A Matter of Temperance (The Adventures of Ichabod Temperance Book 1) (14 page)

The desert stretches out into infinity. So too, does my consciousness.

The land turns black and perfectly laid cartographer’s lines stretch out in all directions, mapping a plain, plane. The glowing grid on the featureless landscape is bordered in a white horizon, and complemented by odd, dancing, geometric constructions.

There is a large fox.

A huge rabbit towers over Miss Plumtartt.

More enormous creatures sit quietly around us.

Wolf, hawk, gopher, and lion.

We look into the fire.

YOU MUST COMPLETE YOUR TASKS

No one speaks. No one has spoken. The words simply, ‘are.’

TALISMAN

FIND IT

IN YOUR WORLD

YET

NOT OF YOUR WORLD

ORB OF PROTECTION

MUST FIND

DO NOT FAIL

DARKNESS COMES

Persephone
.

I...

must...

go...

to...

him...

I...

must...

must...

go...

...

...

fire...

the man I seek...

magic potion... drink...

acrid, bitter, viscous...

I

descend...

not into darkness..

into some place grey and featureless, except for...

Spirits of our world...

They speak to me...

They burden me...

yes.

The Talisman.

In our world, yet not of our world...

of our world...

yet,...

not in our world...

….

We must...

obtain it...

or all …

will fall  to the darkness.

- - -

My head feels as if it is being crushed beneath the keel of a Plumtartt manufactured dreadnought.

Where am I?

“Here ya go, Miss Plumtartt, try and drink a little water, Ma’am.”

The lids of my eyes do not want to cooperate with my instructions to part. I am forced to open my eyes manually. I am blinded by the Sun’s glare, but I force myself through the thick, hazy curtains of consciousness to gain my bearings. I am recumbent in the arms of a worried Mr. Temperance.

A seemingly endless yellow expanse rolls before me. A sea of sand.

Oh. Yes. The desert. The dream.

That was not a dream!

Mr. Temperance is giving me a drink of water. I try not to sputter and waste the precious liquid. He is covered with tiny particles of sand, even in his eyelashes. To the east, the sun has risen a little less than halfway to its zenith position, yet already, the elements oppress mercilessly.

“I fear we have missed our train, Mr. Temperance.”

“Yes, Ma’am. I’ve gotta pretty fair sense of what direction to travel. With any luck, we oughta find some train tracks that’ll lead us to somewhere’s.”

I can only follow, maintaining a facade of stoic resolution, as we wander interminably.

Eventually, we do indeed find the train tracks.

Out of the sand’s bright mirror of that oppressive, swollen sun, the light of the settled surrounding rays is a blinding haze. Perhaps that is why I look without seeing, pass without comprehension, as in a daze we continue our trek. It is some time before I come to realize that Mr. Temperance is carrying me.

A soothing coolness envelops my face. I open my eyes to darkness and rough texture. A cool, wet towel covers my face. I weakly pull this aside to find myself in a hotel’s furnished room. Mr. Temperance has delivered me to civilization’s care. An exhausted Mr. Temperance sits in a chair, having fallen asleep in a no doubt uncomfortable position as he attempted to watch over me before  succumbing to the irresistible pull of sleep.

Only the slightest moan escapes my lips, but it is enough to have the poor man bolt upright and leap to my side.

“Miss Plumtartt! Are you all right?” His pleading eyes reveal many hours of worry.

“Yes, Mr. Temperance, I do believe that I am.”

He lets out a genuine gush of relief.

“Gee whiz, I sure am glad to hear that, Ma’am.”

“I think you may have the liberty of some rest yourself, sir.”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

With that he removes his tweed jacket, and sets it on the chair. Then he discards the pistol belt, containing the remarkable pistol and its mysterious ammunition. These are placed on the bureau, next to his derby hat.

“May I remove my boots, Ma’am?”

“Socks and all, Mr. Temperance. Please feel free to strip your feet to the skin. I shall not faint, I assure you.”

With feet disrobed, he rolls his jacket into a tube and uses it as a pillow as he stretches out on the floor across the doorway.

“Are you sure you will be all right there, Mr. Temperance?”

“Yes, Ma’am. If anybody tries to come into the room, they gotta get over me. Good night, Miss Plumtartt.”

And with the closing of his eyes the tired boy is immediately fast asleep.

We arise in a few hours to resume our journey. A premonition of danger’s return hurries us along.

My companion obtains seating for us on the next conveyance West; our destination is the small town in California that Reverend Dolomite mentioned. With a couple of additional train changes, we are finally on our way into Los Angelos (this little town in California has sprung up, now that the railroad is open).

‘The City of Angels,’ is it? Mr. Temperance and I are speaking of how we are both looking forward to seeing the West Coast, when I involuntarily burst out with a small cry.

A familiar dread sense of loathing spasms through my frame.

A thud passes through the train as something heavy makes an unscheduled boarding. This is followed by two more substantial thuds in quick succession. The train continues to sway along its swift travels, with the additional passengers joining our trip.

It is not one of this city’s Angels that tears through the wood at the rear of the train car; rather, ‘tis a phosphorescent Demon, out of Dante’s Inferno.

Ichabod

“Up and at ‘em, Miss Plumtartt, Ma’am, let’s hustle you towards the front of the train. Maybe I can uncouple the train cars...”

Errrk

“Mr. Temperance, the rear door...”

Krash!

“Ain’t it peculiar how these fellas can move through the metal hinges, hardware, and handle of the door, but it’s the wood that gives the monster resistance?”

