by Terry, Mark
Interlude 55
Friday, March 17, 1893, 9:35 p.m.
Coates Opera House, Kansas City
Tesla looked at his watch and glanced over at Ida. He found her stiff and sitting bolt upright in her seat. He followed her glance and stiffened himself. He’s here.
Wedderburn appeared to Tesla’s left on the far side of the Opera House, about halfway towards the stage, in a small alcove. He leaned in through the curtain and stared briefly at the couple before casually observing the play.
He doesn’t look like anything much. Grgor and Simon should have arrived by now. Tesla stood up. “Let’s move stage left,” he said to Ida, still staring, horrified at the man who had transformed into some creature out of nightmares.
The two of them went back up the main entranceway and ducked into the first alcove that allowed them to get over to the walkway leading to seating farthest stage left.
Tesla glanced across the opera hall but did not see Wedderburn still in the alcove. He glanced back over his shoulder, but saw no sign of him at all as they reached the curtain. Tesla put his hand through, found a knob, and pulled Ida in behind him.
They reached the end of the corridor just as a light shined from behind them.
The door is open. He’s coming, Tesla thought.
He looked right, which appeared to be a dead-end of boxes and stage props standing against the walls. To the left, Tesla spied a metal staircase. He pulled Ida with him toward the stairs, and they climbed, two steps at a time.
Abraham Stoker had noticed Nikola Tesla and his companion when they went through the stagehand access door. He rose from his seat and proceeded after them. When he reached the end of the main passageway, he glanced both ways and upon seeing no one, asked loudly, “Mr. Tesla? Hello?” Mr. Stoker arrived at the top of the stairwell and saw the office door shut silently. With a puzzled but stern look on his face, he followed.
Tesla and Ida looked over the railing to the pasture below.
“Well, are you ready?” Tesla said.
“When you are.”
And then the door opened behind them.
Ida and Tesla turned, tense, as Stoker stepped through the door.
“Mr. Tesla, what is going on? You don’t belong up here, sir.
What is he doing here? Tesla thought. We’ve got to get down to the ground.
Tesla said something, stammering, and looked to Ida. Then he put a hand at the small of her back and moved her towards the wooden stairs to the left that led down to the ground.
“I—we just didn’t want to make a big scene. I didn’t want to go back out the front. I didn’t want to chance running into Mr. Irving and disappointing him. We realized we had to leave for the train station immediately.”
“Oh.” Stoker’s piqued curiosity diminished. “Well, I guess I understand. You are a bit of a celebrity among the more educated. Sneaking out the back and so forth, that’s pretty common for you?”
“Yes, we have to find an alternate route all the time.” Tesla moved after Ida as she descended the stairs.
“Will you be coming back this way?” Stoker asked.
“Not sure,” Tesla said. “I have some business in Colorado that may take some time. Please do give Mr. Irving my regards and congratulations on the impending knighthood.”
“Yes, well, thank you. And he is very proud of the Queen’s acknowledgement! Safe trip Mr. Tesla, and to you, madam!”
Ida gave a slight wave as she reached the bottom of the stairs.
Only then did Stoker notice the steam carriage that had pulled up in the cow pasture behind the Opera House. Some bulk covered with tarps was loaded on the trailer bed. Shaking his head, he turned and went back into the dark offices. As Stoker re-emerged onto the interior landing and turned toward the metal stairway, he saw a figure approaching.
“Excuse me, this area is off limits,” Stoker said, holding up his hands.
As the gentleman came closer, Stoker relaxed a moment.
But then Wedderburn’s features transformed from a normal man to a snarling devil. The eyes blazed a terrifying red, and his mouth erupted with enormous fangs.
Wedderburn stood nearly ten feet away from Stoker, but a wave of his hand lifted the large man off his feet and propelled him backward.
Bram Stoker landed on his back on the walkway with a crash and a woosh of air from his chest. As he looked up one last time before the figure went through the door, the eyes flashed at him and the mouth let out a terrifying hiss of fury. Then Bram Stoker passed out.
