The Chronicles of Harriet Tubman- Freedonia

by Balogun Ojetade

  “But where are my manners?” Caleb said. “Let me introduce my council: the twin giants over there are Connor and Colin…”

  The twins nodded.

  Caleb pointed toward the Hwarang warrior. The warrior stood. “And my slanty-eyed camarado goes by the moniker Kim Kang-min, Taejwa, or Colonel, but I like the sound of Taejwa better, of the Joseon Navy.”

  Colonel Kim bowed slightly.

  “Did I get them names right, Kang-min?”

  “You did, Your Majesty,” Colonel Kim replied.

  “Kang-min is our interpreter,” Caleb said. “He speaks nine languages.”

  “Riveting,” Hamilton said dryly. “Why are you in my home again?”

  “A right down to business kind of fella, huh?” Caleb said. “Usually, you smokes like to beat the devil ‘round the stump. I reckon ‘cause of havin’ to work, all speedy-like, from sun up to sun down, for free for hundreds of years and all.”

  Hamilton pushed Caleb away and then drew his revolver.

  Caleb laughed. “Come on, now, Prince of Darkies. Shootin’ me will just get you and your wife killed – her first, so you can watch – and your house burned to the ground. But hear me out and we all end up happy.”

  Hamilton aimed the revolver at Caleb’s brow. “I don’t fear death. My only fear is that I’ll be reincarnated as a white man. For my wife’s sake, however, I will give you two minutes to explain.”

  “Fair enough,” Caleb said. “Look, I need to get into Freedonia, but I and my army are not of the right hue to blend in. But you have the ways, means and color to waltz into Freedonia without anybody battin’ an eye.”

  “I have plans for a railroad that will run through Freedonia and New Haiti,” Hamilton said. “I do not wish to see the country destroyed.”

  “Who said anything about destroyin’?” Caleb said.

  “You mentioned an army,” Hamilton replied.

  “I’m huntin’ someone,” Caleb said. “The army is for them, not Freedonia.”

  Hamilton’s brow furrowed. He shook his head. “An army for one person?”

  “For this person, an army is necessary,” Caleb replied. “Now, we could sweeten the pot if you agree to help me. Why negotiate with Freedonia when you can rule it?”

  Hamilton snickered. “I see…you’re mad. You can’t…”

  “You rule Freedonia,” Caleb said, interrupting him. “And I rule the United States.”

  “Impossible!” Hamilton hissed.

  Caleb rolled his eyes. “Show him.”

  He extended his arms. Connor thrust his head into one of Caleb’s armpits. Colin thrust his head into the other. The men’s head’s disappeared and then their bodies melted into Caleb’s, doubling his size. Colonel Kim drew his sword and then thrust it into the back of Caleb’s left arm as he melded into Caleb’s back. The Ghul King grew two more feet in height. His left hand was replaced by a razor sharp blade of flesh.

  Caleb grinned. “My army and I fit together like pieces in a puzzle. A puzzle whose shape is only limited by our imagination.”

  Hamilton staggered backward. He slumped down into a chair, breathing heavily. His hands shook, but he never took the muzzle of his revolver off of Caleb. “You…you’re all duppy!”

  “Duppy?” Caleb said, scratching his head with the blade. “Dead puppy?”

  “A malevolent spirit,” Hamilton said.

  “I guess we are duppies, then,” Caleb said with a shrug. “We prefer ghul, though. I got that name from a book I read when I was just a little pup…umm…dup.”

  “William Beckford’s 1786 novel, Vathek,” Hamilton said.

  Caleb’s eyes widened. “That’s the one! You are full of surprises!”

  “You are, too,” Hamilton replied.

  “Yes, our ghul transformations can be quite startlin’,” Caleb said.

  “You misunderstand,” Hamilton said. “I am surprised that such a redneck as you can read.”

  Caleb laughed. “You are game as a banty rooster! A smoke with your audacity is scarce as hen’s teeth.”

  “How did you become King of these…ghuls?” Hamilton asked.

  “I am the first,” Caleb replied. “The most powerful. When another ghul is made – by scratch or bite – they instinctively know who their king is.”

  Hamilton lowered his Baby Dragoon. “I will get you into Freedonia only if you do something for me first.”

  “Name it,” Caleb said.

