For the Love of Temperance (The Adventures of Ichabod Temperance Book 3) (10 page)

“Oh, now I’m starting to hear it with my ears, too, Miss Plumtartt. It is definitely getting louder.”

Whumm-whumm. Whumm-whumm.

“Is it just me again, or has a sense of being in over our heads descended over Atlanta’s fighting force?”

“I say, Mr. Temperance, the elongated capsules are aiming their energies at
our
catapult battery.”

The air is suddenly thick and pressing with a disconcerting viscous quality. The identical devices work together in disruptive harmony creating an oppressive aural resonance. The pulsating vibration permeates our beings. On queasy legs, we lurch from the site. The catapult vibrates in a terrible fit. Its image transfers into an eyeball-numbing blur and then violently explodes in a dangerous shrapnel shower of stone and splinter. We are knocked flat by the powerful blast, undone by our own weapon.

The towers turn their twin sound cannon upon another target. Its end comes in an instant. Faster and faster the awful sonics assault us, with corresponding explosions of our own defenses again being turned against us. Explosions are continual, one after another until all resistance fails.

“Clarabelle, help me, please! These frightened horses are too much for me!”

“Here I come, Valuria!”

“Oh dear, Mr. Temperance, Valuria Englehart has been knocked down and abandoned by her horses.”

“Uh, hunh? Oh, Goodness! Clarabelle has run to help her but now the two women are caught out in the open and away from anyone that can lend assistance! The giant Martian war-machines have spotted them and have directed their sonic cannon against the girls!”

“They are beyond the reach of anyone’s help, Mr. Temperance. We are too far and still too badly stunned from our catapult explosion to render aid.”

The air pulsates with the hated thrum.

Whumm-whumm. Whumm-whumm.

The stricken women vibrate in a horrible fit. Atlanta’s battered defenders are too far away and too beaten down to assist the stricken girls. All we can do is look on in horror and grief.

Clarabelle Nightingale screams!

*“{{{{AAAAAAHHHHHHH!!!!!}}}}”*

*{{{{ - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - !!!!!}}}}*

A bubble of perfect silence extends outward from the scarlet-haired avenger of Atlanta.

“I say, Clarabelle Nightingale’s scream of terror has canceled out the effects of the monsters’ weapons. What a most fortunate turn of events! I say, return to your fight, Atlanta, we are not lost!”

“She’s right! Come on, Sir Paul, let’s get to another catapult battery and give this sucker what for!”

“I say, we have all been instantly heartened at the brave girl’s courage. The city of Atlanta once again takes up the battle for their home. The fight is renewed upon the alien creatures. Atlanta’s defenders drive away her attackers. Might I add, in an extraordinary display, Clarabelle has maintained her note of dissonance. Her stage-earned composure is brought to bear in this magnificent performance.”

“Yes, Ma’am, she looks to be right at home, as she assumes a confident stance. With head held high, hands clasped before her, and feet perpendicular to one another, she is delivering her aria with pride and conviction.”

“Jolly good, our Martian adversaries stumble away in ignominious defeat, eh hem?”

As her hapless mechanical enemies stumble away, Clarabelle’s appreciative audience cheers and applauds. The gracious girl smiles and accepts her accolades with easy aplomb, a nod of the head, and finally, a flourished curtsy.

The Tallahassee Lassie

Sunday June 31, 1876

By Miss Topsy Buxomheft.

U.S. UNDER FULL-SCALE ATTACK!

Confirmed! Authorities and scientists from around the World agree that the terrors that besiege a bewildered World are in fact beings from the planet Mars! Nine invaders have landed on Earth; three in Australia, three in Europe. The three ‘Martian’ invaders here in the United States have all successfully duplicated themselves and their mechanical weapons platforms. After making impact in Alabama, Pennsylvania, and West Virginia, the three meteors later revealed their true identity as invasion modules. Steel towns, near to the places of the Martian landing zones, were soon under attack and occupation by the invasion forces. The iron-producing furnaces and steel mills of Birmingham, Bethlehem, and Weirton have produced their devastating duplicate war machines.  These cities now lie in burning ruin.

