Of Steel and Steam: A Limited Edition Anthology

by Pauline Creeden

  He pulled the elastic part of a face mask over his ears. The only man the forsaken could turn to was one who walked the same path with him. Hospitals were the worst place to visit, though. He shoved both hands in his pockets. It was best not to touch anything, even with gloves on.

  Viruses among surface dwellers were the number one killer. The larger cities’ sewage systems weren’t the only reason behind that. Diseases gained strength in confined areas, especially places where the sick congregated. Visiting a local health centre was dangerous, albeit, necessary for some.

  The odours from the neighbouring crematorium became stronger the closer he came to the front doors. It was the most convenient place for such a place. The deceased were simply shipped there daily to be dealt with. Ashes were buried in large pits—faces and names forgotten. Being in such close quarters with one was the only reminder of lives which had been lost.

  Matt smoothed over both plastic gloves before knocking on the hospital front door. He nodded to the bearded security man, sitting inside a glass partition.

  “State your business,” the man asked through an intercom.

  “I’m here to visit a friend,” Matt explained; well aware of how it sounded. Visitors were virtually unheard of. No one came to such a place without a serious health issue plaguing them.

  “Are you sure?” the security guard asked, sighing. “It’s my job to point out all of the health hazards currently at this location. The chance of contracting any of the diseases is high. It’s in your best interest to leave immediately.”

  “I can’t do that,” Matt answered, standing his ground. “I have a message to deliver. I can’t leave until the task is finished.” Having a job was different from being a foolish friend or family member. He already knew the only way the doors were opening was with good reason and making currency was always valid as one.

  “Sign the release.” The security guard placed a piece of paper and pen in a plastic tube, sending it through an external delivery system.

  Matt didn’t even mull over the details, signing without reading a single word. If it gained him entry, that was enough. The tube filled and was on its way back within a minute of receipt. “It’s done. I’m in a hurry...” No other words were needed. The front doors creaked open, allowing access.

  “Enter,” the security guard ordered. “There’s a screen with all the patient information inside the doors. Find the floor and room number. Elevators are to the left.”

  The security guard wasn’t lying when he said everything he needed to find was at his fingertips in the lobby. He stopped at the oversized, three-dimensional screen, showing patients’ locations by name in real time.

  “Four east, room twenty-one,” Matt mumbled under his breath. He glanced around. There was no reception to be found—no staff—no visitors—no people in general.

  He stepped inside the elevator, wary of the location. It was almost as if he’d gone to the wrong place. Hospitals were known to be ghost towns, but this was more than he expected. The doors opened on the fourth floor.

  Matt squinted, straining to see around him. Other than at the front entrance, there were no windows. Darkness grew the further he travelled, a single flickering light the only salvation for the entire corridor.

  Every step he took his own breath and heart rate increased. He could hear them—feel them—expanding... contracting... pulsing. He stopped at room twenty-one, a key dangling from a hook just outside on the wall. The patients were locked in. Anyone could enter, but they weren’t allowed to leave. Was that for their own good? For the sake of humanity? For the nurses and doctors? Probably not the latter since he hadn’t seen any.

  Trembling fingers grasped the shiny metal key, inserting it in the lock. It turned, taking the handle with it. The door creaked open.

  Matt peeked his head inside. “Hello.” The room was less lit than the hallway, shadows creeping across every corner.

  “Who is there?” a voice called out. “What do you want?”

  “Padico?” Matt flicked a switch. A lamp buzzed, warming up. “Is that you?”

  Padico shaded his eyes with his good arm. “Watch the light,” he complained.

  “It’s not that bright,” Matt replied. “I can’t see without it. I’ll turn it off when I leave... I promise.”

  “I prefer it off,” Padico grumbled. Silence grew between them for several minutes. “Get in here and close the door. It’s Matt, right?”

