The Reunion

by Michelle E Lowe

  “Possibly. Only the future holds the answer.”

  The heckler snorted. “I would rather enjoy seeing my late mother-in-law be brought back as a sheep. Or a pig!”

  The audience again laughed, but as they did, the Wraith Insulator began clicking in a peculiar rhythmic pattern. Flashes of electricity burst from under the glass lids in some sort of tempo. Pierce’s interests were starting to heighten. Professor Brooke fell deep into concentration. He chewed on his bottom lip with the tip of his tongue poking out the side of his mouth as he turned the dials this way and that. Not many spectators were staying focused on him anymore, for the Wraith Insulator had stolen their attention when a vapor manifested within The Hold.

  “I have successfully made contact,” Professor Brooke announced, never taking his eyes off the dials he was adjusting. “It has been drawn into The Hold, where the signals from the electromagnetic waves call to it. And now we spring the trap!”

  With a flick of a switch, the Wraith Insulator hummed loudly and began vibrating. The throng became intrigued, especially when the vapor thickened and swirled as though it had a life of its own.

  “Could it be?” whispered a woman standing beside Pierce.

  “It’s trapped!” Professor Brooke announced proudly. “The Wraith Insulator acts like a net, dropping over the wraith and binding it in The Hold. Soon, the wraith will travel through the passageway and into the cryo chamber, where it shall be reunited with its body.”

  The vapor swirled like a miniature cyclone as it was sucked down through the apparent passageway that was the glass tube. The porthole clouded completely over with roiling smoke before vanishing.

  “The world as we know it is standing on the pivotal edge of change!” Professor Brookes stated to the crowd. “An evolution is taking shape. This is the climb, my friends! The climb toward the peak of the Industrial Revolution! I say unto thee, we must contribute to thrive. Contribute to the Age of the Machine!”

  Professor Brookes lifted the lid, and everyone quickly crowded in to get a better look. Pierce found himself sandwiched between two curious spectators. He didn’t mind, for he was as enthralled as they were. The lamb was expected to rise, but, instead, remained motionless inside the cryo chamber.

  “It doesn’t look very much alive,” a boy in the front said.

  “Well, that’s because it isn’t,” Professor Brookes stated matter-of-factly. “The wraith of this lamb has now returned to the afterlife.”

  “You mean, you can’t actually bring the dead to life?” the youngster asked, sounding disappointed. “Like you told us you could?”

  Professor Brooke’s cheeks turned crimson. “I haven’t overcome that obstacle yet. In order for a spirit to return to the body, the body must first be a livable one. I haven’t quite figured out how to do that.”

  While he tried explaining, the utterly vexed and dissatisfied throng already started dispersing.

  “Of course, it was a hoax,” a man grunted as he passed Pierce by. “No animal has a soul.”

  “No! Wait!” the professor called. “To capture a spirit is a remarkable breakthrough! Don’t you understand what you just witnessed?”

  None paid him any mind as they left to seek entertainment elsewhere. Pierce also took his leave, thinking the wanker could have at least trained the lamb to pretend it was dead and have it suddenly spring to life.

  Your little parlor trick is pure baaallocks, mate, he thought amusingly to himself.

  He arrived at the large steel tree that had lured him over in the first place. It appeared incomplete, a treehouse crudely patched together with several different types of metals. Over an open doorway leading into the tree trunk, a metal sign read: Inventions of the Future. Pierce climbed the spiral stairs twisting within the trunk and entered the treehouse through a hole in the floor. The exhibit was full of machines he’d never seen before, each designed by Contributors, he reckoned.

  Children spoke into bell-shaped brass devices that amplified their voices through two cylinder loudspeakers crafted from wood and copper. The bells, which Pierce saw were microphones, were set on a pair of short stands behind the loudspeaker that was attached by metal chords. A voltaic pile battery powered it. The loudspeakers were no larger than a breadbox and sat on stubby brass legs on a slab of well-polished wood, with knobs and bulbs screwed on in the center. The volume of the children’s voices grew louder and softer as they fiddled with the knobs. They sounded a tad gritty, as if the tykes had sand in their mouths. Progress took time. Eventually, inventions such as these would reshape the world—the same as the creations that had come before them.

