Trencher

by Richard Armitt

  “I have an idea, of sorts, this one is different though, she died in private. She was discovered late, and nobody could tell how long she’d been there.” They went quiet as couples do while another pair passed them in the opposite direction.

  “This man”, said Herbert, “He has the whole city on edge.”

  “Not for long.”

  “You speak so easily of it, but he is so very dangerous. Don’t you worry?”

  She gripped his shoulders, “Herbert, I am fond of our time, but this is my mission, it’s my real reason for me being here”, she saw the feeling across his face, “It’s my duty to take him back.”

  “I worry.”

  “I do too, enough for both of us. Besides my interruption shouldn’t distract you from your life’s work Mr. Wells.”

  “I’ll…”, the words stuck, “I’ll miss your company Costigan.”

  She threw a wavering smile across the water. “Me too.” They embraced for a moment, she went on, “You of all people need to go on, write, the world needs you to write Herbert.”

  They stayed together feeling the warmth of each other for some time; their walk almost forgotten.

  “I shouldn’t have interfered”, she said.

  “You had to.”

  “With you, Herbert, I meant with you.”

  predictable ends

  London, 2088

  Chief Mikkelson drained his mug and placed it with a sigh on the table he was leaning against. Above him the countdown was rolling past one minute and thirty-seven seconds. He saw Brig was looking in his direction. “I know all about her secret, unsolicited trips Brig.” The A.I. Cocked her head and focused on him. “Stealing books from history, to educate you and fuel her inappropriate ventures into off-limit timelines.”

  Brig drifted closer to him; she spoke directly. “We both have a shared interest in humanity and its colourful past.”

  “I hoped you enjoyed it while it lasted”, he folded his arms and narrowed his eyes, “Once we get her back on deck, once this is over.”

  “You’ll be shutting me down.”

  “Not surprised?”

  “It’s predictable.”

  “Sorry to disappoint”, he scratched his chin, “Trencher on the other hand will be undergoing an extensive debrief.”

  Brig smiled. “As you wish Chief.”

  “I mean it.”

  “I know”, she said going about her business.

  time for hunting

  London, 1888

  Herbert’s normally comfortable Drawing Room felt cold to Trencher. The fire was low, and the windows were battered by a gale outside. The clock was past midnight again, Herbert entered in his nightwear, he stood watching Trencher checking her equipment. She looked up and saw him as she checked over her gun again, “Is it time?”, he asked.

  “Afraid so”, she said as she shrugged on her coat.

  He stared at her for a moment and finally spoke, “May I accompany you, at least some of the way?”

  Trencher looked thoughtful, weighing it up, “That would be…nice”, she said with a smile.

  “We’ll need an umbrella”, he said waving at the curtain, “It’s raining cats and dogs.” Herbert looked down at himself, “and I suppose I ought to get dressed.” Trencher nodded and he turned on his heel to find clothes.

  They stood together huddled under the umbrella, across the road from was the entrance to Millers Court. The city was shrouded in darkness, thick smog was trying to roll in, but the storms that had turned to drizzle was keeping it to the corners. Trencher turned to Herbert, “Thanks for the company, but I need you to go home now”, she said.

  “Do you know what she looks like?” Trencher shook her head, “Not yet, but I know the address.” Trencher gave him another squeeze and a peck on the cheek.

  “Herbert, I really need you to go. I can’t be responsible for you here.”

  Herbert started to talk, stopped, caught himself and started again, “If this is to be goodbye then, please be careful and please, really know you have made your mark on me.”

  Trencher smiled and lifted his chin. “I’m always careful Mr. Wells and be sure I’ll be back. I just don’t know when exactly.” He nodded and stepped away taking the safety of the umbrella with him. “Thirteen Millers Court”, said Trencher.

  “Pardon?”, asked Herbert, fighting the urge to get closer again.

