by Mark Lingane
“The best grade you’ll ever get, dummy,” whispered John. He laughed in his usual condescending style and reminded his gang, via his typical physical threats, to follow his lead.
“Quiet, John. It’s Sammy, isn’t it? Well, Sammy, the sea is like Lake Woleebee, except bigger. So big you can’t see across to the other side. So big that if it was the ground it would take you a year to walk across it. And it’s full of waves so high they’re as tall as the trees out by Glasshouse Mountain.”
The younger children gasped.
“What’s on the other side of the sea?” Sammy asked.
A hushed silence fell over the students. Sammy looked around at the older children, who had gone quiet. Even Sebastian had interrupted his sketching.
“Something we do not discuss, Sammy,” Oliver replied. His face became solemn after his terse response.
“Zombies and vampires,” shouted John, as he laughed uproariously. His thick friends, in both mind and body, joined in.
A young girl started to cry. “Is it true?”
“As you will never go there,” Oliver told her, “it’s something you don’t need to worry your pretty little head about.”
He quickly diverted their collective attention to the wonders of hydrodynamic heat exchange under extreme compression, which had John theatrically snoring, puzzled expressions on the faces of the younger children, and Sebastian enthralled.
The school day ended. The children packed away their books and prepared to run out into the humid winter afternoon. Sebastian threw his items into his desk and made a dash for the door. Halfway out Oliver, called to him.
“Not so fast, young man. Had you forgotten your punishment? Commence with stacking the books by the window.”
He groaned and turned back. John bashed his shoulder into Sebastian as they passed. Sebastian grabbed his arm and rooted John to the spot.
“Yeah, what is it?” John said.
Eventually he spoke. “I’ll get you back.”
Sebastian stared out the window at John, who was slouching against the old wooden fence waiting for his older brother. John Oakley was a boy about to come of an age where he could till the land with his father. School was a hindrance, something that was delaying him showing his father that he was a man. John was even cultivating some fluff on his upper lip, which had a close resemblance to the fluff on his backside, which he felt obligated to show everyone during a lull in conversation. His older brothers laughed at him and called him an idiot, and as such, he fit in well with his whole family.
“I’ve finished the books, Mr. Stephenson,” Sebastian said as he approached the teacher’s desk.
“It would be good if you read them one day.” He pulled out his fob watch. “I have to go.”
Sebastian glanced out the window. While John was waiting he still had a chance to get him back for the stone.
“Good. I can—”
“I said: I have to go. You have to put all the chairs on the desks. Then you will be permitted to go.” Oliver stood and packed away the papers.
Sebastian felt his anger get to a boiling point. His face flushed as he clenched his fists.
“Is there a problem?” Oliver said.
“No, sir.”
“Good. When you’re done, put the key in the usual place.”
His face settled into a glum expression. “Yes, Mr. Stephenson,” he said as Oliver carefully positioned his hat, then exited the room. Sebastian sighed as his gaze drifted over the upturned chairs cast across the floor.
Sebastian often walked home on his own along the worn tracks, using the time to calm down from whatever insult John had leveled at him during the day. The trees arched over the dirt path creating a long tunnel that often caught the afternoon breeze. He spotted his teacher ahead and ran to join him.
Oliver strolled along with his measured gait, one hand tucked into his waistcoat. With the other, he carried his battered brown case. His glasses occasionally caught flashes of the sun through the rolling clouds.
“Would you like to come for dinner tonight?” Sebastian asked.
“That behavior would be deemed inappropriate, Sebby.”
“Please, Mom’s been sad for so long. It might cheer her up. Especially if you bring your devices.”
“Do you wish a visit to cheer up your mother, or to show you the devices?”
Oliver tipped his top hat to an elderly woman wealthy enough to own a twin-horse chauffeured sports cab. She had the roof lowered and was cooling herself with an expensive silk fan. She glanced in his direction and gave him the barest response.
Sebastian had noticed that many people gave Oliver respectful nods, but were never friendly, as though a barrier lay between him and the people.
