him.”
“Save who, miss?”
“Never mind!” I snap at the dimwitted lot that surrounds me. “We need to catch her before she reaches him. But however will we get into town?” I tap my withering chin.
“We can’t, miss. We’ll be sucked up by the scrubbers, or shredded in the screens.”
“Unless . . .” I tighten my lips into a smile.
The Infirmed wince their paper-thin brows and stare at me.
“We need to stop that coach!” I swish toward them, shooting forward on creeping tentacles.
The Infirmed shake their heads. “But we just told you we tried, miss—”
“Not that coach! The OTHER ONE!” I shout so loudly their cloth-like bodies stretch back from their sterns. For a moment, they look like they’ve seen a ghost themselves.
“What coach is that?” one meekly asks once their hair and clothes have fallen back into position.
“The one with the woman in it! The woman who was just here!” I turn my back, rubbing what’s left of my hands together. “It’s time to strike a deal.”
Fourteen
Eyelet
We trundle over the bridge and through the gates of Gears at high speed, causing quite the commotion, townspeople staring as we whisk by, but there isn’t much else I could do given the circumstances.
I daren’t slow down.
Once we’re inside the gates, I allow myself to turn around, basking in the warm glow of the apparitions’ screams as they get caught up in the filtration web. It’s shoddy at best, compared to the highly technological system of scrubbers and filters that guard Brethren’s perimeter, but I sure am thankful it’s there.
I draw the horses down to a brisk trot and veer off the main street onto a back one, with a plan to afford C.L. the chance to take his place in one of the cages along with the rest of the freaks before we attempt crossing into Brethren at the checkpoint on the opposite end of the city. I stop the train when I’m sure the street is clear, hands trembling, a ball of jumbled nerves wedged in my throat.
“What happened to you back there?” I whirl around on him, sitting upright next to me on the front bench seat. “We were worried sick.”
“And well you should ’ave been,” he says, real casual, like my eyes aren’t bugging out of my head. “We was wrong about those whoops, they wasn’t the Brigsmen at all.” He cinches in close to me, his face just a breath from my own. “Theys was a gang of criminals,” he whispers, looking around. “They ambushed me, they did, just as you pulled off. I barely ’ad time to drop the acid on the master before tryin’ to get away. I could see the train cars driftin’ up the road, but I couldn’t get to yuh. They ’ad me surrounded, they did. But I fought me way through ’em, knockin’ ’em down”—he jumps from the mount and dances around, showing me, flinging his legs in the air—“until finally a brainstorm come over me, and I dumped the second bucket of chemical over one of the criminal’s ’eads. Once ’e disappeared, yuh shoulda seen the others vanish.” C.L. rolls back on his heels in laughter. “Never seen anything move that quick!”
I laugh along with him, relieved by his story, though my mind skips on to thoughts of the freakmaster, and then my stomach balls up in a knot. Had C.L. enough time and potion to completely do away with him? I don’t ask. I don’t want to know that answer. I’m just glad to have C.L. back.
Surely, knowing C.L., he finished the job. Wouldn’t he?
I shudder, hearing in my mind the slosh of the chemical being thrown.
C.L. hops down from the mount and rounds the train, hopping up onto a train car and then the rooftop. Shuttling along, he finds the trapdoor, throws it open with a foot, then lowers himself into place inside, behind bars. He drops the roof down over his head and whistles to me, signalling all clear, then shouts, “Wait!” His head pops back up through the rooftop again. “I almost forgot. Take this!” He passes something forward; raised
“Save who, miss?”
“Never mind!” I snap at the dimwitted lot that surrounds me. “We need to catch her before she reaches him. But however will we get into town?” I tap my withering chin.
“We can’t, miss. We’ll be sucked up by the scrubbers, or shredded in the screens.”
“Unless . . .” I tighten my lips into a smile.
The Infirmed wince their paper-thin brows and stare at me.
“We need to stop that coach!” I swish toward them, shooting forward on creeping tentacles.
The Infirmed shake their heads. “But we just told you we tried, miss—”
“Not that coach! The OTHER ONE!” I shout so loudly their cloth-like bodies stretch back from their sterns. For a moment, they look like they’ve seen a ghost themselves.
“What coach is that?” one meekly asks once their hair and clothes have fallen back into position.
“The one with the woman in it! The woman who was just here!” I turn my back, rubbing what’s left of my hands together. “It’s time to strike a deal.”
Fourteen
Eyelet
We trundle over the bridge and through the gates of Gears at high speed, causing quite the commotion, townspeople staring as we whisk by, but there isn’t much else I could do given the circumstances.
I daren’t slow down.
Once we’re inside the gates, I allow myself to turn around, basking in the warm glow of the apparitions’ screams as they get caught up in the filtration web. It’s shoddy at best, compared to the highly technological system of scrubbers and filters that guard Brethren’s perimeter, but I sure am thankful it’s there.
I draw the horses down to a brisk trot and veer off the main street onto a back one, with a plan to afford C.L. the chance to take his place in one of the cages along with the rest of the freaks before we attempt crossing into Brethren at the checkpoint on the opposite end of the city. I stop the train when I’m sure the street is clear, hands trembling, a ball of jumbled nerves wedged in my throat.
“What happened to you back there?” I whirl around on him, sitting upright next to me on the front bench seat. “We were worried sick.”
“And well you should ’ave been,” he says, real casual, like my eyes aren’t bugging out of my head. “We was wrong about those whoops, they wasn’t the Brigsmen at all.” He cinches in close to me, his face just a breath from my own. “Theys was a gang of criminals,” he whispers, looking around. “They ambushed me, they did, just as you pulled off. I barely ’ad time to drop the acid on the master before tryin’ to get away. I could see the train cars driftin’ up the road, but I couldn’t get to yuh. They ’ad me surrounded, they did. But I fought me way through ’em, knockin’ ’em down”—he jumps from the mount and dances around, showing me, flinging his legs in the air—“until finally a brainstorm come over me, and I dumped the second bucket of chemical over one of the criminal’s ’eads. Once ’e disappeared, yuh shoulda seen the others vanish.” C.L. rolls back on his heels in laughter. “Never seen anything move that quick!”
I laugh along with him, relieved by his story, though my mind skips on to thoughts of the freakmaster, and then my stomach balls up in a knot. Had C.L. enough time and potion to completely do away with him? I don’t ask. I don’t want to know that answer. I’m just glad to have C.L. back.
Surely, knowing C.L., he finished the job. Wouldn’t he?
I shudder, hearing in my mind the slosh of the chemical being thrown.
C.L. hops down from the mount and rounds the train, hopping up onto a train car and then the rooftop. Shuttling along, he finds the trapdoor, throws it open with a foot, then lowers himself into place inside, behind bars. He drops the roof down over his head and whistles to me, signalling all clear, then shouts, “Wait!” His head pops back up through the rooftop again. “I almost forgot. Take this!” He passes something forward; raised
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