by J. Stone
“What’s wrong?” she asked. “I couldn’t have hit you that hard. Did I?”
“No, ma’am,” he replied, situating himself upright on the floor. “I haven’t been feeling myself lately is all. Perhaps if I leaned on you?”
Erynn kneeled down, wrapped Germ’s arm around her shoulders, and helped him stand.
“That alright?” she asked.
“I think so, ma’am,” he replied. “Let’s get you in to see Rowland. He’s got the cure... ready for you.”
“That is excellent news,” she said, as they began to shuffle forward together. “His treatment has been helping less and less, as I built up a tolerance to it. I got a headache you wouldn’t believe right now.”
“I think I might at that, ma’am,” he explained.
They entered the small cabin room to find Rowland on the opposite bench that Germ had found him on before, but he was still examining the papers he had brought. Despite the skyship lurching forward and toppling over on its side, he seemed unbothered.
“Sir,” Germ said, as Erynn helped him to the seat opposite Rowland. “Madam Clover.”
“Hmm?” Rowland said without looking up from his notes. “No, Ryn is not here. We need to go find her, before the genotoxin worsens.”
“Yes, sir, I know,” Germ replied. “She is here.”
“But we have not even landed,” he said, looking up from his papers. “Ah, Ryn. When did you get here?”
“Attentive, as always, Max,” Erynn replied. “Just now. I came crashing into the ship from atop the Terrace Building. No big deal.”
“That sounds quite fascinating,” he said. “I am sorry I missed it.”
He returned to his papers, while Erynn sat beside Germ on the cushion. They waited for him to remember about the cure, exchanging exhausted glances between them.
“Hey, Max,” she gently nudged.
“Mmm,” he muttered.
“How ‘bout that cure?” she asked.
“Oh, right,” he exclaimed, looking back up.
He leaned forward and rooted through his black medical bag before eventually pulling out the vial of bright orange fluid that made up the genotoxin cure. Rather than administer it to Erynn, he simply handed her the syringe and returned to his documents.
“And you’re sure this stuff will work?” she asked, eyeing it cautiously. “It looks more like you’re trying to make me inject orange juice than a cure.”
“I’ve tested it as thoroughly as possible,” he replied not shifting his eyes.
“Alright,” she said. “I trust you... I guess.”
Erynn unhooked her thumb from the hole in her sleeve and rolled it back past her elbow, as far as it would go. She tapped the inside of her elbow, prompting the veins to become more visible. Squeezing her hand into a fist, she slid the needle through her skin and into a big, blue vein and injected the serum into her blood flow.
“Ohhhh,” she replied, rolling her eyes back and blinking excessively.
“Are you alright, ma’am?” Germ asked, forcing himself to sit upright on his seat.
“Yeah,” she groaned. “I’m fine. Just a bit of a strange feeling. Woooh.”
“Mmm, yes,” Rowland interjected. “I mixed something in there that should help alleviate your nausea, in addition to the genotoxin.”
“You very well may have overdone it, Max,” Erynn explained. “Wow.” She took a heavy breath, as the cure made its way through her system. After a few moments, she informed Rowland, “Hey, Max. It looks like I lost your spectacles and respirator.”
“Mmm,” he replied, not looking up from his papers.
“I can make you new ones if you want,” she explained.
“Mmm,” he repeated, not seeming to care.
She bit her lip softly and asked, “You okay? You were so upset when I asked you to let go of them.”
“They are just possessions,” he replied. “Nothing that cannot be replaced.”
Germ and Erynn exchanged baffled glances. The rat conceded that Rowland had indeed been acting quite strange as of late, and Erynn seemed to have taken notice as well.
Germ felt the skyship begin to descend, however, motivating him to ask, “Where is it we’re headed now anyway, Madam Clover? Do you know where Madam Hicks is?”
“Yeah,” she replied, still reeling from the effects of the serum. “Guy by the name of Owen Sloan took her, though, I’ve no idea why.”
“Do you think she is still alright?” he inquired.
