The Ghost Engine

by Theresa Fuller

  By the time she reached the passenger compartment, the train had come to a complete stop. At the opposite end of the passage was a cream door edged with gold that she had never noticed before. Charles, with his abilities, must have caused it to appear. Hopefully, the door bypassed the tender and led straight to the footplate, just like The Flying Scotsman.

  She was reaching for the knob when a brown scorch mark on the thick green carpet stopped her. The mark reminded her of the ball of light, but there was no sign of it anywhere. She assumed it had fizzled out like a firecracker though there was no smell of extinguished gunpowder. Perhaps it had escaped when Charles opened the door to get out.

  When she reached the locomotive cab, she found Charles fiddling with switches at the driver’s console. The minute he spotted her, he dropped what he was doing and grasped her arm, at once easing her off the train. His mouth opened to form words she couldn’t hear, but his actions expressed his intentions quite clearly.

  Go away.

  Go far away.

  His dismissal stunned her. She was unwanted. She nodded curtly, about to stride off when he grasped her by the wrist, yanking her back. The shock of his touch went right up her arm and into her heart, sending it aflutter.

  For one tremulous moment, he stared into her face as if he were about to speak. It made her breath catch in her throat, to have those eyes look so wantingly upon her. Heat from the boiler rose in hazy waves around them, blurring the gold of the train. Her face grew hotter.

  His eyes were like diamonds. Melting blue diamonds.

  Sparks from the locomotive’s engine landed, hissing on the ground around them. She itched to shift her feet, and stared down at the ground, suddenly shy. Her pulse was roaring in her head when, with the same swift motion, Charles released her and climbed back inside the locomotive.

  All without speaking a word...

  The whistle continued to scream.

  She turned away at once, her chest heaving as she ran from the train. Her eyes smarted with unshed tears. He was playing games with her. That look...

  But it made no difference even if it was romantic interest.

  We’re partners. Just partners, she reminded herself.

  The truth was she had never intended to marry.

  That was why she had been so hard on Charles from the beginning. She had no wish to be Cinderella. Even with his glass elevator and glass carriage, he was not a Prince Charming. She did not wish for one.

  I do not want your glass slippers to contain me.

  Charles had not been in the least bit sympathetic. Though he had allowed her to help with the bugs, he had ended up commandeering the whole action. He was like every other boy. The incident with the balls of energy proved he was a stubborn fool who only wanted his own way. If he were genuinely sincere, he would have allowed her to help him now. Unless he was worried the locomotive would explode.

  She slowed.

  But if the locomotive were that dangerous, then the solution was to leave. Escape. With her. At this very moment. Not risk being blown up.

  By now she had walked some distance across the exposed area of green plains, but the sound of the whistle was still painful. In fact, it appeared louder than when she was on the train. She cupped her hands over her ears and turned shakily to watch Charles scrabble around inside the open cab.

  He touched, tapped, twisted, and examined every movable part. The speedometer, pressure and temperature gauges, water level indicators, the fire door, the regulator valve, the whistle cord, the brake lever, as well as every other lever she could not name, he went at least twice over, all in the span of minutes. But it was to no avail. He jumped out of the cab and strode around the locomotive, all the while muttering to himself. He kicked the great metal wheels and ran his hands gingerly over the valves, flinching whenever he touched something hot.

  Good. She smiled to herself as he shook a sting off his hand.

  He glanced at her from time to time, nodding as if pleased she had stayed where she was. After more ardent examination of the wheels, he scrambled under the train. She hoped the pistons would leak oil on him.

  Crossing her arms, she waited.

  And waited.

  The whistle continued to shrill.

  Berd tapped her foot. She was becoming more cross with it than him. It didn’t make sense why the whistle was sounding. The train had stopped, so the boiler couldn’t be overheating. Yet the whistle was still going. He should have found the cause by now. The trouble with this world was that everything was not as it seemed.

  Unless it was an alarm for something not on the train!

  She halted her tapping and turned slowly away from the train. If it wasn’t coming from inside the train, the answer had to be outside. She scanned the green plains that stretched to the computer horizon all around her. No blocks. No buildings. No trees. She could see everything, but there was nothing to see. As she lifted one hand to shade her eyes, the whistling wrenched to a halt.

  Charles was shaking his head as he clambered out from under the train, bewildered.

  Berd could think of only two reasons why the noise had stopped: because the cause of alarm was over or because the person running it knew she was onto the idea of the source being external and was about to go looking for it.

  She had to find out who it was and where they were. But what worried her most was that the only way the perpetrator would have known was if they had been watching her the whole time.

  It had be the mysterious third person in the Fotheringay Engine.

  The one who tried to kill her.

  Twice.

  Chapter Ten

  PREDATORS SENSE FEAR in prey. I am prey.

  The bright green enamelled computerscape with its dull gold sky was now menacing. The image of the monstrous eye she had seen in her stables had returned.

  Berd was in its domain. Its hunting ground.

