Beyond the Rails 3: Slayer of Darkness

Chapter 24

Hippo Point Monday morning

          Monroe watched the nightmare unfolding before him as the iron monster with Reinhard inside began to advance on them, but his mind was out in the inlet with his ship, his pilot, and the passenger who had insisted on coming with them. He had ceased firing at the thing, correctly surmising that that was doing nothing but wasting ammunition. He tried to formulate a plan, to use the lifetime of strategic thinking he had accumulated, but his mind and his gaze kept returning to the wrecked airship out in the bay. The thing was stalking them, firing as it moved, to cut off their room to maneuver. Each thundering shot of the left-arm rifle was followed by the ping of the spent cartridge hitting the roof, and the metallic clacks of the next round cycling into the chamber. The curved box attached around the forearm looked like it could hold a hundred rounds or more.
          “Cap’n, you’d best snap out of it!” Smith shouted, diving behind a ventilation dome, one of the very few pieces of cover on the broad, flat roof. “We gotta do something!”
          Monroe pulled his mind back to the here and now, and fired three more rounds at the thing’s back. The only effect was to cause it to turn, seeking him out as its new target as he flattened himself behind a pipe and pushed rounds through the loading gate.
          “Behind you, Nahodha!” Bakari shouted, firing the LeMat almost straight at Monroe, who turned to see three men coming onto the roof through the interior stairs. His shot dropped one, Smith’s the second. Rolling around the side of the stair shelter, he flushed the third one out enough for Smith’s pistol to claim him as well. Bakari fired at Reinhard again, but he was focused on Monroe now, and stalking in his direction.
          Monroe circled quickly to keep the stair shelter between them, but Reinhard simply fired his powerful rifle at the structure, and as the heavy slug came through the back, barely missing Monroe’s torso, a large chunk of wood blasted loose by its passage flipped up and hit him under the chin as hard as any prize fighter’s haymaker. He staggered back under the impact, into the open, somehow not falling, and Reinhard tracked him, firing again. Monroe dived out of the way just as the shot came, and the projectile hit the bottom of the wooden water tower that fed the fixtures in the house below. A six-inch section of plank was torn loose, water gushing onto the roof as the tank began to empty. Monroe slid, gasping, to the corner of the roof, where a familiar smell burned his nose with its concentration.
          Ozone.

