector and attached the power leads to the battery at his waist.

  “What’s that?” she asked him, wiping her mouth on the back of her sleeve.

  “This is a resonant frequency receiver; it’s how we’ll locate the original watch if it survived.”

  She stoppered, then handed him the canteen. “You made it?”

  “Yes, just a little something I pulled together in my workshop.”

  He looked down to the device and tapped the glass cover on the gauge to check it was working. There was no trace of anything on the receivers frequency range, and he took the offered water.

  Maddox turned to face a street to their left. “What was that?”

  Their conversations halted as they all listened.

  “What did you hear?” Rosie asked.

  Maddox pointed his pistol in the direction. “It sounded like rubble shifting.”

  They waited a long, tense sixty seconds. “Whatever it was, nothing is happening there now,” Rosie said. “Let’s keep moving.”

  Maddox nodded but kept the gun aimed over there as they continued along the ruined street. As they reached the epicentre of the destruction, tangled tramlines bent out of the ground snapped and melted into slag by an incredible heat. All that remained of St Mark’s was a corner of the building that, despite the surrounding carnage, had stood the test of time.

  The asymmetrical twisted remains of the spire hung there as if suspended from the heavens, refusing to bow to the will of gravity. It was apt for a religious structure, he thought.

  “Wow,” Rosie said, peering down into massive gouges through the edge of the consecrated ground and street beyond. They reached down over six feet, having strewn brick and earth over the entire area heading east.

  Nathaniel lifted a misshapen cobblestone, its surface cracked, bubbled and shiny.

  Most of the stonework looked discoloured and burnt. The inferno that had swept through had reduced the rock to a molten state which had run and then solidified again as it cooled, forming elongated drips of stone.

  Nathaniel surveyed the crash site in a widening spiral as he monitored his receiver for any sign of the watch’s frequency. After fifteen minutes of careful checking, he’d had enough. “There’s nothing around here, not a trace.”

  “Should we follow the destruction eastwards?” Rosie asked from her makeshift seat, on an untouched stretch of wall.

  “Where’s Maddox?”

  Rosie pushed herself upright. “
He said he wanted to check the surrounding area. I saw no harm in it.”

  “No, sounds like a good idea. We might be here some time.”

  Nathaniel kept a close eye on the receiver as they followed the line of devastation to the east. The rubble mixed with huge sections of steel, the backbone of the great airship which plummeted from the skies in its final valiant attempt to resist the Martian onslaught.

  Maddox caught up with them after an hour. “It seems quiet out there,” he told them. “No signs of life. Not surprising though, everything around here’s flattened.”

  Even after four hours, there was no sign of what they were hunting. Nathaniel rechecked the machine, but it appeared to be working well within parameters, just nothing in range for it to detect.

  He sighed, returning the device to the belt clip he’d fashioned. Through the mass of shattered rubble, they arrived in an area where long sections of steel grew from the ground like massive ribs, broken and torn from some metallic beast.

  There was a low click. “Shh,” Nathaniel said, holding a hand out for quiet. It repeated a few seconds later from the device at his belt.

  He reached down, unclipping the detector to inspect it in more detail. He waited. The needle flickered up on the gauge, accompanied by a soft tick from the speaker.

  “It’s close,” he said. “We just need to track it down.”

  Rosie rushed up and hugged him. “You’ve found it, Nathaniel.”

  “Let’s not get too excited quite yet,” he said as Rosie almost spun him off his feet in excitement. “It could be trapped under tons of rubble or girders. We need a more precise location. But it’s here somewhere. Somewhere close.”

  It took another few minutes to locate the strongest signal, and as Nathaniel had feared, it seemed to emanate from below ground level. The area was on the far side of where they had first seen the metal struts which looked like the remains of the great airship’s ribs.