Gull chivvied them along. Norman opened a door in the side of the carriage revealing two compartments separated by a wooden wall with a small sliding glass panel in its center. The front compartment boasted two bench seats upholstered in leather with an interior coach lamp. The rearmost and smaller compartment had plain wooden benches set only a couple of feet apart. The only light back there would come from the window between the compartments. The girls, Sir Roger and Lady Dorothy were urged inside the cramped space. It would not be a comfortable journey, though thoughts of their destination precluded all comfort or ease.
Sir Roger sat in the middle of the back seat, his wife on one side and his daughter the other. Facing them, Emily’s party guests sat silently, all sense driven from their minds by fear.
“Where are they taking us?” Lady Dorothy hissed as the carriage rolled down their gravel driveway and out onto the highway beyond.
“Well?” she demanded when her husband remained mute.
“The government have built an experimental facility at the base of Carn nan Gabhar, north east of Pithlochry.”
“Why would anyone build in that god-forsaken place?”
“They required utmost secrecy.”
“What did they build?”
“A vast flying machine.”
“Like a Zeppelin?”
“No. It is like an enormous ocean liner. It will carry thousands of troops into battle and rain death on our enemies from the sky.”
“An ocean liner that can fly? How is that possible?”
“The motile force for the carriage we’re in is… I don’t know how to describe it…an ancient being from the cold depths of outer space. Some believe it to be one of the Old Ones. But a very minor one, not very powerful. But strong enough to propel this vehicle at speeds of almost thirty miles per hour on good roads. This mode of transport could be a boon to all mankind.” An edge of excitement came into Sir Roger’s voice. “This could render steam obsolete. Think what a flying ship harnessing an Old One’s power would mean to our armies. The Kaiser would be pleased to do our bidding with that resource at our generals’ command. We would be the most powerful country in the world.”
“Cthulhu.”
“He calls it Cthulhu. I am not certain that that is its true name. It is one of the reasons they have not been able to control it fully. It is ancient and powerful and dangerous. The machine has not been commissioned. It was my intention to ensure it never will be.”
“Gull intends to commission the machine?”
“No doubt.”
“Can he?”
“This is why he has kidnapped us.”
“For your expertise?”
“The designs for the capture engine are mine. I could, in theory, bring it on-line.
“Why have you not done so for our own government before now?”
“Our control of the Old One is unsatisfactory. It is held, but it is not tamed. And it demands…”
“Blood?” Lady Dorothy whispered.
“More than that. Too much I think. As do the engineers who brought the project to this juncture.” Sir Roger produced a handkerchief and mopped his brow even though the carriage was cold. “Work on it has been suspended. The politicians have lost their taste for it. The Old One demands too much.”
“If not blood, then what?”
“Souls,” Sir Roger said, the horror palpable in his voice.
Emily stared at her friends sitting opposite, their knees brushing hers. They had huddled together towards the center of the seat, hugging one another tightly. Violet whispered constant reassurance into Helen’s ear. One of her hands reached beyond Helen to Sandy, stroking her hair, offering what tactile comfort she could. Emily thought that this should be her place. She was the one who should be taking responsibility. But she was glad that Violet was trying to cope.
“We must escape before we reach the Cairngorms,” Mummy said. “Before we leave Edinburgh would be best.”
She wielded the following silence like a weapon. Sir Roger squirmed in his seat, shifting his bony buttocks searching vainly for a comfortable way of sitting.
Eventually Mummy said, “Well?” in that tone that Emily knew so well. It was a tone that normally made Daddy sit straighter and begin his assigned task at once. His head swiveled around so that he could meet his wife’s frigid gaze. Emily wondered if Mummy was making a miracle recovery. A faint glow had returned to her cheeks despite the stress of their position. She took a long deep breath then exhaled slowly. It was an action that expressed a mounting lack of patience. It was usually an unspoken threat. Emily had never found out what the threat entailed as her father had always responded by doing exactly what Mummy required.
He seemed to fold within himself, his clothes looking like those of an entirely bigger man. “I need to think,” he said, his voice taking that edge that normally made Mummy say, ‘Don’t whine, Roger.’
Instead she said, “Yes, you do that, Roger. Use that massive brain of yours for your family, for once.”
It was never good when Mummy mentioned Daddy’s intellect. Somehow, she always made it sound like a bad thing. Emily had caught herself doing it once or twice recently, but never aloud. She wondered if this was the sort of problem onto which his intelligence could be set successfully. She wished she was bigger and stronger and a male. Mummy had always told her that, despite what society might say, she was the equal of anyone. Being a girl did not make her second class. Her friend Susan always giggled at Mummy’s insistence. Susan’s mother regularly made a point of remarking on Lady Hant’s progressive views. Right now, she was inclined to agree with Susan’s mum. Right this minute it would be a huge help to be a boy, sitting opposite four of his brawny friends. But, as Mummy often said, if wishes were horses…
Through the night, the passengers sat in uncomfortable silence as the coach bumped and swayed along the pitted road to the mountains. They stopped once. Emily strained to hear the exchange between Gull and Watkins. She stopped listening when the butler said,” …needs blood or we won’t get another yard out of it.” She stared unhappily at her friends. They leaned untidily against one another, eyes closed in some poor semblance of sleep. She imagined the sound of their blood coursing through their veins. It was this blood that would entice Cthulhu into life, drive the government’s vast machine through the skies. Her own blood sounded in her ears. She did not doubt that this would be added to the sacrifice. She glanced furtively at her father. Sir Roger sat hunched over, staring at the floor with eyes that seemed focused on a different reality. She wondered what he saw. His mouth puckered like an old wound, the lines on his forehead like ploughed furrows. She felt a desire to place an arm about his shoulders but it was one she must resist. To Mummy it would be a betrayal, to Daddy a mere distraction.
