by C K Burch
“I've waded across deeper and faster waters than these back home,” Dust pressed. “Look, you make a good point, but all we have to do is go in and out and we're home free. Lickity split. Leviathans leave us be.”
“While that might be all well and good, that's not the point I'm making. The point – ”
“Christ, mum!” Cairn exclaimed, pointing into the canal. “Look at the size of that one!”
Dust turned to chide the boy for his volume as they needed to be quiet, but his eyes widened as he followed Cairn's gesture, and his hand quickly went to his pistol in instinct. They all backed a few paces as they took in the sight of a sea serpent casually writhing its way along the bottom of the canal. It was at least twelve feet long, thick and bristly, with a large dorsal fin that rose a foot in length halfway down its back. A long, scissor-like snout moved of its own accord as it swam, open and shut, over and over. It had no eyes. Buoyed by the current, it appeared to be drifting aimlessly until it came upon a distracted salmon which bobbled against its snout by accident. Then the serpent pounced: the whole length of it coiled, tensed, and shot forward with a blinding speed that confused Dust as he viewed, unable to process how quick the bite of the beast was. The salmon was there, and then gone; small bits floated about in the canal waters after, and the serpent continued, now flexing its length, rolling, and its large fin stuck out above the current like a sail, then dipped back below after.
Dust nodded. “Okay, I see your point.”
Jack swallowed audibly. She then looked up and down the canal twice before finally pointing towards the waterwheels. “This way. If you're correct, there must be some sort of platform for maintaining those wheels.”
Everyone agreed, so they quickly – and quietly – hurried along the edge of the canal, feeling a sense of great import. More gunshots echoed somewhere in the city, closer now, louder now, signaling Ryder's troubles would soon cross their own. Mingling between the gunshots were screeches and roars of something primal – and also very large. Whatever the inhabitants of the city were, they were either numerous or resilient enough to withstand the continual gunfire of Ryder's caravan. Every now and again, Dust looked over his shoulder, expecting to see the crew of the Venture thunder around the corner, pursued by some incredible beast. Not as yet, but soon enough.
Approaching the waterwheels, they were faced with a dilemma: whatever suspension that had crossed the canal once was now a collection of rubble at the bottom of it. Looking over the edge, Dust saw the collapsed remnants of stone and gold, glittering beneath the crystal river. On the edge of the pathway, ruined pillars of a walkway still remained, jutting forth like rough fingers, signaling that however the bridge had been dismantled, it had not been by natural means. Someone had collapsed the bridge intentionally to prevent others from crossing. Devious, and more evidence that they would not receive a warm welcome within these walls.
A pair of turbines sat both on their side and on the opposite side of the canal. Crafted of the same stone-and-gold material, they spun like lazy pinwheels, turning in the current, and as they did Dust looked down at their mechanisms in the water for clarity. Gearworks and gold chains worked in tandem as the wheels turned, ancient machinery that modern man would be envious of. The golden chain was twined with the base of the wheel to turn the stone gears, which were connected in turn to a stone pole that ran the width of the canal and connected to the waterwheel on the opposite side. Clearly they held some purpose, but what? Dust put aside such inquisitive thoughts for the moment. Now in the ever-closing distance, they could hear engines and shouting.
“What now?” Jack asked breathlessly. “We have to cross or we won't reach the center of the city.”
Dust bit his lip and examined the wheels. “Gimme a second.”
The canal itself was too wide for an attempt to leap across. But both of the wheels were sitting in the current within the canal, which meant that if he could mount one and climb it, the distance to jump from one to the other was significantly lessened – and possible. Eyeing the water for a possible sea serpent, Dust grasped hold of the side of the wheel coming out of the waters. As it rose, so did he. The trick, now, was to pull himself up to the apex before it turned too far over towards the river. Fortunately, the cups of the wheel made for excellent leverage, and Dust soon stood on top of the stone. However, the wheel was not as sturdy as he imagined, and it wobbled slightly beneath his feet, setting him off-balance.
He gauged, steadied himself, and leapt.