“I’ll see you home, Sebby,” Oliver said. “As it happens, I do have some small devices in my case, new ones I’m sure you’ll both like.” The thunder growled overhead, shaking the trees. Both glanced at the menacing clouds. “We’d better make haste.”
They picked up the pace and marched along the dusty track with exaggerated strides, laughing until they reached the main road leading into the town. John’s elder brother, Rapacity, sullenly walked along the other side of the street carrying a large hessian sack. As with most days, he wore a filthy cream undershirt and gray pants so dirty and stiff with age they no longer required a belt. His black hair was slicked back with a combination of sweat and grease.
“I heard you fixed the Oakley’s cart axle and they didn’t even give you dinner.”
“Times have been hard for some people,” Oliver replied.
“Perhaps some people shouldn’t spend all their profits on cheap booze, drinking when they should be working the fields. That’s what Mom says.”
“Yes, I can hear her in your voice. Not all people are as astute and diligent as Alex was in saving for the future. There is much you can learn from your father’s dedicated and tolerant ways. Let’s see if we can convince Mr. Oakley to settle his debt.”
Oliver raised his hand and waved to the surly man. “Mr. Oakley, if I could just …” Oliver called out. Rapacity turned his back and walked on, ignoring him.
“Oi, Rapacity,” shouted Sebastian. His face went red. “He’s talking to you.” Sebastian ran across the track and gave him a push, his hands slipping off the young man’s slimy skin. The contents of the sack clinked together.
Rapacity wheeled around and raised his fist. Oliver quickly dashed over to intervene.
“Calm down, boys.”
“Who you calling a boy?” Rapacity said. He glanced darkly at Oliver, before returning his stare back to Sebastian.
“Why haven’t you paid him?” Sebastian said.
“There’s no need to be aggressive,” Oliver pitched in.
“I’ve been busy,” Rapacity growled.
“Not too busy to visit the distillery,” Sebastian said.
“Sebastian, he said he’s been hard pressed for time. We don’t need to bother the good gentleman at this juncture. There is no urgency on this matter. I’m sure he’ll pay when he can.”
“Don’t hassle me. I didn’t ask you to do it.”
“It was your cart,” Sebastian said. “Everyone knows it. Pay what you owe. Or …”
“Or what?” Rapacity spat. He stared at Oliver. “You want the money so bad, you come ’round and try to take it.” He stepped forward, looming over Oliver’s slight frame.
Oliver grabbed Sebastian’s shoulder and stepped away from the intimidating figure.
“It’s perfectly fine. I can wait until you are … um …” He looked up into the man’s dark eyes. “… ready. I’ll put it on the … um … tab.”
Rapacity puffed out his hollow chest and stepped forward again. Sebastian riled and stepped up to the challenge. Oliver grabbed Sebastian and dragged him away.
“Yeah, I’d run away, too,” Rapacity shouted after the diminishing two. “Your fancy clothes and stupid ideas ain’t welcome ’round here.”
Once out of earshot, Oliver dropped his
bag, turned Sebastian around, and placed both hands on his shoulders.
“Sebastian, you can’t react to people like that. One should not trifle with the Oakley family. He’s a thug and bigger than you.”
“It’s a temporary advantage. He won’t always be. Then I’ll show him. It’s not right.”
“You need to control your temper. Rushing into confrontation—whether you believe it justified or not—only leads to regret, and that, my young pupil, is the worst feeling of all. Let’s speak no more of this and get you home. I don’t think he’s ever recovered from the embarrassment of being laid out cold by your mother in front of that out-of-town brother.” Oliver theatrically mimed out an exaggerated uppercut.
“Well, it had been a bad day. And that brother, Prudence or whatever his name was, spoke too much. Stupid name. Stupid head. At least he’s not part of my family. That would be the worst.”
