The Clock Winked (The Sagittan Chronicles Book 2) (24 page)

A rare frown graced John’s forehead; two little wrinkles
dotted his smooth skin.

“Why are you taking us with you?” he asked. Salve’s cheerful
commentary silenced abruptly.

“I need you to witness my triumph,” Butler replied, leading
them through the turns of the bush paths.

“I don’t care about your bloody triumph,” Aunt Llewellyn
interrupted. “Where is my niece? You should know—if anything has happened to
her I will have your head on a platter! A very small platter, since your brain
is clearly very small! Like a—”

“Hush, old woman! Justice is being served. This very moment,
Bronwyn is putting that little black disk into the memory slot of the Clock.
Then she will climb the ladder, right to the top, to see if the Clock winks. I
corrupted the disk.” A smile twisted across his features. “It will destroy the
Clock slowly, with a virus infiltrating the thing both clans hold so dearly.
And then, Bronwyn will fall.
To her death.”
His twisted
grin widened for a moment and then disappeared into complete sincerity. “Then
justice will be served.”

“That sounds like a stupid plan,” Aunt Llewellyn muttered.
“You have no right to drag my niece into it!”

“Justice for what?” asked John.

Butler jabbed John in the back with the pistol. “What do you
think? What do you
think,
Mr. I’m-So-Smart? Tell me,
right now, what do you think?” His eyes widened with anger and the bushes
seemed to lean in around them. John could feel Butler’s hot breath on his neck.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know.” He tensed, expecting a
reaction—possibly a bullet in his head.

In a hoarse whisper, Butler said, “You. Don’t. Know.” His
scowl deepened. “You don’t know.
Because nobody knows!”
His voice began to get louder. “Nobody knows because nobody asked. Nobody knows
because it was hidden under the dirt and the slime and so-called freedom of the
press by the filthy liars that live in this city!”

Salve flinched at the insult, but then nodded, a little
sadly.

“I got stomped on and trampled for no good reason, and
nobody knows. Not a single bloody person. Not even you, who
thinks
he knows so much about everything. Not even you!”

“Why don’t you tell us?” John ventured, still poised in a
perpetual cringe for fear that this insane Butler would unexpectedly decide to
pull the trigger of the gun that wavered from his back to Aunt Llewellyn’s.

“Because if I tell you, you’ll know.”
Butler scowled.

“Goodness gracious, Butler,” Aunt Llewellyn exclaimed.
“Either
tell
us or don’t, but don’t be such a dramatic
cat.”

“I am the boss now, not you!” Butler exclaimed. “So, quiet!”
He swerved the gun to aim at Aunt Llewellyn instead of John. “But if you must
know, my parents were brutally murdered in a fight between these two lousy
gangs!
Brutally murdered in front of my own eyes!”

John winced. “That’s awful,” he said.

“And the police never came! The ambulance never came! The
press never came! Rathead just carted their bodies away and left me to fend for
myself!” Anger was rolling from Butler like water crashing through a dam which
has been broken by a madman with an unfortunately placed bomb. “So I waited. I
waited so long. I learned about them and their stupid, stupid war. I learned
about the Keeper and the Clock and about everyone’s goals and ambitions and I
decided one thing. Ask what that was.”

“What was that?” John and Aunt Llewellyn chorused. Salve had
tiptoed closer to Butler, craning his neck to hear.

“I decided that I would cut them off from their homeland.
For good.
I knew I couldn’t kill all of their parents, but I
could isolate them, the same way I was left alone.”

Butler abruptly stopped and stared at a small hole at the
bottom of one of the bushes. He smiled. “She got through. She made it through!”
Turning back to his captives, he pointed the gun forward. “Go.
No not there, the next one.
Move!”

They stepped out into a melee of fighting. Men and women
darted behind bushes, kneeling down, taking aim and pulling the trigger. They
sprinted here and there, lying on their stomachs on the top of the Clock, and
yelling to each other across the maze. The bushes were ripped apart, and blood
pooled in a couple places on the ground. It looked like an adult game of
capture the flag, but with guns and bleeding.

