Boneshaker (The Clockwork Century 1)
Page 57
He looked down at Briar and said quite pointedly, “That was a few years ago, before we had a good idea of how to breathe down here. It took some trial and error, it did, and this is a place where only the strong survive. And Evie, she just wasn’t strong. She got sick and started slipping, so the good doctor shot her in the head. ”
“That’s…” Briar couldn’t think of a response.
“That’s plain old practicality, is all. We’ve got plenty of rotters shambling around; we didn’t need one more hanging about. Point is,” he tried again, “before she went down, she told folks she’d got a look at his face, and it was all scarred up—like he’d been burned, or like something else bad had happened to him. She said he almost never took off his gas mask, even when he was underside here in the safer places. ”
“Well, there you go. He’s just an unfortunate man who’s hiding some scars. There’s no reason to assume the worst. ”
“No reason to assume the best, either. He’s a madman, sure as your husband was. And he’s got the same knack for building things, and making things work. ” Swakhammer seemed on the verge of saying something else. “I’m not saying that’s who he is, for sure. I’m just saying that lots of people think he might be. ”
Briar sneered. “Oh, come on. If you folks really thought he was Blue, you’d have dragged him into the street and fed him to the rotters by now. ”
“Mind your step,” he told her, indicating with the sweep of the lantern the way the tunnel was broken up into an uneven floor. “And it didn’t come to us all of a sudden—how we got thinking this stranger might not be such a stranger. It happened real gradual, over a couple of years. One day two folks who’d been thinking about it in private shared their thoughts, and from then on out, it was a runaway rumor that nobody could stop. ”
“I could stop it. ”
“Maybe you could; maybe you can’t. If you’re that sold on taking the trouble, I’d like to see you try it. Last few years, the old doctor’s been more trouble than he’s worth down here—useful instruments aside. ” He patted at the Daisy and shook his head. “He does good work, but he does bad things with his good work. He’s got a bit of passion for being in charge. ”
“You said yourself, nobody’s in charge down here except a man who died sixteen years ago. ”
He grumbled, “I didn’t say that exactly. Come on. Not much farther, I swear. Can you hear it?”
“Hear what?” Even as she asked the question, she could hear strains of music. It wasn’t loud and wasn’t too melodic, but it was distinct and cheerful.
“Sounds like Varney’s playing, or trying to play. He can’t pound out a song worth a damn, but he’s doing his best to learn. There was an old player piano in Maynard’s, but the mechanism inside it rotted out. A few of the boys rigged it up so you could play it like a regular instrument. The poor machine hasn’t been tuned since before the walls, but you can probably hear that for yourself. ”
“I’m surprised you’re comfortable with that much noise. I’d think you’d spend your days staying quiet. The rotters seem to have good ears. ”
“Oh, they can’t hear us so well when we’re down here. The sound travels underground more than it carries up there. ” He cocked his head at the ceiling. “And even if they do get a hint of what we’re up to, they can’t get at us. Maynard’s—well, most of the old square, really—is reinforced like nobody’s business. It’s the safest part of what’s left, I’ll tell you that much. ”
She was reminded of Zeke, and again she offered a silent prayer to anyone listening that perhaps the boy had found his way to the fortress within the fortress. “And if we’re lucky, we’ll find my son there. ”
“If we’re lucky indeed. Is he the resourceful sort?”
“Yes. Oh God, yes. Too much so for his own good. ”
The music was brimming up louder, spilling out around the edges of a round door that had been sealed on both sides. Swakhammer picked at the flaps and fumbled for a latch.
Briar spied a mark on the door. It was geometric and sharp, a zigzagged line that reminded her of something. She pointed at it and asked, “Mr. Swakhammer, what’s that? What does that mark mean?”
“What, don’t you recognize it?”
“Recognize it? It’s only a jagged line. Does it mean something?”
He reached out for her and she almost backed away out of reflex, but she held still while he poked at her belt buckle. Using one finger, he tipped it up so she could stare down at it and see for herself. “It’s your own daddy’s initials, that’s all. It marks this place as a safe spot, for people who’ll keep the peace. ”
“So it is,” she murmured. “And don’t I feel like a dummy. ”
“Don’t feel too silly about it. The poor quality of Willard’s handwriting is a thing of legend. Stand back, if you don’t mind. These doors are sealed from both sides, just in case. ” And he pulled the latch, tugged the door, and leaned on it to hold it open.
“In case of what?”
“In case there’s a breach. In case the bellows fail, or the cleared-out spots upstairs are busted open and contaminated. Just in case, that’s all. Around here, anything’s possible. ”
She stepped through the door, and she believed him.
Fourteen
Except for the fact that there were no windows, the establishment looked every bit like a thousand others that operated aboveground. A big bar made of wood and brass hulked against the far wall, and behind it a cracked mirror had been installed. It brightened and reflected the warm-looking room, doubling the clustered candles alight on every square, squat table—and contributing a fractured luster to the scene.