by Andy Monk
“Do it.”
She took a deep breath and hoped she looked like she knew what she was doing.
Amos and Dorry were standing over Sye, watching. She counted to three before taking Laura’s injured leg and pulling.
The girl’s entire body convulsed and her scream was loud enough to send crows flapping into the sky. She tried to empty her mind and kept pulling, ignoring the sound of bone grinding against bone and the wet tearing of flesh. Mercifully Laura went quiet and limp. With a final grunt the leg straightened out and the splintered bone disappeared.
Despite her enhanced strength, she was sweating and panting by the time she straightened up.
“Is she…?”
Quayle eased himself off the girl and backed away.
“Breathing.”
Amos was holding Dorry by the shoulders as if he’d had to stop the girl from running over. Sye still sat in the grass, his face pale and blank.
She slipped the silver-grey tube from her pocket. By the time she’d wrapped four fingers around it there was just an inch or so left protruding from her grasp at either end. She flicked back the cap from the top end with her thumb to reveal a small white button. She placed the other end against the pale flesh of Laura’s upper thigh and pressed it. There was no sound and no reaction from the girl.
The dispenser vibrated twice in her hand to signify it was spent. When she pulled it away there was nothing bar a faint pink blemish to mark the passage of the tiny machines into her body. They would swarm through her, repairing any damage they found and destroying any infection.
Her own body was flooded with them and they’d eventually been able to repel the Mayor’s candy from her system. The dispenser was a backup in case of a traumatic injury or illness that required more of the nanomites – each one no bigger than a bacterium – than her body already carried. If she’d had the dispenser with her when she’d started to get sick with the candy she’d have recovered a lot quicker.
She was supposed to keep one of the two in her kit with her at all times. It was another of the protocols she’d ignored since arriving here.
She slipped the spent dispenser back into her pocket. It was just a useless tube of plastimetal now, but best not to leave it where it could be found.
“Done…”
Quayle pushed himself to his feet with a grimace. A shot of nanomites would deal with his worn-out knees, but she wasn’t planning to offer. She guessed his own had degraded in the years he’d been here, if he’d been able to get hold of any in the first place. They’d been prohibitively expensive when she’d been at the Facility and available only to the chosen few.
“She’ll be better than new in a few hours.”
“We should get her away from this horse all the same.”
“Get Amos to help you move her. And wrap something around her wound, best they don’t see it healing before their eyes.”
She picked up her satchel and threw it over her shoulder before turning and walking out into the grass. She kept going till she was far enough away to drop the spent dispenser in the long grass unseen.
The nanomites would stay in Laura’s system for years, curing her and protecting her until they degraded. So long as she avoided the very worst this world could throw at her she was going to be a very healthy woman for a long time.
She took a couple of deep breaths and closed her eyes. Drinking in the sweet clean air and listening to the wind as the sun warmed her face. She’d done what she could. It was time to move on, Amos could look after himself, clearly, and he’d get the others back to Hawker’s Drift in one piece. The Scourge weren’t her business. She had to find a way home. She didn’t need any more distractions.
When she opened her eyes, she found there was an old black woman with a slight stoop and sparkling eyes standing in front of her. The grass swaying about her waist as she leant on a walking stick.
“Cece!” The woman beamed, her teeth startling bright against her dark fissured skin. “It’s so wonderful to see you again dear…”
“I’m sorry?”
“Don’t you worry your pretty head about nothin’ hun. God has sent me to help you…”
The Clown
Nobody noticed him. He was part of the fabric of the town, a sight so common he’d become all but invisible. Even when he stood on his preaching crate and gave the townsfolk the benefit of the Lord’s word, most people strolled right past the end of his nose without ever seeing him.
It was how the world worked. Sometimes, in occasional regrettable moments of pride, this irked him. Usually he paid it no more heed than the town paid him.
Occasionally, however, it was useful.
From time to time he needed to move stealthily and quietly beneath the attention of others as he watched the town and noted the godless shenanigans that were forever afoot in Hawker’s Drift.
Today, however, it was he who was about the business of skulduggery. He had to keep Kate and Emily from the clutches of the Mayor, reunite them with Ruthie as well as unpicking the meddling the Mayor had done with Ash’s memories.
And all the time avoid any more encounters with the creature Giselle.
After leaving Kate and Emily in the warehouse he headed cautiously back up the Tear, but nobody was about and he made his way into the town without drawing any undue attention. A lot of people seemed to be drifting towards Pioneer Square and a few groups of men were hurrying in the other direction. At first, he feared the Mayor had dispatched his minions to hunt them down, but nobody gave him a second look.
Still, he stuck to the less well travelled back ways as much as possible to reach Molly’s house. However, his trip was in vain as nobody was home.
He’d scratched his head and peered up at the sun. School would be finishing before too long and he wasn’t sure he’d be able to find Cece or Molly in time, particularly given it would mean having to head to Pioneer Square where he would be under the shadow of the Serpent’s lair.