  Near a window, sat a thick book on a podium with a decorative sign above that read: What Is Your Invention? Pierce leafed through the pages. People from all over the world had either written or drawn out their own ideas, some good, some not so much.

  The drawings vanished, as did everything else around him. Suddenly, Pierce was not in the treehouse but inside a cabin where a man in a sleeveless white shirt was holding a rifle.

  “Jesus, Isaac, I could’ve blown ya’ll to bits like toads on a log.”

  Pierce had drifted into another one of his bizarre moments again. Such events always seemed to perforate his current path, dropping him briefly into a queer pothole that never made much sense. He swore something had happened to him a few years ago, when the flash visions began. These shredded memories of this other existence were usually triggered by certain occurrences in his present life.

  The details of this man who called Pierce “Isaac” were vague, except for one thing—his arm.

  Before it became lost as all the shredded memories did, Pierce took a fountain pen next to the book and sketched it out. He wasn’t the best artist and was only going by what had come to him in a matter of seconds, but, when he finished, he had to admit it didn’t look half bad. A circus employee overseeing the Invention of the Future Display appeared beside him.

  “What is that? Some kind of mechanical limb?”

  “Aye,” Pierce answered.

  The employee looked closer at it. Pierce had drawn an entire bionic arm. The design resembled the vision of what he had seen in his mind. The limb was attached to a steel ball joint surgically implanted into the shoulder. The bicep was made of two retractable rods that allowed the upper half to extend and withdraw into itself. The thick elbow joint connecting to two other rods that formed the forearm and led down to the wrist, which operated by the same mechanism as the elbow. The ligaments of the hand were powered by wires that fed off the energy from the body itself, which helped move both the arm and the straight razor-shaped fingers.

  The circus worker was in complete awe. “Where did you get the idea for this?”

  “It just came to me, mate,” Pierce admitted with a shrug.

  He left the treehouse and enjoyed a freak show before venturing into an oddity tent. He spotted a pair of stuffed monkeys playing chess on a table that equaled their size. On the board, a white pawn was on pf7-f6, and a black pawn sat on pe2-e4. As he causally moved another white pawn on pg7-g5, a stranger spoke in Dutch.

  When Pierce saw that he was speaking to him, he shook his head. The stranger than asked, “Um. Francais?”

  “Oui,” Pierce answered.

  “Ah,” the stranger beamed. “I was stating how weird it is in here.”

  “I think that’s the point,” Pierce returned.

  He couldn’t tell under the low lighting if the man had a dark complexion or not. The Dutchman stepped around the display table to stand face to face with him. There was something dodgy about him. A chilling sensation ran up and down Pierce’s spine. The bugger gave off a far eerier vibe than anything displayed in the oddity tent.

  “Monkeys are peculiar creatures, non?”

  “S’pose,” Pierce said, stepping around to where the stranger once stood. “No more than people.”

  The Dutchman’s thin mustache rose at the corner when he half-grinned. He had pale grey eyes that latched onto Pierce.
“I agree. Did you know there is a breed of chimps that kill their enemies and then eat them?”

  “Erm,” Pierce said, slipping his hands into his jacket pockets. “How interesting?”

  “Chimps also fuck the same as humans. Any sexual position you ever did it in, a chimp has done it, too.” He glanced down at the chessboard and moved the black queen to d1-h5. He grinned at Pierce. “Fool’s mate.”

  Deciding it was time to return to Taisia, Pierce slunk away and left the tent. On the way, he couldn’t help but look over his shoulder once in a while.

  Chapter Fourteen

  An Old Friend

  When he returned, Taisia was standing with a shirtless, black-skinned man. She was laughing at something he’d said and clasping her hands together over her chest as if to get a hold of herself.

  “Pierce,” she called as he approached. “Come. I want to introduce you to someone.”