  “I have a rival – an enemy, really, who wrested from my grasp control of the Accessory Transit Company, an enterprise that ran a steamship line from New York to San Francisco through Nicaragua.”

  “His name?” Caleb asked.

  “Cornelius Vanderbilt,” Hamilton replied.

  “You want him dead?” Caleb said.

  Hamilton shook his head. “Worse…I want him to serve me. And I want him to transfer every penny of his wealth into Eliza’s bank accounts.”

  “Done,” Caleb said. “Just tell me where to find this Cornelius Vanderbilt fella and I’ll deliver him to you – and his money to your wife’s bank – before high noon tomorrow.”

  “Excellent,” Hamilton said. “Bring your army with you tomorrow and we will leave immediately.”

  A din like a heavy hail storm beat upon Hamilton’s roof.

  Caleb pointed toward the ceiling.“No need to bring them. They are already here.”

  CHAPTER nineteen

  Mary was a colony. A settlement. A new but flourishing culture. She had the appearance of a woman – the mind, nerves and feel of a woman too. All the normal parts and equipment. But, in her mind, she now existed primarily as a locale, not a woman.

  “Mary…are you you?”

  Black Mary opened her eyes. Harriet sat at her bedside. Dr. Carver stood behind her.

  “I’m me,” Mary said. “Hopefully for good, right Doc?”

  “I was able to break the connection through some advanced neuro-hypnotism techniques I learned during an extended visit among the Nuba,” Dr. Carver said.

  “Hypnosis?” Mary inquired. “That’s another word for mesmerism, ain’t it?”

  “Nubian hypnosis is much older than mesmerism and approaches the science differently,” Dr. Carver said. “Instead of placing direct suggestions or commands into your subconscious mind while you are in a relaxed state, the Nuba use metaphors to get the desired result. Mary, your subconscious mind instantly made the connection between the metaphors and the desired behavior while the metaphor itself acted as a distraction to the Carver Mushroom, which is unable to comprehend metaphor. Thus, the Carver Mushroom broke its connection as it attempted to understand the metaphors.”

  “Those damned mushrooms see me as some type of…land,” Mary said, shivering a bit.

  “What makes you say that?” Harriet asked.

  “They told me,” Mary answered. “They said ‘Mary! Oh, Land of Mary. Do you hear us, oh Maryland? Do you hear us?’”

  “Fascinating!” Dr. Carver gasped. “They speak to you? It must be due to your gifts. I have never experience anything like what you are going through.”

  “I didn’t actually hear them with my ears, you understand?” Mary replied. “It wasn’t a voice. It was all thoughts inside my noggin. But, to me, they came as a thousand voices, talkin’ all at once.”

  “Lawd,” Harriet said.

  “And nobody else whose spirit has been put in MAHO has gone through what I am?” Mary said.

  “No,” Dr. Carver replied. “Your experience is absolutely unique.”

  “Of all the people in the world, why me? Why did I have to be picked to be a territory?”

  “I would posit they view us all that way,” Dr. Carver replied. “You are just the only one lucky enough to be able to communicate with them.”

  “So, how long before they link me up to all the other Carver Mushrooms again?” Mary asked.

  “You should not experience any issues as long as you do not exert yourself too much,” Dr. Carver said.

&
nbsp; “Fightin’ men and monsters is what I do, Doc,” Mary said. “How am I gonna do that without sweatin’ up a storm?”

  “Perhaps it is time to hang up your guns and do something else,” Dr. Carver replied. “I am in need of a courier. I believe you are the perfect candidate.”

  “If I was a preacher in Paradise, I still wouldn’t hang up my guns,” Mary said.

  “Well, I will make allowances for your guns if you agree to work for me,” Dr. Carver said.

  “I might consider that if I wasn’t going home after we end Caleb,” Mary said.

  Dr. Carver stared down at the floor. Harriet looked away.

  Mary’s eyes darted back and forth, between Harriet and Dr. Carver. “Harriet? Doc?”

  “The MAHO can’t survive the trip through the Spirit-Engine,” Harriet croaked.

  “What?” Mary said, sitting bolt upright. “You mean to tell me I’m stuck in this world forever?”

  “Yeah, Mary, you are,” Harriet replied.