Hippo Point 2:10 AM

          Monroe stared death in the face in the form of the armored giant lumbering slowly toward him, as unstoppable as an oncoming tornado. He got to his knees, and immediately went flat again as the left arm came up and fired, the slug whistling through the space he had just occupied, striking the raised lip of the roof, and carrying a chunk of masonry off into the darkness beyond. He scrambled on palms and toes to clamber over the pipes running across the roof, putting that obstruction, at least, between himself and Reinhard’s monstrous creation.
          It turned inexorably to follow him again, firing another shot with its quickly reloading rifle. Smith fired again, and the armored juggernaut stopped, not affected in any way, but seeming to consider the alternatives of navigating the pipe without doing serious harm to his home. Decision made, it turned back to Smith and Bakari, leveling the rifle for another shot as the two men scattered from their corner.
          Monroe stopped to catch his wind, and as he panted, topping up the rifle’s magazine yet again, he looked up and noticed the heavy cable running up from an outbuilding far to the right to a wooden pole, where it was fastened by a glass insulator before splitting into two, one thick wire leading down to the far side of the house, and the other stretched at a downward angle across the roof, leading to a smaller pole at his side, and thence down this side of the house. He looked from the wire to the water, to the heavy, powered iron machine, back the to the spreading water, and much like the water, the idea spread in his mind.
          “Bakari,” he shouted, “throw me your spear!”
          “A spear is worthless against this machine,” the engineer called back.
          “Just throw it!”
          Holstering the LeMat, Bakari pulled the assegai on its leather thong from his shoulder, and lobbed it carefully toward Monroe. Skilled from childhood, the weapon slid to a halt within Monroe’s easy reach.
          “Now spread out and keep it busy,” Monroe shouted, “and for God’s sake, be careful!”
          “Hey, ugly,” Smith called toward it, “I’m over here!”
          He fired two quick shots and scampered back to the cover of the ventilation dome as the thing turned and started toward him.
          “Over here!” Bakari called, running toward the stair shelter, firing a wild shot at the machine as he ran.
          It turned to look, then turned back toward Smith and maneuvered to get around the dome, left arm raised and ready.
          Bakari fired another shot from the stair shelter, and the thing rotated its torso to look for him.
          “Keep it over here,” Monroe told him. “It has to be on this side of the pipes.”
          Smith popped up and fired two more shots, and it turned back toward him, firing an errant shot that shattered the amber top of the dome.
          “Whatever you’re doin’, Cap’n, you’d better do it quick!” he called as he left that cover and dived over the pipes, flattening himself as a round tore into the roof.
          Monroe intended to do just that. Picking up Bakari’s short stabbing spear by the wooden handle, he tested the edge of the foot-long hammered iron blade against his thumb.
          Sharp enough, he decided; at least it had better be!
          Rolling across the pipes, he looked again at Reinhard’s monster. The beast was still focused on Smith, who had slithered along the pipe, firing again from his back as he scooted himself along.
          If it looks over here, I’m dead, he thought, rolling back over the pipes, rising, and running to the pole holding the inch-thick cable. Holding the assegai by the wood as far from the blade as possible, he swung at the joint between the glass insulator and the rubber on the wire. Just too short. Climbing to the raised parapet, steadying himself by holding the pole, he swung again. This time the blade made contact about two inches back from the tip. Not optimal, but it would have to do. The hammered iron blade wasn’t nearly as sharp as Monroe needed it to be, but he quickly exposed the braided copper wire, which began to fray under his blows.
          “Get back!” Monroe shouted over his shoulder, hoping that everyone heard him and understood the significance. He swung again, more of the copper fraying, sparks flying from the point of impact.
          “What are you doing?” Reinhard's metallic voice shouted, distorted from the amplification. “Get away from there, you fool, you’ll kill us all!”