Salve looked around him. Something about this fight seemed
very odd. Then he realized: no one was dying. His eyes quickly picked out
different scenes: to his left, a woman held onto her arm as blood poured onto
the ground—but the bullet had missed the artery. Towards the rising wall of the
ancient clock, a man with a blue-striped face dragged an unconscious woman
without blue stripes into the bushes. He placed her gently on her back and then
ran back out into the madness. Over to the left, a woman with blue stripes
tackled a man without blue stripes as a bullet whooshed over their heads. A few
were injured, but none were dying. It all seemed to be no more than a show.

“Now it’s your turn,” Butler said, and shoved them from the
safety of the bushes out into the fray.

“Aunt Llewellyn!” Salve shouted, taking his chance to kick
Butler in the back of the knees. Butler stumbled forward, as Aunt Llewellyn
ducked to the ground.

John dropped the rope and darted towards the clock, hoping
desperately that the bullets flying around them would magically miss. Salve had
dragged Aunt Llewellyn back into the relative safety of the bushes, and watched
as Butler leaped to his feet and took off after John.

“Run, John!!” John heard Salve yell from behind him. “Run!”

*****

The bullet dinged into the side of the strange metal building
on the clock and ricocheted back over the maze. Quin’s weight held Rathead down
as he wrestled for the gun. Auvek cringed as he heard a loud snap; Rathead’s
wrist was broken. Rathead swore loudly.

A second bullet thudded into the ground next to them.

“Run,” Quin commanded.
“Into the
building.”
He pointed to the clock where the short buildings sat
awkwardly on the twelve.
“Now.”

He jumped up onto the clock, reaching down to drag Rathead
up by the arm with the broken wrist. Rathead groaned once and then Quin
introduced his fist to Rathead’s temple. Rathead immediately fell asleep. At
the same time, Auvek sprinted towards the clock and pulled himself onto the
top, while Jirin helped Teira.

The building overlooked the maze, Jameson Musk’s house, and
the surrounding forest. Above them, a thick fog hovered, obscuring the stars
and anything that rose above the tree level. The sun seemed to still be below
the horizon.

“It’s locked!” Auvek called, shaking and rattling the door
handle.

Reaching into his pocket, Quin quickly produced a lock pick.
“Catch!” He tossed to Auvek, who promptly dropped it. Before Auvek could find
it, Quin had reached the door with Rathead dragging behind him. He pulled back
his other hand and smashed his fist into the lock.

“It’s loose now,” Jirin said, and pulled back his arm to do
the same.

“Wait,” Simon said.

“Simon!” Auvek cried, running over from where the lock pick
had vanished. “Where did you come from?”

“I escaped from that villain with Bronwyn,” he stated,
gesturing towards the unconscious Rathead. “But here, let me unlock the door.”

Extending his hand, a small black box appeared, sliding out
from one finger. He slipped it into the lock. The door opened itself, smoothly
as Simon let go of the box.

“That’s the monkey!” Jirin whispered. “And it talks! It
talks!”

“Bronwyn is successful,” Simon said. “She is climbing the
ladder. The disk is secure.”

“What disk?” Quin asked.

“The disk that resets the clock,” he replied. “I just put it
in the door.”

Everyone stumbled inside, a wiggling mass of arms and legs
and one unconscious body. The room began to whine.

“It’s an elevator,” Simon stated. “It goes underground.”

They heard a pounding on the door. It rattled the whole
building. “Let me in!” A voice called.

Quin opened the door and peeked through, only to see John
standing outside.

“Move, move!”
Quin commanded,
simultaneously dragging John into the room and using Rathead as a shield to
shove the rest of the group of out of the way.

“Wow,” John said. “It’s a party in here. Wish I’d arrived
sooner.
And preferably without the bullets.”

A bullet hit the outside of the building with a loud clang.
Three more followed immediately after.

“Go!” Teira cried, reaching out with her good arm and
hitting the button. “Go!”

“No!” Auvek shouted. “We have to save Bronwyn!”

It was too late. The elevator began to slowly descend into
the ground.

*****

Bronwyn sat at the top of the ladder, breathing heavily and
dripping with sweat. The climb had been rough, but not nearly as long as she had
anticipated. Her arms felt like jelly. She was above the fog that sank over the
Clock and surrounding maze, but she could hear the sound of bullets piercing
the silence of the early morning.