His priority was reuniting Ruthie with her mother and keeping the family safe. He wasn’t sure how he was going to protect them from the forces of darkness ranged against him, but God would, he was sure, give him the strength to prevail. For their sakes if not his own.
Instead of wasting more time looking for Molly and Cece he headed directly to the schoolhouse himself. He was sure he would need their assistance before long, but, for now, haste was the priority and he would have to persuade young Ruthie, whom he had never spoken to, that she should trust him.
He’d never been able to persuade people the Devil lived in their midst, but he was confident he could get one teenage girl to follow him to a disused warehouse.
How hard could it be?
*
The schoolhouse was closed.
He stood before the single storey building that sat halfway down the long tapering tail of The Tear and glanced at the sun several times. At first, he thought he’d miscalculated the time and it was later than he’d assumed. He had, after all, suffered a rather distracting day, but Abner Pandy, the caretaker, had told him school had closed early because of the bad business out on the grass.
He didn’t have any idea what the bad business was and Abner didn’t seem much inclined to tell him given the colourful language he’d used to explain exactly where he’d shove his broom if he didn’t skedaddle.
Abner Pandy really was a most unsuitable fellow to be around impressionable young people, but he didn’t argue the point. For once he had more pressing matters.
Where would Ruthie Godbold have gone?
He didn’t know much about teenage girls, but he supposed it was likely she would have headed home. He’d never seen anything to suggest she was a wayward girl, after all.
After adjusting his derby, he headed off towards the Godbold’s home, hoping that neither the Mayor was waiting for him there or anyone had discovered Ash tied up in the basement yet.
*
The Godbold’s house was quiet, but it had clearly been disturbed sinc
e he’d spirited Kate and Emily away. There was blood in the hallway and a gouge in the plasterwork that looked suspiciously like the work of a bullet.
Whose blood it was and who’d fired the bullet he didn’t know, but clearly shenanigans of some sort had occurred.
He sent a silent prayer that it wasn’t Ruthie’s blood. Or Ash’s for that matter. There was enough of that already from where Kate had hit him with the vase.
It had been a struggle for the two of them to manhandle Ash down into the small basement, he was a big man after all, but he’d been adamant they couldn’t leave him for the Mayor to find and complete his ungodly work.
There was a trapdoor in the kitchen which he’d thrown a rug over to further conceal and he hauled it open to reveal the wooden stairs that led down into the basement. A smell of earthy dampness rose out of the darkness.
“Ash?”
There was no response, though as they’d gagged the poor man he wasn’t expecting one.
He found the lantern they’d used earlier. There were splatters of blood all the way to the back door he noticed, a chair was on its side and several plates had been knocked from the table. Someone had charged through the kitchen, staggering into the table before making it to the back door, bleeding all the time. There was, however, no pool of blood, so whoever it had been, they’d made it out of the house. He peered through the window, but there was nobody in the backyard.
Had it been Ruthie? Escaping the clutches of the Mayor? It was possible, he supposed, but why would the Mayor have hurt her? Perhaps it was the creature Giselle? She’d broken into Molly’s home to snatch a child away after all.
He took a deep breath and turned away from the sunlit yard. He had no time to waste speculating about what had happened. Moving in mysterious ways was one of the things God and the Devil had in common, no doubt the truth of things would be revealed soon enough.
Once the lantern was lit he hurried down into the basement, leaving the sunny world above to descend into the earth.
The Godbold’s basement was unlikely to have a great deal in common with Hell, but as the wooden steps creaked and moved beneath his tread he felt he was leaving the world of men and drawing closer to another realm entirely. Although it was one that smelt of damp rather than brimstone he half expected to find the Mayor waiting for him, possibly surrounded by fork-tongued imps and the wailing figures of demented souls writhing within the flames of eternal damnation.
Instead, he found Ash Godbold trussed up in the far corner next to a bag of potatoes.
The basement was a modest affair, the ceiling so low even a short fellow like himself had to stoop to avoid bashing their head on the beams. He scurried over to Ash and placed the lantern on the earthen floor next to him.
For one terrible moment, he feared Ash was dead, choked on the rag they had used to gag him, as he lay so still. But, as he squatted down next to him as best his sore old knees allowed, Ash opened his eyes and looked up at him.
“My dear boy!” he exclaimed, “I’m so sorry about all this.”
Ash made no sound and no movement bar his eyes, which blinked against the light.
Once he’d finally gotten himself down onto the ground, which was cold despite the warmth of the summer world above, he pulled his Bible out and placed it carefully next to the lantern which sat between himself and the prostrate and trussed Ash Godbold.
“Ash, we need to talk. Or rather, you need to listen. And think. And, most importantly, remember. The Mayor has tried to rob you of your memories. Of the things that have happened to you and your family. But you must hold onto those memories. Without them, as painful as they are, you are lost and nought but a servant of evil. So, you must remember. What happened to Emily, what happened when we went to the Dark Carnival, what happened to Molly and Amos and Miss Jones and John Smith. What happened to little Amelia. You must remember these things. The things we learnt about the Mayor. Above all you must remember that, because we know who he is. Don’t we Ash?”
