Gaslit Armageddon (Clockworks of War Book 2)

by Jason Gilbert

  Richard held Kane at gunpoint while the two women worked steadily and silently, stripping him and cleaning him up. They stared off, not really seeing him. They tended his wounds, washed the dirt and dried blood off his body. Once they were done, the two women untied Kane and dressed him in a clean shirt and pants.

  It couldn’t have been more than an hour before Richard had Kane sitting back in the chair he’d occupied in Douglas’s study earlier. Kane noted the bloodstain on the floor.

  Good luck getting that stain out, asshole, he thought.

  Douglas sat behind the desk, smoking a pipe as he waited in silence. Kane shifted, his arms pulling against his binds. They’d tied him up again, the ropes irritating the already broken skin on his wrists from being tied up earlier. He glanced to the empty chair beside him.

  The door to the study opened, and Kane felt his skin crawl at the sound of Gentry’s voice.

  “Good day to you, Mr. Douglas.”

  Douglas stood, gesturing to the chair next to Kane. A hand appeared on Kane’s shoulder, squeezed, then released as Gentry sat down next to him, smiling pleasantly.

  “Good to see you, old friend.”

  “Fuck you.”

  The blow was sudden, a quick rap to the back of Kane’s head hard enough to rattle his teeth. Garrett stepped around from behind him.

  “Let’s keep our decorum, Mr. Shepherd,” Douglas said. “We are Southern Gentlemen, after all. I hate to think that Jeeves, here, wouldn’t be able to go back home with stories of our good, old-fashioned ‘Southern Hospitality.’”

  “Quite,” Gentry said, nodding to Kane. He looked at Douglas. “I would very much like to thank you for notifying me so quickly in this matter, Mr. Douglas. President Frostmeyer will be pleased with the progress you’ve made here, as well.”

  Kane felt a little sick. President Frostmeyer. Christ. The wealthiest man in the Northern Union had managed to buy the Presidency. Thomas Frostmeyer was the top of the Oligarch food chain. He’d bought his way into the mayor’s office in New Chicago easily. Purchasing the Presidency shouldn’t have been a surprise.

  “Well, we do try, Mr. Gentry,” Douglas said, snapping his fingers at the door. Kane looked over his shoulder and saw the two women who’d tended to him earlier enter, both carrying trays of biscuits and coffee. “It’s early, yet. Have some breakfast, y’all.”

  One of the women held a tray close to Gentry. He waved it off politely. The woman glanced at Kane, then quickly looked away. Her hair was dreadlocked, her cheekbones high, her eyes…

  Wilhelmina, Kane thought. Looks just like her. Her sister? Has to be.

  Kane looked at the other woman in the room. Her eyes were glazed, unseeing as she wandered over to Douglas with her tray. Garrett picked off a biscuit as she passed, and Douglas helped himself to two while the woman poured a cup of coffee and sat it down on his desk.

  He looked back to Dreadlocks. She glanced at him, her left eye twitching slightly.

  She’s not a zombie, he thought. There’s no way to fake that look. Why pretend?

  “Thank you, ladies,” Douglas said.

  Both women turned without a word and left.

  “Charming,” Gentry said. Kane knew that tone. Gentry’s form of sarcasm.

  “Zombies, my friend,” Douglas said, raising his coffee cup. “Way of the future here. Free labor, and they don’t mind the work. Then again, they really can’t mind the work!” He slapped the desk and gave a loud guffaw.

  Gentry sighed, rubbed his eyes with one hand as he visibly tried to gather himself and maintain some form of patience.

  Kane found himself actually impressed with Douglas. He’d never seen Commissioner William Gentry having to fight to keep some composure.

  “As much as I would love to sit here and chat away the morning, Mr. Douglas, we do have matters to discuss.”

  Douglas’s eyes went hard as he gave a smirk. He leaned forward, rested on his elbow as he spoke to Gentry.

  “That we do, my friend. That we do.”

  “I’ll keep it simple, then,” Gentry said, straightening in his chair, resuming his more formal demeanor. “I am here for Mr. Shepherd. He is now in the custody of the Special Forces and the New Chicago Police Department. We’ll also need to discuss our earlier arrangement.”

