Gears of a Mad God Omnibus

by Brent Nichols

  The image of her workshop in Toronto flashed through her mind, and she wished for home with an intensity that startled her. She felt as if she would do anything to be back home with Roland's arms around her. He symbolized everything she'd lost, safety and family, a sense of security.

  The truck swerved, pressing her against the side of the box, and suddenly they were bouncing along on much rougher track. They passed a tree so close she heard branches whipping against the side of the truck.

  Rick looked past the cab and said, "Oh, damn it!" Then he dropped to his knees, reaching out to brace himself, and cried, "Dead end!"

  A moment later everyone lurched as Smith hit the brakes and brought the truck around in a tight turn. They stopped, gears clashed below them, and the truck lurched back.

  The cars with the cultists were coming in fast, Colleen heard the skid of tires as they braked, and the truck lurched into motion. It looked like the truck and the cars were going to crash head-on, and Colleen did her best to brace herself and Parker. Then one car went past on her left, close enough that she could have reached out and slapped the roof as it went by. On her right there came a squeal of metal as they brushed the other car in passing.

  A shot rang out, she heard the impact against the truck's fender, and Rick leaned out and fired into the nearest car. Then the truck went bouncing back up the track, with the two cars backing and filling behind them as they turned around.

  All too soon the cars were turned around and following, their headlights bouncing crazily as they raced up the track. The truck turned back onto a paved road, picking up speed, but the cars were soon closing the gap.

  Soon a dark green sedan was right behind them, nearly hitting their back bumper. The sedan edged to the right and accelerated, and the truck swerved right, keeping them from pulling alongside. Then they came to a curve, the road broadened, and the sedan slipped into place beside the truck.

  Rick and Carter went to the right side of the truck, looking down on the car roof, trying to line up a shot on the driver. They didn't seem to notice when the other car, a blue coupe, started to gain ground.

  Colleen left Parker's side and moved to the tailgate. A figure was crawling through the passenger-side window of the coupe. When skirts suddenly billowed in the wind she realized it was a woman. The woman stood on the running board, one hand clutching the door of the coupe, the other hand clutching a pistol. The coupe accelerated.

  The woman was wild-eyed, her face demented, her hair streaming behind her. Her attention was fixed on something near ground level. When she levelled the pistol, Colleen realized she was planning to shoot the truck's rear tire.

  Colleen felt a moment of paralyzing terror, which ended when she noticed something in her pocket digging into her hip. It was the pistol she had captured on the ship. She drew the pistol out, her hands moving almost unconsciously. It was a simple enough mechanical device, and she'd picked up the basics automatically, watching the others use their guns. Draw the hammer, watch the cylinder rotate as the hammer clicked into place.

  The coupe was very close. The woman was crouching on the running board, her arm extended, her gun very close to the tire. Colleen pointed her pistol at the woman's face.

  The woman looked up. Colleen recognized her; it was the woman who had ordered her killed in Chinatown. She stared into the muzzle of Colleen's pistol for a long moment, and she smiled. Then she ignored Colleen and turned her attention back to the truck tire.

  Colleen experienced a brief torrent of thoughts, an agonized certainty that she couldn't do what she needed to do, a sharp awareness that Jane and Maggie and Rick and Carter and Parker and Smith were all going to die if that tire blew, and above all a realization that she had no more than an instant, there was simply no time to think about this, no time to wrestle with the morality of taking a life. There was only time to pull the trigger.

  The impact of the gun against her hand shocked her. She was dimly aware that the pistol was pointing at the sky, but her horrified attention was taken by the woman she'd shot. There was a sound, a horrible noise of wet, reverberating impact that came to her clear as birdsong even over the echoing blast of the shot. She saw exactly what the bullet did to the woman's head, squeezed her eyes shut far too late to save herself from that image.

  She still had her eyes closed when a hand closed over hers and gentle fingers tugged the pistol from her grasp. She opened her eyes and saw Rick, his face sympathetic, tucking the pistol in his waistband.

