by C J Lutton
”Just a guess on my part. I know you don't like that word, but that's all I have. It's just a feeling that you would never let an opportunity slip by when you can talk of such far—reaching things as life after death.”
”Very good. We spoke of many things. There were instances, according to Moriarty, that our paths had crossed without my knowledge. It may come as a surprise to you, as it surely had that effect on me, but it was Moriarty who was involved in that case you have so dramatically called, The Giant Rat of Sumatra.”
I stiffened. The book was written and ready for publication, but I had made no mention of Moriarty or his involvement.
Holmes continued, “After this matter is finished, I shall have to seek out corroboration of Moriarty's version. If he’s correct, then your story is in error.”
“Then I'm relieved that you were able to dissuade me from its publication,” I said. “If our old friend Lestrade would ever have caught wind of it, we would have looked like bungling fools. I haven't thought of Lestrade in a while. I wonder what he's been up to. Why you have allowed him to take credit for the cases that we've worked on, I'll never understand. The man is a buffoon. He is incapable of reaching an original thought, if his life depended on it. But never mind about him. What about Moriarty?”
Holmes lit his pipe. ”It's ironic,” the great man continued from behind a cloud of smoke, ”but towards the end of our discussion, I pitied the man. He spoke of the simple things that he missed the most. As a vampire, he could no longer feel love. His only emotion of the heart was survival. He rambled on about music and other things, and that he yearned for a glass of Bordeaux. Simple pleasures we take for granted. But most revealing was his desire to experience the fear of dying. He said the urgency of life made every act more meaningful, but because of his newly found immortality, his actions felt meaningless. He spoke of his confinement in the cave at Reichenbach, and how Dracula held him as a virtual blood bank for nearly three years. The monster would leave only on the rare occasion to slake his thirst for unusual blood, such as he could find in the small woodland creatures.”
”It served Moriarty right,” I remarked, then wished that I could take the words back. No one deserved to die like that. Not even Moriarty.
Holmes nodded. ”He remarked, and not without some humour, that if it was I who had fallen over the falls I would've been in his position. Who knows, Watson, perhaps, you and Thaddeus would be seeking me out to drive a stake through my heart. Should such a transformation happen, you and Thaddeus must have the fortitude to do what's necessary. Do you understand?”
Sadly, I nodded yes.
Holmes reached a decision. ”Good!” he exclaimed. ”Now, we'll speak of lighter things and put this all behind us. Do you think the dining room is still open?”
”Just one more question, Holmes. Why did you leave to fight Moriarty alone?”
“One reason. My answer may be a disappointment to you.”
”Forget my disappointment, Holmes. Out with it! What could have possessed you to act so recklessly?”
”You, old boy,” Holmes replied. ”I could not stand the possibility of losing you to that monster.”
I rose from my chair and clapped him on the back. Then we walked out of the suite and down to the dining room. We arrived in the lobby just in time to see Thaddeus entering the hotel, his arms laden with packages.
”This is the best I could do, Mr. Holmes,” said the young man. “It's not exactly as you requested, but the only place that could meet your requirements was the garrison.”
”I'm sure they're fine,” Holmes said. “Oh, well, the dining room is closed. I suppose we'll be forced to spend the night listening to our grumbling stomachs.”
Thaddeus smiled while clutching a canvas satchel tighter to his chest. He had procured three parcels, one for each of us. We returned to our suite and inspected the contents of the packages with one exception. Thaddeus would not even put his canvas satchel down.
Each package contained a rucksack, a coil of hemp, a lantern, a miner's cap, a hammer, pitons, a compass, a bolt of canvas, a canteen, a sleeping roll, matches, and an assortment of pulleys and karabiners.
”Perfect!” Holmes commended the young man. His eyes lowered to the satchel in Thaddeus’ hands. ”And what is in that?”
