Elise and The Astonishing Aquanauts

by Steven Welch

  They came to feed on Gustav Eiffel’s iron.

  Somewhere in the infinite, Guy de Maupassant smiled.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  THE SILK ACT

  JULES VALIANCE FELL off his stool when the tower shuddered.

  Elise pitched to her left and Monsieur Fancyboots ran from her lap in surprise and indignation.

  Jules lay sprawled with his guitar on his chest.

  “Did the tower just move, or am I drunk?”

  Elise looked down. There was a dark cloud of smoke rising up from below, covering the tower’s foundation a thousand feet below.

  “It’s on fire.”

  Jules stood and ran to her side.

  “Iron doesn’t just burn, little dirty faced idiot. There can be no fire.”

  Then he looked down at the rising cloud.

  “Ah yes. Strange times. The tower is on fire.”

  Jules moved fast, gathering a few things and dropping them into a sack. He strapped a gun belt laced with bullets around his chest and there were two weapons in the holsters. This surprised Elise. In the stories her Dad told her of Jules Valiance he hated guns.

  He threw on the heavy coat. Elise turned and stood at the railing and watched the rising smoke or steam or whatever it was.

  Jules put his fingers in his mouth and whistled.

  “Puss! To me!”

  Cats appeared from everywhere, popping their little heads up from behind boxes, from around corners. Three came running from the secret apartment that Gustave Eiffel had built for himself and that Jules now used as his own.

  Elise felt the tower move again, just slightly, but when a thing like the tower moved, even just slightly, and you were at the top, fear hit you in the stomach like a shotgun blast.

  She slipped on her backpack.

  Jules had gathered at least a dozen cats and they circled him as if awaiting instructions.

  “You, idiot girl, take this.” He threw her a cigarette lighter. It was gold and heavy.

  “Take it quickly now, down to the next level, and spark the propane tank that will elevate the balloon. It is imperative that you do this. Go.”

  She didn’t hesitate.

  “We’re going to ride in the balloon. Sweet,” she thought.

  Elise ran to the stairs and climbed down.

  Jules went to each cat and manipulated something on their harness, something small on the back.

  He pulled a tiny device from under his shirt and it made a series of clicking sounds.

  The cats all ran to the railing and climbed up, a well trained feline infantry.

  They sat on the edge of the railing looking out over Paris.

  Jules smiled.

  “May there be a kind wind in this awful world, my little kitty dandelions. Au revoir.”

  He blew the whistle again.

  A tiny propeller popped up from out of the back of the harnesses as if on cue.

  The cats leaped from the railing into the sky above Paris.

  Elise was almost halfway down to the second level when she looked out and, through the girders, saw a cat in a parachute drift slowly to the west.

  She stopped, as you might expect, and pushed her face through to see better.

  Cats in parachutes drifted off, gently sailing the soft afternoon wind into the red glow of the sun. Little propellers on their costumes gave them lift and some direction. There was a golden tabby, then a white cat with black legs, then Monsieur Fancyboots himself. The parachute rotated, and she saw his face. He looked right at her and Monsieur Fancyboots seemed to smile.

  “Idiot girl! You should be there by now!”

  Jules Valiance came riding down the stairwell on a sheet of metal, his feet strapped into it like a snowboard. Tatienne was under one arm, her wig askew. Sparks and noise flew out behind him as he went.

  Lightning quick, he snatched the lighter from her hand as he passed and continued on at speed. Elise ran to catch him.

  She heard a loud screech of metal a moment later and, arriving at the second level, saw that he’d landed and kicked off the sheet metal. He was at the balloon, hoisting the bag through a series of ropes and levers. He had ignited the propane contraption that would fire up and give the bag lift and it blazed white hot.

  Elise looked down over the railing.

  The smoke was rising. It was hot and smelled harsh, like chemicals.

  Steam?

  There was a sound as well, like a thousand bunnies munching on carrots.

  She looked closely and saw that there was something bright blue rising from the steam clouds and it completely covered the lower tower.

  It was a blue wave, and it was surging up towards them.

  It looked like it was alive.

  “We need to hurry,” she said.

  She turned and saw that the balloon was up and inflating quickly. The basket was small, but they should both be able to fit. Their weight though, the sign on the basket had said that it was rated for 25 kilo.

  Jules dropped Tatienne into the basket. He gently straightened her wig and set her fashionable hat atop her white head.

  “Adieu, mon amour coquine. You will find mannequins of extraordinary vigor and rough masculinity in the world beyond. Treat them well.”

  And with that, he pulled a lever on the propane tank. The flame shot up, and then so did the basket. Jules cut the fishing line that had allowed him to sail her on Tatienne’s little adventures. He gave the contraption a shove, and it sailed over the railing and into the west.

  Tatienne, the mysterious, in her blue and gold balloon, floated out over the desert that had once been the Seine, slowly chasing a dozen little parachutes that drifted in the wind like dandelions.

  Jules stood at the railing watching the strange exodus through the growing curtain of dark steam. He pulled a cigarette out of his pocket and lit it.

  “How do we get down?” Elise asked.

  “We don’t.”

  “You’re joking.”

