Lumière (The Illumination Paradox)

by Garlick, Jacqueline E.

  “Not if they think we’re already dead.”

  “What?” She scowls at me.

  “As long as our balloon gets hit by that steamplough”—I point—“there’s no way they’ll believe we survived.”

  “But—”

  “Don’t worry, I’ve got this.” I lunge for the rope and yank one last time, sending us careening into the steamplough’s oncoming path.

  “Urlick!” she gasps, burying her face in my chest.

  The steamplough’s whistle lights up the air, its wheels thundering hard up the tracks. We’re so close now, the force of its steam rocks the bottom of the basket, knocking our balance out from under us.

  Eyelet turns to me, panic in her eyes. “Take my hand,” I say, gauging the steamplough’s speed. “When we hit the ground, start running and don’t stop until we’ve made it to the cycle. Do you hear? Head straight for the tracks and don’t let go of me.”

  “But the steamplough! What if we’re not fast enough?”

  I take her face in my hands. “How much do you trust me?” I say. “Now jump!” I turn and spring from the basket, squeezing her hand in mine. She leaps behind, our hands entangled, as we fall, twisting and turning through the air, bouncing hard off the ground when we hit, the two of us rolling into a battered heap. Scrambling to my feet, I’m off, stumbling forward through the furrowed field, dragging Eyelet along behind.

  The steamplough screams. Smoke purges from its stack. I bear down and charge at the tracks.

  “We can’t!” Eyelet shouts.

  “We will!” I scream.

  My shoes hit the rails—whistle shrieking. I spin, yanking Eyelet across the ties. The steamplough’s cowcatcher shears the lace from her skirts as she falls into my arms on the other side.

  Brakes bite the air in a metallic squeal. The engine disappears inside a plume of gold and blue canvas balloon, ropes shredded under its metal wheels. I look back just in time to see the basket burst into flames, lit by the engine’s stack. The Brigsmen stand frozen in place, guns lowered at their sides, staring at the wreckage in disbelief.

  Forty three

  Eyelet

  “You all right?” Urlick asks when we finally reach the boulders. He drops my hand and brushes the hair from my face.

  “As good as one can be after one’s just been hit by a train,” I say, mustering a quivery grin.

  “Good.” He smiles and yanks the hydrocycle from its hiding place. “How about you, Bertie?” He knocks the dust his bones as Bertie shakes. “Fantastic, let’s get out of here then, shall we?” Bertie groans.

  Urlick gives me a hand to help me on then throws his leg over the cycle. Seconds later, we’re pedaling at high speed through the woods. A herd of Brigsmen swarms the tracks in search of our remains, just as Urlick predicted they would. I look back at the smoldering wreckage, our balloon a ball of fire, realizing how close we just came to death, gasping as Urlick pedals on.

  It’s then I realize I’ve misplaced some time—the time between falling into the basket and jumping out of it. Then I remember—the silver. It took me down. But for how long? How much did Urlick see? He’s said nothing. Absolutely nothing about it. Perhaps it wasn’t as bad as I think?

  I look down, shocked to find the heel of one of my boots is missing—the only victim of the tragedy, thank God. It must have gotten caught and yanked off as Urlick hurtled across the tracks. Without him I never would have made it.

  I lean forward and wrap my arms around his middle. Grateful to be alive. Grateful for Urlick. Grateful we made it away together.

  “Do you still have the journals?” Urlick turns his face to me. “One,” I say, pulling it from my jacket. “Have you any?”

  “Three.” He grins. “The most important ones, I’m hoping.”

  I close my eyes and take a breath, hoping he’s right. That couldn’t have been all for naught. When I again open my eyes, I realize I’ve only saved the journal marked Noir. The other one—the one Urlick tossed to me before I ran from the room—I seem to have lost somewhere on my journey. I shudder to think what might happen if it ends up in the hands of Smrt. Secretly, I pray I dropped it as I crossed the steamplough tracks and it’s burning in the wreckage right now. I’d rather that than have Smrt have his way.

  I close my eyes, praying the missing journal is not the one we need to run the machine.