Eyewitness accounts give gruesome details to the monster’s method of propagation. This reporter will not pass on the disturbing knowledge other than to say the public is warned against making any contact under any circumstances. These visitors from another planet are killers. They do not come in peace.

The Sydney Kydney

By Sheila Jigglesworth.

AUSSIE BUMS IN ASTRAL BARBIE!

Krikey! A bloomin’ trice o’ asteroidal wombat-driving coddels, bloody well dunglegangered the herdlew. Golleroonging the East end of the continent, West of Collarenebri and Goondiwindi, a roo’s spit from Cunnamulla, smack in the middle of the Queensland Desert. The dingus’s mate ate grit in the redundantly named Great Sandy Desert, near the appropriately named Lake Disappointment. Seems the third craft belly-flopped onto the Gold Coasts ‘Koala Ken’s Golf Resort and Amusement Paradise’. This tourist eyesore is now happily smooshed. The binnlewump bounced three more times across New South Wales before coming to a splashdown in the Great Australian Bight. The water-lubbed iron crustacean waller-peeped to drag itself out of the drink and onto Kangaroo Island off the coast of lovely Adelaide.

In a ‘Tassie Lassie’ exclusive, I press my ample journo charms upon the tall, blond hunky hero of South Australia to gain this prized and rare interview with highly placed top-secret government official, Secret Agent James Murray, whom I quote as saying, “Zoinks! Oi mean, Krikey! With me Diggers outta Walla Walla on the bing-hop, the Gnarlings quewed the randy sops. Triddie me scuppers! The Canetoad has been on a direct courso for the bathing beauto since the jumpers. ‘Kangaroo Jack’ out there on the island has had his knickers bum-creased since crawling up out of the Bight. Looks like he forgot his cozzles and is apprehensive about taking a dip in the nuddies. Our outback bunyip from the Great Sandy Dee has had a real kugibip of a walkabout. Lots o’ chummy bushmates to kreagle his ‘nadgers, but the bets are that he too is headed for South Australia to hugabouts his Martiamates.”

The Unconventional Genevan

By the ‘Scandinavian Scrutinizer,’ Miss Wilhelmina Strongenloin.

EUROPE’S ARMIES POWERLESS TO STOP ALIEN INVADERS!

Vith zee impaction of zeez three inter-planetary projectile modules, comes the quickly retaliatizing response. Blast them to sphincklesteens do our mighty forces pharflutin. Alas, our pharflutin eez kaputzik. From their hated craterz duze arize our dreaded foe. From Poland, between Wrocaw, on the Olga River, and the Sudetic Mountain Range, is our first Titan. Just East of the Rhine River, between Dusseldorf and Cologne comes our second unvanted wisitor. The third tranzgressor defiles our tiny but beloved little country of Andorra, sweetly nestled between Spain and France, snug in the bosom of the Pyrenees. This is a wild and uncharted area of the world, and the exact location of zee impacticality is still unknown.

World renowned adventurer/scientist and notoriously sophisticated Professor Marcus Gilman is quoted. “Zeez Inter-planetary pests are proveenck to be of unuzual tenacity. Nevah zee less, zee greatest minds on zee continent are even now, devizing a method of destroyink our enemies. Or at least, I hope so.”

---

“Is it just me, Mr. Temperance, or do our new-found friends display an inordinate amount of skill and fortitude?”

“Yes, Ma’am. I was rather struck by their amazing talent. Ain’t it lucky for us to be able to combine forces with such formidable allies?”

“Rather, hear, hear!”

“The WickeThimble Players are making better time since getting a steam tractor in trade for that old stubborn ass.”

“Mr. Temperance!”

“I meant Horatio, Ma’am.”

