Of Steel and Steam: A Limited Edition Anthology

by Pauline Creeden

  There was no hidden meaning in the words. It simply was the greatest compliment any master mechanic could receive. Few lasted long enough in the position to make a connection with a driver, let alone build unwavering trust.

  Ricky bowed his head. “Thank you, sir. Mark my words; we’ll build the best racer yet. We won’t disappoint you.”

  “I’m counting on it,” Padico snickered. “A few of my backers have twitchy fingers. I have a meeting with them in the morning. I want reports from each of you... put every possible scenario out there. I’ll speak with every team member and take into consideration every comment, if necessary. Make your words count. There are bonuses on the line.”

  The mood in the garage instantly shifted. For the first time, it was completely obvious. They’d been living trapped in a spider’s web for their entire lives, waiting for the moment their body and souls were to be devoured by the beast; each conflicted, caught between opposing needs. The only way to escape alive was to hand Padico a win on a silver platter. In trying to do so, however, they risked everything.

  Padico’s words formed a rock in each of their minds, weighing heavy on their thoughts. This was where the true fight of their profession began. This was why not everyone chose to be a mechanic, despite the opportunity for financial gain. It was time to sink or swim. A dark side of each of their characters needed to emerge—one without compassion—one without morality—the demon lurking inside.

  Perspiration was already dripping down the sides of his face without a single machine running. His fists balled at it his sides, trying to force them to stop trembling. Matt inhaled deeply. “There’s a flaw in the design.”

  “A flaw?” Padico mused. “Really.” Having a height advantage of several inches over his junior mechanic gave him a clear advantage. “Please, do tell.” His eyes slanted, glaring fumes from the fire lurking behind them.

  “The cooling system,” Matt answered, averting his gaze to the floor. “It won’t be enough, if the sun comes full circle before the race.”

  “Hmm.” Padico moved to the door, peeking outside. “It doesn’t appear to me that we are anywhere near that. Is that your only complaint?”

  The plans were etched in his thoughts. “There’s a chance things could go awry anyway,” Matt grumbled. “There is no safety net in the design.”

  “So,” Padico chuckled, “design me one. My life is in your hands. I trust you’ll make sure I survive the experience.”

  “It’s only possible at the expense of speed,” Matt replied.

  “Ahem,” Ricky cleared his throat. “I must apologize for my junior. He worries a bit too much over nothing sometimes. The designs will work. In fact, I am putting forth two different versions. A race between sun rotations, such as the one ahead of us, will be a shoo-in. We won’t sacrifice a thing. As I said before, leave it to me.”

  Padico chuckled, flipping his long blond hair behind one shoulder. “Very well. Does anyone else have anything to add?” He waited for a response. None came. “I suppose that’s all I needed to hear then. I have faith in all of you. I’ll be in New France until race morning.” His smile disappeared. “Make sure I am not disappointed.” He was gone before another word could be uttered.

  Pain seared through Matt’s chest, lungs contracting as if being folded in on themselves. Any air inside them was immediately expelled. A foot, a fist, a chop: it was hard to know which hit him, it happened so quickly. Ricky’s rage didn’t need to be vocalized.

  “What?” He almost managed a full word before the second blow—this one a direct hit to his back. He fell to one knee.

  “As if you don’t know what,” Ricky scoffed. “Did you really think you could undermine me, you little weasel?”

  Matt spit out a mouthful of blood. “It wasn’t like that. You know how dangerous those plans are.”

  “Leave.” Ricky pointed at the door, veins popping out on his forehead.

  Matt staggered to his feet, glancing from face-to-face. No one was coming to his aid this time. He’d taken a chance and it backfired. All he could do was regroup and hope he was merely suspended and not outright fired.