  Urlick slips off the main road into the forest, looping cross-country through the underbrush. It’s bumpy and hard to keep my balance on the back of the bike. Thistles whip my legs. Branches pelt my arms. Thickets yank at my skirts. This part of the forest seems rougher than before.

  I lean and bury my cheeks in between Urlick’s shoulder blades to protect it. His coat smells of rosewood and cinnamon, just like the day we first met, which seems so long ago now. For the next few clicks, I concentrate on nothing but hanging on, trying hard not to think about what lurks in this part of the forest. I can’t believe we’re here again.

  Urlick suddenly swings out of the forests onto a mucky secondary road. Surprised, I look up. “I thought you said using a road was out of the question.”

  “It is, but we were getting nowhere fast traveling through the woods. Besides, no one uses this road anymore. It’s been abandoned for years, because of flooding. We’ll stay on it as long as we can to get a head start. Otherwise, I don’t know if we’ll be able to outrun them.”

  “I thought you said they’d think we were dead.”

  He’s quiet a moment, then swallows. “On the chance I’m wrong, I want to make sure we’re well ahead of them. There’ll be no stopping to hide in these woods.”

  I lower my head, remembering the criminals. He’s right: if we get stopped out here, it won’t be Smrt we’ll have to fear. I squeeze his waist a little tighter and sink back into place.

  He shifts into fourth gear, and mud flings at our back as the cycle buzzes silently up the road.

  All at once, Urlick slows to a stop. I become a quick stiff line in the seat behind him. My spine aches, I’m holding myself so tight. “What is it?” I whisper. “What do you see?”

  Urlick leans off to one side. Up the road, through the fog about a hundred meters, a couple of Brigsmen stand watch over a makeshift blockade.

  “I thought you said no one used this road anymore.”

  “No one does,” he whispers. “Smrt must not believe we’ve perished. He’s ordered a blockade on every road out of Gears, passable or not.” Urlick cranks his head around. “We’re going to have to travel by woods. We have no choice.” He pops the cycle back into gear and wheels it around, concealing us behind a patch of sumac at the side of the road.

  “I’m going to need your help now, Eyelet,” he says.

  “How do you mean?” I swallow.

  “A while back I saw a gang of criminals.”

  My stomach lurches.

  “And they weren’t hanging in the trees.” I dig my fingers into his sides. “I turned off onto the road for that reason. I didn’t want to tell you because I didn’t want you to be frightened—”

  “Too late for that,” I gasp.

  “But now, I’m afraid I’m going to need you to keep a close eye on the woods for me as we pass through them. Warn me immediately if you see anything, anything at all that looks suspicious. The tiniest red glow along the edge of the road could be the eyes of a criminal reflecting off the hydrocycle’s headlights. It’ll be the only warning we get. One flash and that’s it. If we wait to see faces, it’ll be too late, understand?”

  I nod my head, shuddering inside as he pushes the cycle off the road with his feet and starts off into the underbrush of the forest.

  “Hang on tight.” He stands up to pedal and my stomach jumps up with him. Never, in a million lifetimes could I ever have imagined this. The two of us alone in a forest full of criminals, with virtually nothing to defend ourselves with.

  I lean, wrapping my arms tight about his middle when he sits back down, my teeth chattering at his back. I’m trying
to be brave, but it’s hard knowing, if I miss a sign we could be eaten alive. The stakes are far too high.

  “How much longer do you think?” I say after a while.

  “Just keep your eyes peeled on the forest,” he says. He shifts gears so clumsily we clack heads, and I realize the terrain is getting muckier, harder to maneuver through. Oily pools linger to the right of us, fumaroles gurgle to the left. We’re entering the part of the forest destroyed by the Vapours.

  Twice I think I see red circles glinting up from the edges of leaves at the side of the road. Twice I almost say something. It’s hard to know if it’s just my mind playing tricks, or if it’s really happening, and I don’t want to alarm Urlick if it’s not. Perhaps I should say something. My eyes fall to the mucky terrain. What’ll happen to us if we stop?

  Two little lights flash like luminescent drops of blood from a bush at the side of the road. Just as quickly as they come, they're gone. It’s like they were never there at all. I concentrate hard on the spot in the leaves, but nothing re-appears.

