Authors: C.B. Ash
Krumer looked around. They sat in a small room with only three walls. Where the fourth should have been were only the knotted clumps of gray storm clouds slowly rolling along above the corrugated metal roof of a wide building. In the far distance was an upraised section of another roof where a nest of antenna reached towards the dismal sky. In between Krumer and the antenna, the rooftops were dotted with lightning rods, skylights, steam and smoke stacks. Occasional light gusts of wind toyed with the steam and light smoke. They mixed and cooled into a thin fog that clung to the rooftop like a gauze shroud.
The orc looked past Adonia until he spotted Tiberius. The young man was seated cross-legged next to Dr. Von Patterson, who stirred fitfully where he rested on a bundle of cloth. The mountain lion sat nearby, fascinated by something out on the rooftop among the light fog. Krumer puzzled over what Dr. Von Patterson lay on. It finally occurred to him neither Adonia or Tiberius wore their coats.
Adonia followed his gaze. "Tiberius is taking his turn to watch James. James is ... the same."
Krumer nodded carefully. His head swam at the motion, which drew out a frustrated sigh. While he was not a trained doctor like Thorias, he knew the signs of a concussion, since he was no stranger to them. He blinked and looked around again. Headache, dizziness but nothing more serious he could find than that. Krumer hoped it was only a small one that he could sleep away. Once they had a safe place to rest, that is. Krumer slowly got to his feet with some help from Adonia.
"Any sign of the others? Or zombies? Anyone?" Krumer asked.
Adonia shook her head. "Not a sign. When the floor fell away, a hole opened up to deeper down in the station. They were swept into there along with the zombies. We don't know how far down that went. When the shaking stopped, everyone was gone. Tiberius and I carefully picked our way across what was left of the room and pulled you and James out here to the roof. This little shed was the best cover we could locate. Since we've been here, there has been some motion below. Two zombies near the the walkway along the propellers near the door to the steam engines."
Krumer walked to the opening of the shed and looked out. "Spirits are watching over us then."
The orc let his eyes run slowly over the fog outside for any sign, any clue to his missing friends. The fog was immutable to his silent concerns. Just then he heard a soft sound, like a muffled intake of breath. Had it not been so quiet, he would have missed it. He gazed over his shoulder in time to catch Adonia rubbing something from her eye. When she noticed he was watching her she stared at him for a moment before she smiled, albeit sadly.
"They probably survived the fall." Krumer said gently. "Spirits willing, we'll find them."
Adonia opened her mouth to speak with a pained look of grief in her eyes. At the last moment she said nothing, but instead smiled and forced the pain away from her expression. "Spirits willing," was her only reply.
Krumer sighed a little when she refused to say more, and gazed out at the fog again. "This shed will do just fine as a shelter. This fog ... we did not see this from below."
"I know," Adonia replied and wiped at her damp eyes. "I think the temperature is dropping, like before a storm arrives."
Krumer gazed at the metal roof, then at the scattered collection of lightning rods that dotted its surface. He frowned while he pictured the effects of a thunderstorm on the rooftop, then mentally revised his thought that the shed was truly safe.
"What possesses an engineer to design a death trap such as this?" He groused.
Adonia smiled, fatigue evident on her face. "I doubt they considered anyone would wish to take shelter up here from zombies during a thunderstorm."
Krumer thought that over a moment. "True. However, we need new shelter, and to make contact with the
Griffin
. I had hoped being among the steam engines would have helped us."
"I had also, at first," Adonia said. "There were so many zombies at the catwalks ... just so many more than we had seen at one place. Almost like they are drawn to the steam engines. I never knew there were that many about."
Krumer looked over at Adonia. "How many more would you say?"
Adonia shrugged. "I cannot say for sure. Double perhaps?"
"How many had you seen before?" The orc asked.
"Two to four at any given time." Adonia explained. "What made it so dangerous was that they would come at us unexpectedly, say from above or through a window or from beneath where a maintenance trap door might be. But when we crossed the catwalk ... for that many to come at us, they would had to have been nearby."
