Gears of a Mad God: A Steampunk Lovecraft Adventure (7 page)

She wasn't sure
she could make it over the railing, but she had to, so she gritted
her teeth and heaved. She gained a precious half inch, took a
better grip on the railing, and in moments she managed to swarm
over.

Colleen found
herself on a walkway about four feet wide. On one side was the
railing she'd climbed over. On the other side was the hull of the
ship, pierced every few feet by portholes. She ducked low under the
portholes and moved quickly sternward, toward her friends.

She reached the
back of the forecastle. The walkway made a right-angle turn, and
Colleen crouched in a strip of shadow, looking down on the deck of
the ship eight feet below. By her calculation, she was directly
above the hatch where Smith and Carter waited. She scanned the
deck, looking for the gunman who had them pinned.

She spotted
him, a man in a white uniform shirt and dark trousers, crouching
behind a vast coil of rope. His attention was focussed on the hatch
below her. She was pretty sure she hadn't been seen. The rest of
the deck seemed empty.

Colleen crept
along the walkway, feeling exposed for the first several feet until
the coil of rope was between her and the cultist. She followed the
walkway until she found a ladder going down. There she froze for
long moments, listening to the mad beating of her heart, straining
her eyes and ears into the darkness. If she'd been spotted, the
ambush would be here.

Was she unseen?
It was impossible to be sure, but there was no time to be cautious.
She went down the ladder as quietly as she could, took a firm grip
on her wrench, and tiptoed into the darkness. No light reached this
part of the deck. Each step was a cautious probe with her toes. She
inched forward, moving past big, dark, shapeless structures, and
finally saw the coil of rope gleaming ahead of her.

Now she moved
faster, terrified that the gunman had heard her, was already
reacting. She went around the coil of rope quickly, almost running,
and found him turning, his mouth open, the gun swinging around
toward her.

She swung the
wrench with all of her strength at the pale gleam of his face. She
hit him a glancing blow on the forehead. The gun wavered in his
fist, and she brought the wrench up and swung at his wrist. Metal
crunched into bone and the pistol fell clattering to the deck.

He cried out
and clutched his wrist, and she slammed the wrench into the top of
his head. He swore, and she gritted her teeth and clubbed him
again. This time he slumped forward.

When she peered
around the coil of rope she saw Carter and Smith already charging
through the hatch. She gave them a wave, then turned back to the
gunman.

He was moaning
and holding his wrist, struggling to sit up. She shook her head. It
was harder than she'd ever suspected to knock a man out. She picked
up the pistol, pointed it at him, and found she couldn't bring
herself to shoot. Well, he was injured and disarmed. That would
have to do.

She stepped
around the coil of rope and a shot rang out. She flinched, looking
around, as Smith dove for cover. Carter was nowhere in sight. Smith
caught her eye and pointed above her. She turned and saw a dark
shape moving high on the aft mast.

A horizontal
hatch swung open in the middle of the deck, fifty feet or so aft of
Colleen. A man's head and shoulders appeared. He held a gun, a
rifle or shotgun by the look of it, and Smith snapped off a couple
of quick shots, making him duck.

A sudden glow
appeared below the gunwale of the ship, an engine thundered, and
tires squealed. The dark figure on the mast fired at something
beyond the ship, and Colleen took advantage of the distraction to
spring up and run to where Smith was hiding behind a lifeboat. She
dropped into a crouch beside him.

The convertible
raced up the wharf, headlights ablaze. Colleen could just make out
the shape of Maggie at the wheel. Garson was beside her, standing,
his fat body wedged against the seat back, his legs wide for
support. He had a machine gun in his hands, a Tommy gun with a drum
magazine, and he fired a stream of bullets at the ship.

"Now's our
chance!" Smith cried. He leaped up and ran back to the hatchway,
and Colleen followed. Carter came through, supporting Jane. Colleen
dropped her wrench, pocketed the pistol, and took Jane's arm as
Carter turned back to help Parker.

Colleen brought
Jane to the edge of the ship and the car screeched to a halt below
them. Pistol shots rang out behind her, but Colleen focussed on
helping Jane clamber over the railing. She held Jane's wrists,
lowered her as far as she could, and Garson came running over to
catch Jane's legs. Colleen let go and Garson lowered her to the
wharf, then helped her into the car.