  Though she saw nothing watching her, she was convinced it was out there, that it had been there all along, biding its time. She was a fool to think it had been Charles she had to fear. He was merely the decoy.

  Her lungs burned as she raced forward, desperate to get back to the train.

  The train.

  If the train would but wait!

  Already a puff of smoke issued from the funnel. In her mind’s eye, the train was pulling away...

  Berd transferred her fear into her feet and charged across the green enamel ground, her boots smacking the surface. Smoke now billowed from the train’s funnel. A terrible sweat was coming on, but she would not be left behind. By the time Berd reached her carriage, she was trembling. She pounded up the steps and pushed past Charles, who had been waiting at the bottom for her.

  “My lady?”

  Though she heard the concern in his voice, she was in such a state she could not stop to explain. Then the train lurched forward, and she heard him scramble aboard.

  That’s twice now, she thought, twice she had heard him fumbling to board the train. It confirmed a suspicion.

  Charles was not in command.

  Had he been, she was sure the train would have waited.

  Something or someone else was Lord Almighty in this place.

  “Might I suggest you would be more comfortable in your compartment?” he called out.

  She didn’t slow. Instead, she flew past her compartment, one hand working the open neckline of her blouse as she fought to keep her composure. She was right to reject him, she told herself. She was right. The hard knot of pain curled in her chest squeezed even tighter.

  Charles, however, had other ideas. He ducked his head as he moved past and as she approached the door at the end of the passageway, he lunged to open it. “Have I upset you, my lady?”

  She did not answer. Though he opened each successive door for her, she continued to ignore him. When she reached the last compartment, she sank onto the Chesterfield. In the glass opposite, she saw his reflection pause in the middle of the doorway, unsure if he should enter.
>
  “I believe I have wronged you, my lady.” His voice was deep, breathless, but she couldn’t quite make out the emotion behind it. His long dark hair partially hid his face.

  Plus his secrets.

  She had to push him away especially since she wished for no commitment from him. “I do not wish to discuss it, Mr Fotheringay.”

  “I had hoped you would address me—”

  “Your actions made it clear the fire plate of a locomotive is no place for a lady. I see that you believe society dictates we all know our place,” she said. “So please know yours.”

  Charles inhaled sharply then searched her face. “I know you are a lady.”

  “Mr Fotheringay, if you want me to trust you, you must first trust me. Before the whistle blew, tell me with whom you were conversing.”

  The whistle shrilled again.

  In the glass reflection, surprise shot across Charles’s face. His mouth opened, his eyes narrowed, and she did not think she was imagining it. Twice she had tried to ask him who he had been speaking with, and twice the whistle had shrilled. This was too much of a coincidence.

  Beyond them, the green computerscape flashed past as the train continued rocking on its journey. No blocks. No buildings. No eye. Yet it was obvious he had been looking at something. She swung round to glance at him, just in time to catch him give her a wink.

  Surely that was not meant for her! Her hand flew to cover her mouth. But it was too late.

  Charles had seen the effect his wink had on her and the grin on his face simply broadened. He squared his shoulders and stood taller.

  Berd’s solitary defence was to turn swiftly away.

  “I’ll return shortly, princess.” It was hard not to miss the note of jubilation in his voice.

  “You have not won,” she said, under her breath to the already closing door.

  I do not need this. She kept her gaze stonily on the floor, her pulse beating strongly in her throat, not looking up in case she caught his reflection in the glass. Only when she heard the door click shut did she raise her head.

  The computerscape outside was going by at a clip, nearly twenty miles per hour.

  Again I find myself alone, locked away by my ‘protectors.’

  He was gone. And she was not going to waste a further minute thinking about that ingrate. Her heart continued to thump loudly in her ears, and she waved her hand to cool her hot face. He had seemed so worried earlier when the first whistle had blown that she had thought it a matter of life and death. But now he seemed to take it in stride, not even bothering to run! She had to find out the reason. She pushed her lower lip out, furious at herself for letting her guard down and allowing him to see… see what? She cared not for him surely!

  But while the whistle screamed, he was gone which meant in his absence she was safe to search for the doppelganger. She waited a good five minutes in case Charles returned.

  The whistle was still blowing when she rose and poked round the Chesterfield, but as she expected, there was nothing suspicious in the carriage. Even in all the nooks and crannies nothing revealed itself.

  They had been travelling a good half hour by the time she concluded her inspection, the whistle screaming all the while. Her head felt fit to explode. She had originally suspected someone was outside spying on them, but she would have spotted the perpetrator as he ran to keep up with the train. The train hadn’t slowed, so the logical move was to check the rest of the carriages.

  Slowly, she turned to look at the door.

  But as she tried to leave the compartment her body grew heavier, it seemed harder to move her feet. She stood before the door, her breath coming in dry heaves as she struggled to find the courage to leave.

  I can do this. I can do this.

  If she found the doppelganger, she needed a plan of action for he would easily overpower her and she would be at his mercy. Yet if she didn’t find him, she dreaded to think what he would do when she wasn’t looking.

