Dolls

by Simon Ericson

anything and was resting tipped over on its side. Against the wall behind the old desk however was a heavy wooden door, cracked open to spill some rude lamps light into the tomb-like front room.

  Morgan knelt outside the window and brought up his shotgun, covering the inside of the room. Then he gave Arthur a nod who, to his credit, then managed to vault into the room with a semblance of grace. Morgan followed the Dollmaker in, keeping his shotgun at the ready as they approached either side of the door. As they settled against the wall Morgan strained to hear anything from in the room over the sound of his heartbeat. He hadn't been this nervous in years. The shotgun seemed awkward and unwieldy in his hands, which he knew shook much less than they felt like they did. He ignored his heartbeat and the tremors, knowing they would disappear when the time for action came.

  The Officer and the Dollmaker looked at each other for a moment. Then taking a large breath Morgan flew through the door, Arthur right behind him. The door swung open with a surprising lack of noise, in fact the only sounds in the room were the conspicuous hum of electric lights broken by the sharp tap of the men's boots on the concrete floor and the rustling of nearby papers in the currents their passing caused. Despite himself Morgan found himself shocked at how normal everything appeared to be.

  “Looks clear” Arthur said behind him.

  Morgan held in a groan. “It does, but if it isn't they know we're here now don't they?”

  “Oops. Sorry.” Arthur had never sounded dumber.

  Morgan kept the shotgun at low ready, pointed at the ground with the stock against his shoulder, and proceeded to inspect the room. There were work benches in regular intervals, most lining up with the car lifts set into the floor. About half of the long lights had been replaced, the rest left dead or broken, though any debris or glass seemed to have been swept from the floor recently. A row of roll-up shutters were silent sentinels against the wall, one of them badly dented being the victim of the Doll's fight.

  What drew the eye most was a spot almost in the corner of the shop where all the lights had been repaired. They shone down on an area sectioned off by two long work tables, one straight and one in an L shape, and it was filled with machining and fabrication equipment. Most of it was the old equipment left behind though Seamus had obviously brought some new items as well. There was a lathe and some milling machines, saws and a number of other tools that Morgan just didn't have the background to identify. The work benches themselves looked like someone had vomited out a strange array of parts and materials. Copper wire mingled with piles of wigs, cloth and thread, which sat next to containers of screws and twine. The mess flowed onto the floor in piles of stone blocks and fibreglass rods.

  “Looks like Seamus isn't home.” Morgan poked at a pile of half sewn dresses with his shotgun as he said it. “So what are these things we're here for supposed to look like again?”

  “The Doll centre, which is the rare component we are looking for, will look like a large rock more or less, dirt with some clear bits.” Arthur rummaged through various drawers and cabinets as he responded. “The book will be large, old and leather bound with heavy pages of parchment rather than regular paper. It's actually one of the oldest sets of notes I have.”

  A work table caught Morgan's attention and he walked up to see just what was on it. Several wicked looking weapons both finished and rough lay scattered across it. Many of them had old stains on the grips or blood smears on the blades.

  “Looks like evidence won't be a problem.” Morgan commented, eyeing the arrangement of axes, machetes and hammers. “Doesn't look like either of them bothered to clean up or hide anything. What about the Doll's heart? I would rather nip that cat in the bag. Before it comes back for the mice.”

  Arthur made a face at the comment but didn't stop opening drawers. “Look for something making a consistent noise, a single click or a short series of notes.”

  “What like a drum or something?” Morgan asked the man with incredulity.

  “Yes, though more likely it will be something wound up or automated somehow. Look for a music box, or a watch, sometimes a metronome works.” The answer was clinical and slightly condescending, and of course, given without ever looking up.

  “Something with a consistent note or beat... like a heartbeat!” Morgan said, working through it out loud and wondering why he felt surprise anymore.

  “That would be why we call it a heartbeat.” The Dollmakers response dripped with sarcasm before adding more factually. “You have no idea how hard it was to make a Doll that lasted for any real length of time before clockwork came along.”

  “Not that I really do either, well before my time.” Arthur added quietly afterwards.

