A World of InTemperance (The Adventures of Ichabod Temperance Book 2) (8 page)

He gains speed.

He builds momentum.

The mechanical menace means mayhem for me and Murray.

An aura of anger arises around the metal angel of angst.

The tundra trembles with trepidation at the terrible tread.

The lumbering lummox looms large.

James’ face, formerly framed with fearless ferocity, fails famously.

“Please leave him to me, Mr. Murray.”

I backhand my pipe across the fifty feet to the doorway, smashing a lantern, one of the guards had sat down.

Colorful flames wash along with the kerosene across the factory floor.

HAH-
W
H
H
O
O
O
O
O
O
O
OS
S
SH
HH!!!

“Run!” exclaim James and I in unison.

We grab up the burnt guard between us and fly.

A glimpse back reveals LeadeFoote in the large loading dock doorway, his terrible frame bathed in the light of the noxious flames.

BUH
-
BO
O
O
M
!!!

The factory explodes, its stout, windowless walls stubbornly refusing to let the force of the explosion expand laterally.

All the energies are guided upward to blow the roof off this joint. A portion of the blast sends parts of LeadeFoote flying past our ears.

“Did you guys see that?” asks James Murray as we rejoin our comrades back at the sleigh stash.

“They probably saw that all the way back in Winniedepuh.” says Miss GoldenBear.

“Hmm. Yes. Perhaps we did give away the element of surprise,” admits an ever jubilant James.

Miss Plumatrtt and Miss GoldenBear step in to help the injured guard with his wounds.

“I say, you would do well to reconsider your career choice, young man. Perhaps you should return home and request further guidance from your worried mother, eh hem?”

The thankful mercenary hurries home to heed this good advice.

“Excuse me mon frere, but if you will listen, maybe you shall hear the approach of the cavalry, too!”

“Ja, DeeDee, I hear horses, but, I hear something else, also. It has a mechanized quality.”

We gain a vantage point from which to observe our new guests. We see six mounted troops, accompanied by something I have never seen before: a steam-driven sleigh. Two rear-mounted belts of linked plates turn as stationary treadmills to propel the vehicle. A pair of skis, in the front, steer the snow-carriage. The normal steam engine accoutrements, furnace, boiler, machinery, controls, reservoir and coal bin are in evidence.

Horses rear up before the smelly, flamed rubble of the destroyed factory. Angry and excited riders yell, point, and gesture with disbelief.

A figure rises from the snow steamer and dismounts.

Even at a distance, his wrath is easy to discern.

“Bring me the fool that has failed in his pledged service!” hisses the Big Kahuna loudly enough for us to hear him at a distance of a hundred yards.

The guard that had originally run for reinforcement is brought to Johnny Big Pants.

No, not pants. He is dressed in a strange robe of studded leather. This frock is  trimmed at the hems and collar in fakey black fur. A circular, conical, black hat, rimmed with more black fur, rises to a steel topped point. This he flings aside in anger, revealing a shiny bald head, glistening with perturbed perspiration. Stylishly long eyebrows and moustachios are waxed into black, horizontal, follicle, icicles.

“Failure will not be tolerated!” he screams as he slaps the man being held before him. “Not in those that would serve Lord Bar’Bazaul!”

“Lord Bar’Bazaul! No! Please have mercy!” begs the unfortunate soldier of fortune.

Foaming at the mouth just a little, the evil lord strikes a pose. His arms are held wide and with palms up, as if supporting a great unseen ball. Eyes, no doubt, are rolling back in his head, but it is difficult to be sure from our hidden observation post.

The mercenary emissary is throttled by an invisible hand, and falls lifeless to the snow.

With one more angry look encompassing the entire factory fiasco, Lord Bar’Bazaul marches back to his ski-steered steamer snow car and departs in a huff, taking his mounted troops with him.

