“Son, I want you to have this,” his father said. “It’s not much, but it’s very special.”
“William, please, we can’t do that,” his mother said. The fear in her voice was real. Atticus never knew why she was so afraid of it. At the time, he thought it was just motherly concern that he would break or lose something so delicate, but now that didn’t seem to be the case.
“I know it’s not much,” William continued, “but as long as you have this, we will always be with you.”
“Mom, dad,” Atticus shouted, “what’s going on? What is all of this?”
It was foolish, Atticus thought, trying to talk with his dream, but it only felt natural.
Almost as if they were really with him, his parents looked at one another with concerned looks. They looked like they knew what was going to happen to them, but there was nothing they could do.
His mother reached out and gripped his right hand, causing the Queen of Spades to glow a bright blue in the darkness. When Atticus looked at her, something was different. She wasn’t quite the same, but he couldn’t put his finger on it. She looked him in the eyes, completely ignoring the glowing tattoo on his hand.
“The Jack lies to you.”
Atticus bolted up in his bead. He looked down and saw the Queen of Spades still glowing. He then turned and looked out the window to see the sun just barely peaking up over the horizon. The seven o’clock bell would chime any minute.
He rolled out of bed and hobbled his way to his desk where he left his locket. Atticus sat down and stared at it, thinking about what his mother had said.
“The Jack lies,” Atticus mumbled. He put the locket back down on the desk and stared at the Queen of Spades that was slowly fading away. He remembered his dream where the Ghost attacked Varnum. It had a mark just like his: The Jack of Clubs. The Ghost was The Jack.
Chapter 13
Atticus decided to head out for an early breakfast. He couldn’t stop thinking about his dream. Apparently, this was becoming a thing with him.
The one thing that shook Atticus more than anything was his mother’s last moments. It wasn’t her who told him about The Jack, but an imposter. Just someone who looked like her. His dream was playing with him, just like how he was in his grandparents’ house instead of his own. Still, he couldn’t get that woman out of his head. She was his mother, but wasn’t at the same time.
He wandered in silence to the cafeteria, and when he arrived he saw Camila’s usual group of friends already at their usual table, but Camila herself wasn’t with them. Atticus began to fear the worst and that the Ghost may have gotten to her.
Atticus made his way up to the group of girls, despite feeling horribly awkward. As he got closer, slowly they all looked at him, their giggling coming to an abrupt halt.
“H-Hi,” he said. No response. “I was, uh, wondering if y-you’d seen Camila?”
A girl wearing a bright red bow in her hair stood up, arms crossed, and glaring at him. “I don’t think she wants to see you right now.”
“Or ever, for that matter,” another girl chimed in.
“But, you did see her last night?”
They all gave him a wicked stare. The girl with the boy chimed in again. “She came back in tears last night, you jerk!”
Atticus felt his heart sink. He was glad she was safe, but he never wanted to make her cry.
“P-Please, I just want to apologize,” he said.
The girls gave him the cold shoulder and turned away. That was when he knew he’d really messed up. Nothing he could’ve said would make them see that he didn’t mean to upset her.
Atticus had completely lost his appetite. As he began to leave, he asked the girls if they could tell Camila he wanted to talk. One of the girls replied with a snarky, “Tell her yourself,” which he assumed was just another way to brush him off, but he was wrong. When Atticus turned around, he was greeted face to face with Camila, her face and eyes a bright red.
“H-Hello.”
The girl reached out and grabbed Atticus by the arm and dragged him out of the cafeteria. After they were hidden from the others, Camila let go of him.
“What happened to you,” she shouted.
Atticus’ mouth went dry. Now that he was actually confronted with the situation, he had no idea what to say.
“Look, Camila, I’m really sorry about-”
“Sorry? Is that all you have to say?” Camila’s face was beaming. He’d never expected she could get so angry, but he guessed that what he did would make any girl angry.
“N-No, I j-just-”
“You know, I expected better from you, Atticus Whaelord!”
