Twig

by wildbow

  The container, cracked and damaged by the grenade, dumped its contents onto the road. Said contents flowed down the street, and along the gutter.

  “Hurry,” Jamie said, helping me up.

  We hurried. Between the smoke, the explosion and the fire, only two of the drugged men came after us. The two bullets we used in putting them down brought a third, and the noise of the third bullet didn’t bring any immediate visitors.

  We had to run a block to get to the terminal. It was another hut of tubes and controls, to guide the water flow. The attached dials, signs, and labels were so old that half weren’t readable anymore, but Jamie seemed to have a sense of it. He indicated the cranks to spin, shutting off water so that we would only contaminate the water supply in one area. We moved to a hatch, and we climbed down to a lower level. There was a large tank that gutter water flowed into, where the water was cleaned and strained of any noticeable debris. The recycled water from the drains and rain was normally used to flush toilets and be strategically released from certain pipes to wash city streets or attach to the fire service’s pumps.

  With Evette looking on, we closed off the tank channels, rerouting the flow, a process, according to Jamie, that would normally be used to drive a clog out of the pipes.

  We stepped back to look at our work, listening to the sound of the gutter water chugging through.

  It was done. The drug we’d loaded into the wagon had made its way into the ditch and down here, and now it would make its way to the station and the buildings in the immediate surroundings. With only the Devil and his men awake and potentially drinking the stuff, only they should be affected.

  Jamie took a few more steps back, and then collapsed, his back to the wall.

  I nodded, looked up at the hatch, and went to climb up, making sure that the door to the outside was firmly closed and latched, before retreating down to the dim space below, only partially closing the hatch behind me.

  As good a hiding place as any, sitting in the dark here. I settled down next to Jamie, looking up at the hatch. If there was any light up on the surface, it would be visible around the edges of the hatch.

  “We’ve only got a few hours before we need to move. Don’t go and fall asleep, okay?” I asked.

  No sooner was I done speaking than I felt Jamie’s head move. It came to rest against my shoulder.

  “Leaving it all to me, huh? Jackass,” I said. “Dunce. Nincompoop…”

  ☙

  “…Pencilwit,” I said. I had to think for a few more seconds to dig for more inspiration. “Eraser licker. Nipplesnout. Bat-fart. Turtle-weiner. Barf… belcher. Wormy-arsed snot-suckler…”

  Digging for more inspiration, I looked up at the hatch. The light of dawn that was shining through now was stronger. If I had to go by gut…

  “Needle-pecker. Duck-buggerer. Shitcrumb,” I said, for good measure. I sighed a little, moving the shoulder of an arm that had long since gone numb. “Up.”

  “Mm,” Jamie made a noise.

  “Drooler. Snorer,” I said, under my breath.

  “What was that?” Jamie asked.

  “Nothing,” I said. “Nothing at all.”

  “Mm. Isn’t that funny?” He murmured. “I feel like I almost dreamed, except, I wouldn’t have been out for that long, and as dreams go, I just have a dim recollection of you doing nothing but coming up with insults for me for hours. Hours upon hours.”

  “And I’d never do that, of course,” I said.

  “Never. You’re too kind a soul. Too grateful to me for leaving everything behind to support your sorry ass.”

  “Exactly,” I said. “Exactly. But as amusing as that all is, it’s time to go. If I gauged the timing right.”

  Jamie nodded.

  Together, we worked to reverse what we’d done, flushing the pipes, then restoring water to the area. It was an easier process than setting things up in the first place. Jamie’s intricate recollection of what he’d managed to find out about the city’s water system, services, and the maintenance therein was hardly even needed. It was always easier to get things to do what they were intended to do, than to reroute and rework.

  We made our way up the ladder, both of us groaning with our individual aches and pains, Jamie’s tricky shoulder always being some small problem. We peeked out past the hatch, verified the coast as clear, and then made our way outside.

  It wasn’t so far to the train station, and except for some perimeter patrols of officers and stitched that we steer clear of, the area was surprisingly empty and shockingly quiet, for an hour or so past dawn.

  We approached the station at an oblique angle, but on seeing the first body, we moved forward with more confidence. A man, crumpled to the ground, his skin orange-red in color, lay in the sun.

  “They didn’t collect him,” I said. “It’s hard to believe. If they had people on watch, I feel like they would have grabbed him and tried to treat him.”

  “It’s no guarantee,” Jamie said.

  “Walk the perimeter first, then?” I asked.

  Jamie nodded.

  We took our time, even knowing that time was somewhat short. Taking care, we verified that there were no people on watch, here, and apparently no civilians either. I looked inside windows to homes, at beds, at porches and elsewhere. There were doors that had been left open and unlocked, and there wasn’t a living soul to be seen. The police who’d been patrolling elsewhere weren’t anywhere near the station itself.

  It clicked.

  “They weren’t sure what it was, when people started dying,” I said. “They might have thought it was an invisible gas, or a disease.”

  “They might have,” Jamie said.

  I could hear the skepticism in his voice, and voiced the thought he hadn’t yet. “Or it’s a trap.”

  “Might be,” he said. He smiled slightly, at the fact that I’d read his mind.

