We've followed the cracked remnants of blacktop and faded green signs to a town called Bismarck.
Bismarck marks the border of the Gear Baby's territory. It is the first town we have seen with constant power. It is also the end of Charlie's route. We have hired another carriage, however we are not the only passengers. The new stagecoach driver did not consent to an interview. In fact, he spit on my boots and told me to get out of his face before he "tore me a new one." I didn't want to ask what new thing he would be tearing me. Sam was kind enough it explain it to me later.
The stagevan leaves the day after tomorrow. Charlie already has passengers for his trip back west, but he won't leave town until we are safely on our way.
The townspeople seem normal but Sam constantly has her hand on her gun. I talked her into walking with me around town, using my bum leg as a bargaining chip. She agreed, adding a cutting and unnecessary remark about how I needed all the help I can get. Charlie offered to let me borrow Presley, however my opinion of that horse is best limited to words of the four-letter variety or the more colorful expletives I hear Sam mutter when she's frustrated at some ignorant mistake I make.
We must have made an odd trio as we walked through the sparsely populated town. They looked, whispered behind their hands, stared as we passed. Underneath the brim of Sam's hat, her eyes darted every which way. Charlie lagged behind a couple of steps at a pace even slower than my crippled lurching. Even a "brain-dead nimrod with the looks of an inbred billy goat" could see that they were guarding me.
Our walk was fairly uneventful until I felt a wet drop splash onto the back of my neck. The substance was a red oil of some sort that seemed to be dripping from the wires overhead. We followed the wires through the town. Occasionally they wrapped around a tall wooden pole, sometimes they split up into two or joined together with other similar wires. Charlie pointed out a place some yards distant where the wire stretched to the ground. The dirt around the connection point was dark, presumably with the same oily substance. As we drew closer, our footsteps sank in the mud. My crutches sank in too far for me to continue. Sam held onto them while Charlie and I ventured closer.
We were right at the connection point when we saw that the wire was made of not just metal, but tissue as well. Blue sparks danced along it's length. I was reaching out to touch it when Sam spoke.
"Sen, Charlie, I need you to stop moving."
I was a breath away from touching the sparking blue cable. I very nearly breached that small gap, but after a week of traveling with her, the importance of listening to the Trader had finally sunken in. I remained still.
"Look down, but don't panic. If you panic, they'll attack."
When I looked down, I noticed the mecho-organic tendrils twisting through the damp soil like grass roots. Some were already creeping up the sides of my boots.
"As long as you move slowly, you should be able to get free."
Charlie started to creep out of the edge of my vision. I wanted to run but the quiet terror in Sam's voice told me that even at my peak, I wouldn't be able to escape them. Instead I backed away slowly. Every heartbeat seemed to last an eternity. My foot ached from the strain of my weight. The pain shot to my knee and the traitorous thing gave way under me. I staggered. Regained my bearing. Took another step. And another.
Each retreating footstep filled with the dark red substance that I was beginning to realize was some strange mix of blood and oil. Eons later I reached terra firma and collapsed on my hands and knees next to Sam, gasping. The stabbing pain in my foot ran all the way up my leg to lodge icepicks in the base of my spine. No more deadly blades grabbed at the soles of my boots so I figured I was safe enough to lie on my back while I rested.
From this angle, the sun hid Sam's face beneath the shadow of her hat. Charlie sat beside me, his arms resting on his bent knees. "Kid, you just can't catch a break, can you?"
"I'm twenty-three," I croaked, for the first time protesting the derogatory tone as I closed my eyes against the glare of the setting sun.
Charlie laughed, and after a moment, Sam joined him. It was the laughter from a life-or-death adrenaline rush, but it was laughter nonetheless and I was still alive.
I write these words now and I feel bile at the back of my throat just thinking of the tendrils of human flesh and metal wire that stretched across the city. But I have made an oath, as foolish as others think it may be. Tomorrow I will go out into the inner heart of Bismarck to see what other secrets the Gear Baby has in store.
No comments:
Post a Comment