  Matt froze a foot from the bed. This was the first time he’d seen Padico since the accident. The man before him was a shadow of the driver he once knew. Half his face and body was completely covered in burns—hair missing on most of his scalp.

  “It’s not pretty,” Padico said, glaring at his visitor. “Is that what you came for, to find out how bad my injuries really were?”

  “No,” Matt said, voice lowered. “I didn’t know what to expect, but I didn’t come here to discuss a past race. I want you to drive again.”

  Padico chuckled. “Look at me. My career is over. No one wants to hire a monster. My days are numbered.”

  “Other than your appearance, are you okay?” Matt asked.

  Padico sat up. “Not that it matters, but I am fine. Neither of my eyes are damaged and my limbs are intact. Nobody cares about that, though.”

  “I do,” Matt replied.

  “And who are you,” Padico huffed.

  “Ricky is accusing me of being behind the design and its flaws,” Matt blurted out. “Everyone believes the accident was my fault.”

  “I can’t help you,” Padico grumbled, tossing the sheets aside. His feet slipped to the ground. “Sponsors will only take the word of those they interview. I’m not the sort who can be allowed entrance into their world anymore. Even if I tell them it wasn’t you, they’d still persecute you.”

  “I know that,” Matt said. “I’ve been given one chance. I have under six weeks to build a new racer from scratch, one that can beat anything Ricky pulls together.”

  Padico laughed. “They are actually sponsoring this?”

  “No,” Matt answered. “I have to find what I need to build it. I also need a driver. That’s why I am here. Is that enough time for your recovery?”

  “I doubt it,” Padico answered. “That’s not the problem, though. You have no currency, no supplies, and no time.”

  “If I can build it,” Matt began, brows raised, “will you drive it?”

  “Sure,” Padico chuckled. “If you make a safe rig capable of winning a race, I’ll be your driver. It can be my goodbye race. I’m not sure you can, though.”

  “I will,” Matt said. “No matter what, I will. Together, we are going to change the world forever.”

  Chapter 10

  He’d been working on an all-terrain bike with a compressed air fuel system for several years. Matt pulled one end of the tarp hiding it. This was the prototype for the racer he wanted to build for Padico. That was going to require a much larger system, but he had the basics in his possession already. Deconstructing his baby, however, was harder than he imagined. Even taking it apart he was still going to be short on the necessary parts to make his new invention work. It wasn’t as if the things he needed were going to magically appear, or be found on the side of the street in the trash, either.

  Matt sighed, shielding his eyes to glance at the mountain range in the distance. The sun had disappeared behind them temporarily. That didn’t make the heat any less of a threat. There was a full day’s ride, maybe two, between him and the peaks and no stops along the way.

  “You can’t be serious,” his mother said, standing beside him. “It’s too dangerous. You’ll never make it.”

  “I have to try,” Matt argued. “It isn’t as if I have a choice in the matter. If I don’t come up with a winning racer, who knows what will happen to you.”

  One arm draped around her son’s shoulders, she assured, “We’ll manage. We always have.” The glossed over look in her eyes betrayed her, speaking volumes as to the wo
rry bottled up behind them. “I can find a job somewhere. You shouldn’t have to concern yourself with the burden of others.”

  “It’s my choice,” Matt replied. “All I need you to do is hold things down until I come back and win the race.”

  “What if you don’t come back?” his mother whispered.

  “Is that concern I hear in your tone?” Matt smirked. “It works two ways. You need not bother yourself with your son’s endeavours simply because you gave birth to him. Besides, if I don’t return, you’ll be no worse off than you are now.”

  “That’s true... I suppose.” His mother turned, heading back to the door.

  “Promise me you won’t sell my sister anytime soon,” Matt blurted out, without glancing back. “That’s all I ask.”

  “I have no plans to sell your siblings,” his mother replied. “I’ll sacrifice myself first. That’s how I’ve always been.”

  “I’ll be back soon, I promise,” Matt said, tossing one leg over top of the bike and sliding onto the seat.