”I noticed the dining room had already closed when I left, so I asked Major Ryder if something could be prepared for us.” With a smile, Thaddeus opened the satchel, removed three metal cylinders, and placed them on the table. They were field pots! Each stood about twelve inches high and were broken down into separate compartments that could be stacked one on top of the other and held in place with metal clamps. When separated, there were four different pots. The bottom of each pot, acting as a lid for the one beneath, excepting, of course, the top pot which had its own distinct lid. Each compartment was brimming to the top with steaming hot food. The bottom pot contained a clear broth. The next held biscuits and gravy. The third had beef stew, and the last one was coffee.
”Remarkable!” I laughed.
”Thaddeus, you have done splendidly, but where are the eating utensils?” Holmes asked.
Concern flashed upon Thaddeus’ face. I said, “The young man cannot be expected to remember everything.”
Thaddeus whistled shrilly. He reached in his pockets and removed knives, forks, spoons, and even salt and pepper shakers.
”Well done, Thaddeus,” said Holmes.
”What, no napkins?” I queried, joining in on the merriment.
With the drama and flourish of a great magician, Thaddeus removed three starched and perfectly folded dinner napkins from the inside pocket of his jacket.
”Bravo! Bravo!” said Holmes. ”Well, Watson, do you have anything to add?”
”Time to eat?” I asked.
”Just a minute, Dr. Watson,” said Thaddeus, in all seriousness. ”This is for after dinner.” He took a flask from his jacket and flipped open the cap. The vessel was filled with brandy! Reaching into another pocket, Thaddeus removed three cigars. As we gawked in amazement, the young man added, ”Now, we can eat!”
After our delicious dinner, the rest of the evening was spent in pleasant conversation. We smoked the excellent cigars and consumed the fiery brandy.
Our new supplies were packed away in the rucksacks and placed to one side. We directed our attentions to the cleaning of our weapons. This was accomplished with quiet and practiced movements. We soon had everything squared away, as sailors would say, in preparation for tomorrow's journey. With an air of quiet determination, we spoke of the coming day's plans and prepared for bed. Just as we were about to turn in, Holmes called us into the sitting room. ”Before tomorrow comes,” he began somberly, ”I feel that it's necessary for me to clarify my feelings and to make you aware that whatever happens, I am proud to have you as my friends. If you do not wish to continue on this ride to hell, I'll understand.”
He waited for our response and receiving none, he said, ”I thought as much. Well, gentlemen, we shall see what the morrow brings. Good night.” Holmes walked into his room and quietly shut the door behind him.
We awoke the next morning to a sky hinting at another magnificent day. As I dressed, I sensed the anticipation and nervousness of my comrades. I watched their actions in silence. I was amazed at the similarity of gestures and nuances of facial expressions they exhibited.
Holmes, of course, had been up a few hours before us and was sitting at the table, sipping his coffee and reading from a stack of papers piled near him. Joining him, Thaddeus and I sat drinking our coffee and nibbling on the rolls and biscuits. As I perused the room, my eyes happened upon the chair next to Holmes. Draped over its back was the quiver and its deadly contents. I hoped that these instruments would be enough to destroy Dracula.
Suddenly and violently, Holmes swept his arm over and through the stack of papers and sent them scattering to the floor. ”Enough!” he shouted. ”It's time for Dracula to taste fear and death. If you men are sti
ll with me, then let us bestow upon this evil and vile creature a death so horrible that Satan himself will never dare to show his face.”
I was reminded of a quotation from Shakespeare: “Can vengeance be pursued further than death?” Rising from the table and strapping on Porthos, I said, ”I'm with you, Holmes.”
”So am I,” said Thaddeus.
Holmes placed the strap of the quiver over his head and let it fall across his shoulders. The flurry of activity continued as Ryder's men came and went carrying our luggage.
”Leave those,” Holmes said, pointing at our rucksacks. ”We'll carry those ourselves.”
He reached into his pocket and removed two silver crosses, handing one to Thaddeus and glancing at me. ”I see that you're wearing yours, Watson. Good. Please continue to do so. Thaddeus, you're to wear this at all times.”
Holmes slipped the chain over our young friend’s neck and repeated the action for his own protection. Armed as we were with weapons both physical and spiritual, we set out for our quest. Major Ryder’s men conveyed us by carriage to where the train was waiting. I was relieved to see Bill and Scotty standing by the engine, ready to assist us in our journey. Holmes, taking out the map, spoke to Bill and indicated our destination. ”Can you get us there?”