  Chapter 4

  The smile faded from Padico’s face. As comfortable as the sky cities were, he wasn’t fond of the mandatory monthly meetings. Walls of cold steel flew by as the lift jolted upward. The sight of nothing was better than the view would have been. He had no problem laying his life on the line in any fast moving vehicle—as long as it had wheels and was on the ground. Heights were sickening. The thought of travelling above the tallest mountain peaks was unnatural. People weren’t meant to live among the clouds. He probably wasn’t the only one who felt that way, either. Those who designed the city made darn sure no one ever needed to look down.

  While it was true the city itself was circular, a well-placed dome prevented anyone from coming within miles of the edge. The sphere was what made life in the skies enjoyable. It regulated the airflow, temperature, and light. If it weren’t for the surface races, those born in the clouds wouldn’t even know there was another type of life below them.

  Life. Padico chuckled. Could it be called that? Even he was lumped in with the rest of the sewer dwellers. They were nothing more than animals trained to perform—a source of amusement. Their existence meant nothing. Watching someone give an arm, a leg, or even their life in a race was something to cheer about.

  The elevator buzzed. Padico inhaled deeply. It was time for the show to begin. His long blond hair flipped back over his shoulder; a flirtatious smile appearing at the same time. He was a shiny toy. As with any plaything, if he broke he’d be replaced—it wasn’t only about his physique—there was a mental aspect to the games that couldn’t be ignored as well.

  The doors opened, a wave of cool, clean air was his welcoming committee. Racers had their own entrance. There was no need for additional security. It wasn’t as if he was going to put up a fuss.

  “Padico!” a man in a green suit bellowed, rushing forward to take his hand. “How wonderful to see you again.” The sinister twinkle in his eye divulged his lies.

  “Likewise, Gerone,” Padico replied politely.

  Gerone circled his guest, eyeing him up and down. “Thank goodness I asked you to come early. We have enough time to make you look like a star.” He patted the sides of the wild curls in his upswing do.

  Padico merely nodded in response. It wasn’t as if there was a choice. In a place where beauty was cherished above all else, he was a stain on the rug. There’d be a few hours of scrubbing before guests were allowed to walk all over him. Trading his racing outfit for a three-piece suit made him feel like a fish out of water, though. Ties were the worst—cutting off the very air needed for survival. They were the collars meant to keep disobedient pets in line, an owner’s way of stopping him from straying.

  Most of the city was beyond his reach, even after putting on airs. It always would be. He wasn’t accepted as one of them. He was merely acknowledged as special when it came to his kind. That was a secret all drivers kept from their teams. Lying was better than completely crushing their crews’ dreams. A devastated mechanic wasn’t worth the dirt under his nails. Hope was the only thing allowing them to strive for greatness—a better life—an easier existence. Unfortunately, none of it would come to pass.

  Padico shoved both hands in his pants pockets, staring out the window. From the thirteenth floor, he could see enough to know how easy the sky dwellers lives really were. There was no pollution or smog. Breathing was ten times easier. Temperatures remained stable at a comfortable level. There was no sweating or shivering. Food was grown with care in greenhouses, only the best produce making it to the table. They might have been the basics needed to support life, but they were kept sacred, delivered to the few. The privileged took them for granted. He shook his head. How anyone could live that way was beyond him. He certainly never could.

  A group of women chuckled, blushing as they passed by. He turned, watching the ruffles at the bottom of their fu
ll-length ensembles flare out with every step; parasols twirling in gloved hands in time with each other. Perfectly formed ringlets sprang up and down—dancers dressed in vibrant costumes of red, blonde, and black. They were beautiful and spoken for. No man could steal even a kiss from one of them. If he tried, he’d be dead by morning. It was easier to replace a driver rather than an angel. It was a good thing he, unlike other drivers, had no interest. He tipped his top hat, nonetheless.

  “That’s much better,” Gerone said, interrupting the greeting. “It’s good to see you acting with manners. Let’s not get too carried away, though. Those young ladies are in waiting... engaged to several of your backers.”

  “I figured as much,” Padico mused. “I take it they have already gathered.” His eyebrows rose, waiting for a response.