  “Urlick?” I say, wondering if I'm crazy. “Urlick, I thought I saw something back there in the bushes.” I stare over my shoulder at the spot again. Something flashes. Only this time it flashes slightly over to the left. A pair of eyes. And then another. I’m not crazy, I'm sure of it now. "Urlick," my voice pulls thin. The flashes move, then move again. “They’re jumping around us—”

  “I know. I see them.” His breath grows uneasy. “Keep your eyes on them, will you please?”

  He keeps his hands steadied on the wheel, veering off the path to the right. We drop down into the thicker part of the woods, and right away I sense we’re in trouble, as he stands, struggling to push the cycle harder. The tires pinch and snap against stones and sticks beneath us. The muck turns into silt.

  When he sits, his heart pounds through the sides of his ribs into my hands. Sweat breaks on the back of his neck.

  I’m empty, cold, and hollow inside. It’s as if nothing remains of me but a beating heart. It thrashes inside me at such a speed I fear it may explode, destroying me before the criminals even have a chance to appear.

  “It’s all right, we’re all right.” Urlick grabs my hand and pulls it across his middle, squeezing it hard inside his own. He must have sensed I was afraid, so very afraid, my breath rushing over his shoulder. “We’ll be fine as long as we keep moving. Isn’t that right, Bertie?” he adds. He grinds his teeth and I’m not sure I believe him—the muscles at the sides of his jaw tense.

  Bertie shudders beneath us.

  I bury my face in Urlick’s back, praying he’s right, my heart now bursting in my ears I’m so frightened. Oh please, let us make it through this part of the woods. Please, don’t let them stop us.

  We travel less than thirty meters—tires gripping then spinning, becoming bogged down in the muck then freeing again—when we become stuck, axle-deep in swamp gunk, engine sputtering and choking. Bertie strains trying to get us out, but it’s no use. Urlick’s not able to get us out either. The hydrocycle gasps between attempts.

  “Bertie’s going to burn himself out,” I say.

  “I know.” Urlick dismounts for what feels like the umpteenth time so far, and pushes, only to sink into the bog himself. “Get off,” he shouts. “Quickly.” He’s up to his knees in the bog. “Stand over there.” He points to firmer ground about ten meters away, holding out his hand to help me from the bike.

  I jump from the back and my boots become immediately stuck. I struggle to pull myself out and something chatters in the trees beside me, less than a stone’s cast away from the cycle. Teeth. It’s the sound of criminals chattering their teeth.

  Urlick sucks in a sharp breath. “Hurry,” he says. “We haven’t much time.”

  I try again to free myself and my boot disappears into the depths of the bog, almost to my knee.

  Urlick turns to me, mud-faced and panicked, struggling to save the cycle from a similar fate. “Keep moving, Eyelet, don’t stand still. It’s the only way to get loose!”

  I lean back and yank my boot from the bog, only to have the other taken down by its grip. Lunging backward I manage to dislodge both at once, a huge suck sound fills the forest. I stumble backward and something strokes the side of my face. “Urlick?” I say, reaching out for him through the cloud cover, threading my fingers through his. I pull back, shocked by their Siberian feel. “Urlick?”

  The clouds lift long enough for me to see a man strung up by his neck dangling in the trees.

  “Water.” He reaches for me. “Water, please.”

  I gasp, falling back, every nerve in my body screaming, and rebound off yet another. His arms are lopped off at the elbows. An ‘X’ is prod-ironed into his chest. Flesh hangs from his bloodied bone as if wild animals have feasted on him. His head flops over, revealing a skull without eyes. Blood surges from their empty sockets. A barbed wire noose cuts deep into his neck. “Help me,” he chokes. “Please, help me.”

  A bolt of horror rifles through me. I whirl around, facing a barrage of bodies all cobbled together and left to twitch on the ends of barbed wire. A graveyard full of them hangs all around me. Some dead. Some alive.

  I turn and race away, fighting the urge to puke. “Urlick!” I scream. “Urlick, where are you?”

  Other voices sift through the trees, begging for water, shouting to be freed. Their hands grope the air in search of me. Fingers rake my hair. Hands brush my cheeks. “Urlick!” I shout, hurtling back through the forest. “Urlick! Answer me, please!”

