Steemjammer: Through the Verltgaat

by John Eubank

Noticing the badge on Will’s chest, Clyve wrenched his face in puzzlement. “Youth volunteer? This toxin hasn’t been brought to New Amsterdam yet. How could this have happened?”

  “I don’t know,” Bram said, “but he did joke that his name was Will Steemjammer. It made me wonder. What if he wasn’t kidding? What if he’d slipped up, instead?”

  Clyve’s eyes opened wide. “Why didn’t you say so right away?”

  Bram held up a folded piece of paper, the drawing that Stefana had returned to Will. “He had this in his pocket. Floombach!”

  Lockwood opened the door, and Staas fumbled in.

  “You worked on the verltgaat project, didn’t you?” Bram asked.

  “Yes, Master Bram” Staas stammered nervously. “For six years.”

  Bram handed him the piece of paper. “Is this what I think it is? Something to do with world hole machines?”

  Staas studied the drawing.

  “Absolutely,” he confirmed. “These are the symbols on one of the control boards we rebuilt.”

  “You’d better not be wrong, Floombach,” Clyve glowered.

  “I’m sure of it, sir.”

  With a sudden jolt of enthusiasm, Clyve twisted Will’s face to examine it more closely.

  “Well then,” he smirked nastily, “Will Steemjammer. We’ll have to line up some special treatment for you. Very special treatment indeed."

  Chapter 25

  Glass Dragon

  “We have to get everyone together and attack Texel!” Cobee asserted.

  “Stil!” Tante Klazee whispered. Hush! “Away from the windows. You should know better!”

  Angelica had almost broken down on learning her brother’s fate but had responded to Giselle’s urging to be tough and strong for him. After letting her recover, Stefana had decided the kids should be seen going home on the cable car, as if nothing were out of the ordinary. They’d just arrived at their Tante Klazee’s.

  “It makes no sense,” Cobee argued, barely able to keep his voice down. “She didn’t even try to stop them!”

  “St!” Klazee said. Sh!

  She led them into her kitchen, where that night’s dinner bubbled on the stove and the steam dishwasher rattled and hissed. No one outside could overhear them.

  “Why are you so ontdaan?” Klazee demanded of her grandson. Upset. “What happened?”

  He fumbled for words, suddenly ashamed.

  “I’ll tell you,” Angelica said angrily. “Tante Stefana said it was getting too dangerous and put us in a steemwagon to come straight to you, but Will and Cobee got out!”

  Klazee’s eyebrows rose high. “Cobee, is this true?”

  “Will saw Bram sneaking into a warehouse,” he stammered. “We had to see what he was up to!”

  “Why isn’t Wilhelmus with you?”

  His face turned beet red, and he couldn’t speak.

  “Wat gescheed?” Klazee demanded. What happened?

  His face became an even darker shade of red. “They kidnapped him!”

  Angelica tensed, trying not to burst out crying, while Giselle held her tightly. Klazee struggled not to react.

  “Voo?” she said.

  “Bram and that big ape who follows him everywhere,” Cobee said. “Tante Stefana said it was too late to try to help him, and now they’ve got him in Texel.”

  “What? Is this true?”

  “Yes. That’s why we have to storm it right now and get him back!”

  Klazee had to grip a chair to steady herself. “Texel Island? Groes Vevardinker bespaaren ons!” Great Maker save us!

  “Come on! We have to gather people and go!”

  A look of dread crossed the old lady’s face. “Assault Texel Island? Have you gone completely wankenzink?”

  “Why not?” Angelica demanded.

  “Because, leef, the place is a fortress. Texel Island itself is a swamp, neh? You can only get there by boat, and they’ll see you coming-”

  “Not at night!” Cobee contested.

  “Perzak! Don’t interrupt.”

  “But they’re stealing his heersenen!” Brains!

  “Cobee! Kalmte!” Silence!

  He glanced guiltily at Angelica and Giselle, realizing how much this could upset them. He hoped they hadn’t understood.