He could not make the distance landing on his feet, so he reached out and grasped the wheel with his arms as his chest slammed into the side, nearly knocking the wind from him. Quite fortunate that this wheel was much sturdier than the previous. Struggling with the momentum of the turning wheel, he pulled himself upwards and rolled off onto the street. Now that he'd crossed, he quickly motioned for the others to make the same jump.
They stood looking at him, their eyes reflecting Not on your life.
Dust raised an eyebrow and looked cross. “We really need to – ” He mimed jumping over the canal. “We don't have time, why are you standing there?”
“Are you bloody mad?” Thomas hissed. He pointed between the wheels. “We'll fall in! We'll be eaten by one of those leviathans!”
“Or get shot by Ryder if you keep standing there! Just, could you please? Move. Now.”
Thomas began to argue further, but as he did, Jack stepped onto the rise of the waterwheel, and lifted herself into position.
“Sissie!” Thomas protested.
She ignored him and waited, gauging as Dust had. Her eyes were alight with concentration, and when she reached the turn that she needed, she jumped from wheel to wheel, landing again as Dust had, but she seemed more ready for it. Twisting herself so that she could dismount easily, she soon found herself standing beside Dust, breathing heavily.
“Not so bad,” she said with a grin.
“Not at all.” Dust grinned back, then gestured at the two remaining on the other side.
Cairn looked at Thomas. “You wanna go first, Lordship?”
Thomas shook his head. He seemed deathly ill.
Cairn shrugged and shimmied up the wheel with an ease that Dust had not expected. Then he nimbly hopped from one wheel to the next, using his feet to brace his impact, and then he gave a twirl as he leapt from the wheel to Dust's side. Cheeky little show-off. Dust gave the lad a pat on the shoulder.
Thomas stared at the water.
“Come on, Thomas!” Jack pled.
He shook his head violently. “I can't. I can't swim.”
Dust's face fell. Now he said something.
“You don't have to swim,” Jack chided, “you just have to jump!”
“Christ.” Thomas was visibly sweating. “Go on without me. I'll reason with Ryder, I'll, I'll offer him more money, I'll – ”
“Seven goddamn hells.” Dust turned his ear in the direction of Ryder's crew. The shouting was becoming more and more distinct. He couldn't make out what anyone was saying between the gunfire and the roaring, but he would soon. Too soon.
Thomas picked up on this as well, and nodded his head. “Alright, alright, I'm, I'll give it a go.”
Slowly, cautiously, he drew himself up onto the rise of the turbine, crawling like a newborn, as timid as a frightened animal. He refused to take his eyes away from the rushing current, scanning it for potential predators, his elbows and knees quivering with fear.
Tires squealing caught Dust's attention, and he turned, expecting to see one of the jeeps coming down the street in their direction. Still not yet. He could hear Ryder's voice stick out among the cacophony. Whatever was chasing them was attacking liberally, as the amount of gunfire had doubled.
“Okay,” Thomas said weakly, “okay, I think I can – ”
The unstable waterwheel quaked hard beneath Thomas as he attempted to stand, and he instead fell over the side.
Damn!
Thomas managed to grab onto the top of the wheel as
he hung on the outside of it, his shoes attempting to grip the damp siding with no luck. His grip was precarious at best, and as the turbine rocked and shook, it was clear that Thomas would have no chance to climb back up. The wheel shook again and Thomas fell towards the water. Dust's hand was instantly at his bullwhip, and he snaked it outward to catch Thomas' waist. It was a success, and as Thomas splashed into the canal, he was at least held by the bullwhip's length, and Dust just needed to reel him in – quickly.
Cairn smacked Dust's forearm for attention. “Guv!”
The lad was pointing at the water; a serpent was drifting hurriedly towards Thomas' frenzied splashing.
“Quick!” Dust nodded at his holster as he pulled Thomas towards the bank.
Cairn understood, and drew the pistol, aiming it at the serpent. His hands were steady and sure, and he waited. He needed to wait – the moment the trigger was pulled, their location would be given away.
