In fact, stopping was entirely out of the question given the number of workers they barreled past, many of whom stared at them in outright surprise. How long did they have until somebody thought to question their presence and block their way? The fact that none had made the attempt prompted her to wonder how much loyalty those servants had for their master. But a more pressing question arose in her mind–how would they slip through the gate without detection?
“Logan!” Violet called out. “Shall we attempt to seize one of the steam carriages for our escape?”
“Yep,” came his economical reply.
Violet wished she had more time to revel in the fact that they’d both arrived at the same conclusion–a sign of their compatibility, perhaps? Yet her time was better spent concentrating on each step in order to avoid tripping, which would instantly delay their entire operation. She lifted her skirts with her free hand and increased her speed.
At long last, they reached one of the corridors that led to the front gate. Logan took the lead once more and ordered Arthur to cover the rear. Hugging the wall in single file, they advanced at a slower pace. Logan gestured for them to stop in the shadows at the corridor’s mouth.
Standing behind Logan, Violet had a wide view of the receiving area. Except for her gulping breaths, the area sounded unnaturally quiet. She frowned. The activity level also seemed much more subdued than when they had arrived. Darkness yawned beyond the still-open gate. Perhaps the Iron Scorpion slowed down production at night?
Violet leaned toward Logan and murmured, “Our escape seems much easier than I anticipated.”
“Unfortunately, I had the same thought,” he muttered back.
Violet pointed to the steam carriage closest to their position. “Shall we take that one?”
Logan shook his head. “Go for the one nearest the gate. Quickly, now.”
He darted ahead, followed by Violet, her father, and then Arthur. Keeping her Schofield at the ready, she tried to focus on Logan’s back, and not on the fear that a guard could fire a bullet into her head at any moment.
When Logan reached the carriage nearest the gate, he wrenched the cab door open and checked for occupants. Finding none, he motioned Violet toward him.
Heart pounding, she pulled up short by his side. After holstering her Schofield, she looked behind her.
“Hurry, Papa!” Wasting no time, she and Logan hoisted him into the carriage.
Logan grabbed her by the waist and lifted her up onto the step. As she bent her head into the cab, the unmistakable sound of guns cocking assaulted her ears. Logan’s sharp curse followed.
A quick glance over her shoulder confirmed her worst fear. A mere one hundred feet away, more guards than she could possibly count surrounded them. They formed a wide semi-circle and bore weapons of every shape and size imaginable.
Those at the forefront wore midnight black armor head to toe. The fierce design and array of modified limbs indicated they formed the Iron Scorpion’s personal guard. Others, clearly workers, wore only the long leather aprons of a smithy, or were dressed in grimy, ragtag clothing. Violet couldn’t possibly begin to understand why they risked themselves so carelessly.
Animals were there, too. Horses and wolves stood among the ranks, redesigned and armored in ways only a madman could conceive. Violet was appalled at such cruelty to both man and beast. It would take years of compassion and nurturing to undo the damage, if it could be undone at all.
She understood their folly now. The Iron Scorpion had baited them with the ruse of an easy escape. Now, they were trapped and at his total mercy.
Violet bit her lip. It was all her fault. Instead of soliciting the help of the nearest marshal, she’d rushed headlong into a half-baked rescue. Logan was a good man with an even greater heart, and he was going to die from her stupidity. The shame of it all ate away at her soul.
“Get in the cab, Violet,” Logan snapped.
Before she could comply, he whipped around to face the guards and drew his guns lightning fast. On his left, Arthur flipped back his poncho and did the same. The guards raised their weapons. Violet braced herself for the maelstrom of bullets, but fortunately, both sides held their fire for the moment.
Poised on the step, her heart twisted at the brave sight of Logan–and Arthur. Most likely they’d never survive the attack. Her favorite stories always told tales of brave heroes overcoming impossible odds, but this was real life. This time, there would be no happy ending.
Violet made a fist. Well, at least she’d die by Logan’s side. They would try to vanquish the villain or at least prolong her father’s life. If she were lucky, perhaps the Iron Scorpion would allow her father to live, giving him a chance to escape another day.