A disturbance in the distance drew Krumer's attention. He looked out into the thickening fog. When he did not see anything, he took a step out of the shelter towards the edge of the roof. Below the fog, the network of catwalks spread out like a metal web over the station's large propellers. His eyes swept over the walkways, the two platforms, and the damaged catwalk where they had last encountered the mob of zombies.
Adonia walked over to join him. "What is it?"
"I'm not certain. Something moved." Suddenly Krumer pointed. "There, on the catwalk that extends around the edge from the initial platform we had stopped on."
Adonia looked to where he pointed. Beyond and below the gray mist, three figures walked along. Two in the now recognizable shambling gait of the zombies and one with a light, easy walk. The trio moved slowly along the walkway with the two zombies ahead of the third figure. The young Charybdian woman frowned, her hair-tendrils twitching in deep thought. "The third one in the group seems to move much better than the others."
Krumer had noticed that as well. The way the third figure moved reminded him of a boxer he had fought once during his days as a pugilist. Light on his feet, that figure seemed quite skilled in the physical arts. That would not be someone to take lightly. While they watched, the two zombies paused in their stroll. The third figure, however, stepped up close to the zombies and seemed to inspect them for ... something that Krumer could not discern. Then, while he watched, the figure pointed down the walkway. At that, the two zombies resumed their ambling gait. The third figure returned in the direction he first came from.
"That," Krumer said sternly, "is no zombie. That may be someone who controls them."
Just then, from the shed behind them, a muffled noise startled both Adonia and Krumer. They hurried away from the edge of the roof to the shed. By the time they arrived, Tiberius had just begun to ease the Dr. Von Patterson onto his back again.
"Another seizure." Tiberius offered, answering the silent question on both Adonia and Krumer's faces.
"Did he say anything?" The orc asked.
Tiberius paused a moment. "He said, 'mercy' ... roughly translated of course." Out of Tiberius' sight, Krumer and Adonia exchanged a glance. Krumer had a guess his thoughts mirrored Adonia's own. Just where was this strange, albeit helpful, young man from? Also, how much longer could they continue to trust him? Krumer had no answer to either question, and that bothered him as deeply as the presence of the zombies.
Adonia, as if a thought had occurred to her, turned on her heel and strode into the mists to carefully look over the edge of the roof to the walkways below. Satisfied with what she found, she rejoined the others.
"I may be very wrong, but lately with each outburst James has made, the zombies have either arrived in force or reacted in some way." She commented.
"As if they're connected?" Krumer asked.
"I don't see how?" Tiberius added.
Adonia shook her head. "Neither do I, but with each outburst, the zombies have suddenly descended upon us when they hadn't before. Right now the ones down on the walkway are suddenly in quite a hurry to reach this building. A moment ago, they weren't. Why now? I don't know. Also, if they have always been connected to James, why didn't I have to fight them in the forests when I first rescued James?"
Krumer frowned in thought. More questions and fewer answers plagued him. "I'm not certain how there would be a connection, but you have a point, Adonia. In any case, if the zombies are now heading this way, we'd best not be here when they arrive."
"We're on a roof. Where can we go?" Tiberius asked in a tired, worried tone.
"Across the roof." Krumer answered flatly. The orc pointed at the antenna in the distance. "If we can make it there, I should be able to rewire a way for us to contact the
Griffin
. They can come to us, and we can deliver Dr. Von Patterson to Captain Hunter. At that point the zombies will be unable to reach Dr. Von Patterson. If you're reasoning is accurate Adonia, that would make the zombies much simpler a problem to deal with. After that, we can worry over our lost companions and the missing statue."
Adonia looked out across the fog-shrouded roof to the antenna in the distance, then back at Tiberius and Krumer. "Well then dear Krumer, let us not waste a moment's time."
Krumer nodded, kneeling down to help Tiberius lift Dr. Von Patterson, despite the dull throbbing in his own head. "Agreed."
O
'Fallon shoved open the metal door to the right and rushed inside the dark room beyond. He looked around and winced at the throbbing pain from his partially dislocated right shoulder. The room was almost perfectly square, formed from soot-stained metal sheets that were securely riveted to their frame. O'Fallon saw nothing in the room save for a couple of small crates, left behind by someone who had obviously intended to return for them at a later time, but had never come back for them. The quartermaster scanned the doors to the right and left for any sign of motion, any sign of tracks that would indicate someone passed through here. There were none.
