Machina Mortis: Steampunk'd Tales of Terror
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MACHINA MORTIS
EDITED BY SAM GAFFORD
INTRODUCTION BY SAM GAFFORD
INCLUDING STORIES BY
SCOTT M BAKER
SALENA MOFFAT
DREW DUNLAP
TONIA BROWN
NATHAN ROBINSON
SAM GAFFORD
THERESA DERWIN
A J SIKES
TRAVIS I SIVART
MARIE ANDREWS
BUCK WEISS
CHRISTINE MORGAN
First published 2013 by KnightWatch Press, an imprint of Fringeworks Ltd, Y Berllan, Maen Y Groes, Cei Newydd, Ceredigion, SA45 9TR.
www.fringeworks.co.uk
Cover art by David Naughton-Shires
‘Introduction’ © Sam Gafford 2013
‘Last Flight of the Bismarck’ © Scott M Baker 2012
‘Bedlam’ © Salena Moffat 2012
‘Patterns’ © Drew Dunlap 2012
‘The Thumping in the Basement’ © Tonia Brown 2012
‘The Last of the Bad Few’ © Nathan Robinson 2012
‘Static’ © Sam Gafford 2012
‘Whitechapel Transfer’ © Theresa Derwin 2012
‘The Three Blind Men’ © A J Sikes 2012
‘Nothing but a Dog: A Trio of Travellers Tale’ © Travis I Sivart 2012
‘Clockwork Carousel’ © Marie Andrews 2012
‘Black Banshee’ © Buck Weiss 2012
‘Garretton Ghoul’ © Christine Morgan 2012
The right of the authors to be identified as the authors of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior permission of the copyright owners.
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CONTENTS
‘Introduction’ by Sam Gafford
‘Last Flight of the Bismarck’ by Scott M Baker
‘Bedlam’ by Salena Moffat
‘Patterns’ by Drew Dunlap
‘The Thumping in the Basement’ by Tonia Brown
‘The Last of the Bad Few’ by Nathan Robinson
'Static' by Sam Gafford
‘Whitechapel Transfer’ by Theresa Derwin
‘The Three Blind Men’ by A J Sikes
‘Nothing but a Dog: A Trio of Travellers Tale’ by Travis I Sivart
‘Clockwork Carousel’ by Marie Andrews
‘Black Banshee’ by Buck Weiss
‘Garretton Ghoul’ by Christine Morgan
Introduction
By Sam Gafford
Steampunk. Horror. You might ask yourself, “how could these two things possibly be connected?” Yet, they’re closer than you might think!
The literature of Steampunk is broad and far-reaching. It’s not just about steam powered vehicles or Victorian adventurers wearing goggles. The best examples show how the concept of a steam powered civilization affects a society and its citizens. And one of the underlying aspects of this is a technology that can be perverted or abused.
Is that really far from horror?
Consider that horror usually involves a deviation from the norm; a variation of sorts. It is often an intrusion into reality by forces or creatures intent on preying on us. It is the fear of the ‘ab-normal’ that drives horror fiction.
Which brings us back to Steampunk.
There is much to be feared in Steampunk. Rampant, uncontrolled technology that changes the world is an object of fear just as much as wonder. What kind of world could result? This is what the stories in this collection examine. The dark side of Steampunk when wonder gives way to terror.
Within these pages you will find many different aspects of the horrific side of Steampunk. In “Last Flight of the Bismarck” by Scott Baker, the world is threatened by technological zombies with only two young adventurers standing in their way. The threat is more subliminal in Salena Moffat’s “Bedlam” where it’s hard to determine what is reality. “The Thumping in the Basement” by Tonia Brown considers the matter of limb and organ replacement and the ethics, or lack of, behind it.
Stories like Nancy Jackson & Marie Andrews’ “Clockwork Carousel” take us to new realms of horror. I dare anyone to look at a circus carousel the same way after reading this unnerving tale. Victorian settings are used in two very different tales. “Whitechapel Transfer” by Theresa Derwin connects the hideous crimes of Jack the Ripper with futuristic Steampunkish technology while “The Garretton Ghoul” by Christine Morgan finds another community rocked by a series of mysterious and gruesome murders.
Buck Weiss contributes a terror filled adventure in “The Black Banshee” that features two amateur sleuths of which I am sure we will read more about soon. So too is A. J. Sikes’ tale, “The Three Blind Men”, which sets the stage for more tales of technological terror. Taking us into the future is Nathan Robinson with “The Last of the Bad Few” which gives a different spin to the technological horror of Steampunk. And, as a contrast, “Nothing but a Dog: A Trio of Travellers Tale” by Travis Sivart brings us back to an Old-World European view of horror… with a dash of Steampunk added for good measure.
These stories represent an ability to look beyond a genre’s preconceptions and create new horizons. These writers are explorers in a wild, new land and, before us, they lay a vast vista of exciting, and terrifying, possibilities.