  With that in mind, we were slower in our approach, more cautious.

  We were only a few houses back from the door of the station when I saw it. I changed course, and moved over to the curb by the side of the road. The ditch was recessed, to allow rain water to flow in it and only in it, without spilling out into the road. It was filled with detritus, with dirt, some weeds, and bits of trash.

  But, in the midst of it, a dark line was visible.

  I dug it out, and lifted it to look.

  “Telegraph wire?” I asked. “In a ditch.”

  I looked at Jamie. I could see the look on his face. My expression dead serious, I lifted the wire, formed a loop, drew my knife, and cut the wire. I waited a moment.

  Nothing.

  Still holding the wire, I gathered it up as I followed it to its source. Stones in the pathway leading up to the front door had been placed over the wire, hiding it. I got close to the front door, then stopped.

  What would I do?

  Pile trap upon trap.

  I didn’t use the front door. I checked a window, then climbed through, leaving Jamie on watch.

  Inside the building were bodies. People that had turned varying shades of orange and red, fallen here and there. The Devil wasn’t among them.

  But, more concerning, were the cases and boxes. Piles upon piles of the things. I knew the characteristic smell.

  Bombs. Explosives. TNT.

  All wired up to this telegraph-style fuse. To other things. To the front door, and to a hatch in the bathroom floor, leading to the water system. I hadn’t even guessed that entry point existed.

  Too much, all together. He must have tapped the Apostles’ supplies. Completely over the top.

  I unhooked the trick fuses on the front door, opening it. I let Jamie see it all.

  “There’s no way we get rid of all of this before they arrive,” Jamie said.

  “I know,” I said.

  “He could attack last minute, find a way to set it off.”

  “I know,” I said, again. “Keep an eye out, and watch out, he might have a sniper rifle. If he has access to a
ll of this… not out of the question.”

  Jamie nodded, stepping back outside.

  I crossed the station, and I found what any train station office had to have available. The wires were nailed to the wall, making for a painful process of tracing it all back, making sure that it wouldn’t feed back into some pile of bombs or another, triggering an explosion if I made a call. I was a little disappointed that it didn’t, that I didn’t have another minor victory like I had with the front door.

  I dialed and made the call.

  “Hello? Sir?” A woman’s voice.

  “West Corinth train station, here,” I said.

  “You’re supposed to identify yourself with a name and number, sir, otherwise the line may be compromised. Please state—”

  I was a little pleased that she jumped to sir instead of assuming I was a child.

  “It’s compromised,” I said, cutting the woman off. “The station is filled with explosives. It will blow up shortly.”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “Do you have a means of contacting the train that’s due to arrive at seven? And all of the other trains that are due to pass through today?”

  “Sir? Yes, we have a means, but can I ask you—”

  “Contact them, now,” I said. “Stop the train. Because I’m about to blow up the tracks and the station both.”

  “Sir—”

  “West Corinth,” I said again. “Warn them.”

  There was silence on the line. A muffled sound, voices in the background. She was talking to others.

  “Talk to me,” I said.

  Another voice came on the line, male.

  “Who are you?” the voice asked. “Why this?”

  “I’m Sylvester Lambsbridge,” I said. “Ask around, the name means something.”

  “It does,” he said, in a way that suggested he now believed me, and that it was sinking in. He knew my name already. Staff at train stations and post offices had likely been warned about me.

  “You’ll stop the train?” I asked.

  “I don’t see how we have any other choice,” the voice replied.

  That done, I hung up.

  I checked a smaller crate of TNT, judging the quality of it, and deemed it relatively new. Older TNT could be volatile. As I left the building, I deposited the TNT on the ground, in a line.

  Jamie greeted me as I moved outside, still laying out the line.

  “The Lambs are going to have to find another way into town,” I said. “That’s disappointing.”

  “A touch,” Jamie said. He gave me a hand with the crate, speeding up the process.

  “Didn’t get the Devil either. He’s out there. Plotting.”

  “That’s what you wanted, though, isn’t it? Someone to keep the Lambs on their toes? You wanted to stir shit up and leave it stirred.”

  “Yeah,” I said. “But… not quite this messy. Be better if the Devil was dead, but the stirring was still a thing. If we knew when and where they were turning up, we could set up some kids somewhere, just let them know, so they knew to watch out. I don’t like how this guy moves. Big actions, violent, over the top every time.”

  “Yeah,” Jamie said. “And he’s got some sway over the local police, maybe politics.”

  I had some guesses. Either they were on a drug only he was supplying, or he had some blackmail. Something he’d kept in his pocket for an event like this, where his headquarters were burned and he’d lost half of everything, and he wanted his revenge.

  We worked for another few minutes before I laid down the last of the dynamite. I drew a match.

  Jamie pointed further down the street. “Wind’s blowing that stick away.”

  “It’ll be fine,” I said.

  “If you’re sure.”

  I lit the wick. Jamie and I legged it.

  One explosion prompted another, which led all the way back to the station. Once the big stockpile went, everything went. A massive, rolling boom, tearing apart the station and the tracks and some nearby buildings.

  Bits of wood and shingle rained down all around us.