“I do,” she said. “At least, I hope she is.”
Germ began to respond, but a sudden itchiness in his chest elicited a cough. He held his paw to cover the act, and when he looked down at his hand, it was covered in blood.
“Germ...” Erynn said. “Are you okay?”
“What’s happening to me, sir?” he asked Rowland.
The professor finally looked up from his papers, allowing his eyes to meet with Germ’s. “The serum I used in the experiment that created you,” he began. “Calculations showed that the compound would irreversibly begin to break down after a period of time. I am afraid that that time has come. I have tried to look through my old notes for a way to prolong or replace the serum, but...”
The Halcyon abruptly and violently landed, shaking the whole cabin. Germ groaned in obvious pain, as he landed back on the seat. Erynn grabbed his hand, and he squeezed in an attempt to somewhat relieve the pain.
“I just cannot remember,” Rowland exclaimed with a distraught expression across his face.
The professor ran a hand through his hair, grasping at the strands and tugging them backward. With the other hand, he tossed the papers aside in frustration. Outside, the ship had come to a halt, and Germ could see a fenced in ranch with horses.
“Ma’am,” Germ said, turning to Erynn. “You need to go.”
“I can’t just leave you,” she replied.
“I’ll be fine,” he insisted with a barely visible smile. “Go rescue Pearl. I know how much she means to you.”
Erynn frowned and asked, “Are you sure?”
With a slight nod, Germ said, “Go. I’ll be here when you get back.”
“Be strong,” she said, as she hesitantly stood and paused, staring down at him on the seat with a tearful glance before leaving the small cabin room. From the hallway, he heard her say to Olivia, “Take care of him ‘til I get back.”
The Halcyon’s door then slid open and, after a moment, slammed shut again. Olivia entered to see Germ’s sudden deteriorating condition.
“What happened?” she asked the professor.
Rowland averted his eyes to the ground, so Germ replied instead, “Just feeling a little under the weather is all. Nothing to worry about.”
“You look worse than that,” Olivia explained. “Should we take him back to your lab?”
“I am afraid it would not help,” Rowland said. “I simply do not know how to help him now.”
“What is happening?” she demanded.
“He is...” Rowland began, but he was unable to finish the sentence.
“Dying,” Germ finished it.
Olivia’s eyes widened in disbelief, as she asked, “What are you talking about? He just had a headache.”
“It doesn’t matter,” he said. “I want you to know… that I appreciate you letting me accompany you these past couple weeks... Olivia, but it looks like you won’t be able to… show me all those backdoors after the rebellion ends.”
Her eyes watered, and she held a hand over her mouth.
“If only I had a bit more time,” Rowland said. “I might have found a way.”
“Nonsense, sir,” Germ replied. “It has been a privilege… to serve you these twenty years. I wouldn’t change a thing about my time… with you and Madam Clover. Just promise me… that you will take care of her in my absence, but more importantly, take care of yourself, sir.”
Rowland blubbered a bit, but he nodded through the tears. The professor pulled out a silver thermos from his insid
e jacket pocket and eyed it cautiously.
With the seat to himself, Germ, meanwhile, leaned to the side and laid down on the cushioned seat. “I’m suddenly feeling very tired,” Germ explained. “Maybe I’ll just rest my eyes… until Madam Clover returns...”
Chapter 34. Vincent and the Mine
Vincent had chosen to sleep in a hard wooden chair in the back of the Arcadia rather than take one of the free rooms. His life of moving around from town to town chasing bounties had accustomed him to uncomfortable sleeping positions, so much so that a warm bed was now a foreign concept to him. He woke when his foot shifted and fell from the chair he had propped it up on, and he jerked upright.
The sun had not yet risen, and the saloon was completely empty, which was strange, even for the time. Vincent stood and slowly moved forward to inspect the area. He first walked to the door, but he found no one outside either. The streets were unoccupied and the only lights illuminating the walkways were from the electric bulbs stretched between the upper levels of the buildings.