  “You better,” his mother mumbled, her voice drowned out by the revving engine. “Good luck, Matt.”

  A five-minute drive was the only test he’d given his invention. Now, he expected it to last days. There were too many ifs in his plans to be comfortable. If it failed in the middle of nowhere, he was as good as dead. If the legends about the mountains were a lie, there’d be no parts. He was throwing all his eggs in one basket and using force to do it too. There was a good chance every last one of them would break before he finished.

  Matt wrapped a scarf around his head and face, leaving only his goggles exposed to the elements. No skin was to be found, from his gloves to the point of his toes. He wasn’t about to fall prey to the rays of the sun. Heat was a problem enough in itself. As lightweight as his clothing was, it still added extra layers. He had several containers of water, but without knowing how far the mountain range actually was, he had no way to judge how much liquid he’d use.

  That wasn’t the only concern, either. Even if he made it by the sun, the terrain, and the natural elements, there were still bandits to worry about. Nomads made a living off of unprepared travellers. That was why few attempted the journey, despite the promise of reward. Of those who did, even less returned.

  He’s steeled himself mentally, preparing his heart for battle. Nothing and no one was standing in his way. He had promises to fulfill to both his mother and Padico. He was going to build the fastest racer anyone had ever seen before. He was going to win. That was all that mattered.

  Chapter 11

  Matt’s tongue felt as if there was a layer of cotton growing on it; lips cracked and sore. Water ran out a half a day ago. If he didn’t find some soon, it was all over. Making it to the foot of the mountains meant nothing if he was dead on arrival.

  His plan had a major flaw in it. He hadn’t allowed for the return trip. Everything he had was put into making it to the destination. Never once had he contemplated what would happen after that. In a perfect world, he’d grab the supplies he needed and ride back home a hero. Things in his head didn’t always go as he imagined them to. Having physical blueprints of ideas was always a good idea. When writing things down, they became more logical. Unfortunately, he’d bounded out the front door without contemplating any of the consequences.

  Fear, anger, frustration: any of them could have been to blame. All of them were uncontrollable by city dwellers. Reactions were the one thing no one could predict—not his—not Padico’s—not any living creature. When threatened, for good or bad, instincts took over. That was why he was standing beside his bike, staring at a pile of machinery. At least that part of the legends was true.

  It would take a few days, but everything he needed was right in front of him. That’s where the good news ended. There was no way to transport the parts back to his shop to put them together. At home he had the tools. There he had the supplies. Between the two lay miles of unforgiving terrain.

  Matt placed his bike on the side, laying it down. Before him was the largest mechanic’s gold mine in existence. All he needed to do was climb and claim whatever piece he wanted. He managed only two steps before pain radiated through his side. He reached over, feeling a warm liquid first, then the wooden arrow. He’d been shot.

  A second wave of anguish raced through his nerves, registering in his brain in a split second. Another arrow hit on the opposite side. The third dropped him to his knees, taking aim for shaky legs. After everything he’d been through, this was how it ended: filled with holes by bandits when he owned nothing of value for them to pillage. Even his bike needed fresh canisters of compressed air to run again.

  “We’ll take your purse,” a man spat beside him. “Make it quick. My buddy can be a bit trigger happy.”

  “I have nothing to offer,” Matt replied. “Search me if you like. My pockets are bare. I don’t even have a crumb to eat.”

  The man circled Matt, tapping a crossbow on his own shoulder. “Now why would a man come to a place like this without any cash? How did you hope to pay for supplies?”

  “Pay,” Matt mumbled, feeling consciousness threatening to forsake him. “I didn’t know there was a fee for parts.”

  “You didn’t know,” the man scoffed. “Hear that, boys? This fella didn’t know he had to pay for bits and bobbles. He thought it was all just free for the picking.”

  “I suppose you paid for it all?” Matt questioned.