  “Two nuts walk through the park. One is a salted. That is a joke. This is not.”

  Elise hit him. He didn’t even look at her.

  “Stupid! You’re supposed to do something!”

  There was no time. The sound of the blue wave, the crawling carpet that was eating the Eiffel Tower, was getting louder by the second. There was no time for any of this.

  She ran along the rail, looking for a break in the oncoming wave. If she went down the stairwell it would be certain death.

  If only the elevator worked.

  The elevator.

  Without power it couldn’t go up, but maybe there was some sort of emergency switch inside that would let it descend. She dashed to the wide elevator doors and began frantically pushing buttons, looking for an emergency lever, desperate for anything that might get her inside.

  Nothing.

  The only way to buy more time, to give herself a chance at another few moments of life, was to go higher, then. So Elise began running back up the stairs to the top.

  Jules turned and watched her go. Smoke trailed from his lips. The sound was getting loud now. He leaned over and looked down at the crawling blue horror.

  Ants. Millions of bright blue ants were eating their way up the tower.

  “Ah. So there you have it. Ants.”

  It shifted again, hard this time, and Jules held fast to the railing so he didn’t fall. The sound of the ants dissolving, devouring the tower was loud now, a scream.

  The tower shifted hard right. She was going to fall. Maybe fall before the ants got to the top.

  He pulled long on the cigarette, then dropped it over the side.

  “I don’t want to die today.”

  He ran as fast as he could to the stairwell and went up.

  When Jules Valiance emerged at the top of the tower he found twelve year old Elise St. Jacques tying sheets together to make a rope.

  “There are not enough sheets in Paris, girl.”

  She didn’t look up.

  Jules pul
led the sheet from her hand.

  “Follow me.”

  He went quickly into the tiny apartment that Gustav Eiffel had built as his little secret. Mannequins were there of Eiffel and Thomas Edison engaged in thoughtful conversation.

  Jules went through a door in the back of the apartment into a dark little hallway. Elise followed. He held up a lighter to guide them, but he knew the space well.

  They were in a larger room at the center of the tower, a room of machinery and huge cables. The place was clean and old.

  “This will not be easy,” he said.

  He still carried the sheet, and he was wrapping it into a thick rope, then around his waist.

  “You will hold on to my back and not let go.”

  Elise felt like her heart would pop out of her chest. Was he serious?

  “This is the old elevator spine of the tower. There are cables here that run the length of her, to the antique motor room far below. We will need to be agile, and we will need to be strong and there’s a good chance that we will die a horrible death, pummeled by the fall or eaten by giant ants. Take this end of the rope.”

  He motioned for her to run around the cable mechanism, to wrap the sheet around it.

  Done.

  Jules wrapped the sheet around his waist and tightened it, pulling himself to the thick cable. He wrapped the sheet around his ankles, then his wrists and hands as Elise had seen acrobats in the circus do.

  “Onboard idiot. We descend.”

  Elise hopped onto his back, Jules tightened the sheet with a mighty heave, and he jumped down into the heart of the Eiffel Tower.

  They fell. Elise smelled grease and machine oil and the cigarette smoke that clung to Jules. Her stomach dropped.

  Darkness, moments of light from outside peaking through the girders, then darkness because they were in the belly of the crawling mass of ants. He controlled their descent and Elise could feel his muscles tighten when he did as he wrenched on the sheet. He was stronger than he looked.

  They weren’t in free fall, but they were moving fast. Elise looked up and saw smoke coming from the tightly wrapped sheet from the friction. A squirming, writhing blue wall of hungry ants surrounded them, spitting acid and devouring metal.

  Thud. They were on top of something.

  Another machine room. They had made it down to the second level.

  The tower shuddered and made a roaring, deafening noise. Steam from the ants was leaking in all around them.

  “It’s going to fall,” Elise whispered.

  “Oui.”

  Jules unwrapped the sheet. It was smoldering, burning in spots. He opened a latched door at their feet.

  A ladder led them down into another machine room. Jules grabbed Elise by the hand and led her to a small set of doors.

  “The old lifts. With luck, the pneumatics are still good.”

  He pushed the doors open and used his lighter to look at the series of old fashioned buttons on the interior wall of the elevator.

  “Voila.”

  He pulled Elise in with him and jammed a button.

  Nothing.

  “Merde.”

  The air was thick with fumes. Elise coughed and pulled her torn cloth bandana over her mouth to breath.

  The tower shook and didn’t stop this time. It leaned hard to the left. It was going to collapse.

  He flipped a little switch.

  Nothing.

  There was a little keyhole at the bottom of the door panel.

  He produced a little metal pick from his dreadlocks and wiggled it in the keyhole.

  There was an awful boom and the floor beneath them dropped. They were suspended in air for a moment then fell hard. Elise scraped her knee and braced herself with her injured hand. It hurt.

  Jules went back to work on the keyhole. Elise moved close to him. She had been scared in the past couple of days, but not like this. The cabin was shaking and the sound from outside was so loud that she couldn’t think.

  A click. Jules laughed and pushed the button again.

  “Hold on.”

  They dropped.

