“Yes indeed,” agreed Willie. “It’s much faster than writing a letter. Only problem is, it costs a fortune for the system. Some of the hotels in town have them, and they charge a minimal fee to use them for a few minutes.” Willie scratched at his ear, thinking. “Boy, I bet the professor would have a field day with it.”
“He has used one,” said Garrett. “He talks to me on mine sometimes. He’s quite busy with his little grandson though, and it’s not often we get to chat.”
“That’s right,” returned Willie quietly. “I forgot you have one of those things. Sorry, sometimes my head gets fuzzy. Where was I?”
“Azilda sent you a letter, and then you met over the G.V.”
“Oh yes, that’s right. She contacted me out of the blue. I hadn’t heard from her in several years when I received her letter. She asked me to call her on the G.V. She had word that I was having difficulties with debt, and she had a paying job for me. Now, I have no idea how she acquired her information, but once I did meet with her on the G.V., she had enough funds transferred to me to see me to Deep Cove. She even paid for my lodgings, at the Peacock Feather. Now, that’s a fine establishment, let me tell you.”
“Yes, I know the place. P.C. cleans the outhouses there.”
“Well that’s all there is to tell. She asked if I could come up with a reason to get you out of town. I said I would ask you to go hunting with me, and here we are.”
Garrett twisted the rope one final time and cinched it tight between the poles. He used his teeth to assist his good arm in knotting it down. He glanced to the front of the cave. Avros had left to go to the bathroom some minutes before, but still had not returned. Picking up the hatchet, Garrett moved down the left pole of the travois and banged a notch into the wood. His blows were clumsy as he used his off hand to wield the tool. Setting a cross piece into this newly produced notch, he searched for another piece of twine in the pack beside him. “Are you sure she never told you why she was in Deep Cove?”
“She was there with her fiancé and his father. Apparently, they were opening a factory or something.”
“Yes,” agreed Garrett, “the new water treatment facility. Many of the buildings in town are now being hooked up to the new sewer system.” Garret shrugged, looking defeated. “That still doesn’t explain why she wanted me out of town.”
Willie looked nervous as he took a sip from Minx’s tin. Finally he cleared his throat. His eyes were on his feet as he spoke. “There’s more Garrett, I should have told you sooner, but I really didn’t want to be part of any rift between the two of you. She asked me to take a blue notebook from your place and bring it to her. She said she forgot to grab it, a couple days beforehand.”
Garrett looked even more confused. “What do you mean, a couple days beforehand? She never came to see me. Did you find this notebook?”
“Yes,” agreed Willie. “She said she left it on the back counter. I knew it wasn’t hers though, as she offered me two bottles of rye to bring it to her. You don’t pay someone to steal your own things. I’m sorry, Garrett, I should have asked your permission.” Willie looked miserable. “It’s just that, I needed a drink, and she offered…”
“No, it’s okay, Willie, she used you too. The only question is, why?” Garrett tied the crosspiece into place and shook his head. “Blue notebook,” he muttered, “I don’t get it. The only blue notebook I can think of is the list of notes and commands I have compiled for P.C. over the years. There’s nothing special in there.”
Willie coughed and dropped the tin. For several seconds, he hacked and sputtered. Garrett could see the sweat building on his friend, again. “You should eat,” he said for about the fifth time.
Willie shook his head and sank back into a prone position. He cradled his Impaler, his hand rubbing the polished bow horn. “I just need a rest,” he grunted. His eyes were closed and his breathing uneven again.
Garrett set the pole down and picked up the hatchet. He walked to the front of the cave and added wood to the fire. Outside, the little daylight that remained was disappearing fast. “Avros,” he called softly. When there was no reply, he stepped further out onto the ledge and called again. He glanced to where Willie had not moved. He scanned the underbrush, but saw no movement. Jumping down to the loose rocks, he rounded the side of the hill and made his way up the trail to where Avros had told him he would take care of his business.
A light rain was falling, and something inside Garrett warned him to be vigilant. The woods were silent. Hefting his hatchet with his good hand, Garret continued up the trail until he was above the cave. “Avros,” he called softly. Again, nothing stirred. He went forward now with the certainty that something ill had befallen the woodsman. “Avros,” he shouted. There was no answer.