  “The south end of the island is a steeler spelunk, a den of thieves,” Klazee explained. “Those criminals work with the Rasmussens and report anything they see. And on the north end, the Rasmussens built a kasteel!” A castle!

  “So?” Angelica said. “We can make ladders and climb the wall!”

  “It’s defended by steemvaapens, poison gas and Shadovecht. Leef, as much as I want to get Will back, it’s not possible. At least not by direct assault.”

  “Isn’t there an army?” Giselle said.

  “There’s a militia,” Klazee said. “A people’s army, but it only forms when monsters attack. Not when families squabble.”

  “On Old Earth we’d go to the police. They’d break in with guns and rescue him.”

  “We’re not on Old Earth, neh? Here the politweezen are for helping drunks find the way home or chasing off burglars. They can’t stand up to Shadovecht and clouds of poison.”

  “I’ll sneak in,” Angelica said. “I’m little. They won’t see me.”

  “And then what? Kint, you’re zo braaf.” So brave. “But I’m afraid we simply can’t do this thing.”

  “Is Beverkenverlt really so chaotic?” Giselle asked, feeling overwhelmed. “There’s no police worth anything? No way to get help?”

  Klazee fought back a wave of emotion and willed herself to stay calm.

  “We were always the ones people turned to for help,” she explained with resignation.

  “I thought we were such an important family,” Angelica protested, fighting off a sinking feeling in her chest. “We made that whole Steem Museum. I can’t believe we’re helpless.”

  Klazee suddenly looked vulnerable and much older than she really was. The little girl wished she hadn’t said anything.

  “I’m sorry, Tante Klazee,” she said, hugging her.

  “No, leef,” Klazee said, getting her spirit back and returning the hug, “you’re right. It’s hard to believe we’ve been reduced to this.

  “You see, all our strength was put into our secrets and machines, in Beverkenfort. When we lost that, we became de kat zonder klawen. You understand me?”

  “A cat without claws?”

  “Ya. We run and hide most of the time, neh?”

  Angelica and Giselle took this in with deep concern, not sure what to think or say. It had been one thing to suspect it, but it was another thing entirely to hear it freely admitted by an adult. Even Cobee was bothered.

  Was Will really on his own in that horrible place?

  Angela put on a courageous face and forced herself not to sniffle. “What’s going to happen to my brother?”

  “Be sterk, little Angie-bee,” Klazee said. “Be strong for him. He’s got goot steem. This much is zeeker.” Certain.

  “Goot steem will save him?”

  “It’s always been the one thing our family’s relied on, in the worst of times when all else has failed. Zen vertroowen.” Have faith.

  Klazee wished her words had been more convincing. With nothing else to say, she just wrapped her arms around Angelica and Giselle and hugged them tight.

  ***

  An eerie, hollow sound echoed from somewhere far away, like church bells trying to ring underwater. Numbness and a sense that time had stopped flowing gave way to feeling. Slowly Will became aware of himself, though he had great trouble focusing his mind.

  He had no idea what time or even day it was, but instinct told him it was Sunday morning. Had he really slept that long?

  Fear lurked in all directions like patches of ground-hugging fog in the night. Something bad lay ahead, he sensed, hidden in shadow and waiting for him. A sinister thought formed in his mind that maybe he was dead.

  I must wake up.


  Only sleeping, he told himself. Not dead. In a state of lucid dreaming, he felt caught just under the surface of consciousness, as if trapped by a thin but hard layer of ice on a frozen lake.

  Frozen? He remembered frosty prickles stabbing at him. An image of his arms and legs entombed in ice flickered in his brain, scaring him, but it was just a dream image, not real. Vaguely he recalled being paralyzed. He thought about testing his body now, to see if he could move, but he was too afraid.

  Why?

  Any effort to order his thoughts shattered into jumbled chaos.

  What’s wrong with me?

  At least he could breathe. Air moved in and out of his lungs. It came as a comfort. With a strong mental push, he thought he managed to twitch a finger. Horror struck as he realized he could feel almost nothing. Somehow he knew this had significance, and it alarmed him that he’d forgotten why.