  Her eyes went to the road. The sedan was slewed across the road fifty feet behind them, and the coupe was stopped behind it. The truck, though, was bouncing and shaking as if they were driving over railroad ties.

  "They hit our tire," Rick said. "We're going to have to hoof it."

  A black despair washed over Colleen. She'd done something that was going to haunt her for the rest of her life, and the truck had lost a tire anyway.

  The bouncing and lurching got worse until finally the truck slid into the ditch. Carter opened the tailgate, then joined Rick in lifting Parker out. Colleen moved to Jane's side, but Jane surprised her by standing unaided. "I can walk," Jane said, and climbed to the ground.

  Smith led them across the road and into a row of trees. "This is where we'll make our stand," he said grimly. Carter and Rick set Parker on the ground. Then the three able-bodied men each chose a tree to hide behind, knelt, and waited.

  Maggie knelt beside Parker, examining his bandages. Colleen found herself with nothing to do. She looked around. There were stripes of cloud in the sky, but in the gaps she could see the cold, bright blaze of countless stars. They shone brighter than she'd seen them in years. The light and pollution of Toronto didn't allow for starry nights like this.

  She stared upward, shivered, and was filled with a yearning to somehow survive this night. She wanted more from life, more starry nights, more wonderful evenings with Roland, more of everything that life had to offer. She didn't want to die by the side of a road in British Columbia, unarmed and helpless as the cult closed in.

  She lowered her gaze and looked around her. Was that a darker shape on the ground ahead of her? She stared at what was essentially a black rectangle against a nearly-black background, unsure of what she was seeing.

  The others were waiting, silent. Somewhere beyond the trees the cultists were closing in. There was nothing Colleen could do to help, so she walked forward into the darkness. With every step the dark rectangle became more distinct.

  A shot rang out behind her. She turned, couldn't see anything. There were no more shots, and finally she turned back to the dark rectangle. She kept walking, and finally made out the outline of a small wooden shack.

  She couldn't see the water, but she heard the lap of waves on rock. The building before her was right on the water's edge. In fact, when she reached it she found that it extended into the water. She tried the door. It didn't budge.

  If this was a boathouse, though, it would be open from the water side. There could be a boat, and that might mean escape. She went to the side of the building, clambered blindly down a sloping shelf of rock, and splashed into the water. She waded outward, gasping with the cold. The ground fell away sharply, and soon she was swimming, following the wall of the building.

  The seaward side of the building was wide open. It was a boathouse, all right. Colleen swam inside and pulled herself up onto a wooden platform inside. Her fingers fumbled along the walls, found a switch, and flipped it on. Light filled the boathouse.

  There was one boat, a long rowboat with a couple of oars in the bottom. It would be a slow escape, but the night was dark enough that they would be safe from gunfire once they were a dozen feet from shore.

  The door could be unlocked from the inside. She flung it open, and a long rectangle of light spilled across the ground. She ran up the slope toward the trees. Arriving out of breath, she called out, "There's a boat," and dropped to her knees beside Maggie. Parker looked terrible, but he grinned at her. Colleen said, "This i
s going to hurt, Parker," and grabbed the fabric of the shoulder of his jacket. Maggie gave her a dubious look, then grabbed the other shoulder. They set off toward the boathouse, dragging Parker, Jane trailing behind them.

  Shots rang out from the tree line behind them. The men were covering their retreat. Colleen ignored the burning in her muscles, the fire in her lungs, and concentrated on dragging Parker as fast as she could. They reached the boathouse, manoeuvred their way through the doorway, and managed to get Parker into the bottom of the boat.

  He let out a low groan, and Maggie said, "Oh, stop being such a baby! We did all the work."

  Jane stood just inside the doorway looking uncertain and lost. Colleen climbed out of the boat, snapped, "Get in!" to Jane, and untied the rope at the prow. Then she moved to the doorway.

  Two men were running down the slope. She recognized Carter, running in the rectangle of light from the doorway. She couldn't see who the other man was.