"Go, for God's
sake," Carson snapped, and Colleen hopped over the railing and
dropped to the wharf. Rick came next. Smith and Carter almost threw
Parker over the railing and into Rick's waiting arms. Rick grunted,
stumbled, and Colleen caught him. They lugged Parker to the car and
dumped him into the back seat.

Smith and
Carter came flying over the railing, Maggie gunned the engine, and
Colleen sprang onto the running board and hung on.

Maggie didn’t
waste time turning the car around, just put it in reverse and hit
the gas. They went screaming down the wharf, Colleen clinging
white-knuckled to the top of the car door, Rick on the running
board beside her, his teeth gleaming as he grinned in the
darkness.

Garson was back
in the front passenger seat, Tommy gun in his hands, and Colleen
flinched as the machine gun fired inches in front of her face. She
smelled hot metal and gun smoke and tasted the tang of cordite in
the air. Garson's face was fixed in a snarl and he fired in short,
controlled bursts.

It wasn't
enough. Return fire came from the ship, another machine gun.
Colleen could see muzzle flashes coming from the top of the
forecastle. Bullets ripped up the planks of the wharf, then smacked
into the front of the car. Steam billowed from the radiator, the
car swerved, a line of bullet holes appeared on the hood, and
Garson grunted and let go of the Tommy gun.

The Tommy gun
landed on the hood of the car, and Colleen thought about reaching
for it, but the car was swerving violently and she was afraid to
let go. Then Maggie gave the steering wheel a sharp jerk and the
Tommy gun went bouncing off into the darkness.

They reached
the end of the wharf. Maggie turned sharply, braked hard, and threw
the car into first gear. They lurched forward, steam from the
damaged radiator blowing over them, and Maggie muttered to the car
as she fought the controls. They rumbled down Wharf Street, moving
no faster than a man could run. A block later the engine gave a
sharp bang and died.

"That's it,"
said Maggie, "we're walking from here."

"I think Mr.
Garson was hit," Colleen said. He was sitting slumped forward in
the front passenger seat, and she put a hand on his shoulder,
pushing him back. His head lolled to the side as his body flopped
back, and she could see a line of bullet wounds in his chest and
stomach. His eyes stared blindly at the sky.

Rick reached
past Colleen and put two fingers on the side of Garson's throat.
"No pulse," he said, and closed Garson's eyes.

"We have to
move," Carson said. "We'll have to leave him, and the car. They'll
be coming, and they have us outnumbered."

Colleen helped
Jane out of the car. Rick and Carter got Parker out and held him
supported between them. Colleen glanced back at the wharf. A knot
of men had gathered beside the
Arcadia
. As she watched, the
men broke into a trot, heading down the wharf.

"Here they
come," said Carter, his voice grim. "Let's move."

Their progress
down Wharf Street was painfully slow. Jane was crying, her eyes
screwed shut, only moving forward because Colleen was pushing on
her back. Parker was getting worse, barely walking, Carter and Rick
taking most of his weight. Colleen glanced backward and couldn’t
see the cultists, but then she caught the slap of shoes on
pavement. The cultists were gaining.

Smith trotted
ahead, examining vehicles parked along the street. He tried doors
and peered in windows, and Colleen felt a surge of hope. If Smith
could get a car started, they might still escape with their
lives.

A light came on
in front of a warehouse, a door swung open, and a figure appeared,
a burly older man in the uniform of a night watchman. He stared at
them, and Carter lifted his pistol and said, "Best you stay off the
street."

The watchman
nodded, stepped back inside, and closed the door.

A car started
behind them, and Colleen looked back, excited. If someone came
driving up the street, they could flag the car down, beg for a
ride-

Another engine
started, and Rick swore. "They've got wheels," he said. "Looks like
we're done for."

As if in
answer, an engine roared into life ahead of them. A pickup truck
came rolling backward down the street, Smith leaning out the
driver's side window. He stopped in front of them and everyone
clambered into the back.