  Morgan graced the other mans words with a non-committal grunt in response and they let the conversation lapse into silence as they continued to search through drawers. They found screws, tools, buttons and an abundance of dust but nothing that ticked or rang or knocked. No ominous tomes fell out of cabinets or peaked out of drawers. In short they quickly found that nothing seemed to be hidden in the shop.

  “Where could he have put them?” Arthur pounded the table with both hands, his sledge hammer long since set to leaning forgotten against a workbench. Morgan sighed and continued to rummage through a drawer fruitlessly, his shotgun still gripped firmly in one hand.

  “There must be something we are missing.” Morgan cast his gaze about the room as he said it, searching for something hidden enough or obvious enough for them to miss.

  Morgan saw nothing, there was nothing in the area that they hadn't already checked. Then he looked up. There, sitting like a great one eyed vulture was a raised up office set against the wall with it's door closed tight and its blinds shut. It was the kind with one large window that was common in mechanical shops and warehouses for managers and supervisors to keep an eye on things while doing paperwork. The brooding office had a door that led out to a short metal catwalk, which led to stairs, which led down to a small, forgettable and well shadowed corner of the shop. Ironically not far from the machining area.

  “Well if I was going to hide some stolen items it would be up there” Morgan nodded up to the office. “Can't get to it without crossing the rest of the shop.”

  “Alright!” Arthur exclaimed and walked quickly towards the hidden stairs, leaving a drawer open and his sledge hammer behind.

  It was just as the tall Dollmaker reached the edge of the light that Morgan heard it. It was a small sound, like rocks grinding together. A shadow moved under the stairs and without time to shout a warning, he pulled the butt of the gun into his shoulder, sighted and fired all at the same time.

  Arthur let out a rather effeminate scream, falling onto his backside as the shotgun went off. It blasted pellets through the air far too close to the Dollmaker's body, slamming into the small form that had been flying at him. Luckily falling backwards had prevented the metal baseball bat from taking off his head and it whistled harmlessly through the air where he had been.

  “ROLL!” Morgan yelled, striding towards the attacker while pumping another shell into the chamber. The Doll had been toppled to the ground but was already picking itself up despite how hard it had gone down. Hesitation froze him for a moment, preventing him from pulling the trigger as the Doll regained it's feet. It was not the same doll from the other night.

  She was taller than either Mei-mei or the other Doll. Still made after the form of a young girl, simply older. Short,blonde, pixie-cut hair sat framing a young face with sharp features, a pointed nose and dark brown eyes. Despite the blue and white lacy dress there was something deeply frightening about the emotionless expression on her face and heavy metal bat in her hand. She shook her head and fixed her gaze on Morgan. A shallow anger reflected in those eyes, and then she set her feet and rushed at him with determination.

  The shotgun roared in his hands and bucked against his shoulder as he fired again, this time aiming at her face. He had already pumped another round in the chamber before realizing that s
he hadn't fallen over or been thrown back like the other Doll. This one stumbled and her head snapped back as if slapped, but she didn't stop.

  “It's stone Officer!” Arthur yelled from wherever he had scrambled off to hide. “I'd guess he carved it from only one or two pieces!”

  “Great” Morgan yelled in reply as he managed to throw himself to the side, dodging the Doll's diving attack and even getting another shot off. The blast hit her as she flew through where he himself had just been, her swinging bat hitting nothing once again. This time the shot took her in the chest from barely a foot away and she quite satisfyingly toppled to the ground again and landed in a heap.

  “What exactly does that mean!?” He asked the room with a yell, scrambling to get to his feet before the Doll did.

  “Think 'a rock'! Slower, tougher and substantially heavier!” Arthur yelled, his voice seemed to have moved to a different hiding place.

  There was no time to say anything else as the Doll finished pulling itself to its feet. Morgan pumped the shotgun again, sighted down the barrel and fired. His target reeled, small stone ships flying off it's face and the anger in her eyes deepened as she recovered quickly and glared at him again.

  The 'Illusion of Life' - as Arthur had named it – seemed to be breaking down