“Help! Please! Help me!” Thomas wailed. His movements were wild and unsure, splashing and thrashing and making it difficult for Dust to pull him closer assuredly. Dust struggled with the line, as Thomas' flailing only served to push him further away from the edge of the canal. He grit his teeth as he strained against Thomas' weight, but found himself wanting. The current plus the fool's flailing was working too harshly against him.
Jack knelt by the edge, ignoring the coming serpent. “My hand, Thomas!”
Thomas reached out and then sunk beneath the water momentarily. When he came back up, he was coughing and choking, his eyes shut tight to avoid water getting in. The man had become completely useless now, entirely without the ability to save himself, and at this rate someone was going to have to dive in to bring him to the shore. Just as Dust was about to shout at the idiot, Jack took matters into her own hands: she sprung from the edge of the canal and splashed hard as she entered the water, quickly bobbing back up to the surface.
Dust briefly eyed the serpent. It was coming too close.
“Cairn,” he warned.
“Eyes onnit, guv,” Cairn replied coolly.
Jack got her arms under Thomas and pushed him towards the bank, with Dust finally able to reel them in with success. Meanwhile, the serpent had ceased to swim, but now drifted in the current, as the other had with the salmon, holding a still course and waiting for the moment to strike efficiently. Droplets of sweat from effort and tension rolled down Dust's temple. He concentrated on pulling the siblings in, even as Cairn appeared to be indifferent.
The serpent came within three feet of Jack's heels.
Cairn pulled the trigger.
It was a magnificent shot: the bullet pierced the surface and left a bubbly contrail behind it on target to sink into the monster's brain. The serpent shuddered and spasmed, unaware of what this terrifying new pain could be, as a cloud of bloody excrement flooded the area around it. Cairn held steady, prepared for another shot, but there was no need – the serpent ceased its thrashing and was still, floating listlessly by as Dust retrieved brother and sister from the waters. As Jack and Thomas knelt at the canal's edge, Thomas shuddering and quaking with the release of fear, Dust sighed heavily with both relief and the exertion.
“Sweet mother,” he breathed, and reached out to take the gun from Cairn. “Whoever gave you training should be real proud of you. Your aim and timing are impeccable.”
Cairn beamed. “Trained myself, guv. Just hours on the range when no one was looking, until I was good enough to shoot when people were.”
Dust grinned. “I like you, kid. I like you a lot.”
Something screeched, guttural and unearthly.
They all looked up and around.
“That's really close,” Jack whispered.
“Too close,” Dust replied. “Cover. Move. Now!”
Jack and Cairn helped Thomas to his feet as Dust led the way. Across the intersection, a pair of double-story buildings promised sanctuary. He waved them towards the entrance of the closest, not daring to speak as the sounds of the Venture caravan had closed in to where they could now make out conversations. Slow-running engine humming accompanied this, suggesting that the caravan was no longer being chased. Indeed, Dust realized that in the midst of saving Thomas, all gunfire has ceased. Which assured no doubt that Ryder had heard the report of the pistol, and extra caution would be necessary as they hid. Ryder was crafty; he understood how to hunt. As they passed beneath the entrance to the temple building, Dust noted the streetpole just outside of it. Indeed, this area of the street now saw the return of the poles at their regular pacing. Something about it struck him as odd, but there was no time to pay it mind, now.
Inside, the foyer of the temple was scarce, empty of furnishings or décor save for a carved relief of Brahma on the far wall. Motes of dust swirled about lazily, caught in a gleam of sunlight streaming down from above. A layer of collected water filled the ground in the center of the floor, causing Dust to look up and see a jagged hole in the domed ceiling – ah, the source of the light. The city had not been as cared for as he'd imagined, then. Disrepair such as this would no doubt appear elsewhere.
Stairs led up to the second floor, which was essentially one wide square walkway around the perimeter of the building. Up they went, Dust following last with the pistol drawn. Thomas was regaining his wits and strength, and gently pushed Jack's grasp away from him as he fumbled up the stone steps. At the summit, they all paused and took a breath, leaning against the wall, as Dust made his way around towards one of the wide windows, which faced the street below. The window itself had been made wider with age from the same disrepair as the hole in the dome ceiling, bricks missing on either side of the golden framework. He ducked out of sight and cautiously peeked over the edge, listening.