  “Thirteen Millers Court”, she pointed across the road, “Bring Reid here tomorrow, be discreet. I promise it will be over by then.”

  Herbert reached out a hand and she took it briefly. “Then it’s au revoir and good luck.”

  She shrugged and gave him a devilish smile, “I don’t need luck my dear Herbert. I’m a bad girl remember, I fight dirty.”

  henry's story

  London, 2117

  Hospital rooms have been stark and unwelcoming since the beginning of time, in the metal and glass future of London they were no different. Metal, plastic and synthetics lined the room, the empty hospital bed was unmistakable. From the windows a view ranged out across the spires of the city as they cut jagged points above the ever-increasing smog below. Passenger sized vehicles zipped past the windows just out of reach, close enough to see the people inside, but not to hear through the reinforced plasti-glass.

  Henry Trencher sat at the side of the empty bed, the mattress stripped bare, his eyes red rimmed. He clutched the Great Coat to his chest focused on a paper wrapped parcel that lay on the empty mattress. The door opened quietly behind him, a nurse entered softly, she maneuvered herself into his line of sight before speaking. “I’m sorry Mr. Trencher”, he looked up at her, “But you are going to have to leave soon.”

  He looked up at her, lost, “I don’t know what to do”, he whispered. The nurse went to the window and busied herself adjusting the blinds, another vehicle, an ambulance flashed by.

  “Do you have any other relatives? Anybody you can call on?”, she asked. Henry answered without looking at her, “My Father, I did promise her I’d visit my Father.”

  She crouched down in front of him, “That’s good. Do you want me to call him?’

  “I don’t think that’s possible”, he said shaking his head, “We’ve never met you see.”

  “Oh. I understand”, she stood, stepped to the door and opened it.

  “I wish you did”, he stood gingerly, “He’s here in London, somewhen, I’ll have to find him myself.”

  “Well, that sounds like a good step”, she said, “How about we freshen you up? Come out to the family room and I’ll organise a cuppa. A sweet tea to start the day.” Henry nodded and smiled a thank you, as she left, he slipped on the coat. He pulled the collar up to smell it.

  “Thanks, I’ll be off soon”, he said to the empty room, picking up the parcel from bed in one hand. He looked through the window, seeing the new day for the first time. Then he fished his right hand from the coat pocket he’d dropped it into. He frowned, then smiled. In his palm was a Timekey.

  Not more than thirty seconds later the door opened again, and the Nurse walked through, holding a steaming plastic cup of tea and a clipboard. “Mr. Trencher”, she said, “I have a couple of forms for you to fill in, drink your drink and you can be on your w…”, she halted realising she was talking to an empty room.

  Henry was gone, the room was empty except for a dusting of snow and two footprints near the window.

  a spot of break and enter

  London, 1888

  Trencher had worked her way around Millers Court, quietly approaching number thirteen without drawing any after-hours attraction to herself. There was nobody about and when she came across the front door, she found a broken window beside it. Reaching through the hole and lifting the latch came naturally. The door opened with a low squeak, more like rubbing wood than under oiled hinges.

  Inside she found the single room illuminated by the burning fireplace. The dancing flames in the grate threw shadows across the twelve-foot space, hiding details of the corne
rs. “Mary?”, called out Trencher, before the stench of death hit her. She recoiled, the heat driving the sickly smell into the back of her throat. Trencher whipped her gun out, focusing on the room, the shadows, then bed, “Oh dear Lord”, she whispered, seeing Mary for the first time.

  The unrecognisable remains of Mary Kelly lay on the small single bed. The bed was blood-soaked, her entrails hung down to the floor resting in a sticky pool. “Too damn late”, she whispered, dropping her gun hand, “Fuck.” A sudden rush of cold air hit her, followed instantly by the crash of a steel bar smashing the wrist of her gun hand. Her weapon skittered across the floor and she went down in a painful heap, through the white pain she saw Jackal standing in the doorway, framed by the night sky. “No, my dear, you are right on time”, he leered in, his blood covered face grinning as he bent down to her.