“Papa, stay here and don’t come out, not for anything!” Violet backed out of the cab and dropped to the ground.
“Violet, no!” her father cried, but the sound of his voice was cut off when she slammed the hatch shut.
Lips pressed together in a determined line, Violet flicked the switch that fired up the boiler in the steam pack. It hissed to life. As she marched forward to fill the empty space on Logan’s right, she reached back and withdrew the Titan from its sheath. Spreading her legs in a wide stance, she aimed her weapon straight at the enemy.
“Violet, I said stay in the cab!” Logan said urgently, his gaze never leaving the row of guards.
“It’s only fair that I do my part,” she replied in a low voice. Likewise, she kept her gaze trained ahead, though she had to blink back a wave of tears. Being unable to look at or touch him in these final moments nearly destroyed her. She fought to speak past the lump forming in her throat. “And…since this is the end…I wanted to be with you.”
“Get in the carriage,” he muttered, although his demanding tone had lost some of its sharpness.
“If I change position now, they’re bound to fire for certain.”
Logan expelled a breath. “It’s Arthur they want, right? Maybe that’s why they haven’t fired–what the hell?”
Violet glimpsed movement in the center of the enemy ranks at the same time Logan did. The guards began shifting to either side, opening up a space to the corridor behind them. Their guns never wavered. A wide path formed in the wake of their realignment. Beyond them, darkness seemed to stretch forever.
Thunk .
The ground vibrated violently beneath her feet.
Thunk .
More vibrations followed, loosening showers of dust from the walls. Was it an earth tremor, one emanating from the nearby mine? Or was the source another menace entirely? A shudder wracked her torso.
“Steady, Violet,” Logan murmured.
His reassuring words coaxed her anxiety down to a tolerable level. With renewed determination, she tightened her grip on the rifle.
Thunk thunk thunk .
Dust billowed out from the corridor. The guards moved farther back, jostling one another in their haste. What did they fear?
An enormous creature burst from the inky shadows, its metal exoskeleton as black as darkest night. Steam swirled around its eight legs, and loud clanking noises beat in ominous time to its every movement. Its scale was at least the height of a two-story building.
Violet’s breath caught as the creature advanced. She followed the long line of its segmented tail, carried forward over its back. The sight of the gleaming, razor-sharp barb filled her with icy dread.
Its behaviors were too precise for a mere machine. Someone had to be controlling it. Violet searched frantically until she found the control area. A translucent, milky white dome formed part of the carapace. She detected movement inside–and the vague outline of a person.
So this was the Iron Scorpion: both man and machine. How was such a thing possible? How many lives had the villain sacrificed for his twisted creation?
But there was no time for speculation. The monstrous creature thumped forward, sending a hot wave of steam before it. In one rapid motion, it raised two lethal-looking pincers. Her
terror increased tenfold.
“Surrender or die,” came the loud, sudden demand. The Iron Scorpion had spoken. His grating voice echoed around the chamber. It sounded like metal shards rubbing together. “The automaton and Dr. Whitcomb are mine.”
You can’t have them! she wanted to yell, but she didn’t dare endanger Logan and Arthur with such reckless behavior.
“You have thirty seconds to comply.”
His arrogant demand both enraged and scared her. She recalled Logan’s dead family. How dare the Iron Scorpion presume to use an invention like Arthur to sow even more violence and destruction. It took all her strength to remain absolutely still.
She imagined the seconds were ticking by fast. Despite the insulating material of the steam pack, the boiler scorched Violet’s back with waves of unending heat. Sweat dripped from her forehead. In the stuffy air, the rifle’s trigger felt slippery. Fatigue battled logic for supremacy in her mind. How long could this face-off continue? Did Logan have a plan? Violet didn’t think she could take much more of the tension. The thought of that dangling barb ripping through Logan’s body–not to mention her own–was beyond horrifying.
When the Iron Scorpion’s pincers rose a shade higher–or perhaps Violet only imagined they did–she pulled the trigger.