“Lovely! Our next target must be close by,” chirps the crazed Oztralian operative. “Let’s not be so bold as to follow our unquestionable quarry without first giving a squinter on the purloined parchments which might be the preferred path I presume.”

He presents our pinched papers.

An examination of the various manifests and vouchers confirms our suspicion that another factory is out there, presumably cranking out mechanical beasts like LeadeFoote.

“I still do not have access to all of my memory banks, but I do have a flash of memory that recalls being in a factory of sorts upon a time,” adds Cogito. “I am still struggling to regain what I am sure are many lost occurrences. There is a distinct impression of being in water. When I was brought into consciousness in an Alaskan blacksmith shop where someone had brought me, I overheard that I had been pulled from a river. I do not think that I was that stream’s only contaminant. Perhaps we can find the next target by finding a river used in an industrial capacity. If we can find a back way into the factory, maybe we can avoid a confrontation with Lord Bar’Bazaul and his mercenary minions.”

Abigail GoldenBear has no trouble finding the very river described by our tin comrade. We leave the sleighs and continue on foot, and paw.

It does not take long to discover the dirty factory, its pollutants a foreshadow of the nastiness within. A vantage point is gained. Like the first facility, this building features a single, easily guarded entrance, but this time, the guards are on high alert.

There are other differences:

This is a bigger place.

This is a livelier place.

There is far more light.

There are far more guards.

There are considerably far more giant, scary, metal, monsters.

This factory is a fortress: every approach, unassailable.

A roaring river, as clean and pure as the snow that forms it, enters on the high side of the ominous dominus. After providing power, and cleansing capabilities so vital to production, the river emerges, contaminated, polluted, and robbed of its life-giving goodness on the industrial complex’s low side.

A sheer cliff denies entrance from her Western approaches.

Thick woods maintain this location’s secrecy everywhere else. The trees are cleared back far enough to act as a no-man’s land for would be invaders: invaders such as us.

“Lookin’ like a tough nut to crack, y’all. Anybody got any ideas as to how to take this place?”

“How’s this then, mates, you lot create a really good ‘diversion,’ and then I’ll nip in while nobody’s looking!”

“Uh, once again, does anybody got any ideas as to how to take this place?”

“I gots a thoughtical. I’ll get word to my mates back in Sydney. They’ll send in a special high-speed delivery commando unit. These will drop in on specialized contraptions upon an unsuspecting enemy’s head. This is facilitated by a brilliant, yet elegantly simple invention. A circle, or sometimes, a rectangle of silk, is fashioned in such a way, that when one should leap from a great height, and employ such a devoice, it will, should it deploy properly, unfold in such a way, that it catches a bubble of air, and supported by a system of strong strings, connected to the user’s harness, allow a slow and gentle return to Mother Earth.” the proud Aussie adds, “Not unlike an umbrella, actually.”

“Oh, that’s marvelous, Mr. Murray,” admires Miss Plumtartt, “what do you call them?”

“Parabrellas. Though some silly people insist on calling them ‘Umbrachutes.’”

“If you could get a message off right now, Mr. Murray,” questions Miss GoldenBear, “what would be the estimated time of arrival for your airbourne army?”

The lanky loon does a few quick calculations on his fingers. The tip of a tongue shows momentarily and his mad eyes look up into an indistinct distance, half way between here and nowhere.

“I should say mid-summer. Your seasonal time frame of course. With that parameter, hmm, yes, … August, on the outside.”

“I say, we
were
hoping for a better time frame than that, James.”

“Hm, as I study our predicament, it is my opinion that the cliff is our best avenue of approach. Ja, it is such a difficult obstacle in itself, it does not bear the same scrutiny of the rest of the vast compound.”

“Oh, oui, I agree with your conclusions, my Wolfgang! For me, DeeDee, this prompts a question of our merry band. You are all such a charming group, and each is eager to pull his or her own weight. N’est ce pas? Oui! But I ask you, is this in a literal sense, or only figuratively? For I think that if we could secure a rope running up that cliff, that each of us, even the lovely ladies, would be able to pull themselves up, too! Oui!”