  Arrangement? Kane glanced sidelong at Gentry. What was the old man up to now?

  Douglas raised an eyebrow.

  “I think you need to know that this man was found by my Hunters. Not your soldiers. Makes him mine, Mr. Gentry. Finders, keepers.”

  Gentry bristled, put on his best I’ll-kill-you-where-sit smile.

  “I was unaware that this was a matter of…keepsies.”

  Kane looked at Gentry sidelong, fought back a smirk. “Keepsies” was the most human thing he’d heard Gentry say.

  Ever.

  Douglas turned full-body to Gentry, rested his other elbow on his desk and interlaced his fingers in front of him as he spoke.

  “See, the way I see it, Mr. Gentry: you need me a little more than I need you at the moment.”

  It was Gentry’s turn to raise an eyebrow.

  “Do tell.”

  “Gladly. I’m well aware of the firepower you’re packin’, Commissioner. I get, and understand completely, that all you have to do is wiggle your dainty little pinky finger while you sip your cup of tea, and your men and your airships would lay down enough hell on my home to bring about the second coming of Christ.”

  Gentry nodded.

  “Quite astute of you.”

  Douglas grinned.

  “I also know that you understand that Mr. Shepherd, here, ain’t exactly bulletproof.”

  Kane saw Gentry bristle for a second time. Douglas leaned forward, taking on a conspiratorial tone as he eyed Gentry.

  “And I know what you are. Freak.”

  Gentry’s eyes flashed at Douglas. Kane looked between the two men staring at each other. He leaned closer to Gentry, not trying to whisper.

  “Yeah, been meaning to talk to you about that,” Kane said. “You’re not real good at hiding it anymore.”

  Gentry blinked, glanced at Kane, then looked at Garrett and nodded. Kane’s head snapped forward from the slap, the spot stinging worse than it had before.

  “Shut up,” the Hunter grunted.

  “Right,” said Gentry, straightening his tie. He looked at Douglas, a smirk on his lips. Kane knew that look all too well. The gears in Gentry’s head were already spinning. Something was formulating. Knowing Gentry, it was vicious. “Very well. What is it you want?”

  “I’m building this army for you,” Douglas said, still staring at Gentry. “Money isn’t enough.”

  Gentry’s crocodile smile grew.

  “Fine, then.”

  “I want the Magician. And I want to gather the remaining Oligarchs and reinstate the Confederate Oligarchy.”

  “With you as the head, I gather.”

  Douglas’s face brightened. He sat back, grinning ear to ear.

  “Well lookie there, Garrett! Hot damn, what a smart fella!”

  Gentry turned red under his collar. Kane stifled a laugh. As much as he wanted to kill them both, he was enjoying watching Douglas shake Gentry.

  “What could you possibly see as an advantage over someone, well, a little more favored by the Union Oligarchs? The Texas Plantations prove to be much more fruitful than the…swamps here in the South.”

  “Harbor Plantation is the largest Southern plantation still up and running,” Douglas said, standing and walking to the window, his hands behind his back as he spoke. “I’ve amassed enough zombies to move forward with the operation we’ve been planning. And you can’t deny the success of my Hunters in trackin’ down your little pet, there.”

  “I fail to see how a pack of zombies will be effective in taking the city,” Gentry said, crossing his arms in front of him. “They don’t communicate, and they don’t seem capable of much more than farming.”

  Douglas looked over his shou
lder.

  “People won’t fight back. Not when they see that it’s their own raiding the very homes where they once lived. It’d take a lot for wife to kill husband.”

  Kane felt ice run up his back.

  “Am I hearing this?” he said, looking at Gentry. “Are you serious? You’re going to raid Charleston? Attack the Revolution with their own people?”

  Gentry shook his head as Garrett stepped forward to smack Kane again. Garrett looked at Douglas, who held up a hand. The thug stepped back, glowering at Kane.

  “It’s much more efficient, if you think about it,” Gentry said, looking at Kane. “Ideally, it frees up the resources I’ve brought down here to hunt down the Revolutionaries to tend to…other matters.” He looked at Douglas, his eyes hard, his jaw set. “I believe I like Mr. Douglas’s idea. I, personally, think we’ll end up raiding in a more military fashion, anyway. But I cannot argue the point he just made: people will not attack their own. Not willingly.”