  I bounced on the spot, excited.

  “You’re such a kid sometimes,” Jamie said.

  “The Lambs are coming,” I said, still bouncing, excited. I stopped bouncing. “And there’s still so dang much to do! Come on, come on!”

  Previous Next

  Dyed in the Wool—12.12

  I balanced on one of the movable walls, which involved me leaning over at a forty-five degree angle. A rope was wound several times around my wrist, extended over to a set of pulleys at the ceiling, then over to a counterweight, which dangled in mid-air.

  I used a hook on the end of a rod to align the rope with the wheels of the pulley, checked the coast was clear, and then tossed the rod down to a waiting worker.

  “Sylvester,” Jamie called out. He was closer to the front door, a fair distance away.

  “If the Lambs aren’t coming right this second, then it can wait. Give me one minute.”

  “I’ve been giving you one minute for the past ten minutes.”

  “Then it shouldn’t be a problem to give me another,” I said. I unwound the rope from my wrist, turned on the spot, so it was wound around my waist with the end loose and extending out in front of me. It took some doing to maintain my balance throughout, when I was having to stand on a piece of wood only an inch and a half across. I tied the rope-end to the top corner of the movable wall.

  “Eleven minutes now,” Jamie said. “I’m only nagging you because the thing I’ve been bugging you about is now two things.”

  “Gimme another minute,” I said. Extricating myself took a little bit of work. I had to haul back on the rope to give myself slack and then work my way out of the loop I’d wound around my waist. I held onto the rope for balance, double checked everything was in place, then checked the ground below me was clear.

  “Don’t jump,” Jamie said.

  I hopped down to the ground. It was a solid twelve foot drop, and I had to roll to absorb the impact.

  “One of these days you’re going to mess up,” Jamie said. “You’ll land funny and feel like such a twerp.”

  “I’m fine so long as I keep the practice up, which is exactly what I’m doing,” I said. I looked past Jamie to the door. There was a crowd of children. “We have guests.”

  “Which is the second thing I was going to tell you,” Jamie said. “The first thing—”

  “Hold on. I want to do this while I’m thinking about all of this and how it’s set up. If I stop, I’m going to forget something and it’s going to take forever to get back into it,” I said, looking over the setup.

  “If you insist,” Jamie said. It was clear he was close to the limit of his patience.

  I got the assistance of the man who I’d tossed the rod to and lifted the movable wall up and out of its track. A wheel at the bottom corner helped us move it until it was flush to the wall. I got the rod, and moved the rope through a hook so it wouldn’t stand out.

  I did a circuit around the hall, double checking it all, before stopping at the front door. The hall was laid out so there was more or less a clear path from the front door to the back, with hallways branching off to the left and right. Along the right wall, between the two hallways going off to the kitchen, was the staircase leading up. The main room had several chairs and tables placed along the middle, with pieces of furniture here and there.

  The ropes weren’t too visible.

  Trial run.

  I made my way to the back door in a zig-zagging fashion. Up onto the coffee table, kick the bowl—

  The first rope came loose. The counterweight came down, landing just behind me as I hopped up onto the chair. With the descending counterweight, the walls closed like a set of double doors, narrowly missing the furniture we’d placed. The wheels sank into notches in the floor, and a latch connected the doors.

  As I made my way to the back door, two more of the moving walls closed behind me in the same manner
.

  I stopped at the back door, and looked at it, taking it in.

  “Good to put them back!” I called out.

  The two men who had set up the doors and latches set about undoing the latches and lifting the walls back into place.

  “Okay,” Jamie said. “So—”

  “Hold on,” I said.

  I closed my eyes for a moment, focusing.

  As Jamie crossed the room, I also envisioned the Lambs making their approach. I envisioned myself, crossing the room in the same way I just had, a path that saw me darting left and right, so that every piece of furniture served as cover.

  Mary was the one to watch out for, here. I gave special consideration to imagining how she’d move, the choices she’d make. If she had a bola, or a throwing knife, she wouldn’t have a clear shot. I’d be too far away for other tricks and toys.

  I imagined the doors swinging closed, the counterweights falling from the ceiling and forcing Mary to change course, if she chose the fastest route to me.

  I could get out the back door with time to spare. I imagined the same scenario, with Mary a few paces behind me, with Mary further away.

  I imagined the scenario with them having help. The likes of an experiment like Gorger or the Hangman, or with Lillian having some trick up her sleeve, like the suit I’d urged her to make.

  I envisioned Mary getting a boost that let her fly over the first set of closing doors. I imagined something big and strong tearing its way through the walls in quick succession. All of the scenes played out in quick succession as I plotted the course of events.

  The trick arose when Mary got clever. She was fast, she was athletic, and she was determined.

  I could imagine Mary, graceful Mary, using the staircase at one side of the room. Running up as well as toward me. Getting the height to get over the second and third walls. Getting the vantage point where I didn’t have actual cover, that would let her throw that bola or hurl that drug-loaded dart at my back.

  Jamie had reached me. He put his hands around my neck, lightly strangling me.

  “Hold on,” I said.

  He tightened his grip.

  I could see a variety of ways that Mary might make that maneuver.