  She grunted and tried to push him away with her good hand, cradling the smashed wrist against her body she was weakened with pain. “Looks painful Trencher, does it hurt?”, he dropped to his haunches in front of her. Like a wounded animal she scuttled backwards against a wall, smearing Mary’s blood as she went. Trencher got her feet under her and slid up the wall to an almost standing position. She palmed her Timekey into her broken hand and raised her knife in her left.

  “You’re a fucking monster Jackal, and you’re coming with me.”

  Jackal shook his head, he wiped his bloody chin and stood up to square off, he nodded at the knife, “You’re holding it wrong.”

  With steeled eyes she expertly spun the blade, changing her grip to handle down, blade towards him. “Better?”

  “Better”, he said. They drove toward one another in a flurry of arms and glinting knife.

  Outside Millers Court, Herbert had cautiously worked his way back along the street. He was standing in the drizzle outside number thirteen, his eyes fixed on the doorway and small window.

  Inside the room Jackal landed a kick at Trencher’s flank, causing her to double up for a moment. While he gleefully admired his work, she launched back at him. First, she planted her knife in the back of his thigh hilt deep, she let go to grab his wrist and swing him round enough to almost wrench his arm from its socket. Using the momentum, she planted him face down on the table. She thumbed the Timekey with her broken hand and scattered it to a corner of the room, where it burst into life, flooding the area in amber light.

  Trencher dragged him upright and marched him limping backwards toward the portal. “End of this road for you”, she snarled, bunching herself to push him through to the future.

  The door to the room opened behind them, Trencher’s attention was momentarily lost and that was all Jackal needed to push back. He twisted out of the hold and grabbed her broken wrist, forcing her to her knees.

  Trencher saw Herbert standing in the doorway, frozen by the scene, “Herbert! RUN!”, she screamed through the pain.

  Jackal had wrenched the knife from his leg and held it out toward Herbert, “Don’t you fucking move Mister!”, he spat, as he dragged Trencher into full view, “Now. Step inside and shut the door.”

  Herbert did as he was told, edging into the room, transfixed by the sight of Trencher bested by this monster. He felt his foot nudge up against something on the floor, a quick glance confirmed it was Trencher’s gun.

  Oblivious to Herbert’s discovery Jackal dragged Trencher back to her feet, he planted her knife into her chest and kicked her backward through the portal. Trencher screamed incoherently as the portal swallowed her up.

  one way trip

  London, 2088

  The countdown clock read 00:57 seconds when Brig snapped to attention. Holographic displays jumped into life in front of her. “Mikkelson, we have a lock”, she reported matter of factly.

  “Can you tell who’s coming?” Brig frowned as best as a hologram can, “Trencher, apparently alone.”

  Mikkelson called out to his men, “Weapons hot guys, get ready.” The portal started to congeal in the centre of the room, amber flashes followed by spark laden clouds.

  turning tables

  London, 1888

  She was gone, there was a smattering of snow in the small space, but the heat in the air turned it to moisture. Jackal swivelled to Herbert in the amber glow, where he found the bespectacled gentleman pointing Trencher’s gun at him with shaking hands.

  Jackal smiled, “Gonna shoot me?”

  “Don’t”, said a shaky Herbert.

  A step closer, “Then shoot me.” Jackal made a show of slowly drawing his long knife, Barrelman’s long knife.

  “Don’t”, said Herbert again.

  Another step. “You seem like an educated man. Herbert, is it?” Herbert’s eyes widened as he saw a second portal taking shape behind Jackal. “I wonder if that makes your brains taste any sweeter?”

  A second dusting of snowflakes began to fall, closer to the men than the fire, these lasted slightly longer. Spiraling down between them, a few, then more.

