The Inexplicables (Clockwork Century) (34 page)

Rector didn’t know, so he said, “No!” and kept running.

“Wait!”

“Are you crazy?”

“Wait,” Houjin said again—and with a halfhearted effort to regain his quiet and composure, he gasped to catch his breath. They were still alone, with nothing but the sound of their own breathing filling their ears. “He’s stuck down there, or out cold, or something. We’ve got a minute, I think.”

“What are you doing?” Rector demanded, still ready to run headlong down the hill and right back into the Vaults without pause. He didn’t want a minute. He wanted out of there.

“The diesel,” he said.

“Too heavy to carry with us!” Rector insisted.

“I know! I don’t want to take it all the way.” Houjin knocked the nearest steel drum onto its side and gave it a shove. It rolled and sloshed, heavily lumbering over the uneven ground. “Help me with this.”

“I thought we were running—”

“Just
help me,
” he insisted, shoving his weapon into the back of his belt. “I have an idea. For later.”

Rector joined him at the side of the drum, planting his hands on it to help with the shoving, rolling, and guiding. “If anybody sees us, we’re dead! If we get caught, I’m running, and I’m leaving you here. I’m going back underground.”

“We might be dead already,” Houjin huffed. “If we get spotted, we drop it. All right?”

“Fine,” Rector grumbled, halfway praying that someone would see them so he could resume his flight to safety.

Both of them were almost faint with fright and exertion; their air supply came too thin to support so much running and hollering. But they pressed onward and pushed harder, manhandling the metal barrel over the hill’s edge and down onto one of the curved walkways, where it could roll more smoothly, so long as it followed the path.

But then Houjin pushed it off the path, along the wall’s edge. The way was harder going, but they kept at it.

“Where are we going with this thing?” Rector demanded. “It’s heavy as hell!”

“To the hole … in the wall…” Houjin puffed. “Trust me … would you?”

“Ain’t got much choice right now, do I?”

“You could find your way back to Sizemore without me.”

Rector said, “Maybe,” and was almost surprised when he realized it was true, never mind that he’d just threatened to do exactly that. He panted back at Houjin, “But you look like … you need … a hand. And I wanna know … what you want to set on fire.”

“The hole.”

“You want to set … the hole … on
fire
?”

“Not right now … but later. You’ll see … what I mean…”

They stashed the diesel fuel behind a stack of stones that had been blown off the wall. They hid it with a few extras, and now that they were away from the park and the tower, they rested. Houjin marked the spot with a small pyramid of rocks.

“What’s that for?”

“So we can find it later, or tell other people how to find it. Come on, let’s get back to the Station and hand off this dynamite. I don’t think the Doornails will take too kindly to us stashing it down in their living quarters, but Yaozu has places he can keep it.”

Twenty-five

Rest didn’t come easy for anyone that night. More than a few people stayed up and worried, or went out to the Station hunting for news. And the men who worked out at the Station—most of them known for violence and a disinclination to be friendly—chatted nervously with the Doornails and Chinamen alike about where they’d found the dynamite and how much damage it might’ve done, had they not unhooked it and stashed it someplace safer.

They replaced everything they found with forgeries made out of pebbles wrapped in paper. These false sticks wouldn’t fool anyone on close inspection, but Yaozu didn’t think the tower men were likely to double-check them. After all, he’d given the order that the lines must be left in place—and the lines were long, some running as much as four or five blocks in length.

Everyone was counting on the fact that the tower men did not intend to come any closer to the Station than necessary.

Rector’s sleep in his new room was as restless as everyone else’s; he tossed and turned, and dreamed badly—of rotters and inexplicable monsters, and of Zeke’s ghost—but Zeke wasn’t dead, and that’s how he knew he was dreaming. He shook himself awake and heard the high-pitched fuss of the fox in the room down the hall … which wasn’t much more pleasant than the dreams of things that wanted to eat him.

But he was awake, and there was nothing to be done about it.

He pulled on his boots and listened to the unhappy creature until it quieted, and its vocalizations were replaced with the soft, muttering syllables of someone speaking gently.

Rector knew it was Zeke even before he got down to the fox’s room.

The door was cracked open. He pushed it, letting a little more light inside.