  “Try to relax,” a melodious voice said.

  It sounded far away, as if someone was speaking to him through a long tube. At first it startled him, but it seemed gentle and pleasant.

  “You came within an inch of death,” the voice continued, “but I saved you.”

  Memories flooded Will’s mind like pieces of a broken mirror, each reflecting a different image. He remembered losing Cobee and feeling sick, falling. Bram’s blurry face appeared, and then he could no longer move. But he could hear.

  He remembered someone’s muffled words explaining a toxin that somehow converted the remedy into deadly venom, how it slowly built up for days and then struck. He realized he’d been poisoning himself every time he had a spoonful of that black gunk, but any effort to think past this failed.

  Something’s wrong.

  He remembered waking to feel a tube in his throat and the prick of a needle in his arm. Someone had told him he should relax, that they were curing him. Mercifully, he’d drifted back into unconsciousness.

  “Relax,” the voice soothed. “You’ve had a rough go these past few days, and I don’t even know who you are.”

  Something urged Will to speak his name, and he would have except that the effort caused a coughing spasm. He felt a warm hand on his forehead and realized he couldn’t see it. His eyes were open, but it was as if he were in a black cavern deep underground, sealed off from all light.

  “Am I blind?” a coarse whisper croaked past his lips.

  “Not permanently,” the voice said comfortingly. “Vision should return in a day or two. Is there someone you’d like us to contact? Your mother and father?”

  The pressure to answer was almost unbearable, like a powerful vice squeezing the truth out of him, and he blurted: “Yes.” Immediately after saying it, the pressure subsided but didn’t quite vanish.

  I’m in danger.

  The thought felt like it came from outside his skull, but somehow he knew it was part of his mind. It seemed like his parents’ voice, but it wasn’t them. And it wasn’t a real sound, either. But what?

  “Why don’t you tell me where they are,” the voice suggested sweetly, “and I’ll let them know you’re safe.”

  Again, the urge to answer felt like a physical force, frightening him.

  “I don’t know,” he gasped.

  Like before, the pressure released, but he still felt it at the fringes of his mind.

  The voice seemed genuinely concerned: “Did something happen to them?”

  “Gone,” he uttered, panting as the pressure released.

  “You don’t know where they are?”

  “No.” This time the pressure continued, and he began to see it as something real – a pair of horrible jaws clamping down on him. He had to say more, to spill everything he knew, or be crushed. “Mom vanished first. One day we went in for dinner, and she wasn’t there anymore. Dad went searching often but couldn’t find her, until he was gone, too.”

  At last the horrible force released, and Will gasped, panting.

  “Is there someone else who should be told where you are?” the voice asked, no longer seeming so pleasant to him.

  “Klazee,” he spat out quickly to keep the illusionary jaws away. “I take the Kasteel Leedink to her house. We live there for now.”

  Stop!

  This time the thought came with such desperate energy that almost became a real word. He knew it was right. He had to stop talking. Talking was dangerous, but how could he resist? Even thinking about it caused pressure to bear down.

  “Thank you,” the voice said, sounding even less friendly to him now. “I’ll see if we can find this Klazee and send her a note. I’ll need your name, of course, so she’ll know it’s you.”

  Silence!

  It took every ounce of energy for Will to keep himself from blurting out his name. As the force increased, he tried to will it away, but to his horror the pressure only got worse.

  He could sense the jaws now, and he was quite sure they were real. In his mind he could see rows of jagged, nightmarish teeth bearing down, grinding and gnawing without pity.

  It’s not real!

  He screamed in terror.

  “Come now,” the voice intoned, and this time he sensed it coming from the jaws, “it’s only a name. I saved your life. Can’t you tell me this?”

  No!

  But he had to. He felt his bones bending and about to shatter. His skull could blow apart any moment, like a ripe grape. He had to speak.

  “Will,” he grunted, but the pressure only released a bit and quickly resumed. It wasn’t everything, he knew. He had to say his full name.

  Stevens!