  Jackal focused on the snow and started to say something, “What the…”, pain racked him as a familiar blade was plunged deep into the back of his shoulder and neck. A hand clamped around his face, clawing at his eyes, dragging him backwards.

  back to the future

  London, 2088

  The countdown clock was at 00:48 seconds when Trencher fell backwards from the portal. It would have been a pratfall fit for a circus had Mikkelson not stepped in to catch her and the fact that she was terribly wounded. The Chief pulled her away from the portal, bleeding and in pain she was still fighting to get back, “I’ve got to go back, he’s right there!”

  Mikkelson kept her steady, he snapped up to one of the Guards, “Medic! Get a Medic, right now!”

  Trencher grabbed his lapels with her good hand, her red rimmed eyes pleading for action, “Jackal, is right there!”

  Brig looked over, “We’re out of time Chief, I need to close the rip.”

  “Do it”, said Mikkelson. Trencher screamed as she pushed away with her broken wrist, “NO! Mack, Mack needs us”, there were tears running freely, “And Herbert, Herbert’s there”, she mumbled, “He’s going to die, and its my fault…”

  Mikkelson pulled her to her feet, “You tried kid, but this time you didn’t win”, he looked over at Brig, “Do it.”

  “Trencher you need to collect your key, now, we can’t leave it behind”, said Brig pointing at the portal.

  The Chief supported her to stumble closer to the portal, through the tears and the pain she knew she couldn’t fight on, she looked at the Chief and he nodded. With Mikkelson’s help Trencher reached into the portal with her good hand like a reluctant child accepting punishment.

  “Stop!”, shouted Brig, “Something’s happening.”

  “Herbert?”, croaked a wistful Trencher.

  there's always time

  London, 1888

  Behind Jackal stood a different version of Trencher, hair pulled back, different clothes. She looked over his shoulder towards Herbert with fire in her eyes. She wheeled Jackal around and pushed him back towards the first portal, the amber halo around him intensified.

  She wasn’t hurt, she wasn’t bleeding, she held him firm with two strong wrists. Herbert was agape, his mind no stranger to the fanciful idea of time, he was struggling with the reality. He’d dropped to his knees and could do nothing but stare.

  Trencher took a long hard look at Jackal’s snarling face, saw the blood seeping from his knife wound. She threw her head backwards and smashed her forehead into his nose. “Happy travels”, she said as she threw him squarely back to the future. Jackal was gone, a second later the first portal snapped shut. She dusted herself off and pulled Herbert up.

  Trencher rubbed her forehead, “I’ve got to stop doing that.”

  “You came back? But there wasn’t time?”, he protested. “You of all people should know, there’s always time”, she countered. He was taking her in, seeing the changes. “Hey, we have to get away. You need to go home, and I need to close this�
�, she waived at her portal.

  “You’re, ok? Not wounded?”, asked Herbert urgently. “No, some time has passed for me, I had to straighten things out.” Herbert hugged her, then pulled back and his eyes drifted downwards, “How long exactly?”, he asked.

  She patted her extended abdomen, “About six months.”

  “My goodness”, was all he could manage. Trencher scooped up her gun and pushed it into his hand, “Look after this my love, get away from here. Please”, she kissed him and held his gaze, “Herbert do as I say, the police will be here soon.”

  “Of course, but I have questions. So many questions”, he said.

  “They will have to wait, but will be answered”, she moved closer to the portal, “later, I promise, but you have to go, while its still dark.”

  “Of course”, he said.

  “I’ll be in touch”, she stepped back into her portal and it snapped shut, leaving the room in the semi darkness of the dying embers.

  “Of course”, he said again to nobody, then his eyes caught sight of Mary’s remains for the first time and he retched.

  back to hell

  London, 2088

  At 00:39 seconds the bloody mess of Jackal lurched into the control room, bursting past Mikkelson and Trencher and falling sideways. Trencher closed the portal once he was clear, pulling the key and dropping it into a pocket with her good hand.