Tesla climbed into the steam carriage as Grgor helped Ida up next to him in the rear. Simon pulled the tarp off to reveal a massive searchlight, as had been set up for the Chicago Exposition.
Above, the bang of a door being thrown open made everyone look up to see Wedderburn step out onto the landing, place one foot on the rail, and land between them and the Opera House as though he had just taken a step off the porch. In the space of a single step, the handsome features of the gentleman Gunslinger transformed. His hands grew into gruesome claws. He arched his back slightly as the face of humanity dropped away and the extended jawline flashed inch-long razor sharp teeth. The vampire looked at them with blazing fury through black eyes with deep red irises and hissed.
That is when Simon turned on the searchlight, and the beam hit Wedderburn in the face.
The Gunslinger vampire held up his hands to block the light, but it did little good. Almost instantly, the beastly features vanished from his visage. A man squinting into bright light remained.
Wedderburn, his hands held high, took another step forward, and Grgor lifted a double-barreled shotgun.
“What’s happening?” Ida asked.
“I replaced the searchlight bulb with a version of the fluorescent bulbs I invented in Chicago. One of their properties is giving off ultraviolet light. I extrapolated that since I had never seen the beast change in the daytime, something about sunlight affects him.”
Wedderburn bellowed with frustration.
“My theory is confirmed. He can’t assume beastly form. He probably doesn’t have any of his powers we witnessed on the train because of ultraviolet light.”
Tesla nodded at Grgor, who aimed the double-barreled shotgun. The Croatian fired both barrels at the vampire. They struck Wedderburn dead center, knocked him off his feet and into the horse trough behind him. The four watched in amazement as the vampire’s body slowly slipped beneath the surface of the brackish water, leaving only his knees and black boots hanging over the side.
“Let’s go! We’ve got to move!” Tesla yelled.
They raced through the Kansas City night headed back to West Bottoms, using the searchlights to show their way.
“Is that it? He’s dead?” Ida asked as the carriage moved through the night.
“How do you kill something that’s already dead, Miss Tarbell?” Tesla asked over his shoulder. “You saw what I did to him back on the train. His strength is superhuman.”
“We still have to run from him? Why didn’t we finish him off?”
Tesla turned around to face Ida now, a look of astonishment on his face.
“What were you going to do? Get close enough to separate his head from his body? It’s nighttime, Miss Tarbell. He could have been luring one of us in. No. Better to run and face another day.”
Interlude 56
Friday, March 17, 1893, 9:39 p.m.
Coates Opera House, Kansas City
The slick head of dark hair bobbed up out of the water and one gloved hand grasped the side of the trough. Wedderburn raised himself to a sitting position, his boots sliding into the water. He didn’t display fury or anger, just disappointment and contemplation. Another moment of silence and then Wedderburn spat a long stream of water out of his mouth and onto the ground. He snickered.
Slowly, he lifted himself over the side of the trough and tumbled forward onto the muddy ground. He lay there for a moment, silent, hand outstretched to open air, then r
olled onto his side and came up to his hands and knees. He looked out, as if deciding where he needed to go, gave a chuckle, and proceeded to crawl forward. The Gunslinger crawled out of the cow pasture and towards Ninth Street and the Bottoms.
The couple had left dinner just a few moments earlier and were under the spell of a bit too much liquor when they noticed the figure lying next to the wagon. The man’s step faltered as he calculated the risk of walking by the prone figure, then his face turned to worry.
“Look,” he pointed out to the woman. “Sir, is something wrong?” He stooped slightly to get a closer look. He didn’t get an answer so took another step forward. “Are you feeling all right, sir?” he asked again into the darkness.
This time, the shadow spoke out in a gravelly, but firm and positive voice, “Down to the ground.”
The woman pulled on the man’s arm. “See? He’s just a drunk. He’ll be fine. Come on, Howard. I want to get home.”