  “Is there a rush?” Gerone asked. “Take a moment or two and enjoy your time here. There’s a full buffet to come as well.”

  “I will,” Padico agreed. “But I need to remain focused on the coming days. There is a race to win. I can celebrate with you after.”

  “I like that attitude,” Gerone chuckled. “This way. Make sure...”

  “I have every intention of fulfilling my side of the deal,” Padico blurted out. “I’ll be the polished pretty boy I was hired to be. You do your part and collect the funds and parts my team needs.”

  “Very well,” Gerone answered, his smile turning into a sinister grin. “I guarantee you’ll have everything you need. It should be made perfectly clear, though: nothing less than a win will save you this round. The underdog role only works on sponsors for so long. Your time is up... show results or find another promoter.”

  Padico sighed. “I always race to win. If something fails, it’s the mechanics who are to blame, not me.”

  Gerone licked his lips, nodding. “While winning would be your best option, I can work with that... provided someone’s head rolls. I don’t care who it is. You can decide, should the time and need come.” He paused, gazing directly into Padico’s eyes. “Shall we?”

  Padico took the lead. He knew exactly where he was going—a room filled with tables of food, flowing glasses of wine, and people dancing. It was a sight to behold, one those residing on the surface below would never know, one everyone deserved the right to see.

  Chapter 5

  The moment of truth had arrived: race day. Matt stood, just outside the bay doors, watching the aftermath of the first race—all that was left of the favourite from it was a large hunk of mangled metal. The driver managed to escape with all her limbs intact. She was one lucky son of a gun. A thought crossed his mind: if things went poorly for their team, Padico wasn’t coming home at all. A part of him regretted helping build a ticking time bomb instead of a racer.

  What was done... was done. He couldn’t change the outcome now. The deep growls of engines had already come to a grumbling strain, waiting for the moment the vehicles were set free. An ear-splitting explosion marked the start of the race. They were off.

  The route was anything but forgiving. Organizers hadn’t cared one bit about the terrain when creating it. If anything, it was the opposite; the less desirable was better for viewing. Besides, obstacles were for the drivers to overcome. It wasn’t just the winding course, either. There were other concerns—soil kicking up and clogging the engine—rocks flying and hitting the worst places with force. Then there was the temperature to worry about. He hated to admit it, but the sweltering heat ruining everything was a distinct possibility.

  The time for doubts, however, had come and gone, leaving with the escort that boxed the next set of vehicles in for the first stretch. His hand shook, clamping on the gearshift, left foot ready on the clutch. He was one of only five known racers who could successfully operate a stick. That was the main reason he looked into vehicle systems of old in the first place. If his team could build what no one else could drive, they were in cinch to win first place. It was a long shot, though. It all came down to whether Ricky pulled off another miracle or not. A different face was fogging Padico’s mind, though: Matt.

  Ricky had been his number one mechanic since he began driving. There was no reason not to have faith in him. Still, the younger man’s words rang true. A lot was riding on this design. With the heat steadily rising, and the longest track he’d ever driven between himself and the finish line, there was a good chance something would go wrong.

  Padico inhaled deeply through the red-and-white-checkered handkerchief covering his mouth. If the worst happened, he probably wouldn’t survive the aftermath of the day anyway. At least, that was the best scenario out of failing options. Those who perished didn’t have to continue suffering. Drivers who lost limbs, or any of their charms, were useless—tossed out as broken parts with the rest of the wrangled metal—a heaping pile of wreckage. That was one way he never wanted to live.

  One hand pulled a set of goggles in place over his eyes—anything unnecessary didn’t exist on his rig—that included a windshield. Glass was a luxury he couldn’t afford. It was simply too heavy, adding precious seconds onto his time. Today he was gunning for a record—one that would stand the test of time on a brand-new track. As long as it stood tall, so would his career.

  He glanced at Rodemero to his left and Casey to his right. The three of them were at the top of their profession. Then there was Opalime still in the shadows, but waiting for his chance to move up. He was the biggest threat of the day.