  The lift disengaged from everything above it and fell, a dead drop, gaining speed as it went.

  Elise and Jules were airborne. Elise screamed. Jules laughed.

  And then they hit the floor of the lift and their descent slowed. The noise around them was deafening, the groans of the dying tower, the squeal of ancient hydraulics, the ants chewing on iron and spewing acid.

  The lift stopped. Jules applauded.

  “Note to self. Hydraulic fluid ages exceptionally well.”

  They were up in a flash. Jules shoved open the door.

  It was pitch black. Jules sparked a lighter and revealed a large, red brick room full of turn of the century mechanisms of metal, rubber, and glass. It was a bit quieter here, the sound was muffled and deep, and there were no sickening fumes from the ants.

  “Come with me.”

  Jules moved forward and found a thick old wooden door. He stepped through and Elise followed into more darkness. Echoes rattled off in the distance ahead.

  “This is a tunnel to…” Jules began when he was interrupted by the sound of the earth coming apart.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  THE DEATH TUNNELS

  AS IT TURNS out, it takes twenty eight minutes for a million acid spewing blue razor ants to weaken the Eiffel Tower until it falls.

  The crawling titian horror of razor mandibles and steaming corrosion enveloped Mr. Eiffel’s wondrous creation in a frenzy of living destruction that frothed from base to radio antennae. The lower legs of the tower, each a city block wide, simply gave way under the pressure.

  She leaned to the west and came down onto the park below. The roar was the death of Paris, echoing through time.

  The earth shook.

  Below ground, in the hidden tunnels the military had used in the past and that Elise and Jules used now, it was as if a giant had pounded on the ceiling above them with a sledgehammer of the gods.

  Elise covered her ears and dropped to her knees. Through the dim glow of Jules cigarette lighter the ceiling spilled dust and small rocks.

  The earthquake went on for several seconds and then the tunnel fell silent.

  A moment passed.

  Elise watched as the light from the little flame moved off into the darkness. She followed.

  “Where are we?” she asked.

  There was no answer for a long time, just the echoed footsteps as they walked along the stone tunnel floor.

  Finally, she heard Jules clear his voice. Elise thought he might have been crying, and that made her hate him a little bit more.

  “Tunnels built with the tower. They run to a hidden basement, and then there are others that will take us into the city and beyond. We might be safe here for while.”

  “Why did you save me?”

  “I didn’t save you. I saved myself. You were just there.”

  There was red light in the near distance. As they made their way to it, Elise could see that the tunnel opened to the surface and there was a concrete building with a steel door. Steps ran up to it and others went up to the side, to the city above.

  The lighter flame went out. Jules walked slowly, hugging the wall, so Elise walked quickly, angrily, and strode down the center of the tunnel toward the building.

  She stopped at the door and waited for him, looking up at the crimson sky. Evening was coming and so were the winds.

  He shoved her aside and opened the door.

  Elise watched him go for a moment, then followed.

  *

  The tunnel was not as dark as the other. There was a light blue glow in the distance. Jules was a silhouette against the dim phosphorescence. He didn’t bother with his lighter.

  Their footsteps made soft echoes. The floor here was uneven, just rough carved rock, and it descended with a gentle slope.

  “Oh.” Elise stared in wonder at the creature glowing softly on the wall of the tunnel. It was a lo
ng feathery thing, like moss, and had a firefly glow. They were everywhere, growing thicker as they walked until the tunnel was bright with them.

  She started to touch it.

  “Don’t, unless you want to be consumed screaming and alive by glow fungus babies.”

  “Glow fungus babies?”

  “I found them, I am obliged to name them.”

  “Stupid name.”

  “You are stupid.”

  “You are.”

  “I know you are but what am I?”

  “That makes no sense.”

  “You make no sense.”

  “Where are Les Scaphandriers?”

  Jules stopped and was silent for a moment.

  “How do you know this name?”

  It was Elise’s turn to be quiet. She glared at him.

  “How do you know this name?” His voice was low and angry, the words coming through teeth clenched tight.

  “Where are they?”

  Jules bent low and his eyes burned into her, his face only an inch from hers.

  “Who sent you? If you are one of them I will kill you. If you are a wound, a madness in my mind, I will find a way to erase you. If you are a ghost, then damn you.”

  Elise just stared back at him, but inside, she was afraid. He didn’t look sane.

  “Tell me,” he said.

  “I went to sleep and when I woke up the world had changed. It’s been two days and I’ve been trying to find help. Some people I met told me that ten years had gone by while I slept, but that can’t be possible. They were crazy, like you. I’m telling you the truth. I went to sleep and woke up. Now it’s this.”

  “How do you know this name? Answer me.”

  “My Dad told me stories. Bed time stories. They were about you and Les Scaphandriers and how great and awesome and funny you were. That’s how. I thought they were just stories. That’s how I know.”

  Jules stood slowly and reached into a pocket for a cigarette.

  “You’re a ghost, then.”

  He pulled hard on the smoke and it drifted back out through his enormous nose.

  “So you’re what I deserve. You are my curse and I must find a proper way to send you back to hell. Maybe with Holy Water. Who’s to say? Let’s go.”