  “Distract and march forward while the people are unaware,” Douglas said, turning from the window. “It’s an old trick, and an easy one to pull off.” He leered at Gentry. “Worked well enough for the Northern Oligarchy. Am I right, Jeeves?”

  Kane glared at Gentry, tried to sort it out in his mind while imagining himself taking the man apart at the same time. The Special Forces had enough firepower to level the Revolution. Why the games? What was the “Other Matter?”

  Gentry cleared his throat, his face flushed with anger as he stood and straightened his suit.

  “I’ll take my leave.” He levied his reptilian stare at Douglas. “You may proceed, though I fully expect the Special Forces to have to intervene.”

  Douglas grinned.

  “Y’all will be in for a helluva show, Jeeves. We move out tomorrow night.”

  Kane looked up at Gentry, pulled against the bonds to remind himself that he couldn’t stand up and hit him.

  “You’re an evil bastard. And you’re going to die.”

  Gentry smiled down at him like an adult would a small child.

  “I have it on good authority that you do not have another airship to use against one of my Battleships. Pardon me if I’m not terribly intimidated by your friends in the Revolution. Or your threats of violence against my person.” He nodded to Douglas and Garrett, patted Kane on the shoulder. Kane felt nauseous at the touch. “Do enjoy your stay here at Harbor Plantation. We’ll be along shortly after your friends are no longer an issue.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  The shack was possibly more claustrophobic than before. The air was dense, thick with mildew and sweat given weight and burden by the heat and humidity in the air from the harsh sunlight outside. Breathing was difficult, each breath like trying to sigh under water. Kane’s body was drenched, his heart pounding, his mouth dry.

  Water. The bastards locked him up without water.

  Garrett had taken Kane back after Gentry left. Douglas and Richard had followed Garrett, and Douglas had ordered Kane’s bonds be taken off.

  “See to it that he can’t get out of there,” he’d said as Garret cut the rope. “He could burn the place, based on what you told me. Still, he ain’t likely to do it while he’s still in there.”

  “The girl is a problem,” said Richard. “She’s better at it than him.”

  Douglas nodded.

  “Lock him up, then you and Richard see about solving that little problem.”

  Tabitha.

  Kane sat on the cot in the dark, trying to make sense of what happened earlier. Gentry knew about the curse. He also knew that Kane’s amulet was broken.

  And now they were actively after Tabitha. He had to get out of there.

  Kane stood, tried the door. They’d locked him in. He cursed, kicked the door, looked around. A small lantern Garrett had left him was his only light, the orange barely enough to see to the other wall opposite him.

  Kane caught himself. What good would he be to Tabitha? He was still cursed, the Wendigo gaining more control of him by the day. He’d killed Cliff without thinking twice, mauled him.

  And he felt no remorse.

  Murderer.

  The word meant nothing to him, no matter how much he said it to himself. He’d warned Cliff. The man should’ve listened. Kane tore at his flesh, every scream a song, the smell and feel of blood intoxicating.

  Kane shuddered, shook his head. It was wrong. All wrong.

  “Hey.”

  Kane looked up, heard the small voice again. A woman. On the other side of the wall. He went to the door, listened, waited.

  “Hello?” he said.

  “Can you hear me?”

  The opposite wall. Back of the building. Kane crossed and pressed close to the wall.

  “Yeah, I can hear you.”

  “My sister send you,” she said. “I know these things.”

  “Wilhelmina,” Kane answered. “Yeah. I ended up getting caught.”

  “Not your fault. They catch everyone. Everyone ‘cept Wil.” Kane opened his hearing a little, heard her shift her weight. She was looking around. Trying to stay hidden.

  “Them zombies, they don’t make no sound,” the girl said. “But that shadow-man, he a whole different tale.”

  “Can you get me out of here?”

  “Not with a spell,” she replied. “The shadow-man got that Seeker. He’d be over here in a flash. We’d be dead.”

  Kane couldn’t disagree.

  “I need to get out of here,” Kane said. “Warn my friends.”