Isabelle cautiously opened the door to Oliver’s jaunty tattoo. The corridor beyond was plain, with only minimal decoration added to the paneled walls in the way of a few ancient frames containing landscapes artfully pieced together with kangaroo skin. Muddied boots of various shapes and sizes sat by the entrance.
“Hello, Oliver, is Sebby in trouble again?”
Sebastian tried to squeeze by and escape to his bedroom before being roped into the never-ending cycle of chores. She shouted at him to remove his boots before dragging dirt across the gleaming floorboards.
“Definitely not. He asked me to bring some of my devices … are you all right? You look disturbingly pale.”
“I’ve caught a cold. It’ll pass in a few days.”
Oliver gave her a skeptical look. “May I suggest you consult the doctor on his next passage through the village, if I may be so bold.”
She snorted, “That fool. He barely has the wherewithal to get through to his next bottle.”
Rain tumbled from the sky, quickly forming small puddles in the dirt. She rested her head against the door and gazed into the distance until her eyes drifted back to Oliver. She looked surprised, as though seeing him for the first time. “You’re looking thin, Oliver.”
His clothes did look several sizes too big. He shrugged. “Alas, tinkering with the devices often distracts me from the requirements of the flesh.”
She opened the door fully. “Come in; I’m not sending you home unfed. Michael is here as well. You know the vet?”
Oliver shook his head. “I would hate to intrude and diminish your supplies.”
“Please, Oliver, we have more than enough, and the storms are in. In two hours they’ll have blown over, and you’ll be fed and dry.”
Oliver stepped hesitantly into the household. He placed his hat on the iron hat stand.
Sebastian reappeared. “Cool, you’re staying.”
“Only until the rain passes.”
“Come into the kitchen,” Isabelle said. She ushered them into the large room. A massive pine sideboard set against one of the paneled walls was covered in decorative plates. She pulled out a lantern from one of the cupboards and placed it by the sink, filling it with oil. “Sebby, set the table, please.”
Michael Filbert, with his shirtsleeves covered in blood and other pungent fluids, quickly stood as Oliver entered the cozy kitchen. His dark skin contrasted with the pale blue uniform he always wore on his visits, and his fit physique could be seen through the thick material as his muscles flexed with every movement. “Oliver, you’ve been well?” Michael said.
Oliver, pale and emaciated in comparison, nodded. “You’ve been tending to the animals?”
Isabelle handed the lantern to the vet, who stretched up and hung it above the table. “Doris has been sick,” Michael said. He knocked back the last of his coffee and slid the mug on the polished rosewood surface, planed and varnished to a near-mirrored sheen. Isabelle picked up the mug and placed it pointedly on its coaster.
Sebastian chimed in, “Poo went everywhere! It was like a river of brown. And the smell, it was epic!” He threw his hands in the air.
“That will be enough, Sebby,” Isabelle said. She reached for her glass of wine and took a sip. “We’re about to eat. Michael, Oliver is staying for dinner, you should also join us.”
“Thanks for the offer, but duty calls. Lady Sanders has an overly rambunctious colt, and out of season. She’s asked me to see what I can do.”
Isabelle gave him an all too infrequent smile. “My, those old ladies certainly are a drain on your time. Make sure she pays you. With money.”
Michael sighed and nodded. “They can be a little slippery. At least you know where you are with an animal.”
“Didn’t you use that when declining the Steam Academy scholarship?”
Oliver gasped and stared over at Michael.
Michael shrugged and glanced back to Oliver. He picked up the mug and rinsed it in the sink. “Yeah, they asked me to go. But, as I said, animals are more reliable, especially when compared to those insane machines.”
“They, they’re not, I say,” said Oliver, as he struggled to get his thoughts in order. “They’re not insane. There is good science behind them.”
“It’d be the first time,” he replied, and gave Oliver a pat on his shoulder as he passed. “Isabelle, your exceptional hospitality, as always, has been appreciated.” A charming smile flashed across his face. He grabbed his coat from the back of the door and slipped it over his shoulders.
“Enough with the smooth talk,” Isabelle said.