  “In your world, the Carver Mushroom does not exist,” Dr. Carver said. “So, unfortunately, the MAHO cannot be created by the Baas Bello of your reality.”

  “Give me a minute,” Mary sighed.

  “Mary…” Dr. Carver began.

  “Give me a goddamned minute!” Mary shouted, leaping from the bed.

  Harriet grabbed Dr. Carver’s arm and pulled him away. “Let’s go. Mary, meet us in Dr. Carver’s office when you ready. We gotta get heeled.”

  Mary nodded.

  Harriet and Dr. Carver walked away, leaving Mary alone with her tears.

  ****

  Harriet followed Dr. Carver to his office.

  “Would you like a peanut butter and honey sandwich and some apple cider?” Dr. Carver asked, opening his icebox.

  “Yes, sir,” Harriet replied. “You know I’m partial to them sandwiches.”

  Dr. Carver picked up a beer mug that sat on his desk. He pressed the lever on the pewter lid with his thumb and the lid flew open. Dr. Carver poured cider from a quart bottle and then slid the bottle back into the icebox. He handed the mug and a sandwich wrapped in paper to Harriet.

  “Thank you, kindly,” Harriet said.

  “It is my pleasure,” Dr. Carver said. “For now, it is still a delicacy, but soon, I will have my peanut butter in every store in Freedonia.”

  “Give me the recipe to take back to Baas,” Harriet said. “We’ll put it in the stores there, too and I’ll spend the rest of my days a rich woman.”

  “I certainly will,” Dr. Carver said.

  “So, where are the weapons?” Harriet asked. “I feel naked as Adam and Eve without ‘em.”

  “They are in this cabinet,” Dr. Carver said, patting a brass-trimmed, pine cupboard. “My staff has worked night and day to create replicas of your weapons, based on your specifications. I will leave you – and Mary, when she decides to join you – to it. I have to go to the National House and activate the four Steptons I had shipped there last night.”

  “Mary and me will be in Atlanta directly,” Harriet said. “After we done tested these weapons real thorough.”

  “Until, again, we meet.”Dr. Carver bowed and exited the room.

  ****

  The weapons slid on one by one – two Carver Dragoon revolvers and the Carver repeating rifle. Mary surveyed herself in the mirror, gave a thin little smile of satisfaction, and headed for the door.

  “Lawd,” Harriet said, shaking her head. “You ‘bout the only one I ever known who gets comfort from a gun. Glad you feelin’ better, though.”

  “Never underestimate how much assistance, how much satisfaction, how much comfort, how much soul and spirit there is in a six shooter and a well-made carbine,” Mary said.

  Harriet chuckled. “You sound like you talkin’ ‘bout a man you fancy.”

  Mary broke into song, holding her carbine high, as she strutted out the door. “All I need in this life of sin is me and my boyfriend…”

  Harriet shook her head.

  Now, finally alone in the office, she laid her weapons before her, checking over them with a skill honed to a razor’s edge by decades of war.

  She unloaded and cleaned the Carver Mule. After double-checking that the revolver was purged of oil, dirt and gunpowder, she tested its hammer, trigger, and firing pin. Satisfied the Mule was in perfect working order, she loaded it.

  Harriet then strapped a scabbard to her waist, letting it hang down her left thigh. She inspected her spadroon, checking the sword’s keen, iron edge. It was more beautiful than the spadroon she wielded in her reality, with a multi-ridged ivory grip and a brass hilt replete with a five-ball counter guard and knuckle bow. She slid the sword into the scabbard, and holstered the Carver Mule in a pouch she wore across her chest.

  “Lawd, I’m grateful to you and Dr. Carver for the weapons,” Harriet said, gazing at the ceiling. “I promise to kill plenty ghuls in yo’ name, Lawd; an’ anything else you might see fit for me to kill along the way.”

  CHAPTER twenty

  Hamilton and Eliza stood on the guest house’s full front porch.

  Caleb perused the house. It had a high gabled roof, the ridge of which was parallel to the walkway that ran in front of the Creole cottage, accommodating the porch as well as the mass of the house.

  Two glass doors on the porch led to rooms within the house. An ebony door, trimmed in brass, was positioned at the center of the porch, behind Hamilton.

  The guest house rose, basement and all, from its foundation upon ten iron, spider-like legs – five legs on each side of the house.