  “No,” the man chuckled. “We claimed it as our own, though. Finders keepers, you know. We found this heap of junk, so we plan to protect it as our own. Of course, it’s not as if we have thieves everyday around here. You’re the first one in ages.”

  “I’m not a thief,” Matt replied. “This was originally an offering site to the fairies—the ones who restarted the rotation. It’s not yours to claim. I had every intention of asking permission from the rightful owners.”

  “From who?” the man chuckled, arms widespread. “Look around, mate. There are no fairies. Me and the boys have been out here long enough to know them critters don’t actually exist. It’s an old wives’ tale and nothing else. If it wasn’t, don’t you think the fairies would have challenged us for their possessions before now?”

  “Have you ever tried to remove something from the pile?” Matt asked, eyelids fluttering.

  “Hmm,” the man responded. “Not that it matters, but I don’t believe we have.” The back end of his weapon came down on Matt’s face.

  Darkness...

  Chapter 12

  Matt’s eyelids fluttered. It wasn’t hot. It wasn’t cold. If anything, he felt nothing. Was he dead? Maybe. If so, was this purgatory? No. It was too comfortable for that. He tilted his head to the right. Blurred vision strained to focus. Silhouettes were all he could make out before becoming nauseous. He closed his eyes again. Wherever he was, it definitely wasn’t in the afterlife. Until his sight steadied, his other senses needed to answer his questions.

  “You shouldn’t have brought him here, Amethyst!” a feminine voice exclaimed. “Their kind is dangerous... all of them.”

  “They aren’t all bad, Coral,” Amethyst argued. “I was watching. He even said the others of his kind should ask permission to take from the supply pile.”

  “Then why does he have all those holes from arrows?” Coral asked. “If you ask me, that’s trouble. It’s bad enough we clean up all their other messes.”

  “She’s right.”

  “Cerulean!” Amethyst exclaimed. “What brings you this close to the surface? You don’t normally venture up this path.”

  “I heard we have a guest,” Cerulean said in a matter-of-fact tone. “A surface dweller no less. That’s against the rules.”

  “He’s different,” Amethyst blurted out.

  “What makes you say such things?” Cerulean crossed her arms, tapping one foot while she waited for an answer.

  “I can tell,” Amethyst replied. “I know he’s different. Look at the contraption he came on.” She point
ed to the bike. “Most surface dwellers wouldn’t know where to start building such a device. He shows promise of a higher intelligence.”

  “One invention doesn’t make a man smart,” Coral scoffed. “Many of those up top drive mashup vehicles.”

  “This one is different,” Amethyst said, grabbing Coral’s arm and dragging her to the bike. “Look at the fuel system. It’s advanced.”

  “I doubt highly this creature was trying to save the world when he made this thing,” Cerulean snapped, turning her back to them. “It was probably a miscalculation on his part, one that happened to work out for the best.”

  They were talking about him as if he wasn’t even there. Matt lowered one hand, feeling the spot where the first arrow hit hard. Bandages took the place of where his own blood had been. Whoever they were, they’d saved him from certain death. The question was: why?

  He inhaled deeply, opening his eyes again. They needed to work. It was imperative he know exactly where he was and who he was dealing with. Movement was still the enemy, though, hitting him with waves of spins and nausea. He glanced in the direction of the voices without moving his head.

  Women. Beautiful women. The trio blew away the appeal sky city women had a hundred times over and the colours: hues of purple, pink, and blue he’d never seen before, complete with sparkles. Each wore a different outfit; pantaloons with suspenders over a puffed out shirt—a full-length skirt with designs that came to life when the wearer moved—a knee-length dress with layers of frills underneath. All three wore goggles and tool belts over top.

  Matt rubbed the water from his eyes. They were hovering over something, examining it—his bike. But why? He’d designed it especially so no one would know it worked. It looked exactly like any other piece of junk from an era long since past. The average person could never understand the intricate system he’d created.