Turning back and walking toward the back room of the saloon, Vincent passed the edge of the bar and glanced behind it. There, he found the face down body of the rebel, Everett. Vincent kneeled down to inspect him, finding a pool of blood beneath his face. He flipped Everett over and discovered that his throat had been slashed open. Based on the lack of blood flow, Vincent expected he had been killed several hours prior.
The bounty hunter abandoned Everett and went to the back rooms to find Cassie. He rushed to the door and found it slightly ajar. He pulled his pistol from its holster, but the pain in his arm was too great, so he had to switch it to his left hand. Once he was situated, he slowly pushed the door forward and entered. Neither Felix nor Cassie was inside, nor was there any sign of a struggle. Vincent slipped his pistol back into its holster and more closely inspected the room.
The rifle that he had loaned them was propped in the corner, and their bags were absent from the closet. The sheets had been turned back and were neatly tucked into either side, but he detected a small trace of a green liquid on the comforter of the bed. He dragged his finger across it and rubbed his finger and thumb together testing its consistency. He held his finger and thumb up to his nose, allowing him to smell the substance. The aroma was familiar to him, and he knew the trace substance was from a tranquilizer.
Vincent picked up the rifle from the corner and left the room. In the hallway, a door opened and Maynard emerged from the room.
“Vincent wasn’t it?” he asked. “What’s going on?”
“They’re missing,” Vincent explained. “Someone took them. Killed Everett, while they were here too.”
“Everett is dead?” Maynard asked, looking surprised.
“Yeah,” Vincent said.
“And you say they took your friends?” he asked. “The ones you were trying to help?”
“Yeah, and I’m going to go find them,” Vincent replied.
“Wait. You’ll need our help if Graham’s men took them,” Maynard suggested. “Let me wake the others and we’ll join you.”
Though he had an almost uncontrollable need to go after Cassie right then, he knew Maynard was right. Whoever managed to sneak in there, kill Everett, and take Cassie and Felix was good. He knew he would need help to take down Graham and Driscoll.
“Alright,” he finally answered. “But hurry.”
Vincent went outside and to the stable, acquiring Polly. He stowed the rifle in Polly’s saddle and rode her back to the Arcadia, where he tied her up outside. When he returned inside, he went to the bar and grabbed another bottle of whiskey, beginning to go to work on it. Maynard, meanwhile, woke Hirim and the other rebels. After a half hour, the saloon was awake and packed with the confederacy members. Everett’s body had been moved to one of the empty rooms, and Vincent was ready to go on the hunt for Driscoll.
“Many of you may know of Graham and his mining company,” Hirim said to the group. “They’ve killed one of our own, and they’ve taken two more hostages. We believe Josh Driscoll, his second in command, is currently directing their efforts. We’re not sure where they’ve taken them, but anyone working for Graham has officially crossed the Chromework Confederacy, so we’re going to have to split up.”
Maynard stepped forward and said, “I’ll take a group over to their main office in town, Hirim will take a group to their primary mine, and our new Sheriff Rourke will take a group to the Angel Ranch.”
“I’m going alone,” Vincent said.
“Vincent,” Hirim said. “You’ve gotta accept our help here.”
“I am,” he replied. “I’m letting you go to the mine and the office.”
Maynard frowned, but ultimately said, “Fine. Rourke’s group will go with me to the offices. We’ll meet up at the mine if we don’t find anything.”
“I hope you know what you’re doing,” Hirim said to Vincent.
The two groups split off to their destinations, while Vincent went alone to his. It was nearly dawn, but the city was darker than he could ever remember it, as a child or more recently. The frigid air of winter bit at his face, and the wind howled angrily through the streets. His wounded arm ached, whether it was due to the cold or the whiskey wearing off, he was unsure. It did prompt him, however to realize that he could not draw with his right hand. He adjusted the gun at his hip, so that he could cross-draw from his left side when the time came.