  As he drew closer, Pierce became acutely aware of the feller’s handsomeness. He stood a good foot over Pierce and had a sculpted body that could make a fine artist weep. His dark-skinned face had been molded in all the right places, and set in this perfect frame were eyes like crystals.

  “This is my old friend, Kirill Azarov. Kirill, this is Pierce Landcross.”

  Pierce forced a smiled. “’Ello.”

  The godlike being held out his hand. “It is nice to meet you.”

  Pierce shook it and secretly clenched his teeth against the bone-crushing grip.

  Kirill let go and said in a husky Russian tone, “Any friend of my Taisia is a friend of mine.”

  My Taisia?

  “Likewise,” Pierce retorted.

  Pierce wondered if Kirill had been the lover Taisia had spoken about. If so, Pierce was in trouble.

  “We were reminiscing on our days as acrobats,” Taisia explained. She turned to Kirill. “Do you remember the night when I almost fell from the trapezes?”

  “Da. A terrifying moment, indeed. Do you keep up the practice?”

  “Acrobatics? A little when I traveled with nomads.” She mulled it over a tick. “I can still do this.”

  She stepped back and stretched out her arms and sat on the ground, tucking her gown underneath her. Keeping a leg bent and the other outstretched, she joined her hands as though praying and raised them high. As she did, she lifted her outstretched leg straight up until it met with her shoulder. She bent her knee and moved her calf behind her head as she curved her torso the other way. Both Pierce and Kirill cocked their heads sideways as they watched with arousal. Taisia didn’t notice their lustful staring as she lowered her leg and stood, brushing herself off.

  “I have not done that in ages.”

  Pierce blinked several times to bring himself out of his fantasy trance.

  “You will stay for the show?” Kirill abruptly asked, although the question felt like it was being addressed to Taisia.

  “Ahh,” Pierce began to say. “We really ought to get . . .”

  “Of course!” she interrupted. “We would love to.” Taisia looked to Pierce. “Kirill is the new ringmaster. He’s even learned to speak some Dutch in order to tour the country.”

  “Grand.”

  Kirill beamed. “You will stay? Wonderful!” He hooked his powerful arm around Taisia and led her away. “I have to get dressed for the show. Come. We can talk on the way to my wagon.”

  Liliya exited her own wagon, still wearing her robe. She came up alongside Pierce, who stood there, unsure whether he ought to follow the two.

  “They make a good couple, no?” Liliya remarked.

  Pierce hated it, but he had to agree.

  “Were they a couple?”

  “Da. Many years ago. They were very much in love once.”

  He was in trouble.

  “I thought for certain they would have gotten married,” she went on. “Perhaps it’s not too late.”

  His heart sank into his stomach and disintegrated in the acids. How could he match up to a bloke like Kirill? Perhaps he had never stood a chance with Tai in the first place. After all, they weren’t even the same nationality, and maybe that was an issue for her. Had he been kidding himself the entire time?

  Liliya wrapped her arm around his. “I am not on for another hour. Would you care to come up for a private performance?”

  This unexpected proposal nearly floored him. He snapped his head around to her and saw that she was quite serious.

  “I’m more flexible than my sister,” she added with a wink.

  A very tempting offer, to say the least, for not only had it been a bloody long while for him, but Liliya also resembled the very woman he believed he was falling in love with.

  The heat of temptation made his heart quicken, and for an instant, he thought about accepting until Taisia called out, “Pierce! Are you coming?”

  The desire burned away. He looked over to Tai, who was waiting for him. His smile couldn’t have been broader as he waved to her. “Aye!”

  He turned to Liliya while slipping out of her grasp. “Excuse me, love.”

  Once freed, he jogged off, trying his best to keep from skipping with glee.

  * * *

  Night fell, and the throng herded into the Big Top. Pierce and Taisia found seats at the front. First, they watched the show’s introduction, where the performers and animals circled the large ring. Leading the way, of course, was Kirill, dressed in a full ringmaster’s costume. He rode a white Clydesdale with the longest mane Pierce had ever seen on a horse. Kirill sat straight like a general, waving at the crowd. He winked at Taisia as he passed. Pierce planted his face into his palm and shook his head.