The Titan erupted in a volley of bullets. Screaming, Violet sprayed the shot in a wide arc. In tandem, the spinning barrel emitted a high-pitched whine. Logan was yelling something, but she couldn’t hear his words over the noise.
The recoil was more powerful than she’d expected. Despite her death-grip, the gun swung too far to her left. Oh, no!
Logan and Arthur leaped out of harm’s way before any of the deathly shots reached them. But there was no time to rejoice. Bracing one foot behind the other, she brought the gun to bear upon those who posed the most imminent threat–the guards. Fear like nothing she had ever known now drove her without mercy.
Heedless of any possible return fire, Violet fired at as many of their opponents as she could target. Some dodged the shot. Twice that many collapsed. Yelps and whines informed her she’d killed or injured some of the animals, but it couldn’t be helped. Thousands more would suffer if she didn’t stop the Iron Scorpion.
An explosion rocked the room, followed by flashes of light. She must have punctured a gas pipe, or something equally flammable. Clumps of dirt and debris flew in all directions. Men shouted and cursed in pain. Never had the word havoc been so apt a description.
Abruptly, the gun stopped firing.
Violet’s hoarse scream took longer to end. Lapsing into silence, she blinked the dust from her eyes. Slowly, the steam surrounding her dissipated. Examining the gun, she discovered that the attack had emptied the chamber. The weapon was now a liability. With trembling fingers, she turned off the boiler and unbuckled the steam pack. When she dropped it to the ground, a shadow fell over her.
Violet gaped upward. The Iron Scorpion reared above her, claws extended, poised to strike.
She froze. Her mind went blank, save for the view of the rapidly descending pincer. Seconds later, a hard force knocked her aside. She hit the ground at the same time the pincer slammed into the spot where she’d been standing only seconds before.
Thoroughly dazed, Violet gulped for breath. Logan now lay atop her, shielding her with his body. The Iron Scorpion raised its pincer for a second attack. “Oh no!” she cried.
“I see it!” Logan rolled them both away. The pincer crashed to the ground. Dust flew everywhere.
With a grunt, Logan yanked her up and all but dragged her toward the steam carriage where her father lay hidden. He pointed to the dark space beneath, his expression awash in righteous anger. “Stay under there and don’t make me rope you!”
Too shaken to argue, Violet dove beneath the cab. The large wheels provided ample cover. She tucked herself between the dirt floor and the grease-caked gears, but stayed close enough to the opening so that she could observe Logan’s actions.
Logan pointed one of his Colts toward the Iron Scorpion and issued Arthur an order. “Let’s take ’im out!” he bellowed.
A fire lit his eyes.
Guns blazing, Logan and Arthur took off at a run toward the Iron Scorpion. Both nimbly avoided the remaining guards’ return fire. However, Violet didn’t care for those odds. Humanity’s very future was at stake. She retrieved her Schofield and took careful aim. Her first shot went wild, but the second found its target. The guard’s neck spurted copious amounts of blood. Clutching the wound, he fell.
She readied her next shot, but by now, her arms burned with fatigue. Each shot went wide. Out of ammunition, she had no choice but to watch the ongoing battle.
Logan whirled and leaped around the Iron Scorpion’s multi-jointed legs. The creature attempted to smash the two gunmen with its pincers or barb at every opportunity, sending up wave upon wave of lung-choking dust. Logan swarmed up the creature’s side in a clear attempt to use its own blind spots to evade detection. From atop the carapace, he fired a few shots at the control dome, to no avail.
Then Violet spotted what he could not: the barb swung back, and then swiftly forward–right toward Logan.
“Logan!” she screamed. “Look out!”
Logan whipped his head around at her warning. Needing no further prompting, he ducked, scooted forward, and then jumped down from the carapace. From there, he ran beneath the creature’s abdomen and out of her sight. Violet switched her gaze to Arthur.
The automaton was using his strength to squeeze, bend, dent, or otherwise disable every part of the Iron Scorpion within his reach. No small feat, given that the creature’s legs seemed to be skittering in all directions. The Iron Scorpion turned round and round, pincers snapping harshly. Still, Arthur managed to leap upon its thorax. From there, he fired his Colt downward in rapid succession.