Ash continued to stare up at him. He didn’t struggle against the ropes binding his hands and feet. There was no muffled protest at the rag stuffed in his mouth.
“He is the Devil! He is evil incarnate. He walks among us for his own diabolical purposes and he has been stealing souls for years along with stealing memories. He has manipulated the people of this town for decades towards his own dark ends. People have died. Many people. Like that poor girl Amos watched his disciples devour at the Dark Carnival. You must remember these things Ash. You must fight. You must hold on to yourself.”
He placed a hand on his time-beaten Bible.
“Together, with the aid of the Good Book, we can overcome this evil…”
When Ash continued to stare at him he reached over and worked the rag lose from his mouth before pulling it free.
When Ash smiled at him, he was greatly encouraged and tossed the makeshift gag aside.
“You’re really are so full of shit, you silly old man,” Ash said.
He felt the blood drain out of his face and it seemed the cold from the earthen floor beneath him had suddenly permeated deep into his bones. Not because of the words, but because the voice that had spoken them had not been Ash’s.
It had been the Mayor’s and on the barber’s breath he caught the faint scent of perfumed smoke…
Behind him the trapdoor slammed shut.
The Gunslinger
The colour had already started to flow back into Laura’s cheeks by the time they laid her out on a bedroll away from the dead horse.
“She should be able to ride soon, will hurt some, but she’ll be ok…” John said, straightening up.
“There’s no way…” he let the words drift off as Laura’s eyes fluttered open and she stared up at him.
“What happened?” she croaked.
He’d seen what John and Cece had done to reset her leg. Heard her scream too. She should be in agony, but she was already trying to leverage herself up onto her elbows until John placed a hand on her shoulder, “You had a nasty fall, best you rest for a little bit.”
Dorry was looking pointedly at him over John’s shoulder.
A nasty fall?
“Get some water for her,” he said, ignoring both Laura’s feeble smile and Dorry’s frown to lead John a few paces off into the grass.
“What did you do?” he demanded.
“Made her better…”
He had his doubts about Laura being back on a horse in a couple of hours, but she looked far better than she should considering the terrible injury she’d suffered.
“How?”
“That’d take a while.”
He looked across to where Cece was standing alone in the waist-high grass, staring off towards the horizon and seemingly lost in her thoughts.
Her soul had gone dark and he could tell nothing about her mood, other than from the set of her shoulders, the way she’d thrust her hands into her pockets and how she’d hung her head, which all whispered of a heavy and troubling burden.
John, who had followed his eye was wearing a faraway look upon his features as he watched her. There was a softness and a sadness in his expression that anyone with eyes could see.
He’d sensed Cece could help Laura, they’d been no deceit when she’d told them to leave the girl to her and John, but he’d never thought such a terrible wound could be treated so quickly. It was, however, just one of a number of things troubling him.
“How come you two were out riding?”
“Just catching up…”
“Didn’t think you knew her very well?”
“I don’t think I do,” a bittersweet smile dusted his lips for a second or two.
He gave him the space to say more, but the gunsmith didn’t take it, instead he looked at him and asked, gently, “Where the fuck have you been?”
“Long story.”
“Ain’t it always.”
“Seen Molly?”
Now John smiled. Knowing.
“Not for
a few days…”
“Is-”
“She’s fine. And if you were that worried about her you wouldn’t have run off and left her in the first place.”
John’s words stung him in a way he hadn’t expected, crystallising the cloud of guilt hanging about him since he’d ridden off in the expectation of facing down Stodder Hope’s gun.
“The Mayor offered to pay off her debt if I left town, I also had business I needed to attend to and… why the fuck am I explaining this to you?”
“Because you need to explain to someone why you’d trust that man knowing what we know about him.”
He sucked in his cheeks. He didn’t want to lose his temper. He was tired and more killers wouldn’t be far away.
“I’ll explain it to Molly.”
John shrugged, “Good enough, I guess. You going back to town then?”
“The Scourge are heading this way, I need to get Molly and Amelia out, I don’t want them in town when they show up. There’s thousands of them…”
“Mayor’s kept trouble away all the time I’ve been here.”
“He may have all kinds of tricks up his sleeve, but I think it’ll take more than his black candy to deal with the Scourge.”
“Maybes…”
They stood in silence while the grass washed around them. The feeling John knew a lot more than he let on nagged some more.
“Thanks all the same.”
“Thanks for what?” John pulled off his hat to scratch at his shaved scalp.
“For coming to help us.”
“If I’d known you had it all under control…”
“Sally and the other girls?”
“They should get back to town ok, we didn’t see anything else on the way out. I don’t think there were any Scourge behind us. They should have a clear ride.”
“Good… they’ve suffered enough. Once we get back to town we should try to get as many of the women and kids out. If we head west…” his words petered out as he noticed John was staring over his shoulder. He turned in the expectation of seeing more riders coming over the horizon.
Instead, he found Cece was talking to an elderly woman with a walking stick…