  Shots rang out at the tree line, and Carter looked back. Then he stopped and turned, and took a single step back toward the trees. Rick reached him then, stopping him. Colleen heard the sound of a shot, saw a flash of red near the trees, heard the whack of a bullet striking the boathouse. Realizing the men were dangerously well-lit, she flicked off the lights.

  Carter, his voice hoarse, panted, "Dirk's still up there!"

  "You can't save him." There was pain in Rick's voice. "If you go charging up there, then he's died for nothing."

  Carter tried to push past Rick. The tall Mountie grabbed Carter's shoulders, hauled him back, and sent him stumbling toward the boathouse.

  Colleen turned her back, knelt beside the boat, and gave it a push. As the boat drifted out she jumped aboard. Maggie had the oars in place, and the two women took an oar each, ready to pull.

  Carter and Rick came barrelling into the boathouse. The boat was a foot past the edge of the boathouse now. They ran, jumped, and the boat rocked wildly as they landed. Parker cried out as Rick landed on his legs. Water splashed over the gunwales and both men crouched, stabilizing the boat. Colleen and Maggie pulled hard on the oars and the boat moved swiftly across the dark water.

  She couldn't see the cultists as they swarmed into the boathouse, but she heard their excited voices echoing against the walls. Then a muzzle flash lit the boathouse for an instant as someone fired into the darkness. She caught a quick glimpse of half a dozen people crowded together. There were several more shots, all of them wild. Colleen and Maggie rowed for their lives, and soon the boathouse vanished in the darkness of the shore.

  "I didn't know," Carter murmured. "I didn't know he was staying. The last thing he said was, 'Let's go!' Then he stayed behind to hold them off."

  No one replied as the boat moved deeper into the darkness.

  Chapter 6 – A Midnight Caller

  The sun was rising as Colleen and Carter let themselves into Uncle Rod's workshop. Parker and Jane were in the city hospital, with Rick and Maggie keeping watch. Carter planned to get a few hours of sleep, then go back and spell them.

  Not that it was likely necessary. The hospital was crawling with police. Victoria had to be one of the most peaceful cities in Canada. Gun violence was so rare as to seem downright bizarre, and the night's events had the local police force's undivided attention.

  The team members had claimed to know nothing. They were innocent bystanders, injured in passing when half of the Arcadia's crew had inexplicably gone berserk. The local police weren't entirely convinced, but Rick's contacts in the Canadian government would smooth things over.

  Jane wasn't seriously injured. The doctors wanted to keep her for a day. Carter had promised that when she was released, he would arrange for her to be resettled in the United States, somewhere peaceful, somewhere the cult would never find her.

  Parker's case was more serious. He was dangerously low on blood. He had undergone emergency surgery and was resting.

  Carter insisted that Colleen take Uncle Rod's cot. He already knew from their earlier search of the workshop where to find a spare blanket, and he stretched himself out on a rug.

  Colleen lay down, still wearing her filthy, bedraggled dress. She longed for a hot bath and clean clothes, but she was afraid to return to her hotel. So she stared up at the ceiling, thinking of the moment when the gun had kicked in her hand and a fellow human being had ceased to be.

  Several long minutes dragged past. Then Carter mumbled something.

  "What was that?" Colleen twisted around to look at him. "Did you say something?"

  "Oh, sorry." He looked embarrassed. "Talking to myself. Talking to Dirk, actually. Trying to apologize, not that he can hear me now. I didn't mean to, you know."

  "Didn't mean to do what?"

  "To leave him." Carter sounded surprised, as if his thoughts should be obvious. "We were always a team. We stuck by each other. He pulled me out of some pretty tight spots, let me tell you, even when it meant putting his neck on the line. I tried to do the same for him."

  He lapsed into silence. Colleen stared at him, uncertain what to say, disturbed to realize that he was just as haunted as she was.

  "He wasn't always like that. Like the man you met. All intense and wound up. He used to be a baker, can you believe it?"

  Colleen tried to imagine Smith with his arms dusty with flour, and couldn't do it.

  "He lived in Calgary. Had a little house there. I think he still owns it. Owned it, that is. I saw it once. It was a nice place. I always hoped someday he'd be able to go back, take up that life he had before."