The four youths were strolling down the street like the pack of wilds that they were, knocking over trash cans, stealing fruit from a grocer closing up for the night.
They circled a pair of young girls who at first flirted for the attention, but then cried out when it got rough. A policeman saw the youths and gave pursuit. The boys scrambled down an alley, leaped a fence and soon found themselves on a quiet street. One punk took out his slingshot and sent a lead ball through a closed window.
Another of them saw something and patted his fellow on the shoulder. “Look,” he said. A figure a half block away slinked in the shadows and into an alley.
A second youth with a pockmarked face scowled.
“Probably a drunk, just like my old man,” Pockmarked-Face growled.
In the deep shadow of the alley next to the five-and-dime, Wedderburn hobbled into a corner and crouched, turning to face the street.
The bum hiding in the alley looked small and pathetic.
From a trash pile, one of the boys picked up a length of rotting board with rusty nails jutting out. Another picked up a length of board. With a sneering smile, Pockmarked-Face pulled a knife out of his belt and stepped toward the bum.
Wedderburn had hidden his face until that final moment, and he looked up now, his blazing eyes glowing red.
The old man in the second floor tenement across the street thought he heard a yell and looked up from his Bible, towards the alleyway. He waited for a moment, but heard nothing more. As he turned away, a boy carrying an iron pipe ran from the alley, but he didn’t get three steps from the shadows before a figure leaped upon him and dragged him back into the darkness in the blink of an eye.
Interlude 57
Friday, March 17, 1893, 10:07 p.m.
Union Depot, Kansas City
Tesla, Ida, Grgor, and Simon returned to Union Depot aboard the steam wagon pulling up in front of Harvey’s. The four climbed off the carriage and joined Edison at the large table they had claimed in the center of the conference room. Edison, along with a couple of engineers, studied several drawings. The two Croatians went to the far end of the room and began going over the equipment in the containers.
“I want the doors and walls reinforced here…and here.” Edison pointed to several spots on the diagram. The engineers nodded and Edison waved them off. They rolled up the diagrams and left.
When the door closed, Edison turned and looked at Tesla and Ida. “By morning, we will uncouple every car except a single freight. Both will have reinforced doors and walls.” He looked the two of them over. “What happened with the two of you?”
“We went to the opera,” Ida said, smiling.
Edison rolled his eyes and turned back to the table.
“And so did vampire,” Tesla added.
“What?” Edison spun around. “What happened?”
“Nothing really.” Ida waved it off. “Casual as you please, like he came to wake the snakes.”
“How close did you get?”
“From here to cousins,” Tesla said, pointing to the far side of the room, thirty feet away.
Edison looked back at the table. “I’ll be ready for him in the morning.”
“Nikola’s lights kept him from turning into the creature. Fantastic!”
Edison looked confused.
On the other side of the room, Grgor held the excimer weapon aloft. Tesla nodded and the muscular man put the weapon back into the crate.
“I’m working on more compact version.” He held up his hands when Edison opened his mouth. “Don’t worry. We didn’t shoot electric weapon again. We did something else.” He smiled at Ida. “I visualized ultraviolet rays of sunlight affected beast. His strength displayed only at night. So we modified spotlights we possess with bulbs that emit only ultraviolet rays.”
“What did it do?” Edison asked softly.
“Beast vanished and man remained. Light particles restored original state.”
Ida clapped her hands. “And we took him down with a shotgun!”
Edison’s face darkened and he glowered at Tesla.
“I said we didn’t shoot electricity.” Tesla shrugged. “It is clear his strength lies in night. Sun makes him human.” Tesla nodded to himself. He shouted something across the room in Croatian, and a bark of triumph came from the two men.
“You shot him again!” Edison exclaimed.
“We were in proximity to beast, yes,” Tesla added.
“But it’s clear the earlier damage did nothing to him,” Ida noted.
Edison considered that. “The morning it is then.”