Moira and Carlos rushed into the room behind O'Fallon, both not quite out of breath.
"Did ya find anythin'?" Moira asked, taking a deep gulp of air.
O'Fallon shook his head. "Na a thing. Bugger had ta be runnin' this way. Na other way ta be goin'."
Thorias stepped into the room with Arcady perched on his shoulder. "That's encouraging news. Do we know where we are going? Or, point in fact, where we are?"
O'Fallon rubbed his sore shoulder as he looked up at a pair of pipes that crossed the ceiling. They spanned the distance between the door he had arrived through and the wall opposite. In the gloom, his eyes made out a small plate riveted to one of the pipes. It read, 'water inlet'. He nodded silently while he placed their location in his mind.
"If'n Ah na miss me guess, we be near the main boiler rooms of the station's steam engines." The quartermaster explained. He gestured to where the pipes vanished through a small set of holes in the wall, flush against the ceiling. "That be the water inlets. From there it be headin' inta the boilers. They'll be na far from us. Might even be on the other side o' this wall."
Carlos looked surprised. "So the man we are chasing could be there? He might hear us!"
O'Fallon shook his head. "Ah be doubtin' that. Walls here be thick enough ta shut down any explosion from a boiler. They be more'n thick enough ta stop most sounds we could be makin'."
Moira gave O'Fallon an impatient look. "Since we've gone and lost the one we're chasin', which way should we be headin' now?"
The quartermaster considered it a moment. "The boiler rooms all be connected. Won't be matterin' much either way. We'll just need ta be careful." He looked at the door on his right. For some reason, a long lost memory nagged at the back of his mind. He just could not remember why. "This way."
Past the door, the hallway stretched out in front of them and curved gently to the left, like the curve of a large wheel. At regular intervals on their right and left stood steam pipes and more water inlets. Each one pushed into the hallway, crossed at the ceiling and headed inward to a central room. The lighting was poor due to equipment failure from the earlier explosion. Only the occasional lantern was illuminated, appearing every forty feet along the hallway. Within the first sixty feet, two doors on the right side of the hallway were found, both storage closets. No one spoke during the long, careful walk until, finally, they located a lone door on the left side of the hallway as opposed to the right.
Unlike the other doors, this one stood open. An angry rust-orange glow emanated from the doorway and spilled out into the hallway onto the floor in a ruddy puddle of light. O'Fallon crouched at the edge of the open door and cautiously peered inside. The room, large enough to accommodate two horses and a full carriage, was dominated by four dual-furnaced Marine boilers. Each boiler was the size of a small locomotive and filled the section of the room it occupied. On the front of each boiler, not far above the floor, was a cast iron door with brass fittings secured with a heavy latch. Each door was set to open towards the middle of the room. Pipes criss-crossed the ceiling and attached to the side of each boiler where they deposited their water into the large cylindrical metal tanks to be superheated by the heat from the fireboxes.
The heat from four such boilers was intense. O'Fallon could feel it like an invisible curtain that brushed his face while he peeked in. That meant the fires were burning at the usual intensity for a station of this size. Stray steam drifted around the room in hazy clouds and gently enveloped the room's unusual occupants like a faint gauze shroud.
In the middle of the room, surrounded by coal bins and Tesla coils in cedar barrel housings, a dark wooden table stood. The table was stained with a smeared coat of coal dust. A darker stain of blood ran dark along the edges of the table due to the dead body that lay on top of it. Beside the table two men, dressed in dark cotton clothes and leather aprons, worked feverishly on the body. What they were doing, O'Fallon could not even imagine. On the floor were stacked two more bodies, both as dead as the one on the table. Next to all this, a Tesla barrel sat with a greenish statue on top of it. Wires led from the barrel's exposed contacts to a large knife switch, and from there the wires split. One strand ran to the greenish drake statue, the other to a set of large, dull gray metal clamps with jagged teeth. O'Fallon's imagination ran wild as he desperately hoped all his conclusions were wrong.