Sam Gafford
Last Flight of the Bismarck
By Scott M Baker
The moans of the reanimated filtered through the pilot house door. They were only slightly less disturbing than the scraping of their lifeless hands against the brass fixture and the creaking of metal as the hinges threatened to give way under their weight.
Chappy and the yeoman braced themselves against the door, their backs pressed against the metal. An exceptionally heavy bang caused Chappy to slip, and the soles of his riding boots slid several inches across the floor. He prevented himself from falling by grabbing the latch.
“Any time now would be helpful,” Chappy called out as he corrected his footing.
“I’m kind of busy now.” Scarlet leaned her head back, not taking her eyes off the skyscrapers towering on either side of her. “I haven’t flown an airship this size before.”
And I certainly wish I didn’t have to fly this one under these circumstances, she added to herself.
Scarlet inched the ship’s wheel to the left. The monstrosity drifted to port, putting distance between itself and the ten-story tenement at an excruciatingly slow rate. After several seconds she realized they would clear the structure and breathed a sigh of relief. The roof of the building passed by the pilot house only several feet to starboard, the tip of the propeller clipping the façade and creating a shower of sparks and fragmented bricks. Straightening the wheel, Scarlet steered the airship back on course. The eastern coast of Manhattan was half a mile ahead of them and the outer boroughs beyond that. In the distance, she could see the ocean.
She and Chappy had decided to sail on the Bismarc
k on its maiden voyage, anticipating it would be an exciting vacation. The largest airship ever constructed at almost two hundred feet in length, the voyage ostensibly was designed as a demonstration of the Germans’ superior technology in being able to design a trans-Atlantic vessel. What no one on board except the officers knew was that Berlin had designed the Bismarck to be a superweapon to wreak revenge on the Northern United States for actively working against the Fatherland during the Wars for German Unification. Once over New York City, the crew would land in Central Park and release the contents of its two secret cargo holds. One contained rats infested with bubonic plague-carrying mites that would spread the Black Death throughout the city. The other held fifty reanimates, the dead brought back to life and made mobile by steam-driven prostheses. With highly infectious bites and impervious to pain or death, these creatures comprised the perfect army with which to invade the States.
Thankfully for the Northern United States, the reanimates broke free from their hold while the Bismarck made its way along the Connecticut shoreline. Within an hour, almost the entire crew had been ravaged by these creatures, most reanimating within a few minutes to swell the ranks of the living dead. They then set upon the passengers, ravaging their way through the main deck. Only Scarlet, her fellow adventurer Chappy, and the air yeoman had survived the assault and were now holed up in the pilot house. By then the Bismarck had already reached the northern tip of Manhattan. She reasoned if she could steer the airship out into the open sea and scuttle it, then that at least would protect the country from the Germans’ barbaric intentions.
The horde of reanimates of the other side of the door had a different idea.
“Ma’am,” said the yeoman. “If you want, I can take over. We can climb above the buildings rather than avoid them.”
Scarlet quickly glanced over her shoulder to give the yeoman a withering glare. Strands of auburn hair slapped across her cheek. “I’ve been flying airships since before you were born.”
“Sorry, ma’am.”
“Besides, I already tried that. The ailerons are stuck. I can’t ascend or descend, only steer.”
The reanimates pushed against the brass door. The metal groaned. Two bolts popped from the hinges and dropped to the deck.
Chappy looked down at the bolts. “Perhaps you could steer a bit faster?”
Scarlet already had the propellers throttled to full power. An airship of this size can only move so fast. “Patience is a virtue, my dear.”
“Tell that to those things outside the door.” He pushed several blonde locks away from his face as he motioned to the living dead on the other side of the door.
The horde shoved again. Another bolt fell from its mounting.
Ignoring the commotion behind her, Scarlet concentrated on the danger ahead. Five hundred feet ahead of her, two large warehouses dominated each side of a wide boulevard, the pair lying directly in her flight path. She inched the ship’s wheel left and right, adjusting the direction of the airship to glide between the buildings. It would be a tight squeeze, but they should make it.
Barely.
Focusing on the port engine, Scarlet failed to notice that the starboard propeller was too close to the building. It dug into the façade, warping two of the blades. The third broke off and shot like a bullet toward the pilot house. Scarlet ducked behind the wheel as the blade shattered through the glass. It passed by so close that she felt the wind whip her hair. The blade lodged in the rear wall of the pilot house, imbedding itself five feet from the yeoman’s head.
The force of the collision pushed the Bismarck to port. Before she could compensate, the port engine slammed into the warehouse. The metal gouged against bricks and shattered windows as the engine tore itself apart on the building’s surface. With an agonized screech, the engine broke free from its mountings and clattered to the street below. The concussion pushed the airship back onto its path. They were now without power, but that no longer mattered. The Bismarck had cleared the city and glided over Upper New York Bay, with Brooklyn off to the left and Staten Island off to the right. The Narrows lay directly in their path and, beyond that, the ocean.