“Of course, Mr. Temperance. I say, the stormy weather that had passed through in earlier days has left a clean and bright day of travel in its wake. The clear, crisp, morning air renews my spirits for further adventures, don’t you agree, Mr. Temperance?’
~batt, batt, batt~

“uhb, uh, I mean, yes, Ma’am, Miss Plumtartt, Ma’am, I feel sure we’re gonna lick these ruffians in the end. What with this gleaming, shiny, and arguably ostentatious, red three-wheeler leading the way, I just know everything is gonna turn out all right.”

“If I may say, your morale and enthusiasm are contagious, Mr. Temperance.”

“Thanks, Miss Plumtart. May I confide a suspicion with you?”

“You may trust in me any way you see fit, sir. Pray tell, what troubles your noble brow?”

“Well, I strongly suspect that our friends have been influenced by the ‘Revelatory Comet’s’ passing, just as you and I have, Ma’am. Sir Paul is such a bigger than life personality, and he has an uncanny charm about him.”

“Indeed, Mr. Temperance. You and I are of the same mind on this matter. Of course, that display of vocal prowess that Miss Nightingale shared with us was undoubtedly indicative of a power superhuman that has been wrought in the girl.”

“What’s more, I believe there is more to this Miss Englehart as well. She hides a cunning intelligence behind her mousy persona.”

“Indeed, I will bear this in mind for further analysis. I note the wake of destruction we follow has taken us on a Northern turn.”

“Yes, Ma’am. It looks like the communities are clearing out in advance of the twins of terror.”

“I must say, I am impressed with the many patriotic citizens we meet along the way. In support of our defiance, we have been fed and lodged along our journeys. Our steam propulsion is continually energized by generous donations of coal.”

“I thought we had the devils in North Carolina. The city of Charlotte was in the path of the monsters and did all she could to prepare, but the gigantic walkers are able to evade any obstacle. Not only that, but the Martians have adjusted their tactics, too. Standing out of range from Charlotte’s guns, they deploy their metal-melting, fire-inducing purple rays. Once these have been fully utilized, the weapon systems are swapped for the aural cannon. Charlotte was very nearly destroyed, many of her finest structures pummeled into dust before we arrived to help.”

“Nonetheless, we did arrive to position ourselves so as to allow Clarabelle Nightingale’s incomparable voice to negate the sonic assault and allow the city to renew her vigorous defense. We drove off the attackers, but I believe they are becoming more determined, Mr. Temperance.”

“Yes, Ma’am, maybe they’re getting hungry.”

“Eh hem, yes, perhaps you are correct. I must say, though, we maintain a resolute pursuit. Our modern conveyances, combined with traveling on the latest roadways, allow us to maintain the incredible sustained speeds of twenty to twenty-five miles traveled in any given hour of our course, wouldn’t you agree, Mr. Temperance?”

“Yes Ma’am, but our adversaries are able to achieve even greater speeds than ours.”

“I say, Virginia’s scenic, panoramic mountaintops’ views are marred by the rising smoke of Earthly victims, for fire always precedes us in the monster’s wake of destruction. Sometimes the blazes are raging, sometimes merely smoldering; but always, fire is a constant part of the wanton destruction.”

“Yes, Ma’am, but ain’t it touching how freely people help us along the way? When folks see our determination to do what we can to defeat these terrible enemies, they often are very generous in supplying food and shelter.”

“Yet, tonight, in a particularly remote wilderness of Virginia, our little party is forced to make bivouac on the rolling hillside, Mr. Temperance.”

“Yes, Ma’am, this is a lonesome area, to be sure. Let’s get back to the others.”

A quiet time of reflection falls over me and my companions.

A thick silence has crept into our midst.

Staring into the fire, everyone is lost in their own private reveries.

“A most serendipitous occurrence it is, our all coming together,” Miss Plumtartt suddenly bursts out, breaking the dark spell with her bright, clear, British tones. “For though we have all been reticent in speaking of such things, I cannot help but feel that we are all hiding little secrets from one another.”