Zeke crouched next to the cage, his fingers precariously close to the fox’s quivering, pointed nose. The boy looked up when Rector entered. “Oh, hey Rector. Just checking on the fox. Angeline told me he was down here.”

“Making plenty of noise, ain’t he?” Rector rubbed at his eyes, and scratched at the sweaty, itchy seams where his mask had sat against his face for too many hours.

“He’s scared. And he doesn’t feel good.”

“He drank the water. That’ll make anybody feel like shit.”

Zeke nodded and said, “I brought him more, though, and he drank that, too.”

“You get him to eat anything?”

“Some jerky.” He held it up, and Rector saw that he’d been hand-feeding the fox through the slim wire bars.

“You got to be careful. If that fox bites you…”

“He’s not trying to bite me, he’s only trying to eat. I think he’ll get better, if he gets enough grub in him.” Zeke gazed at the fox as though he’d give almost anything to pet the thing’s ears.

“Don’t be a dummy,” Rector warned. “That fox ain’t nobody’s dog. It’d bite you even if it weren’t sick. That there’s a wild animal, and if it gets better, it’s going right back outside the wall, where it belongs.”

“That’s fine. I don’t mind turning him loose; I just don’t want him to be so damn sick. I feel sorry for him, is all.”

Rector sat down beside Zeke and drew up his knees. “I’d feel sorry for you, if we had to cut off your hand or something.”

Zeke smiled, but didn’t withdraw his fingers or the jerky he offered the fox. The animal took another bite, chewed it, and then retreated to the cage’s far end. It turned in a circle and flopped down, looking dejected … but maybe less dejected than it had the day before.

“You couldn’t sleep either?” Zeke asked.

“I been asleep. I just woke up.”

“Everybody’s riled up. All this talk of dynamite and fire … the Station is going to war with the tower. Only the tower don’t know it yet.”

“I
hope
they don’t know it,” Rector said nervously.

“What do you mean by that?”

He told Zeke about the inexplicable and Captain Cly, and how he and Houjin had almost been caught. He added, “I can’t imagine they knew who we were, or what we were doing. They might’ve noticed we opened some of the dynamite and took a bit, but there’s always the chance they’ll write it off to boys being boys.”

“Ain’t that just about the dumbest expression? Boys being boys … what the hell else are we supposed to be?”

“Damned if I know.”

“Me either.”

They sat together in silence for a minute, staring at the pitiful fox, then Zeke said, “I been thinking. Even if we catch the inexplicable and stick him in the jail, how will we give him clean air? If Captain Cly can’t take him, then the thing’s too big to wrestle. And I don’t think he would understand if we held a gun to him.”

“Miss Angeline seems to think we’ll manage.”

“I know, and she’s usually right. But the spaces under the jailhouse aren’t sealed; the sasquatch wouldn’t get enough clean air like that. He’s not like this little fox. We can’t just put him in a crate and stick him in a corner.”

“Then what did you have in mind?”

“Well, I was thinking, see: How do
we
get clean air when we’re moving around up topside?”

Rector said, “Masks. Filters. All that rigmarole.”

“Right. So what if we put a mask on the monster?”

Rector leaned back thoughtfully against the wall. “How do you know he’d wear one? He could yank it off.”

“Not if we tied up his hands, or something. If there are any irons left in the jail, and they aren’t all rusted through, maybe we could hitch him up like a crook.”

“Sounds tricky.”

“Yeah, but it’d be easier than convincing him to come with us just because we’re nice people who want to help him. If we can get him to the jail and get him food and water, maybe he’d settle down enough to trust us.”

“That kind of thing don’t happen.”

“It don’t?” Zeke pointed at the fox. “That fox is scared to death, but it knows I don’t mean it no harm. If the inexplicables are something more like people, they must be even smarter. Even if he doesn’t understand us, he might understand we’re on his side.”

“All that sounds real nice, but I’d be afraid to see it in action. And anyway, where would we get a mask big enough to fit him?”

“The captain has a big head, but he’s got a mask to fit it. So does Mr. Swakhammer.”

“You want to ask him for a loaner, to stick on a monster?”

“No, I’m just saying—there are big masks. I saw a fellow wearing one once. It was like a big glass bubble with a row of small filters and tubes instead of two big filters. I think it’d fit over the inexplicable’s head.”