Some time later Gull and his men began to speak in excited tones. Daddy said: “We must be drawing near to the facility.” He leaned across and shook Violet and Susan by the shoulders, then Helen and Sandy. Emily and Mummy sat to attention. “Listen carefully,” Sir Roger said, “your lives depend on this.” Emily’s friends blinked at him like a family of owls. “Girls, I need you to do exactly as I say when I say it. It is the only chance you have. These men plan on murdering you in a most…”
“Roger,” Mummy interrupted. “There is no need…”
“Yes, Letitia, there is.”
The interruption came as a complete surprise. Mummy sat back as though slapped. She was unused to her husband speaking harshly to her. She was unused to anyone arguing. In the Hant household her word was law and for immediate obedience.
“Do you understand girls? Your lives depend upon doing as I say no matter how odd or dangerous the instructions may sound.”
All four party guests nodded their assent. Sir Roger turned to his daughter. “Emily?”
“Yes, Daddy,” she said, and she meant it. There was a shaft of steel at her father’s core she had not previously seen. She dared to believe that he could bring them to safety.<
br />
The door to their compartment swung open. Norman, the taller of the assistants held it in one hand. In the other nestled a gun. He used it like a conductor’s baton to offload them. They stepped out onto bare earth hardened to iron by the early winter freeze. A foot of snow lay over it like the softest carpet. The snow came over Emily’s shoes, melting against her ankles. Her feet would soon be soaked. She ignored the discomfort and examined the building before them. She estimated it was close to the size of the British Museum on Great Russell Street in London where she had seen the Rosetta Stone and the great winged bull of Nimrud last summer. But there were no columns or decorations here, merely an enormous rectangle of granite blocks, topped with a flat roof. Looking closely she could see sliding gear beneath the roof so that it could open, allowing egress to whatever might be within.
Behind the vast edifice even the mountains looked small. The bare rocky slopes topped with ice added to an air of desolation pervading the place. In the dawn light every angle and shadow was leeched of any vestige of warmth. Emily wrapped her arms about herself but the cold was more than physical, creeping into her resolve also.
Arthur pushed her in the back. “Get moving,” he ordered.
“Keep your hands off her, you filthy oaf,” Sir Roger said.
Gull laughed. “Now gents, don’t get excited. And you, Arthur, keep your mitts to yourself.” He turned to Sir Roger. “No need to hurt them less it’s entirely necessary, eh?” He laughed, hugely amused by his own wit.
Sir Roger placed himself between the assistants and the children. Mummy held tight to his arm. Emily could tell that she was nearing the end of her reserves of strength. But until the moment she collapsed she would never give their captors the satisfaction of seeing a weakness. Emily went to Mummy’s far side and snuggled under her arm, seemingly for her own comfort. She held her arm tight about her mother’s waist letting her feel the support. Mummy acknowledged the assistance with a brief squeeze.
Inside the building it felt even colder than without. Emily wondered how this was possible. Each of their captors carried an oil lamp. The immediate gloom retreated. Although Emily could not see windows, somewhere the early morning light was being admitted, though it was feeble at floor level. They moved through a tiny entrance hall and thence into the single space that occupied the rest of the structure. It was almost entirely occupied by an immense tank of iron and brass. The rivets holding its seams together were the size of her face. It would take, she estimated, at least fifteen minutes to walk around at a normal pace. Along the entire visible side all Emily could make out were two narrow wrought iron stairways. No consideration had been given to decoration on the entire machine – straight lines everywhere, not even a curve or a curlicue could be found. This was a place that nobody loved, Emily thought. But even so, it was astonishing that it stood abandoned. Although she could not put her finger on it, something in its atmosphere made her skin crawl. Her stomach was tight with dread. She looked from Mummy to the other girls. They still pressed close together, eyes wide, hands clutching at one another for reassurance. They seemed to be attempting to make themselves small so that whatever inhabited this place would fail to notice them.
The edifice seemed hushed but there was an underlying sound that Emily could not quite place. She gave her attention entirely to the noise for a moment. It sounded as though it was very loud but very far away.
“They’ll never get this thing off the ground.”
The plain statement was made by Arthur as he stared in awe at the Brobdingnagian structure looming over him.
“Then we’ve wasted our time,” Gull said, “and we’ll have to kill ‘em all for nothing.”
Emily noticed his speech rhythms slipping. Not so much of the proper gentleman as before.
“But have no fear, Dear Ladies, I have faith in good Sir Roger.” He prodded Emily’s father with his revolver. “Where is the capture engine?”