  Now he remembered. He couldn’t say his real name because the Rasmussens would kill him.

  “I’m called Will Stevens,” he wanted to say but couldn’t.

  It was true by a strict reckoning but still misleading. A wave of guilt smothered him. The pressure intensified. For a moment he thought he’d be pulverized, but something had changed. A glimmer of awareness came, and he realized his bones were not bending. The pain and force bearing down on him couldn’t be real, could it?

  Hallucinations.

  Now he understood. The sweet voice was danger. Answering it was death. He sealed his lips and waited for the next round of agony, fearing he’d be torn to shreds, anyway.

  Chapter 26

  to tell the truth

  “Interesting,” Clyve muttered quietly to himself. “He’s hiding something.”

  Leaning back in his chair and pressing his fingertips together, he studied the quivering boy who was bound by leather straps to a thick wooden table. Gouge marks and old stains that had never bleached clean marred the surface. Remnants, he thought, from other sessions. Such methods were satisfying but crude and often ineffective. Glass Dragon was so much better.

  “Another dose,” he hissed softly at the black-haired nurse next to him.

  Distantly related to the family and trusted, Dahlia Visser was his only assistant today, and the order made her balk. “Won’t it kill him?”

  “You question me?”

  “I beg your pardon, Mr. Harrow. It’s just that you told me at all cost to keep him alive.”

  He sensed no rebelliousness in her tone and relaxed. “Some have more resistance than others. He’s young and healthy. Hit him.”

  She inserted a syringe into an ornate crystal vial and sucked up half a thimbleful of the pale chartreuse drug. Steadying herself, she jabbed the needle deep into the young man’s shoulder.

  As she slowly depressed the plunger, Clyve pressed a stethoscope on the boy’s chest. He signaled her to stop before administering the last bit. Visibly relieved, she withdrew the needle.

  “That will do it,” he whispered faintly, signaling her to follow him across the room.

  Various tools hung from racks on the bare stone walls: hammers, tongs, prods, cleavers, bone saws and axes. In the drawers lay rows of shiny steel razors, scalpels and scissors, while cabinets stored jars of acids, pain-inducing drugs and other horrific chemicals.

  He noticed how she tried not to look
at them and reflected that she must have very little Rasmussen ancestry. That was part of his plan. Having only a drop of true blood meant she held little value to the family. If he made a mistake, she could suffer an accident. No one would care that she was gone.

  “A few minutes for the new dose to even out,” he whispered softly. “He can hear, so keep quiet.”

  Nodding, she glanced at the boy and tried to put together what she was witnessing.

  “It blinds his eyes?” she whispered.

  Clyve tapped the vial of drug in her hand. “Glass Dragon alters the brain’s processing. Like when we sleep, we stop seeing and moving, except for dreams.”

  “You said he still hears.”

  “It allows that, but sounds become distorted. The effect is most disturbing. We use all these things to our advantage as we press the questions.”

  “And he must answer?”

  “That’s the beauty of Glass Dragon. Extreme fear and violent hallucinations cloud the mind. Only by getting out the complete truth does the victim stave off terror.”

  “Is that why they can die? Frightened to death?”

  Clyve nodded grimly. “The heart can beat so fast it stops pumping and only spasms. That’s why questioning starts indirectly and moves slowly toward desired answers.”

  “Can’t they choose death over revealing secrets?”

  “Impossible. The final beauty of Glass Dragon is that it splits the mind. The ability to reason is greatly reduced, much like the confusion we feel in dreams.”

  “He failed to say his name because he’s confused?”

  “Or resisting. That’s why I increased the dose. We’ll soon know. It’s almost time.”

  ***

  After the stab of pain in his shoulder, Will lost consciousness but later heard the strange, muted ringing sound as he reawakened. He felt it wasn’t real, that he only hallucinated the noise. With no access to his memory, he floundered in confusion, and then it all came flooding back.

  He cringed at the thought of coming pressure. Vainly he struggled for awareness and clarity, for some hint of what to do or how to escape, but he found nothing.