”Sure can, Mr. Holmes. We have to switch over to the Delaware and Hudson at Albany, but don't you worry none. Irene and me, we’ll get you there safe and sound.”
Holmes smiled as he shook Bill's hand, and we climbed aboard. Thankfully, someone had repaired the broken window that marked the spot where Alan, the murderer, and the professor had met their just reward. Not a single word was spoken about the need for fixing the glass. The gore was gone from the walls and rug. In fact, throughout the entire train, it appeared as if nothing untoward had ever happened. Even the casket was gone. The three of us—Thaddeus, Holmes, and I—took our accustomed club chairs near the stove and waited as final preparations were carried out. Meanwhile, the engine continued to huff and puff as Scottie kept the fire stoked.
After a half hour's wait, Major Ryder came into our coach car. He was looking splendidly military as he saluted Holmes, who had risen to his feet. ”I just received word, sir. The tracks are clear all the way to your final destination. There are units placed along the route to ensure your safe passage.”
”Very good, Major. Now, if you'll give us the necessary clearance, we'll be on our way.”
”You have it, Mr. Holmes. My man's already conveying precisely that to the engineer.”
“Thank you,” said Holmes, returning to his seat and stretching out his long legs.
Before he left, Ryder turned around with a look of concern. “Gentlemen, I'm not exactly sure what you'll be facing, but I just want to wish you Godspeed and a steady hand.” Ryder paused in front of Thaddeus and shook his hand. Next he reached to shake mine, and finally, as the train rumbled to life, the Major looked Holmes in the eye and shook his hand. When Bill blew the whistle, the Major jumped down from the coach and stepped away from the rails. With bells clanging and whistles blowing, the train crawled out of the station. My heart quickened as the locomotive picked up speed.
”I estimate our arrival to be between four and five o'clock,” Holmes said. ”We'll spend the night on the train and go in tomorrow, right after sunrise.”
”Do we know where he is?” I asked.
”I'm hoping to have that information when we arrive. In the meantime, all we can do is marshal our energy.” Holmes picked up a newspaper, which ended the discussion.
The filtering sun's rays cascaded down over the mountains. I gazed out the windows, admiring the pristine landscape, awash with fresh snow and glowing in blues and whites. How different this vast land was from that green and pleasant land we called home. On occasion, one of us would spy a deer or some other animal of the wild, foraging through the snow—covered underbrush. Alarmed by the sounds from the powerful locomotive, a fox flattened himself in a hollow on the side of a hill.
”A hunter's paradise,” I remarked.
”Let's hope,” Holmes said, noticing the fox, ”that our prey will prove to be as docile.”
The Alleghenies rose and fell with the lay of the land, as we passed rolling farms and small towns and villages. Children, testing their mettle while sliding on the snow—covered slopes, used everything imaginable for their exhilarating rides. Whilst some used nothing at all and simply dove headlong, sliding and tumbling uncontrollably on their perilous flights downhill.
We lunched on a concoction of Thaddeus’ doing. It contained slices of toasted bread, smothered in a khaki—coloured gravy with lumps of meat and peas. Though it was unappealing to look it, it tasted delicious. Thaddeus remarked that Major Ryder had gave him the recipe.
Obviously, Holmes enjoyed the fare and he had Thaddeus prepare two more servings. We watched in awe and amusement as the great detective dined with a hearty appetite. While Holmes continued to eat, Thaddeus and I returned to our vigil, looking out the windows. The shadows on the snow grew longer, as the winter sun traveled up and over our train before beginning its descent. I was unaware that Holmes managed to walk up behind me, undetected. I was startled out of my reverie by the closeness of his voice.
”Have you spotted them yet?” he asked.
”Who?” I returned, instantly alert.
”Ryder's men. They started to appear about an hour ago. From what I estimate our speed to be, I judge them to be positioned every twenty miles or so.”
”I've not seen any soldiers, Holmes. Have you, Thaddeus?”