Atticus lowered his head in shame. He couldn’t look her in the eyes. Atticus wanted to tell her the truth, but if he did, would she even believe him? Would she get even angrier? He looked up to say something, and he saw just how devastated she was. She looked like she would start crying any minute.
“Please, Camila, I’m very sorry,” he said solemnly. “It’s just that,” he took a deep breath, “I was afraid.”
Camila didn’t look pleased with that answer. “What do you mean afraid?”
“J-Just that,” he stammered, “I was afraid of something bad happening. A-And I didn’t want anything bad happening to you.”
Camila was silent. He could tell she wasn’t sure to believe him or not.
“What are you so afraid of?”
“I-I just don’t want what happened to Mike to happen to you,” he said. “I think someone is following me around, and-”
Camila shouted, “Do you expect me to believe that?”
Atticus was speechless. “C-Camila, I’m not lying. I swear!”
She didn’t say anything, and for a long while, neither did he.
“Look, if you don’t like me that’s fine, but don’t make up such ridiculous stories.”
That was the end of the conversation. Atticus tried to say something, but his voice wouldn’t cooperate and even if it did, it wouldn’t help. Camila wasn’t going to believe him. Why would she? If he hadn’t seen The Jack with his own eyes, he wouldn’t have believed it himself.
He left without a word.
Noon quickly approached, and Atticus made his way to Zebulon Headquarters at the heart of the city. When he arrived, he was greeted by a sharply dressed receptionist man. Atticus told him that he was meeting Detective McCloud, and the receptionist asked for his name. Atticus did as the man told, and was then told to take a seat and wait for the detective to arrive.
After a couple of minutes, McCloud arrived wearing his own snazzy outfit as opposed to his trench coat and fedora. He wore a black pinstriped sports jacket and his hair was carefully slicked back.
McCloud greeted him and the two made their way into the heart of the headquarters; something he would never forget. The building was a perfect, well-oiled machine. Machines of all shapes and sizes kept the building running smoothly. As opposed to the traditional plasma tubes that lined most walls, Zebulon Headquarters was experimenting with plasma panels that lined the ceiling. Steam and spring powered hydraulic pumps transported documents and objects throughout the building, and engines of all kinds kept the building powered.
Atticus was struck with awe as he and McCloud made their way through the building. All different kinds of engineers, designers, scientists, and artificers made their way from room to room. Atticus could only imagine what each of them had planned. Anyone of them could’ve introduce the next big device that would keep the country running. It was everything he’d imagined from the world headquarters and more.
As they walked, McCloud made sure to introduce Atticus to all sorts of different workers: steam engineers, spring design directors, and plasma technicians amongst others. Atticus was honored to meet so many Zebulon employees, but he felt someone was looking at him from a distance. At first he thought it was The Jack, but it wasn’t the same feeling.
He looked around and standing between two large bodyguards was a man with bright bl
onde hair and pale hazel eyes, wearing a gray suit with a red tie. Atticus tried not to stare at the man, but something about him was magnetizing.
The man and the two bodyguards then made their way towards their visitor. As they got closer, Atticus could see that the man had a long scar running from left eyebrow all the way down to his chin. He had a very rugged yet handsome face.
McCloud shifted his attention and smiled at the man. “Good day, sir.”
“Good afternoon, Connor.” The man’s voice was powerful. It had a demanding boom to it. “Is this the boy you were talking to me about?”
“Aye, sir. He be the one.” McCloud turned to Atticus, a smirk stuck to his face. “Atticus, my lad, I’d like to introduce you to Peter Pipes, the president of the Zebulon Corporation.”
Atticus tensed up in fear. Before him stood one of the most powerful men on the planet: the president of Zebulon. It was like he was dreaming.
“W-Wait a minute, Peter Pipes,” Atticus said. He looked over to McCloud and said, “I thought you said he resigned.”