Headlights
flooded the street as a couple of cars bore down on them. The truck
roared forward, but their pursuers were very close. Jane retreated
to a front corner of the truck box, sitting with her arms clutching
her knees. Parker lay sprawled on the floor of the box, moaning,
sliding back and forth when the truck swerved or turned. Colleen
knelt by his side and tried to keep him still.

Carter and Rick
stood at the back of the truck, checking their guns. Colleen caught
snatches of their conversation. They were nearly out of
ammunition.

Maggie knelt
beside Parker and took his hand. Her eyes were bright with fear,
but her voice was calm as she murmured, "Hang in there, David. It
will all be over soon. You'll be fine."

They raced
through the dark streets of Victoria, their pursuers always close
behind. From time to time a shot rang out from the cars behind
them. No one returned fire.

They reached
the outskirts of the city. Colleen could see the dark expanse of
the ocean on the right, with the shipyards of Esquimalt shining in
the distance. On the left the occasional building flashed past,
then darkness. There would be no more innocent bystanders to be
hurt by a stray bullet, but no witnesses, no help, if the cultists
caught up with them.

The truck raced
through the darkness, and Colleen could do nothing but clutch
Parker's jacket and pray that no bullet would hit them. She shot
worried glances at Jane, who was staring into space, her eyes
unseeing. There was nothing she could do for Jane, though. She
thought about trying to check Parker's bandages, but the truck was
lurching and bouncing so much, she didn't think she could do
anything even if his bandages had come loose.

The image of
her workshop in Toronto flashed through her mind, and she wished
for home with an intensity that startled her. She felt as if she
would do anything to be back home with Roland's arms around her. He
symbolized everything she'd lost, safety and family, a sense of
security.

The truck
swerved, pressing her against the side of the box, and suddenly
they were bouncing along on much rougher track. They passed a tree
so close she heard branches whipping against the side of the
truck.

Rick looked
past the cab and said, "Oh, damn it!" Then he dropped to his knees,
reaching out to brace himself, and cried, "Dead end!"

A moment later
everyone lurched as Smith hit the brakes and brought the truck
around in a tight turn. They stopped, gears clashed below them, and
the truck lurched back.

The cars with
the cultists were coming in fast, Colleen heard the skid of tires
as they braked, and the truck lurched into motion. It looked like
the truck and the cars were going to crash head-on, and Colleen did
her best to brace herself and Parker. Then one car went past on her
left, close enough that she could have reached out and slapped the
roof as it went by. On her right there came a squeal of metal as
they brushed the other car in passing.

A shot rang
out, she heard the impact against the truck's fender, and Rick
leaned out and fired into the nearest car. Then the truck went
bouncing back up the track, with the two cars backing and filling
behind them as they turned around.

All too soon
the cars were turned around and following, their headlights
bouncing crazily as they raced up the track. The truck turned back
onto a paved road, picking up speed, but the cars were soon closing
the gap.

Soon a dark
green sedan was right behind them, nearly hitting their back
bumper. The sedan edged to the right and accelerated, and the truck
swerved right, keeping them from pulling alongside. Then they came
to a curve, the road broadened, and the sedan slipped into place
beside the truck.

Rick and Carter
went to the right side of the truck, looking down on the car roof,
trying to line up a shot on the driver. They didn't seem to notice
when the other car, a blue coupe, started to gain ground.

Colleen left
Parker's side and moved to the tailgate. A figure was crawling
through the passenger-side window of the coupe. When skirts
suddenly billowed in the wind she realized it was a woman. The
woman stood on the running board, one hand clutching the door of
the coupe, the other hand clutching a pistol. The coupe
accelerated.

The woman was
wild-eyed, her face demented, her hair streaming behind her. Her
attention was fixed on something near ground level. When she
levelled the pistol, Colleen realized she was planning to shoot the
truck's rear tire.

Colleen felt a
moment of paralyzing terror, which ended when she noticed something
in her pocket digging into her hip. It was the pistol she had
captured on the ship. She drew the pistol out, her hands moving
almost unconsciously. It was a simple enough mechanical device, and
she'd picked up the basics automatically, watching the others use
their guns. Push down the safety lever. Draw the hammer, watch the
cylinder rotate as the hammer clicked into place.