Taking two more steps, he saw the body lying behind the log. There could be no mistaking the blood covering the man’s shirt and vest. Approaching the man, he assessed the wounds, and then stood. He hadn’t needed more than the briefest of glances to know those cuts were not inflicted by any animal. “Willie,” he breathed and raced toward the cave.
17
Whose Plan Is This Anyway?
Johnny’s vulgar snores cut through the darkness of their cell. Merle stood on the bunk, beside his cellmate, a pair of cuffs in his hand. He had exchanged his orange prison garb for the darker wool outfit supplied by Artero. He had also cut wing slits into the garment, to allow himself free aerial movement. His hand clamped over Johnny’s mouth, cutting off another snore. The wiry man squirmed beneath him. Johnny’s eyes opened and he struggled to see what had grabbed him.
“It’s me,” whispered Merle, and Johnny slapped the dragon’s paw from his mouth.
“What the hell are you doing?” snapped Johnny. “You can’t just put that on my mouth.”
“Shush,” warned Merle.
“Ya, just shush and take what yer givin’. Some of us are trying to sleep,” came the harsh whisper from cell twelve.
“Get out of those clothes, and put this on.” Merle kicked a second folded outfit towards Johnny.
“I will not,” barked Johnny.
“Quit your whining, Quail and do as you’re told. We all know who wears the pants in your cell.” The voice from twelve sounded sleepy.
“Shut your mouth, and mind your business,” whispered Merle. He was angry, now. Everything he had worked so hard to plan came down to tonight. It was bad enough that Johnny had awakened another inmate with his loud words, but if the guards came, his escape would be thwarted before it even began.
Merle leaned in close over the young man. “I have everything planned for our escape.” He barely breathed. “Just say the word, and I’ll leave you behind, kid.” His tone left no doubt about the certainty of the statement. “It’ll be easier with you, but I can manage on my own.”
Johnny sat up and rubbed the sleep from his eyes. “Yes,” he whispered eventually. “We can live off the land.” He swung his legs from the bunk, nearly knocking Merle from his perch. He jumped down and dropped his prison garb in one motion. He reached for the bundled outfit Merle had provided and stepped into one of the legs. “Why didn’t I think of this?”
“We’re not going to live off the land,” said Merle in frustration. “We’re going to rescue P.C. before he’s melted for scrap. He’s being shipped to the foundry tonight. Then we’re off to that water treatment plant.”
“Rescue P.C.?” hissed Johnny. “Why would I want to do that?” He stuck his second foot through the outfit and shimmied back and forth, pulling the clothing up his slender frame. Reaching under the bed, he located his prison sneakers with his taped up glasses stuck in the left heel.
“It’s my asking price, for getting you out of here. Like I said, I have everything planned, weapons, clothing, and food. I even have all the keys we need to get through the doors. You’re going to love the zip line I worked out with Artero. That part, I devised especially for you. I don’t need it, with my wings and all.” His gossamer extensions humm
ed loudly as if to accentuate this point.
Johnny considered it for a minute. “Alright, if you have food,” he said, settling his bent spectacles on his nose, “then I guess we can work together.” He rubbed at the fabric of his new outfit and nodded favorably. “Stoneman get your big butt up here.” The golem rolled over, the bed groaning with stress.
Merle tiptoed to their cell door and removed his key ring from the depths of an inner pocket. “‘G’ for get started,” he mumbled.
“What are those for?” whispered Johnny coming up behind the dragon and tapping on the handcuffs Merle carried.
“Oh, did I forget to mention, we’re taking a hostage?”
“Yes!” exclaimed Johnny before Merle could elaborate. “God, that’s brilliant. I knew you were a worthy foe!” he turned and fired a hand at the wall of their cell. ‘Stoneman, kick that wall down!” he shouted.
“Wha…what?” Merle spun to face his cellmate, the keys jangling noisily. “What the hell are you doing?”