  “Over here!” he shouts, appearing in my path.

  I slam into his chest, falling slack and shaken into his arms.

  “What?” he says.

  “Criminals,” I gulp. “Dangling from the trees. There were criminals, everywhere.”

  He brushes the tears from my cheeks, leaving a trail of sand on my skin. “It’s all right.” He embraces me, dragging me soft-kneed back toward the cycle. “You’re all right.”

  I look down at Bertie. His gears are covered in clumps of mud. I can’t imagine how he’ll work.

  “Get on,” Urlick says, falling to the ground to claw it away.

  I throw a leg over the cycle and freeze. “Urlick,” I whisper, trembling. “Turn around.” Two tiny red dots burn through the fog-laced foliage just beyond his head. They’re too low to belong to anything I saw strung up in the trees.

  Urlick’s head swings up, sensing the movement around us. His eyes bug out wide.

  The lights grow in number. Two sets, three, then four appear. Accompanied by gnashing teeth.

  He throws a leg over the cycle and pops it into gear. “Hold on!” he shouts, shifting gears madly as we speed away, fishtailing through the mucky woods.

  My head swivels left to right. More and more sets of eyes surround us. “Urlick!” I shout over the chatter of teeth.

  “I see them!” he shouts back, pushing Bertie’s motor to its limit. It sputters and coughs and threatens to fail.

  “No, Urlick!” I try again.

  “Please, Eyelet, not now!”

  “But, Urlick—”

  “Eyelet, I’m going as fast as I can!”

  He revs the throttle. The cycle launches up and over the trunk of a fallen tree, hanging in the air before slamming back to earth. I land—hard—on the seat behind him; my stomach is lodged my throat. Thankfully, he hasn’t lost me.

  “Urlick, please,” I shout, as he speeds up the path. “Listen to me! We don’t have to outrun them!”

  “What?” He hits a stump and loses control. Bertie jerks to one side. We skitter from the path and fall down the rock face onto another path—a narrow switchback that skirts the edge of the escarpment.

  A wall of rock ascends to our left; the escarpment drops off to our right. Urlick stands the cycle almost on end as he brakes to avoid what’s blocking the path in front of us. Our back wheel drops down over the edge of the switchback when we finally come to a stop.

  “Good God in heaven save us,”
I breathe.

  In front of us stand two criminals, bloodied and beaten. They form a human chain across road. Their necks are still bound in their broken barbed-wire nooses. One has open wounds still gushing where he struggled to get free. The other is missing an eye. It looks as though it’s been plucked from his head.

  “Ain’t much use calling on ’im. He don’t show ‘is head much ‘round these parts.” The eyeless criminal laughs.

  “May as well give up,” the other one says. “You’re trapped.”

  “Like rats, backs to a corner,” says the other, chattering his teeth.

  I swallow down a spiked clump of fear. My heart thumps in my throat.

  The eyeless one tracks Urlick’s gaze. “Thinkin’ of jumpin’ are ya?” he says. “Even if you were to make it, there’s eight more of us down there.”

  The second one starts chattering again. I throw my hands to my ears to block out the sound.

  Urlick digs his toes into the dirt and tries to back us up.

  “And ain’t no bother backin’ up either. ‘Ave a look.” The criminal’s eyes flicker.

  I whirl around. Three more criminals block the path, stalking toward us. “It’s true, Urlick,” I say, turning back.

  Urlick eyes a small shelf of rocky ledge above us, running along the inside of the escarpment. We can’t possibly reach it without building up speed enough to make the jump. What is he thinking?

  “Don’t do it,” I say, leaning forward, whispering in his ear. “There’s another way.”

  “What are you talking about? It’s the only option left—”

  “No it isn’t.”

  Urlick’s head snaps around.

  “How much do you trust me?” I stare into his eyes. “Now I need you to turn around and pedal straight at them, as fast as you can, do you understand?”

  “That’s ridiculous—”

  “Just do it, will you please?”

  He turns back, and I wrap my hands around his waist and lock my fingers. “Now,“ I say.

  Urlick leaps onto the pedals, pushing Bertie harder than he’s ever pushed him before. Bertie gulps in air as we hurtle up the narrow path toward the criminals.