Chapter 7 – The Decision
The story came out in fits and starts on the ferry ride to Vancouver. There were parts she didn't want to remember, but she told him the highlights. When she got to Jane's rescue, his face clouded over.
"That was irresponsible," he declared. "They never should have done that. They certainly shouldn't have let you participate."
She stared at him, startled. "But we had to help Jane!"
"At what cost?" He shook his head. "No, you don't make progress by turning a disaster into a catastrophe. Sometimes you have to accept your losses and move on."
He sounded so certain that she didn't argue. She thought of Jane in the hospital, though, talking of her plans for the future. Surely that wasn't a bad thing! Smith and Garson were dead. That was a high price to pay, a ghastly price, but what was the option? Allow the cult to flourish, look the other way? Surely that wasn't a realistic strategy.
She stared moodily out at the water, trying to recapture her happiness of a few hours before. If Roland had a blind spot, it stemmed from his absolute determination to keep her safe. She couldn't fault him for that.
When they docked in Vancouver Roland got in line at a news stand and Colleen walked into the middle of the terminal. It was the first time she'd been more than a dozen feet from him since he'd burst into her hotel room, almost the first time she'd stopped touching him since he saved her life. She wanted a bit of distance, enough room to think without the intoxicating aura that he seemed to generate.
Not so much distance that she couldn't see him, of course. She watched him shuffle forward in the lineup, proud of his height, his broad shoulders, his casual confidence.
A group of cowboys blocked her view. There were six of them, lanky, weathered men in long dusters and Stetsons. You saw every kind of person in a place like this. A prim little man in a grey business suit came over to meet them and led them to the ticket counter. Colleen smiled. What would a group of cowboys do in Victoria? Catch a ship for somewhere else, she imagined. There weren't many cattle on the island.
Roland bought a newspaper and came strolling toward her. He stopped beside her, but he gazed past her shoulder and said, "Now, what's the matter with him?"
Colleen turned and found the short man in the grey suit staring at her from across the terminal. He had striking features, a face almost perfectly round with a bristling Chaplin-style mustache under his nose and round, steel-rimmed spectacles. He held her gaze for a moment, then turned away, talking to the cowboy beside him.
"Friend of yours?"
She glanced up at Roland. "No, I've never seen him before." Well, she had bruises around her mouth from Jimbo's hands, and dark circles under her eyes. Small wonder people were staring. "Shall we go?"
She and Roland left the terminal and joined a queue for taxis. There were over a dozen people ahead of them, and not a cab in sight. Roland grinned and opened his newspaper. "I guess I should have waited until we got to the train station," he said. "I let everyone get ahead of us."
"I don't mind," Colleen told him. "It's nice to be by the ocean." She left him minding their luggage and holding their place in the line, and walked to the corner of the terminal building. She watched gulls wheel and dive. After a while a horn sounded, and soon she saw the ferry moving away from shore.
She could see the cowboys in a line at the ferry railing and wondered again what brought them to Victoria. A man in a suit had come to meet them, so it had to be something important.
For some reason, the man in the suit bothered her. She thought she remembered him vaguely from the morning's crossing. He'd come across just to meet with the cowboys and bring them back, then. What troubled her? She was sure she'd never seen him before. His face was too distinctive to forget.
She chased the thought in circles, then pushed it from her mind. Her brain would serve up the answer if she gave it a chance. She walked back to rejoin Roland.
"Cor," said a voice behind her, "we'll 'ave a 'ard time makin' our reservation now."
Colleen went cold as the memory came rushing back. A hotel lobby, the prick of a knife, and a voice behind her, a cold, clipped British accent. A man in a suit. She'd never seen his face.
"Darling?" Roland's voice was tight with concern. "What is it?"
She stared at him. "That man. The round-faced man in the train station. I think he's a member of the cult."
His eyebrows rose. "Are you sure?"
She wasn't sure, far from it. She hadn’t even heard his voice this time. The suit was similar, and the way he'd stared at her was unsettling. It could be coincidence.
"It doesn't matter," Roland said, as if she'd spoken aloud. "There's nothing we can do about it now. He's gone. We're out of it now. Forget him." And he turned away, calmly scanning the street for a taxi.
Colleen stared at the back of his head, speechless. He wasn't pretending. He honestly didn't care. Colleen was safe. They were leaving. In Roland's mind, nothing else mattered.
She looked toward the ocean, the ferry, and Vancouver Island somewhere just over the horizon. She was safe, but she wasn't the only person involved.
A taxi pulled up and the man in line ahead of them got in. Roland and Colleen were next.
She kept staring after the ferry, thinking about the cowboys. Six men, tough-looking, on their way to Victoria with a cultist. They were reinforcements, she was sure of it. There would be guns in their luggage. And Carter and Rick and Maggie had no idea they were coming.
She looked at Roland, sighing as she realized the dream of safety was going to slip away. If going with him would mean safety. The cult might leave her alone, but she could never be sure. She would be looking over her shoulder for years, scrutinizing every stranger, clinging to Roland and wondering if proximity to her would eventually get him killed.
Some stubborn streak inside of her began to reassert itself. Even if her friends weren't in deadly danger, she realized she couldn't go with Roland. She wasn't going to live in fear. If the cult was going to terrorize her, she was going to take the fight to them. Again and again, until they were no more threat to her or anyone else.
Another taxi pulled up, and Roland picked up his valise and her suitcase. He smiled at her, then froze as he saw the expression on her face.
"Thank you so much for saving me," she said. "Thank you for coming. But I'm not going back with you."
His jaw dropped. "What do you mean?"
Colleen stood on her tiptoes to kiss him on the cheek. "There's something I have to do," she said. "Goodbye."
Gears of a Mad God: A Steampunk Lovecraft Adventure Page 7