“Oh I’ve dreamed of this moment, for nine nights now. That’s twelve thousand nine hundred and sixty minutes of anguish my friend.” Stoneman lumbered to the wall and kicked it with tremendous force. The sound of mortar cracking reverberated throughout the cellblock. The next blow saw Stoneman’s leg bust through the wall and into Andre and Marcus’ cell.
“Stop it!” yelled Merle, panic overtaking him. “I have everything planned!” One of the two men in cell ten screamed, but Merle could not tell which one had emitted the high pitched cry.
“That’s right, my pet,” cooed Johnny, “get right in there. Take that bed, and secure the one on the right.” Johnny clapped his hands in delight at the look of dread on Marcus’ face. Stoneman punched his way through the wall, crushing the inmates bunk in the process. Marcus and Andre huddled by the toilet, hugging each other in terror. The bed squealed as Stoneman ripped apart the frame like a wishbone. Stomping up to the two men, he hurled Andre out of the way, before jerking Marcus to his feet.
“Please no,” cried Marcus. “We’re even! Yes, I beat you with the soap, but your friend paid me back tenfold. I swear, I don’t hold a grudge!” Stoneman was oblivious to the man’s cries as he wrapped the steel bedframe around him. Hoisting his prisoner into the air, he turned back for his next command. In the hallway, the lights and a security horn blasted to life, in unison.
“There, we have secured you a hostage,” said Johnny proudly. “What’s next?”
Merle stood with his jaw open, the key ring forgotten on the floor. His life was officially over, now. There was no doubt in his mind that he would be spending the rest of his life in prison.
“Let’s go Stoneman,” barked Johnny. “Through the back wall,” he pointed to the back of Marcus’ cell. The Golem lumbered forward and began smashing on the block surface. “Stop!” cried Johnny cringing. “Only use your free hand to bust those blocks. Hang on.” He turned to Merle, a thoughtful look crossing his face. “You do want the hostage alive, right?” Merle exhaled and slumped against the bars of the cell. In the hallway, the prisoners were shouting and throwing garbage into the corridor. Merle clearly heard booted feet racing up the corridor. “Never mind,” said Johnny. “Carry on,” he called to Stoneman. The golem finished punching through the wall, using only his free hand. Marcus dangled like a sock puppet in the golem’s other arm, the inmate having been knocked out when Stoneman smashed him into the wall with the first punch.
Johnny shook his head. “Some plan,” he said arrogantly. “Looks like I have to do the dirty work.” He stopped lecturing to run a hand over his concaved chest. “I’ll give you kudos, though. I have no idea where you found this outfit, but it is really soft. Fits me like a glove too!” Realising that Stoneman had broken through the wall, Johnny ordered his lumbering creation out into the cool night. Without looking back, he skipped through the yawning portal of crushed bricks.
Merle remained in shock as guard Gunther appeared in the hallway. Sweating heavily, the black man took one look at the gaping hole in the wall and hollered back to the guard station “PRISONER ESCAPE!” he bellowed.
Andre rushed to the bars of his cell and grasped the fat guard around the middle, unwilling to let the man go. “Save me,” he whined.
Merle flew to the back hole as several spot lights flared to life in the yard. He watched one of the lights centre on Stoneman’s back as the golem battered away at one of the four beams supporting a guard tower.
“Now the other back leg!” echoed Johnny’s command. The man’s cries were cut off as a tremendous screech from the prison siren split the countryside. Stoneman smashed his way through the second support column and the guard tower tilted. Above the golem, one of the guards yelled and made a break for the ladder, but the tower picked up speed and crashed down on the wire fence below. Merle cringed as the guard tumbled to the ground. Johnny raced over the fence, Stoneman thumping along behind him and carrying Marcus.
Realising he was still clenching the handcuffs, Merle reached into his pocket and relieved himself of the weight of the cutters. He tossed them to the floor where they skidded to a stop by Andre’s foot. He dropped the cuffs into his pocket and his wings blurred into action, lifting him into the night air. Below him, from the far end of the complex, came the barking of several dogs.
* * * *
P.C. squirted a dribble of liquid detergent onto the filthy rag he held. His heads up display flashed a warning across the undamaged portion of his visual cortex.