  "What happened?"

  There was a long moment of silence, and she thought he wasn't going to answer. Then he sighed and said, "The cult happened. His wife worked at a museum in Calgary. I don't even know what she found out, if anything. But the cult thought she knew something she shouldn't. They killed four people that night, and burned the museum to the ground. After that, well, Dirk's been with us."

  He fell silent again. Then he spoke again, his voice so soft she didn't think he meant for her to hear. "Until last night. I'm sorry, pal. I never meant to let you down."

  "It's not your fault," Colleen said. The words sounded hollow to her ears. "If it's anyone's fault it's mine. I insisted we go after Jane."

  "No, we had to save the lady," he said. "You were right to remind us of that. If we hadn't, it would have been harder to live with than, than this."

  Colleen closed her eyes and saw, for the thousandth time, the face of the woman on the running board an instant before the gun went off. Now, there was someone who could be blamed. Someone who had taken up a gun and set out to do kidnapping, torture, and murder.

  "It's not my fault," Colleen whispered. "You made it happen. You took Jane, you hurt her, you came after us. You made me do it." It sounded like an excuse, and her conscience wasn't satisfied.

  She spent a rotten morning staring at the ceiling, dozing off, having nightmares, and coming awake with a start. Finally she and Carter admitted they weren't going to get any more sleep and set out for downtown.

  She made him stand guard in her room while she bathed and changed. Then they went to the Empress Hotel and she sat in his room while he cleaned up. Smith's room was next door. All of his things would be there. The last time she'd been in this room, he'd been sitting in the chair she now occupied. The thought made her melancholy. Despite her exhaustion she was only too happy to get up and leave when Carter stepped out of the bathroom.

  They stopped in the lobby, where Carter explained that Mr. Smith in 306 had been suddenly called away on business, but a Mr. Richard Dalglish would be taking the room. A Miss Margaret Nelson would be requiring a room as well. Carter paid for the rooms, then left with Colleen for the hospital.

  They found a policeman in the corridor outside of Parker's room, and Rick nodding in a chair inside. He stood, yawning and stretching, as Carter told him about the hotel room. He left, still yawning, and Carter sank into the chair.

  Parker was sleeping. His face was pale,
but he didn't look too bad. Colleen tucked the blankets around him and went out into the hall.

  Another police officer was on guard a little way down the hall. He nodded as she stepped past him into Jane's room.

  Jane had sticking plaster on four different places on her face. Her bruises had darkened, and her lips and cheek had puffed up. Overall she looked much worse, but she smiled when she saw Colleen.

  Colleen looked around the room. "Where's Maggie?"

  "She left when the policeman outside made it clear he wasn't going anywhere. It's all right. There's police all over the place. I'm perfectly safe for now." Her face went somber. "After that, well, I'm going to be leaving Victoria. Leaving Canada completely, in fact."

  "I heard," said Colleen.

  Jane shrugged. "The only thing really keeping me here was Rod. And he's gone now. Even without everything else that's happened, I might have left, just to escape the memories." She shook her head. "Poor Rod. I miss him so much."

  Colleen nodded. Her uncle had left a bigger gap in her life than she ever would have expected.

  "It's over, I guess," said Jane. "This whole nightmare."

  "I guess it is," said Colleen.

  "Thank you for coming to get me. The others said you were the one who made them come. You made them save me."

  Colleen blushed and looked at the floor. "Well, you kept helping me."

  "Oh, posh. You got me off of that horrible ship, and I'll never forget it. I don't know where I'll end up, but wherever it is, you'll always be welcome. You're my family now. I mean it."

  Colleen stared at the other woman, speechless, and Jane grinned. "Now, don't get all teary on me. You'll spoil your dime novel hero image."

  Colleen left the hospital room feeling better than she had in quite some time. The nightmare really was over. She was going to catch the next ferry to the mainland and head immediately for Toronto. There, she would be spending time with Roland. It was time she thought about building a family of her own, a real family. A life with Roland, far away from mad cults and murderous plots.