When he arrived at the Angel Ranch, the lights were still on, as he imagined, they never truly closed down business. Despite having stayed in town for the past few weeks, Vincent had not spent any time in the cathouse. Though most men didn’t seem to mind, Vincent could not appreciate a woman he had to pay for. Aside from that, he found most people’s company grating and often preferred to be alone, and prostitutes were no exception.
The cathouse was full of bright, vivid purple and crimson colors - the drapes over the windows, the sofas spread throughout the room, and the carpeting covering the floors. Two barely dressed and beautiful women approached him, wrapping their arms around him.
“I’m looking for Cassie,” he simply explained.
“Cassandra?” one asked. “She’s not here anymore, baby, but we’ll be happy to take care of you.”
“You’re not my type,” he replied and pushed forward past them.
Without invitation, he ascended the stairs, garnering the attention of one of the hired muscle of the cathouse. Not bothering with justification or provocation, Vincent preemptively pulled his pistol and fired on the man. The bullet passed cleanly through the man’s skull, knocking him to the ground and splattering blood across the wall behind him. A chorus of screams echoed downstairs from the women he had passed, and more of the club’s bouncers emerged from the woodwork.
One man came out from a door at the base of the stairs, but Vincent turned and fired upon him as well. Two other men pulled pistols on the second level, so Vincent kicked in one of the establishment’s doors and hid from the gunfire. The man occupying the room jumped up from the bed and pulled the naked woman in front of him, shielding himself from Vincent. Ignoring the room’s inhabitants, Vincent waited for a momentary pause in the gunfire, and he leaned out, firing off two clean shots, and hitting both men. Another man began to climb the stairs, but Vincent shot and watched the man tumble backwards down the steps.
He went from room to room upstairs, kicking in the doors and looking for either Cassie or Driscoll, but he found neither. He returned to the first floor, which had been cleared out by the gunfight, and he searched all the rooms down there as well. He found nothing to give him evidence that Cassie had been brought there, which would have given him some level of relief if she were not still in Driscoll’s hands.
Vincent reloaded his pistol and decided he would go to Graham’s main office to see if Maynard had found anything there. He passed by the scared women and some of their patrons, as he left the ranch, but he paid them no mind. A vague hint of light could be seen at the far eastern horizon, and
he began to worry that Driscoll had taken Cassie and Felix away somewhere beyond his immediate reach. He felt like he was running out of time, so he hurried to the offices.
When he arrived there, they were completely dark, inside and out. Vincent saw no sign of Maynard or his men either, which made the bounty hunter uneasy. He slowly ascended the steps outside the building, tested the knob, creaking the door forward enough to enter. Despite the darkness inside, the electric bulbs lining the walkways outside illuminated the building enough for Vincent to navigate it. True to its outward appearance, no one seemed to be inside. Vincent walked up to the second floor and checked on Driscoll’s office, but that too proved to be a bust.
With only one option remaining and tired of coming up empty-handed, Vincent left Graham’s offices and went back to the Arcadia. There, he mounted Polly and rode over to Graham’s mine. Graham’s excavation was relatively close to the one he had found Harlow inside of, but it was a much bigger site. He had been there several times, when he was a child since his father worked there. He recalled that it spiraled down, and that there were watchtowers around the top level of the site. When a miner’s shift was over, he was forced to strip naked and be hosed down, to ensure he wasn’t stealing anything from Graham. The entire area was full of workers and under constant supervision from armed guards, or at least that is what Vincent thought, until he arrived there. The mine looked to have been nearly abandoned - the towers were empty, the wash station was deserted, and none of the mineshafts had carts running into or out of them, but Vincent did see that there was some commotion going on inside one of the tunnels.
Vincent could see the light of gunfire flashing and reflecting off the minerals of the cave walls. He dismounted from Polly and slipped into the entrance of the mineshaft. Lying on the ground, he found the body of one of the rebels that had gone with Hirim. He didn’t know the man’s name, but he placed two fingers at his neck to verify that he was dead. When he confirmed it, Vincent moved further into the mine to find more bodies strewn about.