Her heart beat rapidly in her chest. Though she still felt afraid
of the height, of the distance between her and the ground, of the mental image
of her body in mangled mess on the hard surface of the clock, she also felt in
control of the fear, and that brought with it a different feeling – a feeling
of elation.

Far away she could see the glow of Pomegranate City, and
even a few of the buildings rising out of the ground. She looked straight down.
A Door flickered a few feet below her, parallel to the ground, the swirling
blue forming a crisscross pattern like a hammock, ready to catch her if she
fell.

She glanced at her watch. It was four fifty-five. She looked
around. A bird soared to her right, pausing in mid-flight to dive down towards
the ground into the wet bank of fog obscuring her view. The leaves of the trees
reaching above rustled in the breeze and she could hear coyotes howling in the
distance. The sun peered over the rim of planet. Then, without warning, a great
wind began to blow, dancing with the fog in curls and wisps, and dragging it
this way and that until it disappeared entirely.

Below, the great numbers glittered in the morning light, and
the face of the clock sort of smiled. But, as she watched, the sun rose slowly
and shadow began to crawl over the face of the Clock until it seemed as though
a face had been carved into the stone. First it smiled; then, it winked. It was
a sly sort of wink, with a little bit of a smirk, and a little bit of sadness.

Bronwyn gazed, transfixed by this sight. She couldn’t seem
to tear her eyes away from the clock. She thought about how she had not
actually expected the clock to wink, thinking that perhaps that it was just a
detail in the re-telling of the legend. But there it was, the clock, and it
winked.

*****

“Does anyone actually know what’s going on?” asked John as
the group stood crammed together in the elevator. “I mean, I understand bits
and pieces, but the whole thing is a bit of a blur.”

Auvek huddled in the corner with his face in his hands. The
elevator was barely large enough for all the people inside and the smell of
sweating people began to fill the tiny room.

“I have figured out most of it,” Simon replied. “If you all
wish, I can give you the details. But might I suggest we first find out what
lies at the bottom of this elevator?”

“Good idea,” Jirin agreed. “And we need to stop Teira’s
bleeding.”

At that moment, Rathead woke up. He began to struggle
against Quin. “I cannot fail. For years I work to bring plan whole.
Years!”
He appeared to be having a seizure for a moment;
then Quin let go as he felt the barrel of a gun at his stomach.

“What are you...?” John trailed off as he saw Quin back away
and then the gun appear. “You didn’t check him for multiple weapons?”

“I haven’t exactly had time,” Quin said.

Rathead glared at Quin. “No one make move.”

“Can I breathe?” John asked. As Rathead turned to glare at
him, Quin reached out silently and snapped his other wrist. Rathead howled in
pain and dropped the gun. It clattered to the floor. Quin kicked it to John and
reached out to subdue Rathead. Jirin let go of Teira for a moment and reached
out to pat Rathead down. He removed three knives, another gun, and number of
flying razors.

Then the elevator stopped. The doors slid open.

“It’s dark,” Auvek stated, looking into the room. Quin
pulled out a flashlight and handed it to John.

“Looks empty,” John said, stepping out into the dark room.
There was a light pad next to the elevator. The floor began to glow dimly all
over the room as soon as his fingers touched it. In the center of the room sat
a bicycle.

“A bicycle,” Rathead said.
“A bicycle.”
He took a deep breath and looked up from his hunched position holding his
wrists against his chest. “For over a century I have been waiting to get into
this room, and what do I find?
A bicycle!”

“Bicycle, bicycle, bicycle!”
John
scurried over to the instrument and began to examine it carefully. “I want to
ride my bicycle, I want to ride my bike!” he sang under his breath.

“You, over there,” Quin ordered, shoving Rathead against a
wall, face first. He then reached out and smacked the back of Rathead’s neck,
whereupon Rathead sank slowly to the ground, unconscious. “Jirin, guard him.
Teira, here.”
He pulled a tiny emergency medical kit out
from one of his pockets and began to bandage her.

“Can I just mention that the floor is glowing?” Auvek ventured.
Everyone ignored him.