          A shot rang out, the slug taking a chunk out of the pole just below Monroe’s hand and causing it to bend outward, its integrity compromised, nearly toppling him off the roof as it sagged. Pulling it back toward him to the sound of splintering wood, he was narrowly missed by another round as Reinhard fired wildly at him. He could hear shots and ricochets as Smith and Bakari fired at the thing repeatedly to no particular effect. Then he heard the whine of a charging capacitor, the same sound he had heard for a few seconds before this abomination had unleashed the lightning that had brought down his ship. He leaped to the pole, frantically chopping at the connector, able to bring the meat of the spearhead to bear now that the pole had broken. Sparks were striking his face and chest now as the whine rose above the threshold of hearing.
          Any second now!
          The wire parted, the bare end slithering across the roof pulled by the tension of the far tower. As the machine’s deadly right arm began to rise, the wire hit the water in which it was standing, and the gates of hell were thrown open. A humming, crackling sound rent the air as the current surged into the iron frame. The arm discharged its lightning into the roof to join the power of the electricity surging through the metal. Monroe was forced back by the heat, his hair standing up from the turbulent currents torturing the air. The thing’s backpack, obviously its power source, exploded, showering burning fragments of unknown materials across the roof. Through it all, the moaning wail of the occupant could be heard as he experienced the agonies of the damned. Then the glow of lights coming from the windows below began to go out, section by section, the crackling stopped, and the ensuing silence bordered on painful.
          Monroe stood, stepped over the pipe, and walked over to stand in front of the thing. It hadn’t fallen, but simply sunk down on its legs, its weight too much for its compromised hydraulics. Striking a match, he looked over the details, and quickly found the torso latch. He pulled it back, dropped the match, and opened the armored plate.
          Inside sat a man in an ornate seat, arms inside two metal cages that obviously controlled the arms of the monster. His fingers were poised on controls at the ends of those sleeves, and his face was locked in the rictus of electrocution. Gauges and indicators, all now lifeless, surrounded him. Monroe raised Smith’s rifle and shot him in the center of the chest.
          “Afraid he was gonna get up and go another round, Cap’n?” Smith asked from beside his shoulder.
          “Let’s just say I’m beginning to understand Jinx’s philosophy. This is odd, though. I was expecting Reinhard to be controlling this thing.”
          “I think this is Reinhard,” Smith replied. “Look, there’s the mask in a holder by the seat.”
          “You’re right. But I assumed his face was deformed. This man’s face is as smooth as— Holy Jesus!”
          “What?”
          Monroe struck another match, holding it high to look up under the helmet.
          “Do you recognize this gentleman?”
          “Does look a bit familiar.”
          “Well he should. This is Baron Dietrich von Redesky.”
          “Nah, it can’t be!” Smith replied. “Give me a match.”
          He took one from Monroe and struck it, climbing up onto the thing’s leg to get a closer look.
          “It is,” Smith said after a moment’s study of the man’s contorted face, “but how? As I recall, he jumped ship on us when we were five hundred miles from civilization.”
          “Yes, well, here he is, and apparently he left the Prussian spy service to join this Kraken that Jinx was talking about.”
          “Apparently. And speaking of Jinx, we probably ought to start looking for her.”
          “Nahodha!” Bakari said tensely, aiming the LeMat at the top of the stairs where two faces had appeared.
          They took in the scene, making no hostile moves, then one said, “Bosi amekufa!”
          Both faces dropped below roof level, and both could be heard shouting as they pounded down the stairs.
          “Bosi amekufa! Bosi amekufa!”
          The boss is dead!
          The men followed cautiously, ready to fire at any opposition, but there was none. Word that their employer had met his demise on the roof had spread like a wave before them, and the house was rapidly becoming deserted. The only resistance was offered by a group of men they inadvertently cornered in a duty room, and their escape was negotiated in exchange for Jinx's location. Moving quickly down the hall, they called to her from the top of the basement stairs, and she came up to a joyful reunion; joy that was quickly dampened.
          “Let’s go see if Patty and Darweshi made it,” Monroe said.