“Up the first stairway,” he answered pointing.
“Then lead on, Macduff.”
Emily thought better of correcting the misquote. She was beginning to notice signs of nervousness beneath Gull’s formerly calm faàçade. He rubbed at the palm of one hand with the thumb of the other. His left eye had half-winked randomly, twice in ten minutes. It came to her suddenly that their captor was as fearful of this terrible place as any of the children. She wondered if her father had noticed. It might give them an edge later on.
Gull marched them up the stairway. Arthur led. He stopped at the top and turned to face back down, his left hand holding tight to the guard rail that ran along the top of the looming structure. It was obvious to Emily that he disliked the height. His gun jerked dangerously in their faces as they reached the top, pointing them to the left of the stair. To the right, behind Arthur, three corpses dressed in army uniforms lay on the deck. Her instinct was to turn from the horror but she felt information would be vital to their survival. Daddy had always said that knowledge was power. It might be all she had to fight with. She gave the bodies as thorough a visual examination as was possible in the poor light. These men had not died in a fight; each of them had a single bullet wound to the back of the head. They had been executed. If confirmation were needed that Gull intended to murder them all, this was it. She wondered how many unfortunate soldiers had died here at the hands of Gull or his accomplices.
Sir Roger was pushed forward into the lead. It was difficult to tell which way the flying machine had been oriented as it was blunt at both ends and bore no obvious command structure. The entire upper deck of the ship had been covered with a network of handrails. Emily imagined it was a safety precaution that might be very useful during flight. Despite her precarious situation, she wondered what it might be like to take to the air in this terrible machine. All she could think was that the aerialists would need to wrap up warm if the sky was as cold as the Cairngorms.
As he approached the nearest end Sir Roger stopped, spreading his arms wide to hold the rest of the party back. A yard away lay a square hatch in the deck five feet on a side covered in similar brass mesh to that on the front of the carriage that had carried them from Edinburgh. It was locked down by two of the largest padlocks Emily had ever seen. She wondered how big the keys would be.
Emily noticed that the background noise was louder now. It was nothing she could identify but it made the hairs at the base of her neck prickle. Mummy gave her a brave smile. She had the look of someone close to collapse. Emily thought a lesser woman would have given in to her infirmities by now.
“Gull,” Sir Roger said, “how long have those men back there been dead?”
Gull shrugged. “The place was…cleaned out…two days ago.”
“They may be fresh enough for our purposes. Have your men fetch them.”
Gull rubbed at his palm, considering the request. “What for?”
“I need to get its attention.”
Gull’s face screwed up in puzzlement. “Don’t the sacrifices need to be alive?”
“These beings like blood. It’s not fresh but I don’t think it will mind. Once it knows we are here we can proceed but we can’t afford to waste a live one on this part of the process.”
“You’re the expert.” He nodded back in the direction of the corpses. “Go get ‘em, boys.”
“All three?” Norman asked.
“Yeah, all of ‘em?” Arthur said.
“One at a time.” Sir Roger almost smiled at their discomfort.
“Watkins can go,” Gull said.
“I need Watkins. He knows how these things operate. All I know is theory.”
Gull brusquely ordered his men to the task.
Emily wondered at their reluctance. They had killed without hesitation, at least Gull had. Could it be that they were reluctant to be separated from the main group? Maybe the captives were not the only ones to be frightened by this strange place or the machine beneath their feet.
When the assistants brought the first body, Watkins set to the gris
ly task of extracting blood from it. Stripping off its tunic and shirt, he made several small incisions in the torso. Without a beating heart no blood flowed. Sir Roger nodded, rubbing contemplatively at his chin. “We’ll have to open the capture chamber hatch.”
“Chuck the whole body down?”
“Can’t see any other way.” He stepped to the hatch and tugged at one of the padlocks. To Gull he said, “I don’t suppose you have the keys?”
Gull waved Sir Roger aside. Crouching down he sighted his revolver carefully on the first lock and pulled the trigger. The sound of the discharge was swallowed by the vastness of the chamber, rendering the noise insignificant. It was the first thing, Emily thought, that had been less frightening than expected. The result however, was as desired; the lock hung loose and broken. Gull shot the second one with more confidence. Sir Roger stepped forward and flipped the hatch back. Inside was perfect blackness. “Stay back,” he ordered, stepping away himself. “We don’t want to be too close in case it is already awake.”
Gull backed up a yard. He winked involuntarily at Emily.
Sir Roger stepped close to his daughter. “Remember,” he hissed into her ear. “Do what I say without question and immediately. Tell the others.” He went to his wife and repeated the instruction.
“What are you doing, Sir Roger?” Gull demanded.
“Giving some comfort to my wife and daughter.”
“Well, don’t. I’ll do the comforting if it’s needed.” He grinned, but it was half-hearted. When first he had kidnapped them, Emily thought, he had been suave and almost cultured in his evil, taking pleasure in their distress. Now he seemed more like a little boy caught up in his parents’ affairs and thoroughly out of his depth.
Steampunk Cthulhu: Mythos Terror in the Age of Steam Page 33