“Pity it could not resist a bit more, yes? I say, given its enormous size and strength, the monster is quite capable of tearing through the barrier with little to no effort, eh hem?”

“No Ma’am.”

“I might have said this brute is rather like the Native American Indian myth of Sasquatch, but this aberration, standing upon its hind legs, is more reptilian. Moreover, it has an extra set of arms and salivates extraordinary amounts of drool from its immense and gaping maw.”

Bigmouth spots Miss Plumtartt.

Eee-
Aye
-rRoark!

I am a bundle of conflicting emotions:

-Repulsed by the horrible monster.

-Terrified that it could reach and harm Miss Plumtartt.

and,

-Curious as to whether this device I have crafted and have so much hope and pride in will actually work.

BUH-WHOOMP.
POW!!!

BO
O
O
O
OM
!
!
!

Four sounds have been created by the dangerous handgun. The first and second stages of the charging process are followed by the discharge of the weapon, and then, finally, happily, the devastating explosion of the horrible monster. In a blinding flash of green tinged white light and a deafening retort, the monster and the round of electrified resin detonate as one, disintegrating the entire rear of the train car.

With the blast of the exploding monster having taken out the back of our train car, the rest of the subsequent cars are connected to the front and engine by a thread. The back wall of our train car, and a bit of the next, except for the metal framing, are completely atomized and dispersed in the winds of this speeding train.

Looking through the hole to the roof of the following railcar, two more horrible devils appear and look down at me.

One jumps across to our car. It lands on the roof and runs to the front of the cab, over our heads.

I go out the ruined back of the train cab. As I am climbing up, the second creature is leaping across. It clatters across the rooftop, turns to meet me, but trips. Its foot has passed through a steel beam. Its inability to make contact with the metals of our world has finally worked in my favour. The vaguely saurian monster attempts to free its foot protruding into the train, but he is stuck fast.

I calmly aim the P.G.D.D.

BUH
-whirrrr
-
klik...klik...klik...

The device does not function properly on this second attempted discharge.

Dang!

That is disappointing. I was really counting on that weapon. It worked so well the first time.

I ain’t got no time to worry about that. I pull the emerald blade of P.E.R.K., and I’m all over that murderous fiend with his foot stuck through the roof of the train.

“Oh, no!” My blade is caught fast in the rib bones of the monster. His brother, the first creature to leap to our car, has just about made it back to get me when he realizes that he has an opening to get Miss Plumtartt.

I abandon the blade.

I run and leap to meet the beast with a flying Savate kick. His thoughts of the incomparable Miss Plumtartt have been interrupted.

I kick your face!
I give this boy a big boot to the mush, and it really is a mushy face.

Acting on instinct, I follow up with another Savate manuever.

Strangely reminiscent of some Russki ballet I saw one time, again I run and jump, but with a spin this time to develop all the torque I can manage, sending a tremendous Mud Pounder momentum-ed kick to the freeloading critter.

We’re both scrambling to stay atop the swaying conveyance. Just as we get to our feet, I charge the beast and carry us both off the front of the railcar.

We tumble to the coal bin feeder. I hop down to the Engineer’s platform, with an idea starting to brew.

The horror follows, diving at me, slinging saliva as he angrily curses in his foul language.

Putting up a foot to catch him in the gut, and my hands to his paws, I fall back to the platform. Using his own weight and inertia against him, I kick out with all my might, to propel him up and over my head into the train’s roaring coal furnace. He passes through the metal of the train’s oven without contact.

Apparently, flames, fire, and coal, are elements of this world with which the creature does interact as his departing vocalizations briefly convey.

Persephone
.

“It worked, Miss Plumtartt: an unqualified success!”

“I beg your pardon, Mr. Temperance, but I was under the impression that the device had failed you.”

“Well, on the second activation of the device, certainly, but wasn’t it thrilling when, on first ignition, the weapon did work?”

“That is true, Mr. Temperance. I say, that was an impressive retort from the gun, and it was followed by an equally satisfying combustion of the unwanted visitor. Do you have an interesting manner of designation for your pistol Mr. Temperance?”

“Yes, Ma'am, Miss Plumtartt, Ma’am! Its initials are P.G.D.D., but I like to say, Pee-Gee Double Dee, which stands for Plasmo-Gasmic Discharge Device.”

Involuntarily, I choke and spray a bit of tea in an uncharacteristic sputtering show of shock at the unexpected reply.

“I beg your pardon!”

“My Plasmo-Gasmic Discharge Device. Why are you tremblin’, Miss Plumtartt? Are you chewing the inside of your mouth, to keep from laughing?”

I keep my face turned from Mr. Temperance.

“I’m gonna fix it, Ma’am,” says my companion, with some consternation. “I have the distinct impression that you are having me on, somehow, Ma’am.”

“Oh, no, Mr. Temperance, not at all, sir.”

“My pistol does not seem to be the only victim of our latest trans-dimensional encounter. Your poor hat is in a terrible state, Ma’am.”

“Oh, pooh. So it is. You will be happy to know, however, that it is due to my own brave sacrifice. When the brute with his foot stuck through the roof began to disintegrate, I had no other vessel at hand in which to catch the dripping ichor. I freely donate this chapeau to Earth’s defense.”

“That was some quick thinkin’ there, Miss Plumtartt. We shall secure rooms for the evening and make our subsequent plans in the morning, Ma’am.”

“Jolly good, Mr. Temperance.”