“Yes Ma’am, I agree with y’all’s assessment. Everyone here is physically strong enough to make the climb, I reckon. We do have some good rope, that should work for our purpose, but I do not see any of us making a climb up that icy, frozen cliff face. There ain’t nary a hand hold but every here and there. Gee, that person will be totin’ forty pounds of rope, too! I reckon I’ll give her my best shot, but I ain’t guaranteeing it.”

“Oh, but Monsieur Temperance, you forget, Mademoiselle is a woman of secrets, no? Oui! I ask you again my friend, do not underestimate your Canadian ally!”

“I do not like the idea of you placing yourself in danger, Fraulein.”

“You too, Wolfgang? How sweet! But no, do not worry for DeeDee, please. Oui!”

We ease around to the cliffside.

“Oh! I forget! Mademoiselle is not dressed for zee climbing, no? All the gentlemen are asked to turn around please, merci!”

“James! Please!”

“Oh, you meant me too? But you said ‘gentlemen’?”

“Ach, a bop to the back of your noggin you are getting, James!”

“Okay, Wolfie, I’ll behave!”

“Miss Plumtartt, will you give a running description of Mademoiselle’s progress, please? Also, should Miss DeeDee Ma’am fall, let us know so that we may try to catch her. Is that all right, Mademoiselle Gauzot?”

“Oh, oui. I agree to your terms, Monsieur Temperance.”

“She has gathered her skirts high, and behind her,” narrates Miss Plumtartt, “No peeking, gentlemen, and Mr. Murray. Cogito, you and Bolt may as well turn around, also. Miss GoldenBear is assisting with affixing the rope. Mademoiselle Gauzot begins her assent. My word, she really
is
good at this sort of thing. I say, she clings to the sheer rock face by fingertip with extraordinary strength! Her avenue of ascent has run out. There is a crevasse she surveils, but it is far out of her reach. Hello, what’s this? DeeDee tenses her body in preparation of a perilous maneuver! She leaps! Great Scott, she has caught herself on the barest of handholds! Without pause, she continues her speedy climb. This woman is almost superhuman. She is scampering up the frozen rock like a human spider! I am flabbergasted at this outrageous display of athletic skill and prowess. You may go ahead and turn around, gentlemen and Mr. Murray, she is already at the top.”

“Preposterous!” exclaims Cogito.

“Why I’ll be a Tazmanian Devil’s regret, she did do it!”

Madamoiselle Gauzot waggles four dainty little fingers down at us.

“Golly gee whillikers, thank you very much Miss Mademoiselle DeeDee, Ma’am!”

“Vous êtes les bienvenus! One moment, and I affix the rope, tout suite!”

Which she does, and then drops the other end down to us.

“Come on, Bolt, I’ll tote you up, buddy.”

“I say, this is a most difficult task. One wonders how Mademoiselle made such a climb.”

“Uh oh, y’all, it looks like Mr. Cogito is having a tough time.”

“I do apologize, but I am afraid that this challenge may be beyond my design capabilities.”

“Ja, but not to worry, my tin friend! There are enough of us to pull you up.”

“Good show, my friends. With our combined efforts, we have delivered Mr. Cogito to the top of our cliff, eh hem?”

Surreptitiously, we sleuths slink, skillfully sneaking semi-sentient sentinels.

“Okay, me pretties, I think that’s all we can see from outside the buildings. It’s time to go in. This place has not only manufacturing facilities, but also an extensive and relatively opulent personnel compound. This may be the source of the much needed intelligence I require.”

. . .

“I mean information!”

“I say, if I may be so bold, might I suggest that you gentlemen assist the ever improvisational Mr. Temperance in the sabotage of this dreadful plant, eh hem? Meanwhile, we ladies shall see to the gathering of further data.”

“Nein! I stay with Fraulein Gauzot!”