“Schiesse,” yelled the yeoman. “She’s about to go.”
Scarlet’s attention focused on the groaning of metal behind her as the reanimates shoved against the pilot house door one final time. Chappy and the yeoman raced away as the last of the bolts burst from their hinges. The door fell to the deck with a loud clang, and five reanimates pushed through the opening.
Scarlet grimaced. She had witnessed a lot in her twenty-plus years as an adventuress, but these creatures were truly among the most hideous she had ever encountered. The five creatures looked more like masses of oozing flesh rather than men. Their skin had long since liquefied, most of it melting away to reveal atrophied muscles and decayed tissue. Milky grey eyes bulged from their sockets. Exposed jaws chewed at the air in anticipation of feeding. Unable to walk on their own because of their advanced state of decay, their creator had devised ghastly prosthetics to make them mobile. An iron brace drilled into the spine kept each creature erect. Artificial legs and knees constructed of metal and laced with hydraulic lines allowed them to walk, the patchwork affair motorized by miniature steam engines located in the hollow of their abdomens. Upon seeing the fresh meat, the reanimates lumbered toward the humans.
“Both of you!” yelled Scarlet. “Wrap your arms around my waist and hold on tight!”
Chappy and the yeoman obeyed. Under different conditions, this would be quite pleasant, she thought. Concentrating on the task at hand, Scarlet spun the wheel to the right and shifted the rudder left. The Bismarck lurched to one side, tilting the pilot house at a forty-five degree angle. One by one, the reanimates lost their balance and tumbled to the deck, sliding until they created a heap of metal and dead flesh along the starboard bulkhead. Scarlet reset the controls and leveled out the airship, and then steered due east.
“Danke Gutt,” sighed the yeoman as he released his grip on Scarlet. “That was good thinking.”
“What now?” asked Chappy. Scarlet noticed that he held on to her a bit longer than polite society would have allowed.
“Now we sabotage this ship and get out of here.” She turned to the yeoman. Sweat matted his dark hair to his forehead. Fear distorted his boyish features and threatened to drive him over the edge of madness. She needed to anchor him back in reality. “What’s your name, my dear?”
The yeoman came to attention and straightened his navy blue uniform. “Hans Steiner, ma’am.”
“Hans, I assume there’s an emergency escape hatch on this vessel?”
“Yes, ma’am. It’s located aft. There’s a chain ladder and two sets of ropes.”
“Take us there.”
Hans hesitated. He looked over at the moaning piles of reanimates and back to Scarlet. “There are a lot more of those things outside. We’ll never make it without weapons.”
“I have that covered.” Reaching behind her back, she undid the clasp of her ankle-length skirt and tossed it aside, revealing the tight leather pants she wore underneath. A holster was strapped to each of her thighs. She withdrew a pair of modified Pepper Box revolvers with green jade handles. “We should be able to shoot our way out.”
“Thank God for you Americans and your guns.” Hans nodded and headed for the door, with Chappy and Scarlet right behind him.
Hans turned to the right and walked down about ten feet to a ladder that extended to the upper deck. “This is the crew’s access ladder to the entire ship. It avoids the passenger spaces where those creatures are located. We take it up one deck and then follow the passageway aft to the escape hatch.”
“First I want to see the boiler room.”
“This is no time to be taking a tour of German engineering,” protested Chappy.
“I’m not. We need to set the boilers to explode and destroy this airship, otherwise we risk these plagues reaching the mainland.”
“That won’t happen, ma’am
,” said Hans. “The rats are trapped in cages and locked in the hold. Once this airship goes down, they’ll drown.”
“But the reanimates won’t.” Scarlet looked back to the pilot house where the moaning from the living dead filtered into the passageway. “Those things don’t require oxygen, so breathing underwater is not a problem for them. We can’t risk letting even one of them come ashore. And the only way to ensure that doesn’t happen is to burn this damnable vessel from bow to stern.”
“Even if it means incinerating ourselves in the process?” asked Chappy.
“If it comes to that, yes.” The determination in Scarlet’s voice warned Chappy not to argue any further.
Hans stepped forward, an air of confidence having returned. “Let me do it, ma’am.”
Scarlet placed a hand on his shoulder and gave a reassuring squeeze. “That’s noble of you, but if any of us hope to survive this ordeal, we need to stick together. Besides, you know this ship better than us, and if we run into any more of these things and have to make a detour, I don’t fancy trying to find my own way off this vessel.”
A chorus of mournful wails echoed down the passageway. The three humans looked toward the bow. A swarm of six reanimates approached from nearly one hundred feet away. These were not the original creatures with iron prosthetics, but members of the crew, each freshly dead and highly mobile. Upon seeing the humans, the reanimates broke into a sprint toward them.
Scarlet centered herself in the passageway and handed Chappy one of her Pepper Box revolvers. Hans had already started climbing the ladder. Reaching the hatch, he shoved it open and continued crawling up to the next level.