Minutes passed. Engines, straining with use, grew louder until the first of the caravan came around the corner at high velocity. It was the truck, followed by the three jeeps. Ryder was in the lead of course, leaning out of the passenger side of the truck whilst keeping his eyes on the area, shotgun in hand. They came to a quick halt, brakes protesting, and some of the men stood in their seats as they took stock of their location. Dust scrutinized their situation: some of them had torn clothing and skin, blood matting their bodies and hair. Wild-eyed looks were given in all directions, the crew searching frantically for whatever they had been shooting at previously. Claw marks and heavy dents decorated the vehicles; not large enough for the dinosaurs that they had already encountered. Something smaller had attacked them, something lighter. Faster, presumably, from the way the men were continually turning and looking for something to attack them.
Ryder stepped down and looked haggard. His clothing was torn ragged in places and deeply soaked, a combination of sweat and violence. He fished a few folded-up pages from his shirt pocket and opened them up. Jack's drawings, no doubt. Bastard. As Ryder checked his map, he would make occasional glances up and around, checking his bearings, so Dust ducked down low, careful not to be seen.
“Oy!” one of the men called. “Where're we at, boss?”
“I'm checking,” Ryder replied. He sounded frustrated. Often this happened when he wasn't getting his way.
“Might want to check faster, boss,” a different voice cautioned. “Wherever them apes went, I doubt they're holding back long.”
“I said, I'm checking,” Ryder snarled. “Bloody bitch's sodding illustrations are frantic. Can't make heads'r tails of whatever the bloody shite she was attempting to copy.”
Dust raised an eyebrow. Apes, they said. Interesting. And Ryder was lost, something of a rarity. This could be used to their advantage.
“Look sharp, up high!” one of the men shouted, and he began firing his machinegun. It was aimed away from Dust's position, so he briefly peeked over the edge of the window to see if he could spot the beast being fired upon. But there was nothing: the man, clearly shaken, was firing at empty air, near one of the streetpoles. Bullets uselessly broke apart sections of a partition, until Ryder reached over and grabbe
d the man roughly by the neck, ceasing the report.
“Quiet!” Ryder seethed. He grabbed the stock of the Tommy gun and shoved the man away. “You idiot! We've only just lost them!”
“But I saw one, boss! I saw it! It swung by and – ”
“Goddamn bloody bastard,” Ryder muttered. “Don't shoot at shadows. Don't shoot until you see one clearly. McAlan is out there as well, and you know how crafty that derro is. So don't give away our position. Do you understand?”
“I – I – ” The man blinked for a moment; the trauma of the attacks had clearly taken its toll.
Ryder shook his head and waved for another to lead the man into the truck. Ryder then passed the Tommy gun to a free hand and returned his gaze to the makeshift map.
Dust contemplated all of this for a moment, then stealthily made his way back to Jack and the others.
“Well?” Jack whispered.
“Ryder can't read your map, and is lost,” Dust replied, smiling despite himself. “Something of a miracle, really, but one that we can use to our advantage.”
Jack, however, was frowning. “I drew that map with impeccable detail. How is he lost?”
Dust stared back. “Can we focus on what's currently actually important?”
“Yes, yes, of course.” Jack shook her head. Something was still bothering her.
“What's the advantage, guv?” Cairn asked.
“Right now they're trying to figure out a direction, and they're too busy watching out for whatever attacked them for anything else.” Dust considered this. “I'll need to sneak down, grab a couple of machineguns, maybe even steal the map so they're totally screwed, then – ”
“What attacked them?” Jack interrupted.
“Apes.” Dust rolled his eyes as Jack continued to stare at him for more information. “Large vicious apes. Very fast, apparently very deadly. I'm unsure how to use that word in a prehistoric context, but – ”
“Primates,” Jack mused. Her eyes widened. “Hanuman's descendants.”