The Inexplicables (The Clockwork Century 4)

The boys faced one another as they shoved the handles up and down, and the cart rattled merrily through the never-ending tunnel. Along the way, Rector saw that there were actually two sets of tracks—one for each cart, he assumed, in case anyone was coming from the other direction.

At some point, Houjin insisted they stop for a break—though Rector quickly figured out that he didn’t need a rest so much as he wanted to switch seats. Thus far, Rector had been facing forward, and whoever sat opposite him was watching over his shoulders, back the way they’d come.

Houjin said, “I need to see the next two splits. We’re about to change directions. A couple of times. ”

“Are we going uphill from here on out?” Zeke asked.

“Yes, but it’s not bad. ”

The rest of the way Rector watched over their shoulders, eyeing the shifting, rock-sharpened shadows as they retreated behind them. The rollicking, rattling commotion of the cart rang loud throughout the passageway; it echoed in circles, surrounding them like the bobbling light—a pocket of glowing, raucous noise bumbling on the track, screeching as the path turned and the brake leaned against the round metal wheels.

After a while, Rector almost enjoyed it, despite the rising burn in his arms, as exhaustion did not so much overtake him as threaten him from a distance. He had no intention of stopping anyplace in that claustrophobic tunnel, not after that first unnerving break. The other boys weren’t likely to give him his seat back, and besides—who knew? What if the cart broke, or they couldn’t get it moving again? What if the track was uneven, or imperfectly maintained, and the wheels refused to run against it without their hard-earned momentum?

The rail line split, just as Houjin said it would. It veered to the right, and soon after, to the left. The grade steepened, the pump handles stiffened, and the way became harder. Sweating and grunting, the trio forced the cart forward, shoving it up the incline.

Just when Rector was dead certain he’d have to stop cranking or his arms would fall off, the darkness shifted up ahead and he could see the end reflected in the other boys’ visors.

Before too long they drew up to an open area with lights bolted onto the walls. Some of these lights were lit, but most were out. Even so, it gave the space enough illumination for Rector to find it encouraging.

Houjin squeezed the brake and the wheels squealed outrageously, sparks spit from the metal-on-metal connection, and the cart came to a halt. All three of its occupants leaned, jerked, and sat up straight with their bones still rattling. They crawled out and gathered their belongings.

Zeke went behind the cart and kicked a triangle-shaped block, which dropped down against the wheel. “Keeps it from rolling when it’s parked,” he explained when he saw that he was being watched. “’Cause I don’t feel like chasing it down later on. Come on. Let’s hit the bridges. ”

They came up through the basement of an old livery stable that still had decomposing leather tack hanging on the walls. The bones of horses or dogs or maybe even men and women lay scattered about like a child’s game of sticks; the boys avoided them as best they were able, but every so often the room rang out with the loud, cracking pop of something that once was alive.

The livery was only a story and a half tall, and above street level the windows had been left unboarded, allowing a watery wash of that feeble gray sun to spill inside. Rector turned his lantern down, then off. “Won’t be needing it, will I?” he asked too late, but Houjin shook his head.

“No, we’ll be on the roof soon. ”

“Will that be high enough? I only see the loft, and the ladder. Everything else we climbed the other day … all of them buildings were taller than this one. ”

“Different part of town,” Zeke said. “Trust me, though. Any roof that’ll hold us will keep us out of reach. And we’ll be right up against the main wall, most of the way. ”

Rector frowned and scratched at the straps that held his mask in place. He didn’t get a lot of traction, since he was wearing Fang’s gloves, but it’d only been an idle gesture anyway. “So the wall went up smack in the middle of some buildings, right?”

Houjin replied, “Right. Cut some of them in two. ”

“But not all the way around, I wouldn’t think. ”

Zeke shook his head. “No, not all the way around. Why? What are you getting at?”

“Once we get out to the wall’s edge, how do we investigate without getting down within … you know … grabbing reach?”

“We don’t,” Houjin said simply.

“Then how do we avoid the rotters? The ones we’re technically looking for, I mean. ”

“We avoid them the same way we find them,” he said offhandedly. “By listening. ”

“What do we do if we find some, and we can’t climb up out of their reach?”

Zeke said, “We run like hell, that’s what we do. Unless you’re packing a pistol somewhere in that satchel, and I bet you’re not. ”

“I’m not,” Rector admitted, mentally adding it to his wish list. A gun of some sort seemed to be the obvious means of survival inside the walled city. “And neither of you two have one either, do you?”

“Naw. Guns are so loud, it just attracts more of them. Once we get up to the roof, you’ll see what we use to take care of them. ” Zeke led the way up a long flight of stairs that led to a trapdoor. He flipped it open and a puff of swirling Blight gas billowed down into the livery, dousing Rector and Houjin. They wiped at their visors out of habit or reflex. It didn’t help.

Houjin ran up the steps behind Zeke, and Rector came after.