“I’ll see myself out if you would allow me.” He gave her a wink and ruffled Sebastian’s sandy-colored hair.
“They’re your legs,” said Isabelle. She gave him a playful smile. “Sebby, dishes. Second request. One more and it’s straight to bed.”
Sebastian groaned, but collected the various plates and cutlery from the sideboard and placed them neatly on the table. The hiss of the monsoon rain spilled into the house as Michael opened the front door. Isabelle stirred the giant pot, and the room was filled with the aroma of the nourishing broth. Then they were left with the relatively distant white noise of rain on the roof.
Oliver stood awkwardly in the corner. “Can I assist with some of the duties?” he asked.
“Please,” Isabelle said as she indicated a seat, “talk to me.”
He sat in the chair closest to the door and fiddled with his napkin. She lowered herself slowly onto a seat as well.
“Mom, we saw Rapacity on the way back. He’s hardly limping at all now.”
Isabelle stiffened.
“It was a manageable situation,” Oliver added. “Nothing ill toward arose.”
“Keep away from him, Sebby. I mean it. And the rest of his despicable family. I don’t know how far their familial tentacles crawl. That brother turning up was a shock. Prevaricator Oakley, a man who’d sell his mother, let alone every moral he once had.” She rubbed her fingertips over the knuckles of her left hand.
“The only Oakley cast out by the other Oakleys because he was too stupid and lazy.” Sebastian laughed.
“He visited me when I first arrived here. The whole incident was unsavory. He pushed a stack of grubby coins into my palm and enquired about young boys. He said he knew some people who were interested. The whole thing made me shiver. And one of the coins wasn’t even legal tender, some shiny black disc.”
Isabelle leaned forward and ran her finger along the rim of the glass. “Do you still have it?”
Sebastian peeked up into his mother’s face as he detected a slight change of pitch in her voice. She didn’t look worried.
“Oh, no, I threw it into Lake Woleebee on the school excursion.”
Isabelle relaxed and sat back. She took a long sip.
“Why did he come to this godforsaken place? Is he visiting all the towns”
“Well, I hadn’t heard anything about him in the other schools I’d visited in the region.”
She shook her head. “So what’s next? Another school?”
“No, I have completed m
y research and have been offered a place at the Steam Academy.”
“I never knew. You got a scholarship?”
“Uh, no. I’m teaching, in fact. It’s all pretty special and top secret. A new power,” he mumbled.
She leaned forward and stared at him. “Really? I thought steam power was one of the oldest technologies in the world. Secret, is it?”
He nervously eased his collar. “Ah. We’ll, it’s something else. But it will provide me with food and board.”
“I wonder what a steam academy does that is suddenly so new. The bastion of antique thinking and chauvinistic hierarchy has a new hobby? Possibly playing with things it doesn’t know how to control?”
“Have you been there?” Oliver said.
“No. Never,” she quickly replied.
“Oh. Right. You sounded as though you had a considerable understanding of the place.”
“I hear rumors. Are they still under attack?”
“Attack?” he blurted. The shock nearly propelled him to standing. “From who?”
“You don’t know?”
“No one has said anything to me.” Oliver’s face filled with panic.
“Maybe the fighting has ceased. I’m sure that’s the case.”
“There is a noble commander out there who has rallied the regions together. Nick something.”
“Nikola?”
“Yes. That may have been it.”
Isabelle’s eyes went wide, and she quickly looked out through the window and held her hand to her mouth.
“Is anything the matter?”
“Commander?” she whispered. She lunged after her glass and took a large sip, emptying the glass. The bottleneck nervously bounced off the rim as she refilled the glass.
“So … um … what was attacking the Academy?”
“Cyborgs. Unstoppable death machines.”
The room fell into silence.
“Mom, they’re not going to come here, are they?”
“You never know where the despicable things will turn up, although they can’t stray too far from the hive. Scuttling horrible things swarming all over the desert. And there’s never one of them.”
“Like cockroaches,” Oliver added.