BreadCrumb Trail (The Yellow Hoods, #2): Steampunk meets Fairy Tale (29 page)

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Authors: Adam Dreece

Tags: #Science Fiction, #Emergent Steampunk, #Steampunk, #fantasy, #Fairy Tale

BOOK: BreadCrumb Trail (The Yellow Hoods, #2): Steampunk meets Fairy Tale

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“You won’t believe it! There are
foreign soldiers
outside!” Jerome replied, beads of his sweat falling to the worn, wide-plank wooden floor.

“Hmm. What are foreign soldiers doing in Mineau?” A grunt of pain followed the question. “I’m almost up.”

“Let me help you,” said Jerome, rushing to his friend’s assistance. “You should be careful when getting up.”

Jerome’s friend, black stubble on his face, smiled back with gentle green eyes. His poorly-cut short hair, a favor from Jerome, was a mess, but he’d made the best of it. “You are very kind, but I need to learn to stand on my own,” the man said, chuckling. Jerome helped him stand, and gave him a cane for each hand. “You have been
too
kind, these past months. First, your aunt cared for me, having found me beaten and broken by that roadside, and then, after her passing, you took me in. I do owe you and your family a great debt.”

“I can’t imagine what it would’ve been like to be robbed, run over by a wagon, and left for dead,” said Jerome sympathetically.

Jerome’s friend waved off his concern. “I don’t like to think about it. I have a
new
lease on life—and I’m thankful for that.”

Jerome gave a distracted smile. He peeked out the window, to the street below.

His friend stumbled forward. The well-worn robes made him look almost like a beige-hooded beggar. His legs, which had been broken, were still bound with wood as they continued to heal, and so he moved slowly, stiffly. “What do you see?” he asked, trying to have a look, but almost falling over.

“What concerns me is what I
don’t
see,” replied Jerome.

“What’s that?”

“I don’t see any of our kingdom’s soldiers, nor our town’s guardsmen. I see people, in small groups, running around. Some are fleeing, while some look like they’re preparing to fight. But where are
our
soldiers? Our guards?”

His friend sighed deeply, knowingly. “Jerome, the Tub’s influence here must have fallen. I heard this had happened in a couple of the southern kingdoms.”

Jerome paused. “Huh? Wait—Andre, how do you know about the Tub?” he asked, surprised at his friend.

Andre chuckled, his jaw clicking slightly as he did. “Oh—I’ve learned
many
things in my life. I know of the Tub, and the Fare… and the
games
they play.” He hobbled over to a chair, while Jerome sat on the floor by the window.

“My advice, Jerome, is that we wait this out, here in this apartment. We stay away from the windows when we see trouble. We’re high enough up that we ought to be fine. We should
only
leave once all seems calm.”

Jerome nodded his agreement while staring out the window, watching the occasional foreign soldier fire at a running citizen. He’d never seen
anything
like it.

The next morning, Jerome nudged Andre awake. Andre had fallen asleep in his chair.

“Huh?” said Andre, rubbing his eyes and stretching. “Oh—I feel absolutely stiff. When did I fall asleep?”

Jerome handed him some tea and buttered bread. “After the cannons stopped. You missed some fighting nearby. One fighter had a crossbow with different kinds of bolts—one had exploded, and another one had a rope on it. Strange,” said Jerome, pausing. “I need to go see what has become of my café.”

Andre took a sip of his tea and placed it on the floor, groaning as he did so. “Before you say anything about leaving me here, forget it—I’m coming with you. You can’t go out there alone. If there’s trouble, you need a distraction to allow you to get away. I owe you that much, at least,” said Andre, making Jerome laugh as he helped Andre up.

The streets were eerily empty and quiet. It felt alien to Jerome, who had lived in Mineau all of his life. He walked slowly, to allow Andre to keep pace. They passed a couple of small buildings that had burned. Several windows along the way had been smashed, and left-behind items were scattered in the streets. Jerome was thankful there were no bodies to be seen.

“Maybe it wasn’t so bad,” he said, mostly to himself.

Andre hobbled along with his two canes. While strong enough to walk without them, he didn’t want to test himself. As his body healed, so did his spirit, and his sense of self. His mind had been almost as damaged as his body, and his friendship with Jerome had helped immeasurably.

Oddly, Andre walked along without concern for what he saw. He wanted to share in the pain he could see Jerome going through, but he was numb to it. None of this meant anything to him. As long as his life wasn’t in danger, Andre didn’t care.

Finally, they turned the corner and on to the street where the café was located. Things were worse here than they’d been led to believe. A military cannon, one of its large, wooden wheels broken, lay in the middle of the road. Many buildings nearby had burned down or were severely damaged. There were dead bodies here and there.

Jerome gazed in disbelief, panning from one side, to the other, and then locking on. “No, no, no—
No!
” he screamed, running down the street to the burned timber remains of the café that had been in his family for generations.

As Andre caught up, he started to feel genuinely bad for Jerome. He wasn’t heartless—just selective, perhaps, in what he cared about—and he did care about Jerome.

Jerome was on his knees, clutching at the ashes, mumbling. Andre couldn’t understand a word, but he knew the pain the man suffered.

Then, a glint of something caught Andre’s eye. It was buried under rubble, where the office had been. It seemed to call to him. At first, he tried to dismiss it;
just junk
, he thought, but it nagged at him. He couldn’t resist. He staggered over, letting go of his canes, and fell into the ashes and charred wood. He moved the debris until he beheld a tarnished, yet intact brass tube.

Andre’s eyes were wide in wonder at his find. He unscrewed the brass top and removed the plans it contained. As he studied what he’d found, a giggle started to ripple through him. The giggle became a laugh, and the laugh twisted into a dark, sinister laugh.

Jerome looked to his friend, who was stuffing the plans back into the tube. “That tube! I’d forgotten about that. It belongs to Monsieur Klaus—he forgot it here, at Solstice. I suppose we should get it back to him, somehow.”

Andre tore off his wooden leg braces, steadied himself, and stood up straight, grinning at his achievement. “Oh—
that’s
certainly not going to happen,” said Andre, sounding different.

Jerome got up and wiped his face on his sleeve. “Huh? What is it, and why were you laughing like that?”

Andre’s sinister, green-eyed gaze pierced Jerome. Andre looked like a man transformed, with a menacing grin from ear-to-ear.

“Andre?” asked Jerome, afraid.

Andre put the tattered strap of the tube over his shoulder and looked at Jerome. “Jerome, please consider your life as payment for your kindness. Leave, now,” he commanded. He closed his eyes and could feel the transformation complete.

“Andre—what’s
in
there?” asked Jerome, backing up. His friend seemed somehow taller, straighter, and—menacing.

“Redemption,” he replied, opening his eyes and sporting a sinister smile. "And who is Andre? My name… is
LeLoup
.”

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ABOUT THE AUTHOR

In 2014, Adam burst onto the indie author scene, putting an end to over 25 years of writing short stories that few ever saw. The Yellow Hoods series quickly became a best seller. In 2015, he became a full-time author and put aside his 20-year-long career as a software architect.

Adam enjoys engaging with readers and students, whether at events or online. You can follow him on Twitter
@adamdreece
, or on his blog at
AdamDreece.com
. You can also check out his
Amazon author page
. Also, feel free to
send him an email
!

He lives in Calgary, Alberta, Canada with his awesome wife, amazing kids, and a lot of sticky-notes.