‘Warning…remaining cleanser at 4%’
The men at the jail had deprived him of all the supplies in his chest cavity, but they had missed the soap holster on his leg. Gone were his toilet snake, his plunger, his bleach supply and all the cleaning rags, save the one he stored with his bar of soap. He hugged his remaining rag to his chest and sighed miserably.
The carriage hit a rock, and the whole conveyance rocked alarmingly. The automaton’s arm shot out to grasp a window bar on the back door of the carriage. As he steadied himself, P.C.’s head swiveled in the darkness. His one remaining eye emitted a soft purple glow that lit up the sparkling corners of the carriage. “Are… you… asleep… up… there?” called the metal man, “or… just… blind?” There was no answer from the driver.
P.C. gazed through the bars, watching the night blanketed countryside roll by. Turning to the spider in the corner, P.C. flicked a finger at the road behind them. “Look… Garrett,” he said pointing at the lights of the city behind them, “We’re… going… on… a… road… trip!” He used his rag to wipe at the first of the bars on the window. He had brought Garrett the spider with him from his cell in the city jail, even though Merle the fly had not survived his second night in Garrett’s web. P.C. had been disappointed by this turn of events, but after several lengthy lectures about getting along with others, even when you couldn’t stand their behavior, P.C. felt that perhaps his new friend had realised the error of his ways.
Scrubbing at the bars, he did not grasp, at first, that the carriage had halted. ‘Actuators steady. External influence stopped. Yaw 0. Roll 0. Pitch 0.’ flashed across his internal screen and was processed in a heartbeat.
From above, came the driver’s voice. “By god, what is that colossus? Get back. I swear, I will use this crossbow.” The carriage swayed, as though the driver had stood.
A muffled voice answered, but P.C. could only decipher part of what he heard. “Don’t hurt indecipherable old man indecipherable. Put indecipherable away indecipherable no use indecipherable we are indecipherable finish indecipherable prisoner.”
“Oh… no…,” said P.C, with a worried glance at Garrett, “bandits!”
“I can’t let you have him. He’s a ward of the state and due for delivery at the foundry,” responded the driver. His voice was stressed.
P.C. already knew this. He was certain there must be some equipment they wanted him to clean. Replacing the rag in his holster, he used a finger to flick Garrett into the palm of his free hand. “Don’t�
�� worry,… Garrett… we’ll… make… a… break… for… it,… if… we… have… to!”
“I said, get back. Don’t you dare take one more step.”
“I didn’t come indecipherable way indecipherable to indecipherable stopped. One way indecipherable I will indecipherable relieving you.” The voice was familiar, and now it had an angry tone. P.C. assessed his options and verified the strength of the chain on the door as ‘Breakable, with minimal effort.’
Suddenly a third voice interrupted. It was a voice P.C. could hear clearly, and one he knew, all too well. “We have no time for this!” shrieked Johnny I.Q. “First you forget the food, and now you want to waste time negotiating? Forget that! Break that yoke and destroy the carriage! Do it now, my pet! Crush the driver if he gets in your way.”
“Like hell!” yelled the voice of the driver. “I don’t get paid enough for this!”
The whole carriage vibrated, and the sound of snapping wood filled the air. P.C. knew it was more than just the driver evacuating his perch. Suddenly, his world was turned upside down, as the carriage was sent spiraling into the air. Everything crashed to earth, and P.C. was slammed on his head. What had been the floor of the cart was now the roof. A loud thump whomped into the back of the carriage and the door was ripped from its hinges.
“Noooooooooooooooo,” cried out P.C. He stared at the red smudge in the palm of his hand. Then, seeing a familiar form in the doorway, he stopped. “Merle!” he exclaimed. He wiped the spider’s guts on his leg and righted himself. “It’s… about… time… you… showed… up. …I… have… been… damaged… and… you… need… to… repair… me,… immediately. …Also,… my… detergent… is… low.” The metal man stared at the little dragon, his one good eye radiating its purple glow.
“I missed you, too,” replied Merle.
“I hate to interrupt your bromance,” sneered Johnny, ‘but we need to move, now.”
Something Stinks in Deep Cove (The Vellian Books Book 4) Page 22