Pipes sneered. “I did resign from my post as head of security. But, that’s because I was selected by the last president to take his place.” The president then shifted his attention to McCloud. “I’ve got a gift for you, Connor.”
It wasn’t until then that Atticus got a good look at Pipes’ two bodyguards. From a distance, they just looked like large burly dark skinned men, but up close he could see that their skin was indeed dark, but not a natural color. It was more like bronze. They both had a tattoo on their forehead that read “OTO.” Atticus wasn’t sure what that meant, but then he saw that their eyes. They were completely a dark red. It was then that Atticus realized he wasn’t looking at two men, but two robots.
The president held out his right hand and snapped his fingers. Then, the robot body guard on that side’s eyes glowed a brighter red. It began to move its arms awkwardly; the way you’d expect a robot to. It reached behind its back and Atticus heard a loud clank. Then, when it pulled its arms back around, it was holding a long wooden box. The robot then aggressively placed the box in Pipes’ hand.
Atticus was busy staring at the robot, his eyes wide and his face pale. “W-What is that?”
McCloud laughed and said, “That is a Zebulon Service Automaton, lad.”
Atticus couldn’t believe what he’d seen. Automatons were something his father used to talk about all the time. They were one of his dream creations: robots that functioned similarly to humans. He used to always say that the core of every good automaton was a heart of clockwork springs.
“Yes, yes,” Pipes said. “They are very impressive. Now Connor, I think you’ll be rather happy to have this back.”
President Pipes opened the box and inside was a long curved saber. McCloud’s eyes beamed instantly when he saw it.
“You fixed it! You sure did!” He took the saber from the box and held it in his hands the same way a father holds his newborn child for the first time. There was a sense of wonder in the detective’s eyes. He pulled the blade from the box and carefully unsheathed it.
Atticus didn’t know much about swords, but he could see why the Detective was so pleased to have his back. It was beautiful. The blade wasn’t silver or chrome, but a milky white. Along the blunt edge were elegant black swirls, and the hilt was a wonderful black and gold.
“I can’t thank you enough, Mr. President,” McCloud said. “Now that my sword is back in my hands, I feel complete again!” McCloud looked at Atticus and brandished his newly fixed blade. “Now this, my lad, is a sword. Absolute perfection. Nothing finer in the world.”
In the flash of an eye, McCloud swung his blade and sliced right through one of President Pipes’ automatons. The robot crumbled to the ground. The poor thing didn’t even stand a chance.
McCloud let out a delightful sigh and said, “Just like I remember.”
Atticus was in shock. One, because of how fast the detective cut through the automaton. Two, because the blade was actually able to slice right through metal. And three, because the sword didn’t have a scratch on it.
“What’s that made of,” Atticus asked.
“Prime Exitium, boy,” said President Pipes. “It’s the Zebulon Corporation’s custom alloy. We’ve been developing it for years. Lighter than steel; stronger than diamond. We use it on all of our armed weapons.”
“But on a sword?”
“Aye, that was my request.” McCloud sheathed his blade and began tying it to his belt as he spoke: “I asked the president here if he could fix my sword and make it stronger than any other. Said he’d do his best, and he most definitely delivered.”
Atticus marveled at the blade for a minute. It was hypnotizing just how beautiful it was. Never had a weapon tranced him so.
“Anyways, I best be going,” Pipes said. “Business to attend to as usual.” He snapped his fingers and the working automaton began picking up the halves of its destroyed companion. Pipes and his bodyguards then vanished into the heart of the building.
McCloud continued to give Atticus his private tour of the building. He showed him all of the engineering stations, the plasma department, and the spring and steam workshops. He showed him around the department of theoretics where scientists and mechanics would spend the day planning and theorizing new projects and experiments. He showed him all of the laboratories where mechanics and artificers were tinkering and experimenting. And then he showed him the boring stuff where all the paper work was done, as well as his own office.