  “Run to your girl,” the voice said. Kane stepped back a little, heard her give a small laugh. “Yeah, I know about that, too. I got the Sight. And you fool enough to use your real name.”

  “Nick said something about that,” Kane said.

  He heard her gasp.

  “Nicodemus. You know him?”

  “Met him yesterday.”

  “It’s his zombie powder they usin’ on people.” He heard her huff. “That shadow demon stole it from him. Wil gonna blame him, anyhow.”

  “What are they? What’s wrong with them?”

  “It an old Voodoo curse. Imprison a person’s soul inside they own body. Take away they free will, they feelings, everythin’. They do what they told, now and forever. Unless they get hold of salt water. It cleanses them, brings the soul back.” He heard her breath shudder. “It a damned hellish curse. Inhuman. Cruel. One thing to raise the dead. Doin’ such a thing to a livin’ person is an unforgivable sin.”

  Kane looked away. How many of the people on the plantation had been converted to zombies? There had to be over a hundred at least.

  Farnsworth was still out there. Cursed. Anthony. How many others he hadn’t even met yet?

  “I have to get to the Revolution,” Kane said. “Can you help me?”

  “I can,” the woman said. “You may call me Agatha. And you will have to do exactly as I say.”

  * * *

  Agatha’s first direction was simple.

  “Rest. You gonna to need it.”

  Kane waited by the door, the lantern dark. He’d hung the rag of a blanket from the cot over the window to hide the afternoon sun. He couldn’t even see is own hand in front of his face. Like walking around in a void, not even knowing if the floor would be there until his next step landed on a solid surface. He breathed out, the air heavier, thicker than before. His clothes were soaked through. His sleep had been fitful, the dreams violent and vague, scattered from both the heat and his brain trying to put everything together. Nicodemus, Gentry, Douglas, even Wilhelmina.

  Kane wondered if there was anyone around him who didn’t have an agenda of some kind.

  A voice outside. Footsteps. Someone fiddling with the padlock.

  Kane braced, ready, his muscles tense and sore.

  “Wake up, Yank,” Garrett said as the door swung inwards, letting the afternoon sun in. “Time to be useful.” He stopped at the doorway, looking around. “Damn lantern ran out of kerosene. Yank! You hidin’? Can’t s
ee shit.”

  “Then you won’t see this.” Kane swung the chair, caught Garrett in the face. The man fell back, his nose and mouth a bloody mess. Kane tossed the chair aside, reached down, grabbed the groaning Hunter’s legs, and dragged him inside. A woman followed, quickly closing the door behind her.

  She mumbled something, and the wick in the lantern came alive with a bluish flame that settled on orange. Kane saw her staring at him, her dreadlocks framing her pretty face, her skin a dark and pure mocha color.

  Agatha. Had to be.

  He looked down at Garrett as the thug groaned in pain.

  “You bastard,” he said, covering his face, blood seeping out between his fingers.

  Kane knelt down next to him.

  “I’ve been called worse.” He pulled Garrett’s hands away from his face. “Yeah, you’re a strong son of a bitch. That blow should’ve knocked you out.”

  “Fuck you.”

  “Not my thing,” Kane said, leaning in close as Agatha knelt down across from him. “You’re outnumbered here, Garrett. You’d better have some answers.”

  “Or what?” Garrett let out a bitter laugh. “You gonna kill me? What makes you think I’m gonna keep quiet about this if you let me go?”

  It was Kane’s turn to grin.

  “Who says we’re letting you go?”

  Garrett’s eyes widened. His face was covered in blood, more running from his nose, his teeth stained from his split lip. Kane felt the Wendigo tense inside him, lick its lips.

  Blood. Hunger.

  He pushed it back. It growled at him, relenting. For now.

  “What’s Douglas’s plan?”

  “You know it,” Garrett said. “Invade Charleston with the zombies. Take control.”

  “There’s more,” Kane said. “Don’t bullshit me, Garrett. You saw what I did to Cliff.”

  “He wants to reinstate the Confederate Oligarchy,” Garrett said. “Get a large enough army to march North. He’s already got a few others on his side, waiting.”

  Kane looked at Agatha.