”Not a one,” he replied, squinting in studious concentration at the white world outside our coach car.
”You are not seeing the forest because of the trees.” Holmes, shaking his head, added, ”Don't you find it curious that every so often, we pass two men out in the middle of nowhere?”
”I'm telling you, Holmes,” I said. ”All I've seen are children playing in the snow, and the occasional farmer watching the train go by.”
”And what are they tilling, snow? Keep a sharp eye,” he warned. ”There'll be two more coming up. They'll be spaced approximately twenty feet apart. You'll note that they never avert their eyes. Surely, the blast of wind and snow from the train's speed would be enough for the average person to turn away. But they will not. Their interest in watching us prevents them from doing so.”
”Here they come, Mr. Holmes. Five hundred yards and closing!” Thaddeus called out.
I pressed my nose to the cold window and looked up the tracks. Spotting the men, I watched as the train carried us closer. They were positioned exactly as Holmes described, and they whisked by in a blur. One of them lost his hat in the wind, but he never turned away until we had passed. Holmes ran to the other side of the car and looked out the window. ”They keep their horses on this side!” he shouted. ”I saw them at the edge of the woods. An untrained eye could easily mistake their appearance as part of the landscape. I may have to alter my opinion of Major Ryder. He is more adroit than I thought.”
The rest of the journey proved uneventful, and we napped on and off. Occasionally, I would hear Thaddeus cry, “There they are!” as we passed another military twosome. Once again, the gentle rocking of the carriage lulled me into a sound sleep. I awoke as the train pulled into the station at Albany. Holmes leapt off the train before it came to a complete stop.
”Stay on board!” he shouted. ”I'll be back shortly!”
I pushed down the window and stuck my head outside. Holmes was already involved in another animated discussion with Bill and an officer from the military. Bobbing his head up and down excitedly, Holmes shook hands with the men and began his trek back to our car.
Reentering the coach, Holmes was alive with emotion. His face was reddened by the cold air. His eyes displayed that peculiar gleam they always get upon receiving good news.
20
The Hounds Of Hell
“We have him! We know where he is!” he proclaimed, clapping his hands together. �
�We must switch to a local track. Preparations are being made to clear the way!”
As he spoke, his enthusiasm grew. I've never known the man to accept his possible demise in any other manner. Whether he thinks of himself as invincible or not, I cannot say. But he faces death square on.
After a while, our train was moving again. I, like my companions, couldn't help but feel the thrill of anticipation and pride as we drew closer to Dracula. The flat open spaces on the outskirts of Albany gave way to dense and rolling forests, as we started a steep climb into the mountains. With the sun setting, our train moved slowly and the woods came ever closer to the tracks.
”This is Dracula's dawn,” Holmes said. ”We must be ever vigilant from here on in.”
Thaddeus and I looked at each other. A small, tight smile revealed itself on the young man's face. His eyes darted nervously as he exposed the deadly snout of Athos. With trepidation setting in, Holmes and I retrieved our shotguns. Both Aramis and Porthos came out, as if they were scent dogs, sniffing out the sounds and smells of the moving train. The dark of the outside world became our enemy, and we eyed each shadow suspiciously. Crawling along at a snail's pace, the train sighed to a complete and quiet stop.
The three of us took aim. Athos, Porthos, and Aramis followed the bobbing beams of light coming from the soldiers' lanterns as a lieutenant came into the car. ”I’m Lieutenant Victor. This is as far as we go, Mr. Holmes,” he said, shuffling his feet nervously as we set aside our shotguns. ”My men will take the engineer and the stoker back down the mountain.”
”Fine.” Holmes’ voice was tight.
Lieutenant Victor looked at us nervously. ”Are you sure this is the way you want it? My men can stay, if...”
”Your men have done enough. However, you can be of further assistance.”
”Name it, Mr. Holmes.”
”When you and your men get back down the mountain, contact a Mr. Wilson. Tell him of our location. He's expecting word from us.” Holmes wrote on a piece of paper and handed it to the young lieutenant. “This is where he can be found.”