Rector tried to imagine this mask, and failed. “I have to see this thing.”

When they left the fox it was resting. They shut the door to let it sleep off whatever it could, then went hunting for the big glass bubble Zeke swore existed someplace. It took them over an hour to find it, in the very back of the second largest storeroom on the bottommost floor. When they did, Zeke held it triumphantly aloft.

Rector could hardly believe his eyes. “That’s the damnedest thing I ever saw!” he exclaimed. “Who made it?”

“Doctor Minnericht. It’s a good idea—a mask that you can see out of all the way around. It reminds me of something I saw in a book once, a drawing about people who go underwater and swim around without coming up for air.”

Rector had never seen such a book. “People can do that?”

“I don’t know. It might’ve just been a story.”

“Let me see that thing.”

Zeke handed it over. “Sure, but be careful with it. That’s the only one. But you saw the monster—I mean, the inexplicable. Do you think this would fit over his head?”

Rector weighed the thing in his hands. It was heavy indeed—heavier than it looked, and big enough to hold a few gallons of water. “I think so, yeah.”

“Then we should try it. Let’s take it to Angeline, when she gets up and around.”

“What time is it right now?”

“No idea. Maybe a smidge before dawn.”

Rector yawned. “No wonder I’m so tired.”

“Should’ve stayed in bed.”

“So should you,” he shot back.

“Well, neither one of us did—so let’s go to the kitchen and get some breakfast. Then we’ll see what Angeline has to say about the mask idea, and she can tell us if she thinks we’re crazy.”

Twenty-six

Angeline did not think they were particularly crazy. In fact, when they caught up to her and Houjin in the Vault’s main parlor area, she rather liked the idea. “It’ll be easier to put a hat on ’im than haul him anyplace civilized for safekeeping, won’t it? Of course, this won’t make it any easier to catch him.”

“No, that part will be up to us,” Houjin said. He was holding the mask and examining it, no doubt thinking of ways it could be improved. “If only we knew what he wanted, we could lure him out—maybe get him to chase us.”

Rector shuddered. “I hate everything about that plan.”

“Food,” Zeke proposed. “Water. That’s all the fox wants, as far as we can tell. It ain’t even trying to bite us or nothing.”

“It’s a start,” the princess mused. “But running through the Blight carrying a bucket of water … that plan won’t end well. Food will be easier.”

“What do they eat?” Rector asked.

Houjin smirked. “He tried to eat
you.
”

“I bet I’m
delicious.
But I don’t want to be monster bait.”

“Not a monster,” she reminded them. “Call him by his name, Sasquatch. Is that so hard?”

Rector said, “No, ma’am,” and Zeke shrugged.

Angeline shook her head. “I’m still thinking about food. Just about everything native to this place lives on the same diet, if it’ll eat plants and animals both. Let’s assume Sasquatch is that kind of creature.”

Rector frowned. “Why?”

“Because it’s shaped like us, and kin to us, and
we’re
the sort of creatures who eat both plants and animals. Which gives me a good idea … You boys stay out of trouble for the morning. I’ll be back in a bit.”

“Wait … where are you going?” Houjin asked.

“Fishing!”

With that abrupt shift in plan, she took off. After she was far enough gone that there was no chance she’d overhear, Houjin leaned forward conspiratorially to ask, “Say, what are you two doing for the rest of the day?”

Rector shrugged and Zeke said, “I was going to go up to Fort Decatur in case the captain needs anything. Why? You got something fun in mind?”

A thrilled—but in Rector’s opinion, unnervingly sharp—grin spread across Houjin’s face. “Do you want to come with me to the Station and see what I’ve been doing? I’ll show you what I’m making to fight the men at the tower.”

“Why are you working all the way out there?” Zeke asked.

“You wouldn’t want me fiddling with dynamite around here, would you? And before you say it: Yes, I know your mother doesn’t want you there, Zeke. But Yaozu won’t bother you if you don’t bother him. He’s got too much else to worry about right now.” Houjin looked at Rector, using his eyebrows to ask for backup.

Rector got it and said, “Sure, and I won’t rat you out. Come with us, won’t you, Zeke? Let’s get a gander at Houjin’s toys. It beats hanging around watching the captain moon over your momma, don’t it?”