  The moment his foot became lead on the accelerator, dust went flying. It would be a while before it cleared. This was the first test of his ability. He needed to clear the cloud without incident before taking his place at the front of the pack. Anyone who stuttered in the first leg was already out of contention for the win.

  He could hear the battle cries from all around: the clash of metal on metal, the squeal of tires, the grumbling coughs of engine failure. With a swirling brown blur limiting his vision, those were his only cues as to which way to steer. He veered left, then right, narrowly missing a unit that had chocked out before it even started.

  Bits of dirt and rock nicked at exposed skin, leaving welts. The pain came part and parcel with his profession. The spots would turn to bruises and eventually heal. They always did. The engine roared, tires spinning from side to side, kicking up even more dirt for those lagging behind. Knocking out a few more racers was strategy at this point. The slight clearing in his vision meant he was almost to the other side. It wouldn’t be long before he was in the clear and the real driving began.

  Padico tugged off the handkerchief, flashing a smile at the dash cam. He already knew all eyes were on him. He might not have been in the lead, but he was in the top five. This was his chance to show them all what the new design he insisted on was built for. He kicked into high gear, leaving two opponents in awe.

  This section of the track was less dirt and more pebbles. That was his specialty. He’d made a name for himself from his skidding abilities. While other entrants’ back ends were sliding from one side to the other, he maintained almost complete control. There was no choice but to take the lead while they were still in his strongest terrain type.

  Drops of sweat trickled down the sides of his face. Things were heating up far too fast. It was impossible the outside climate was the only source. One finger tapped on the temperature gauge. It didn’t move. He licked his lips, a moment of worry seizing control of his features. This was the worst time for an important part to be broken.

  A car whizzed by.

  Padico cursed under his breath. He’d allowed himself to hesitate and Opalime took full advantage. That wasn’t going to happen again. His foot slammed down on the pedal. There could only be one winner.

  Chapter 6

  By the time the air cleared, a thick layer of dust had coated everything and everyone. There was no escaping it. Dirt swirled its way into every nook and cranny, including the surface spectators’ lungs. Dry coughs replaced the roar of engines, yet not one person budged. The start was also the end. Giving
up a front row seat wasn’t something anyone was going to do, especially with bookies taking up the best positions already. There wasn’t a soul, top or bottom, who didn’t have something riding on this race.

  The cruellest thing about life in a desert was the sun. Without a doubt, it controlled everything—a giant eye—always watching—never blinking. The only reprieve came when the celestial orb slept. Unfortunately, that cycle had only just begun. There wouldn’t be such a break for sometime. Mankind had no clue how to speed up the rotation.

  Matt shaded his face with one hand, wishing he had brought a tinted pair of goggles instead of regular ones. Even with the best lens available, it was still dangerous to glance directly into harsh rays beating down. Gloves protected his skin from burning. He retreated a few steps to a shaded part of the concrete. It wouldn’t be long before the ground itself was able to roast anything touching it. Even the wildlife made its retreat, critters hiding in whatever shaded areas there were. Nothing was hunting today—nothing except the drivers.

  Rubbing his palms on his shirt did nothing. It was as if he had been caught in a downpour without it actually raining. His clothes weren’t merely clinging to his form; he was drenched from head to toe. A few more minutes and there’d be a puddle under his feet. One hand dove into his pocket, retrieving a thermometer.

  Matt’s eyes bulged, staring at the tiny red line already at the top. The reading had to be wrong. There was no possible way the temperature was rising so quickly. If the trend continued, the whole surface was in trouble.

  The cooling system. He rushed inside. One arm pushed everything off of the table, making room for the plans to roll out. The situation was worse than even he originally thought. In the end, they’d made further allowances for the vehicle’s weight.

  “There’s nothing anyone can do,” Ricky said, leaning against the coolest wall in the building. “It’s too late. We can’t even contact him to bail.”