“We went out. He drove us back. I tell you, it would not be wise to separate.”
Edison waved them off, his back turned. “Get some sleep. In the morning, we go our own ways. I will find Randolph and get to Los Angeles. We still have a competition, Nikola.”
“Thomas, you can’t seriously—” Ida started, but Edison cut her off.
“Madam, I have never been more serious. Good night!”
Grgor and Simon laid some blankets and pillows they found on a couch and several places on the floor. Ida lay down on the couch, and Tesla and the Croatian duo huddled together. One of the crates was open and a large gear box about the size of a basketball sat in the center of the men.
Ida leaned back. The three Croatians spoke in their native tongue. Edison sketched at the table. She drifted off to sleep.
Interlude 58
Saturday, March 18, 1893, 6:12 a.m.
Union Depot, Kansas City
Edison paced the baggage hall back at the Kansas City Depot and looked over the four men in pale, long coats standing in front of him. Each had armed himself with holstered pistols and long rifles. One Pinkerton cradled a crossbow.
“I need strong men. Men who don’t miss when they shoot.” Edison continued pacing before the first row of men. “I have reason to believe the train is going to be attacked.” Edison looked down the line of men.
The Pinkerton with a long, silver, handlebar mustache cleaned a pump-action, 1890 Winchester with spit and a handkerchief. The bounty hunter rubbed the stock to a shine until he stopped and looked up. “I know these men.” The rifleman gestured at the others. “We’ll hit what we’re aimin’ fer.”
“Well, Winchester, that’s the idea.” Edison nodded.
“Pardon, Guv’ner, but what is it exactly you are wantin’ us to hit?” asked the bounty hunter with the crossbow.
Edison raised his hands. “You’re being paid to deal with anything.”
“Right,” muttered a barrel-chested Pinkerton with two Henry Repeaters over his shoulder and a curved scabbard fastened across his wide rib cage. He spat a large glob of phlegm on the wood floor.
Edison pulled a rolled sheet of parchment from his coat. It showed a sketch of John Randolph’s profile. “You’re going to be searching for this man. Each of you already has a map and a general idea of where to start looking. His name is John Randolph. He’s hurt, he’s scared, and he won’t have gon
e far.” Edison smiled. “He’s a city boy.”
“I don’t care ‘bout much a nuffin ‘cept da tree hunnert dollars we’s promised.” A tall thin Pinkerton stroked his carefully combed, oily, black hair and Chester Arthur mustache.
Edison pointed at each man in turn. “I don’t need to know your names. I’ll identify you from here out as Winchester, Crossbow, Scabbard and…Chester Arthur. Since this venture could take several days, I’ve secured a week's supplies. We’re going to move them onto the train Mr. Rockefeller and General Electric have so kindly reserved for us. We’re using a tank locomotive with a single railcar for efficiency. It’ll take us all the way to St. Louis and back.” He whipped his finger in the air. “Let’s move gentlemen!”
The four Pinkertons moved at once and stepped onto the platform. Edison followed behind. The 4-4-2 Locomotive sat tethered to a single rail car.
“Whatever happens, expect the unexpected. It could happen quickly, so keep alert. We will be riding in the reinforced observation car.” The inventor pointed towards the top of the rear of the bag car. “One man on the roof, two inside, one with me.”
The Pinkertons began lifting the supply crates and hefting them into the open car two-by-two.
Edison slapped the outside wall of the train. “These sides are sheathed with two and a half inch oak planks and a half-inch boilerplate,” he said to Crossbow and Chester Arthur who were lugging a crate between them.
Crossbow asked Chester, “What the hell are we afraid of? An army of elephants?”
Tesla sat over the array of tubes and wires. Grgor and Simon entered with armfuls of glass and bottles from the restaurants and hotel rooms of the depot. One by one, Tesla looked them over and shook his head.
“No, no. Soda lime glass—too cheap,” Tesla said softly. He tossed the items into another box.