  The house lumbered onto the walkway and then the legs retracted into the house. A series of massive tracks – highly tooled steel plates, linked together in a loop and placed around iron wheels – replaced them. Each track was set upon long axles that were free to swivel around a common axis. This arrangement gave the house maximum adaptability to the contours of the ground. It crept, moving level along the ground, with one “foot” high upon a hillock and another deep in a depression, holding itself erect and steady even upon a steep hillside.

  Immense iron plates unfolded from the roof, covering the exterior of the house.

  “Damn, Hamilton,” Caleb shouted. “Looks like this house could stop an attack from an army of Gatling Guns!”

  Hamilton smirked and shook his head. “Oh, the house is much more adamantine than that. The plates are quite thick and can withstand the blasts of several large artillery rounds.”

  “You expectin’ war to come your way sometime soon?” Caleb said.

  “I’m a Negro man with a white wife,” Hamilton said. “War is always imminent.”

  The porch’s steps flattened and then extended outward, forming a bridge.

  “Come on up,” Hamilton said.

  “You have enough room for all of us?” Caleb inquired.

  “The basement can accommodate 200 people comfortably,” Hamilton replied. “There is more than enough room.”

  Caleb looked over his shoulder at the army of ghuls, who stood in columns behind him. “Let’s go!”

  Colonel Kim repeated Caleb’s order in the common tongue of Joseon. “Gaja!”

  “Council on the main floor,” Caleb barked. “The rest of you, in the basement.”

  “Mein cheung-e wiwonhoe,” Colonel Kim shouted, translating Caleb’s orders. “Dangsin ui nameojineun, jiha lo idong.”

  The army of British, American and Joseon ghuls flowed into the house like a blue and red river, overflowing from a heavy spring rain. Caleb joined Hamilton and Eliza on the porch.

  “Who’s driving this monstrosity?” Caleb asked.

  “My wife and four men under my employ,” Hamilton answered.

  “Speaking of which,” Eliza said. “I had better head up to the Command Bridge and get this thing moving.”

  “Have some absinthe to relax your nerves first, my love,” Hamilton said. “Oh, Cornelius!”

  A ghul skittered out of the house. The creature was dressed in a cream-color
ed tuxedo with matching gloves and chestnut leather shoes. If anyone had seen the ghul about town anywhere in New York City, they would have recognized poor Cornelius Vanderbilt, once one of the most powerful men in the world, now the servant of his rival, Jeremiah G. Hamilton.

  “Yes, sir?” Cornelius said.

  “Bring three glasses of absinthe,” Hamilton replied.

  “Yes, sir,” Cornelius said.

  “Hurry, Cornelius,” Hamilton said. “If you take longer than five minutes, I will make you gnaw off one of your toes.”

  “Yes, sir,” Cornelius repeated before skittering off.

  “That’s cold,” Caleb said, shaking his head.

  “That is the best way to serve the dish called revenge,” Hamilton replied.

  Cornelius returned with a tray upon which sat three crystal stemmed glasses filled halfway with verte absinthe. Hamilton, Caleb and Eliza took a glass and sipped the strong, green spirit, while Cornelius stood in the doorway, awaiting his next command.

  “Enjoy,” Hamilton said. “Relax in the parlor, study, or dining room. We leave in five minutes and should arrive in Freedonia by tomorrow night.”

  “So, the house is well-armored,” Caleb said, taking a sip from his glass. “But what about its offenses? If things get ugly at the border of Freedonia…”

  “I assure you, they won’t,” Hamilton said. “But to answer your question, the Ann Eliza Jane – I named the house after my beloved wife, for, like her, it is powerful, yet brings me much comfort – is armed with four Gatling Guns that extend out of slots on each side of the house’s bottom floor and a fifth on the roof in case we are attacked from the air.”

  “Sounds like you thought of most situations,” Caleb said. “Except for where I and my Council sleep.”

  “There are nine bedrooms in this house,” Hamilton replied. “The Master Bedroom belongs to Eliza and me. You and your…men may occupy the rest. There is also plenty of food and water. Should any of your soldiers need to exit the house for any reason, there is a door hidden in the floor of the basement they can sneak out of, or they can use either of these doors when the house is not in motion. Once we get going, though, the exterior of all doors and windows will be covered by metal plates and electrified.”