As the tour went on, Atticus continuously saw a portrait of a man. He had pale blonde hair and dark violet eyes. He wore a dark charcoal suit with a purple undershirt and a black vest and tie. He had a very powerful aura about him. The portrait was labeled: “Yliaster Zebulon, Founder of the Zebulon Corporation.” Atticus had seen his pictures before in newspapers and in his school history text books. He could only imagine what it was like to stand within his presence; the man who changed the whole world. It must’ve been very intimidating, Atticus thought to himself.
Everything was great, Atticus thought. Whenever he had a question, McCloud was quick to answer.
“Detective, could you show me where my parents used to work?”
McCloud stopped in his tracks. “Your parents’ offices you say? Well, we’ve done a bit of redecorating since they worked here, but it shouldn’t be a problem.”
The detective lead Atticus down to the building’s basement and down a long corridor. At first, Atticus though the was being tricked. But, McCloud assured him that his parents used to work together down a bit further.
The two arrived at a large metal door. McCloud pressed a button, and after several loud gear clinks and clanks, the door opened to the biggest room Atticus had ever laid eyes on.
“Welcome lad, to the Zebulon Automaton Machinarium,” McCloud said. “Your parents used to call this place the Big Z.A.M. for short.”
“M-My parents used to work on automatons down here? But, my father used to say that his automatons were just a pipe dream.”
McCloud shook his head. “No lad, your father’s ideas about automatons are what propelled this industry forward. Those automatons we saw upstairs wouldn’t have been possible without your father’s work down here.”
“R-Really?” Atticus felt so proud.
“Of course! Now, why don’t I show you around.”
McCloud lead Atticus deep into the machinarium, walking him past broken down prototypes of automatons as well as ones that looked perfectly fine. He explained as much as he could about the machines and how they worked, but he admitted to being a bit slow on the mechanical department.
Different automatons had different labels on them: ACA, OTO, DES, BES, EMI, and so on. According to McCloud, those were ways to identify what job the automaton was designed to do and how it was designed. But, he couldn’t go into much detail about what the letters meant or what the different designs were. Most of the techno mumbo jumbo was lost to him. But that didn’t matte
r. Atticus was so happy to be in a place where his parents had influenced so much.
The detective tended to be a few steps ahead of him, and at one point, Atticus fell a bit behind after getting distracted by an EMI unit. It seemed a bit out of place. Most of the other EMIs looked beaten up and ruined, but the one Atticus looked at was just a bit too clean. Atticus didn’t really care, he just thought it was odd.
He called to ask the detective why, but that’s when he realized he’d gotten completely separated from McCloud.
“Detective?” He hollered. No response.
Then, he began to hear the clicking of gears and twine of spring. He wasn’t quite sure where it was coming from, but Atticus got a terrible feeling in his gut. He thought maybe he was in another nightmare, like he’d never actually woken up, but he knew that couldn’t be true.
The clanging got louder, and as Atticus looked around he realized it was coming from the EMI unit he was staring at. The robot was coming to life. The EMI stared at him with its bright red eyes, and Atticus felt like The Jack was staring at him. He was petrified.
The automaton began to step forward, slowly and clumsily. Twenty feet. Fifteen feet. Ten feet. Then, the robot buckled its legs and lunged at him.
Atticus felt is heart stop. He thought he was going to die; crushed by hundreds of pounds of metal, but he felt his locket and the Queen of Spades blaze on his hand.
In just the nick of time, Atticus dove out of the way, the metal automaton crashing into the ground with a loud thunk.
Atticus quickly bolted to his feet and began to make a mad dash through the machinarium, calling out for detective McCloud. He looked over his shoulder to see that the automaton had regained its balance and started chasing him down again. He’d no idea how it knew to chase him or why, but Atticus got the terrible feeling that it wasn’t going to stop until it got him or was dismantled. But who would’ve programmed the machine to do that?
The Jack, Atticus thought. It’d followed him and knew he’d come down to his parents’ old workplace. It would be the perfect time to attack.
Spring-Heeled Jack Page 11