  The first performance was the acrobatic act. Afterward, came the clowns, and then some kind of play with life-sized animal puppets. Pierce couldn’t follow the storyline, but there was a large snail chasing a frog while a butterfly danced upon a mushroom. The kids enjoyed it, though it left Pierce utterly gobsmacked.

  Then it was time for the strongmen to put on their weightlifting act. One of them was none other than the guard at the fence who had mistaken Taisia for her sister. Next, was the animal show, where a woman preformed tricks with leopards. Pierce noticed Taisia’s mournful stare as she watched. She was no doubt thinking about her mother. Without saying a word, he pulled her to him. She held him close and did not let go for a long while.

  After a time, Kirill appeared in the center of the ring and spoke loudly into the mechanical speaking trumpet that amplified his strong voice over the crowd.

  “I think the magic show is next,” Taisia suspected. “Liliya told me she had a surprise.”

  Pierce half expected the magician to be Robin of Locksley. He gripped his stater coin tight at the terrifying possibility.

  A short stage was brought out to the center of the arena by strongmen acting as stagehands. Just as they vanished, a loud bang burst from the floor and smoke plumed. As it evaporated, Pierce sighed with relief to see the magician wasn’t Robin. In fact, he wasn’t even male. Instead, it was Liliya! She stood on the stage, dressed in a white tuxedo jacket, a white skirt, and black stockings. The outfit complemented her blue makeup very nicely. Liliya removed her white top hat and waved it high to the crowd.

  Taisia gaped in awe. “I can’t believe it. Liliya is now the magician?”

  Pierce snorted. “I reckon that’s her surprise, eh?”

  Liliya’s sequined-dressed assistants joined her on the stage. One was a translator, who also had a speaking trumpet, spoke Dutch into it.

  Liliya did many tricks. She borrowed a personal item from an audience member and made it disappear in some theatrical way only to have it turn up in another spectator’s pocket. She had a different audience member check a group of silver rings before linking them in a chain. She even levitated her own assistant off the ground. After that trick, the translator announced something into the speaking trumpet. The throng gasped and chattered.

  “What’s going on?” Pierce inquired.

  As the assistant spoke, L
iliya approached the crowd. The assistant spoke again, and eager hands shot up from the audience.

  “She is asking for a volunteer,” Taisia explained.

  Pierce had reckoned as much. His body temperature suddenly rose with nervousness when Liliya pointed at him. “You.”

  The spotlight was literally on him. As Britain’s most wanted fugitive, he did not view this as wise. Even so, he couldn’t decline, for the crowd’s clapping and Liliya’s constant coaxing for him to join her had created a mountain of pressure.

  “Oh, she would do this,” Taisia grumbled. “Pierce, leave me your gun.”

  He handed the weapon over and rose from his seat. The audience cheered when the assistant shouted something into the speaking trumpet.

  When he made his way into the ring, Liliya wrapped her arm around his and led him off. “Hello, again. Are you ready for this?”

  He swallowed thickly. “I s’pose.”

  They headed for the stage where strongmen were wheeling out a table draped in a long tablecloth with a black coffin sitting on top of it. The other assistant on stage, opened a chest and brought out shackles.

  Pierce dug in his heels. “Whoa. What’s all this?”

  “Not to worry,” Liliya consoled, stopping with him. She gave the crowd a reassuring wave. “Those are not for you. I’m going into the coffin. You’re only checking the manacles to show the audience they’re real.”

  Pierce couldn’t breathe in enough air of relief.

  “Come,” Liliya urged, tugging on his arm.

  They reached the stage, and Pierce stood awkwardly as the assistant with the shackles began clamping them on Liliya’s wrists and ankles. All Pierce could think about was being recognized, and as a result, he kept his hat low over his brow. Once Liliya was shackled, she called Pierce over.

  “Check them,” she ordered, “and then nod to my assistant when she speaks to you. Got it?”

  “Aye.”

  He expected the manacles and locks to be fakes, but, as he examined them, he found they were very much real.

  He kneeled to check the ankle restraints. “And you’re going to try getting out of these?”