Constance had never forgotten the faces of the family she had killed. The twisted faces of fear, the smell of the blood and the woman hoping she never slept again plagued her. She’d grown to hate herself and everything she’d done. She hated the tower, the bricks of the tower that now made up several buildings within the town. She hated Smoke for leaving and she hated Blue for living a great life. She believed if Smoke had never left she may have been alright, or at least better than she was now. She’d have had that person who understood and had been in her shoes more times than she dared to guess. But he had his own mission, one he may never return from.
She had promised Cobble that she wouldn’t take her own life. A promise she wished she hadn’t made. She loved Cobble with all her heart; he had made things easier on her. He’d been there during the nights she’d wake up and vomit because it was the only reaction her body had at the time. She’d woken in cold sweats and become a night thrasher. All the while Cobble had been there to help.
She stood from her desk and took a step outside. She eyed a couple children playing in the street before stepping out onto the street and toward what used to be the lift to the first below. The gears and chains had been maintained from the surface as best as the people could, but Constance wouldn’t trust the lift to bring her down or back up. If the lift had broken while Penelope made her way back up she would have no way of letting anyone know what was going on. Constance and Blue had tried to come up with a way for Penelope to let them know she was on her way up. The problem was the distance between the first below and the surface. Shaking a string or a chain wasn’t the best way to go about it. The movement would end well before it got to the surface. There was nothing they could do about it. Penelope would have to dig herself out if worse came to worse.
Constance looked at the steel covering Cobble had placed over the hole. A small slit large enough for a letter was all the space given to allow air into the underground. If the engine was destroyed no more air would be pumped into the underground. Though it was unlikely the fresh air would flow all the way to the ninth below or even so far as the sixth below. Once Penelope made it to the third below she’d be able to breathe easier and as soon as she made it to the first below she’d be able to breathe properly.
She dropped the letter into the opening and hoped it managed to make it to the bottom. If it got caught in a gear or on the wall it could get ground up as Penelope made her way upward. She wanted Penelope to know what she was getting into on the surface. What happened to the letter next was out of her hands. She took in a deep breath and sighed loudly. Whatever was to happen next was not for her to know, but she hoped it got better, because with the images within her head, things couldn’t get much worse.
The sun began to set as Constance made her way back to the town of Penelope. Cobble would be waiting for her at the tavern with a dish of sausage and potatoes and a large mug of ale. What went on in her mind was horrific, but the knowledge Cobble was there for her and would be there for her the whole way set her at ease. Things would have been easier if Smoke had stayed, but she believed she would be better in time with Cobble than she ever would have been with the ex-detective.
She managed a smile as she looked at the setting sun. She stopped for a second to take in the colours before returning to town.
THE END
The Engine What Runs the World
Author’s Note
Wait, that can’t be the end. Can it? There are so many questions!
What happens with Smoke in Red City? What was The Apocalypse War all about? How did Penelope become immortal? What happened to the superhumans and supernatural creatures? Who the hell is Alex Cooper?
All those questions, and so many more will be answered. Every book I write will be in the same world, just at different points of history. Trust me when I say, this world has one hell of an interesting history.
Naturally, I’m not going to be writing anything in order. It’s more of a matter of which ideas tickle my fancy at any given moment. It should help keep things as interesting for you as the reader as well me as The Writer.
Acknowledgements
There are so many people to thank for making this novel; a reality. First and foremost, I have to thank my Mum. She was my beta reader, she let me bounce ideas off her and she helped me get an editor. Not to mention everything else she’s helped me out with in getting this book published. Seriously, I wouldn’t be anywhere close to having this book out without her help.
I would like to thank my other beta readers, Kim Webber, Anastasia Shewchuk and Keri Daly. Your notes let me know where I needed work.
I would like to thank my editor Christine Dixon for doing an incredible job with my book.
I also want to thank my friends and family for their undying support and excitement for this book.
The Engine What Runs the World Page 35