Violet noticed movement to her left. The remaining guards had assembled nearby, their guns aimed squarely at Logan and Arthur. Before she could shout a warning, they began to fire.
Arthur fired back. Immediately, the Iron Scorpion’s barb slammed into him. The impact sent the automaton sailing over the edge. One of his guns dropped from his grasp as he plummeted. Violet inhaled sharply. Would this terrible misfortune lead to his end?
Arthur’s hand shot out and caught the edge of a segment.
Violet’s heart skipped a beat as the automaton held on by the tips of his fingers, dangling precariously.
The guards advanced toward their target. Gunfire raged around Arthur’s vulnerable form. Violet searched around for a weapon, but none were within her reach.
Her stomach clenched. Where was Logan? How long could the automaton withstand the attack?
Fortunately, Arthur had other plans. He began swinging his legs. Using the momentum, he generated enough force to catapult himself up to the creature’s back.
Logan appeared from the rear of the scorpion, firing hard at the line of attacking guards. Without missing a beat, he yelled, “Arthur, catch!” and tossed the automaton one of his guns. Violet stared in amazement as Logan produced a replacement revolver from his belt with blinding speed. Or maybe her shock was a result of Logan calling Arthur by name.
But the gun sailed up and up, far above Arthur’s head. Violet’s heart sank. He would never reach it in time. The tide of battle was turning against them.
Apparently undeterred by any such thing as a tide, the automaton bent his legs. Then he soared skyward like a silver bullet.
Violet watched with slack-jawed astonishment while he gained twenty, then thirty, then nearly forty feet. Right hand outstretched, Arthur neatly caught the spinning gun at its zenith. During his descent, poncho billowing wildly, he fired both his Colts at the guards. Upon his ground-shaking landing, none survived to oppose him.
Violet struggled to hold back her tears of relief. Arthur had become like family to her.
Logan and Arthur continued their assault. Despite their amazing feats, she wondered how long they could hold out. The
Iron Scorpion was a mighty opponent with industrial-strength armor. It could probably fight for days. Unlike Logan, the only fuel it required for power was hot, burning coal.
The next thing Violet knew, one of the Iron Scorpion’s pincers had clamped onto Logan. The creature lifted her partner nearly two stories into the air. The Iron Scorpion began shaking him about like a rag doll.
With a cry, Violet crawled halfway out of her hiding space. The Iron Scorpion could decide to drop Logan at any moment. He still had his Colts, which he used to fire at his captor. But he was swaying so violently that his bullets missed their mark repeatedly. When the chambers emptied, he threw them down. They clattered to the ground not far from Violet.
As Logan attempted to pry apart the pincer, his face contorted with the effort–and possibly pain. A streak of blood appeared on his white shirt. Violet went cold with dread. But what could she do?
Regardless of what Logan had told her, she couldn’t stay hidden. Not when his life was at stake. Rising quickly, she emerged from beneath the carriage and glanced around. What could she use to force the Iron Scorpion to release Logan?
After what seemed like an eternity, her gaze latched onto the row of iron steam carriages by the gate. She needed no further persuasion.
Violet ran toward the nearest mechanical beast with all the speed she could muster. She threw open the door, heedless of the possibility that someone lurked inside. Fortunately for her, this one was empty.
Violet dove for the driver’s seat. She had to fire up the engine and navigate her way back to the battle before the Iron Scorpion crushed Logan to death.
Her earlier experience paid off–she adjusted levers and flicked switches with barely a second thought. Plus, this carriage was in better condition than the one they’d rode to the fortress. Violet grasped the steering lever and the carriage rolled forward.
Faster, I need to go faster! She fed more steam to the engine. It coughed and sputtered and she feared it might die on the spot. After one alarming fit of gagging, the carriage seemed to catch its breath. Violet cranked up its speed and the carriage surged ahead.
Iron Guns, Blazing Hearts Page 14