Everyone perks up at Miss Plumtartt’s unexpected statement. The travelmates cast about at one another in sudden, possible, suspicion.

“Yes, it is obvious to me that all peoples around this campfire tonight share a secret, common bond!” continues my English girl in her strangely accusatory intonation.

“Miss Plumtartt!” I start, but she cuts me off in mid-protest.

“No, Mr. Temperance, I intend to get all things plainly on the table. I suggest that everyone present is an affectee of the ‘Revelatory Comet’s’ passing.”

Furtive glances flit about the fireside.

“I suggest we make our way around the campfire, each owning up to his or her own backstory, as it were,” continues the lovely aristocrat, “and I shall start. From my generational home of Plumtartt Manor in Elderberry Pond, Crimpenmestylenshire, I was raised in a world of scientific exploration. My father was the renowned scientist Professor Henry Plumtartt. He was affected by the Comet’s passing as was I. His research, however, took a misguided short-cut in its quest for sustainable fusion-based power. An accident with resulting explosion bathed me in an elemental beam that has given me a certain amount of power over and sensitivity to those things supernatural. Under the right set of circumstances, I have even exhibited the ability to cast red-hued spheres of light that produce catastrophic results for our enemies. Our enemies at this time of Earth’s peril are, though, not of an occult background, rendering much of my ‘powers’ such that they are, practically nil.”

“Mr. Temperance, would you like to proceed?”

Clearing my throat, I sit up and take the hand-off.

“Yes, Ma’am, I come from Alabama and I have an inclination towards things mechanical. I think I already possessed a tendency for tinkering and invention when the ‘Revelatory Comet’ made its influential pass through our solar system. My conjecture postulates that I was affected to a degree that has greatly enhanced that knack of the mechanical. It was an invention of mine that allowed me to meet my fair Miss Plumtartt.”

Why do I blush at that comment?

“Twas the hand of fate that brought Miss Plumtartt and me together, for in truth, we have been happenstance stricken and adventure prone ever since. I must admit, this metal melting beam of our foe has rendered much of my own expertise, likewise almost non-existent. Though we live in an age of invention at a pace never before seen, these are still predicated upon the use of metals which are now denied us.”

I pet the gentle and loving Mr. Bolt on the head.

“Some of you may have noticed an unusual amount of intelligence and empathy with our little dog Mr. Bolt. Miss Plumtartt and I are of the mind that he too, has been affected by the Revelatory Comet. She and I believe that many animals have kept a certain amount of psychic ability that we as humans, over the course of evolution, have lost. Bolt here, would appear to have an incredible amount of psychic control.”

“Bolt? Would you care to give a little demonstration?”

The little dog, as usual, is following the conversation. Though I do not think he really understands my words, he clearly is able to take my meaning, either by intonation, body gestures, or reading my mind.

Bolt looks around the campfire at his companions.

My skin is itchy. It is as if my body hair is grown in very thickly. In fact, it feels as if I am covered in hair. No! It feels as if I am covered in fur!

“Verily, what is this sorcery! I say unto you, my quest companions, my flesh squirms beneath the sensation of a wiry pelt!”

“Me too!” squeaks Valuria. “I feel as if I am wearing terrier pajamas!”

Bolt wags his tail and we all jump up to look behind ourselves for the phantom appendage.

Then I experience getting bit. It is a tiny, but sharp, bite.

“Bolt! Do you have a flea, buddy?”

The little dog gives a whimper, poor little guy.

I notice a few of my friends wanting to scratch at the bite of a flea upon their person that I know is not there. In fact, they are even attempting to scratch at the flea bite with their hind legs, I mean, rear legs. I mean, their feet.

“Oh! I shall go next, then, shall I?” Clarabelle Nightingale excitedly exclaims. She is practically blazing with enthusiasm. Great heaps of curly Titian hair appear to burst into flame with her inner fire.