Kisumu Thursday afternoon

          Monroe, Smith, Bakari, and Hobbs sat around a table in the restaurant of the Kenya Arms Hotel, each poking at a plate of half-eaten food. Rain ran in rivulets down the window panes, and even here at midday, the lamps were turned up full; the Long Rain was making its rapid approach felt. Their mood matched the weather. Kestrel was a twisted wreck, and even if they could lay hands on the money needed to repair her, her next flight was at least a year off. Patty’s left arm hung in a sling, a plaster of Paris cast wrapping it from armpit to palm. Darweshi wasn’t present.
          The street-side door opened to admit Jinx Jenkins, looking thoroughly rough in her long duster and oilcloth-covered stockman’s hat, water dripping onto the towels spread just inside the door to protect the floor inside. Acknowledging them with a point of her index finger, she shucked her dripping rain gear and joined them.
          “You’re a cheery lot,” she said, waving to a waiter. “Coffee, black,” she told him.
          “You didn't see what happened to Darweshi,” Patience said in a dull tone. “She was holding on to the metal fowler when the electricity hit us. Every muscle in her body locked up as hard as it could, then she just went limp. Getting her out of the water with this broken arm was almost more than I could do. The doctors still don’t know whether she’s going to pull through"
          “That was incredibly brave of you, Patience. She has a chance, thanks to you. Why didn’t you get shocked like she did?”
          “All I can imagine is that I wasn’t touching anything metal. No other explanation suffices. Chance, the great decider of life.”
          The waiter came with Jinx’s coffee, and she took a long drink.
          “Well, I’m glad you're still with us,” Jinx said. “Have you thought about my offer?”
          “To work for the Darklighters?” Monroe asked.
          “We could use a crew of your, should we say, perseverance in this region. Some of the world’s most valuable resources are concentrated in sub-Saharan Africa, and that won’t escape Kraken’s notice. The home office has made it clear that if you agree to join us, they’ll outfit you with a new vessel optimized with every modern accoutrement for the sort of work we do.”
          “Sorry,” Monroe said. “I tried serving a government once before. That didn’t turn out so well.”
          “I told you—”
          “I know. The Darklighters isn’t a government. No, it’s sixteen governments, and if one is a good employer, how much better must sixteen be? Anyway, you know what we just went through. Do you seriously think I would take a job where I might have to put a crew through that again, and again, and again?”
          “What will you do?”
          “I have skills, and two strong hands. I’ll find something.”
          “All right. You sacrificed your ship in our service. I have no doubt that the Darklighters will be more than willing to help you get back on your feet. Check the telegraph office every day until you hear from me.”
          “That wouldn’t go amiss. Bloody decent of them, actually.”
          “Patience, how about you? You came down here for adventure. The Darklighters can promise you that, at least.”
          “I’ll tell you the truth, taking my ease in a Brixton parlor is looking pretty attractive right now.”
          “That life will kill you, you know.”
          “Not half as quickly as this one, I’ll warrant.”
          Jinx sat for a moment, looking from face to face.
          “I’m sorry, Bakari,” she said. “With the others not taking our offer, I’m afraid I have nothing to offer you at all.”
          “Do not worry, young miss,” he said. “I came with nothing, and I leave with nothing. Balance is achieved.”
          “Balance,” she repeated. “Speaking of balance, you lot really tangled with this von Redesky character before? Who was he?”
          “A Prussian spy.” Monroe said. “He had achieved a reputation as a great anthropologist, and used it as a cover for his spying. He fooled us, and tried to kill us all, but Patty, Doctor Ellsworth, and our old engineer turned the tables on him. We got careless for a moment, and he slipped over the side and slid down a rope into the jungle. We were five hundred miles from anywhere. It’s unbelievable that he survived, and that he went to work for this Kraken organization.”
          “Not really,” Jinx said. “If he was both famous, and a spy, and you had discovered his secret, that would have rendered him useless to the Prussians. But if you have an evil bone in your body, Kraken will find a use for you.”
          “Does that apply to you, too?”
          “Not that they haven’t tried,” she said emphatically, “but I like the world the way it is. For the most part, at least. Don't you? Are you sure you won't join me in saving it?”
          Monroe looked down at the table and shook his head; Patience just stared out the window.
          “All right. If you change your minds, you know how to contact me. David, are you ready to try out that new railroad?”
          “Ready,” he said, standing up and taking a rucksack from beneath the table. He offered his hand to Monroe. “Cap’n, thanks for the ride. It was good while it lasted."
          “Are you sure you won’t stay?” Monroe asked, shaking Smith’s hand with both of his.
          “I can’t. Those bounty hunters tracked me half way around the world, and if I’m worth enough to come all the way from America, there’ll be plenty more to follow. I can’t subject my friends to any more of that, and with the Darklighters, well, they have a way of utilizing my kind of talents.”
          “All right. Drop us a line from time to time and let us know how you’re coming along.”
          “Good bye, David,” Patience said, standing up and stepping into the rangy cowboy for a full-body hug. “I’ll miss you terribly.”
          “You most of all,” he said, drawing her in close for a long embrace, mindful of her injuries, handling her like a delicate porcelain doll. “Maybe I’ll visit you in London some fine day. You can introduce me to all your little Pats and Pattys.”
          “I’d like that. You take care of yourself, Mr. Charlie Bender. I mean it. If you don’t come soon for that visit, I’ll have to come and fetch you.”
          “You can count on me.”
          “I always have.”
          Smith reached across to shake Bakari’s hand and wish him well, then it was time to go. He walked to the door with Jinx, held her raincoat for her, opened the door, and they were gone.
          Just like that, Monroe thought as Patience sat down beside him with tears in her eyes and laid her hand on his. How fragile our friendships, how fleeting our lives.
          “You know I have no choice but to rebuild my ship,” he said to her. “If she’s serious about the Darklighters helping me, that is.”
          “You’ll stay down here after this?”
          “Where else am I going to go, Patty? Airships are my trade, and I’m a pariah in Europe. If they won’t help me rebuild, maybe I can get a job with Finney.”
          That brought a genuine smile to her lips.
          “I can’t see you hob-nobbing with those crazy Irishmen,” she told him.
          “It may not come to that. If Jinx comes through, I’ll be taking to the air in my own ship again. I’ll need a pilot, Patience, and I’ve never met one I’d rather fly with than you. Won’t you wait and see what happens?”
          “You’ve treated me pretty roughly over the past few days, Captain. A girl – a woman – of a certain age needs to feel a sense of security. We don’t stay tomboys forever.”
          “I understand. Just know that I’ll always have a job for you if you change your mind. How about you, Bakari? Would you like to be my engineer if a new Kestrel rises from the wreckage?”
          “It has been an honor flying with you, Captain, and should you build another ship, I would be honored to fly with you again, but I will need a job now.”
          “I understand. You keep in touch. I’ll let you know if I hear anything. Well, shall we go down to the wreck and see if we can salvage any of our belongings?”
          “Lead the way, Captain,” Hobbs said, rising to her feet.