  If someone was trying to kill her, she needed to know exactly where he was.

  I am running out of time before Charles returns.

  By now her breath was pumping in and out of her lungs and she saw spots before her eyes as she stepped out into the passageway.

  The silver door opposite that led into the next carriage was half open, but the cargo door she wished to open wasn’t. It was a high possibility that the doppelganger was inside the cargo hold. He had to be somewhere and this was the closest place she could think of, especially if he had overheard her when she asked Charles who he had been talking to the second time.

  She reached for the door.

  Even as her hand closed on the knob, the hairs on the back of her neck stood on end. She sprang back. Something powerful was inside. Perhaps it was simply more energy. Static electricity. Bytes. Death.

  Berd was cold, so cold she knew she was close to passing out. There was no reason for the fear, she told herself. She had experienced the ball of energy earlier and escaped uninjured. There was no need to fear.

  Breathing through her mouth, she reached forward once more, feeling the sleeve of her blouse push back up to rub against her arm.

  She lifted the latch.

  The cargo door swung open effortlessly and silently on its hinges. But there was no blazing white light. Instead, solid darkness glared malevolently back at her.

  Pins and needles danced upon her shoulders. Her arms lost their strength. A sudden inexplicable weight pressed the air out of her lungs.

  The impenetrable darkness...

  The darkness was waiting for her to enter.

  Waiting to devour her.

  The corridor swayed. And somehow, somehow though she couldn’t explain it, the darkness and the cargo door seemed to grow larger before her eyes while the gleaming steel corridor seemed to shrink away behind. There was now only the door. Only the door and the darkness... And it was waiting.

  How long Berd stood there, she did not know. She grew colder, nauseous. If someone had told her she had been standing outside for all eternity, she would have believed them.

  Her hand lifted. She wasn’t sure if she was controlling it, or if it was moving of its own accord. Her legs, however, were a different matter. They did not want to enter the room and they didn’t, because she was falling.

  “Princess!” the darkness called.

  A dazzling object flashed before her.

  Something grabbed Berd and together they rolled. She wanted to scream, but her mouth was too dry. She wanted to shove him away, but she had no strength. Oh, but if she only hadn’t opened that door...

  ***

  Berd was lying on something soft. She was also swaying gently, like aboard a boat or a train...

  She snapped her eyes open. Fuzzy grey cleared into mild darkness as her greeting, and she found it to be the haziness of dusk. But this was the Engine. They mustn’t have night and day in this world.

  Berd inhaled fragrant peppermint as she raised her head. Unsurprisingly, she was back in her compartment. What was surprising was that Charles lay on another bed opposite. Asleep.

  Her face flushed hot as she realised she had been sleeping in the same room with a stranger, albeit in different beds.

  In more ways than one, Charles had turned her life upside-down. If he had not created the Engine, she would not have been sucked inside; she would not have been nearly disowned by her brother; she would not be possibly dead. But most of all, she would not have met Charles...

  She rose from the bed; the bed she had earlier declined because she did not trust him. He certainly did not warrant it. He lay with one hand across his eyes, his breathing deep and steady. As she stared, his arm slid away to reveal a face in repose; dried blood from their encounter with the swarm of bits still stained the tip of his nose.

  It made him look almost comical, yet his defencelessness was alluring. Asleep, the tension around his eyes was gone. She guessed he was not much older than her, but living alone for a year inside this madhouse had
probably aged him. And he had risked his life to save her.

  Did he love her?

  At that thought, her face crumpled. Though bitter joy welled inside her, she refused to cave in to the possibility he did. If she succeeded in her objective of programming the Engine, lives could be saved. It also wouldn’t hurt to be the world’s first programmer. What a difference that would mean for women! Men would have to start taking them seriously. It was the golden opportunity women had been searching for, and she could not afford any errors in judgement. Nor any weakness.

  She could not afford to be in love with Charles. It would simply wreck everything.

  “It’s just coincidence. You have been trapped inside the Engine for too long, and I am the first person you have seen,” she whispered. “Yet you are the first person to have ever wanted me.”

  Little rapid motions started under his eyelids; had he heard her? Was he waking?

  His hair was damp at the hairline and if she stayed, she would be tempted to smooth it back. It was high time she left.

  “Good-bye.” She turned on her heel and in two swift steps, she reached the door, twisted the knob, and before she could change her mind, she stepped into the passageway. Even as the door closed, she realised she was not alone. The voice greeted her first.

  “My lady.”

  The doppelganger.

  Chapter Eleven

  THE AIR WITHIN the passageway seemed too thin. The light too bright. The walls far too close.

  Berd leaned back against the cabin door, needing its support as strength ebbed from her.

  The doppelganger rested against the wall in front of her, his feet crossed and looking – if it were possible – more devastatingly handsome than Charles. But then the doppelganger’s face was clean, his hair neat and clipped perfectly, and he was attired as any young buck prepared for a night out on the town. He was the embodiment of what any civilised Victorian gentleman should resemble. The ideal.