Apparition Trail, The (45 page)

Chapter IX

Farewell to a friend — Fixing the limber — Steele awakens at last — Into the tunnel — Closing the circle — An unexpected encounter — A fight to the death — The Manitou Stone — Big Bear speaks — The cure — The treaty negotiations — A hand of cards — A friend reappears — Preparing the manuscript

I walked slowly past the buffalo-skull pound and climbed the opposite hill, my guts twisting in agony with each step. I could feel the cancerous tumour quite plainly now — it was a large, hot lump that visibly distended my stomach. It wasn’t just the cancer that was slowing my steps, however — I was also dreading what I would see on top of the hill.

I reached the top at last, and saw the ruts that the wheels of the limber had left in the grass, and the barrel of the gun a short distance away. Buck lay dead on the ground in his makeshift harness, the bit still in his mouth. Chambers lay on his back near the barrel of the gun. One hand still clutched the brand he’d used to ignite the artillery piece. I didn’t see any mark upon his body, and for an instant I thought he might yet be alive, but when I knelt on the grass beside him and lifted him in my arms, I could feel something shifting inside him. His chest had been crushed by the weight of the gun barrel, which had then rolled off him. Now that I looked closer, I could see the oily mark it had left on the front of his pyjamas.

I held him a moment more, wishing I had the time to give him a proper burial. Although we had gotten off on the wrong foot in our initial meeting, I had come to like Chambers. After years of keeping to myself, fearful that my fellow policemen might find out about my illness, I had finally found a kindred spirit — a man who had also joined Q Division under false pretences. I suspected that, had Chambers lived, we would have become fast friends.

The agony in my stomach reminded me that my time was too precious to spend grieving. Waving to Stone Keeper, who stood on the other hill beside the Manitou Stone, I turned to follow the limber’s tracks.

It hadn’t rolled far. It had come to a stop halfway down the hill, one wheel fetched up against a large rock. I was relieved to see that the perpetual motion device was still working. The round brass pendulum that drove the engine’s pistons was still swinging back and forth, completing a smooth arc despite the angle at which the limber sat. Its
tick-tock
sounded regular and steady; I wondered why Chambers had used Buck to draw the limber up to the top of the hill.

I saw why in another instant. The perpetual motion device itself was intact, but the main gear that drove the wheels had broken in two. Fixing it would require the services of a machinist and a fully equipped blacksmith’s shop, at the very least.

Or would it? I peered closer at the spot where the gun itself had been mounted. The barrel had been torn from its moorings by the force of the explosion that had killed Chambers, but three of the gears that had connected it to the perpetual motion device, allowing the barrel to be rotated and elevated, were still in place. One gear had been twisted back upon itself when the barrel ripped free, and another had several teeth stripped, but the third was intact, save for a very slight warp. It was slightly smaller than the gear that needed to be replaced, but I thought it might do the trick.

It had been many years since I had set foot in my father’s watch making shop. When I was a boy, he had at first been proud of my fascination with the workings of the watches and clocks he repaired, and had invited me to the shop, allowing me to look on over his shoulder. After a time, however, he noticed a pattern. Whenever I stood next to him in the shop, the workings of the watch or clock he was working on either sped up, inexplicably, or slowed down — or stopped working altogether. Unwilling to believe that some supernatural force might be at work, he insisted that I must have been tampering with the workings when his back was turned. When I seemingly refused to stop these “childish pranks,” I was given a good strapping and banished from the shop.

I never did lose my fascination for machinery, however — and now I had my chance to prove my father wrong. I could be as good as he was.

The limber still had its toolbox, and I set to work with the wrenches and screwdrivers inside it. It took all of the strength I had to undo the nut that held the gear I wanted to remove; I was drenched in sweat by the time I got it off. Gritting my teeth against the stomach pain that made me feel as weak as a girl, I at last worked the bent gear free and shoved the smaller one into its place. I had an anxious moment when the pendulum missed a beat — perpetual motion devices are nearly impossible for the lay mechanic to start up again, requiring a specialist’s touch — but by working feverishly to tighten the bolt again, I got the gear in place before the pendulum lost its momentum entirely. When I was finished, I wiped a greasy hand across my forehead and heaved a sigh of relief.

I climbed up into the operator’s seat, and cautiously pushed the drive lever forward. The gears engaged with a grating noise and a screech of metal, but the limber lurched forward. In another moment, it was climbing the hill, the pendulum clicking out a steady beat.

I drove the limber down past the pound and up to the place where the Manitou Stone stood. The limber moved only slowly and its mechanism squealed so loud that I wondered for a moment if the smaller gear was up to the strain, but at last it made it to the top of the hill. Positioning it just under the stone, I unfastened from the side of the limber a large iron bar — a tool intended to lever the limber out of mud holes. With Stone Keeper helping me, I levered the Manitou Stone away from its resting place. It teetered for a moment, then fell with a heavy crash onto the limber.

I helped Stone Keeper up onto the seat at the rear of the limber, then passed Iniskim’s blanket-wrapped body up to her. I climbed up beside Stone Keeper, stumbling as my foot missed its mark. I was weaker than I thought, my mind clouded from pain. When we set out, I accidentally threw the lever into reverse, and the limber began to roll backward down the hill. Frantically, I shoved the lever in the opposite direction. Behind me, the perpetual motion device seemed almost to sense my urgency, and the pendulum picked up its pace. With a sudden lurch, the limber came to a stop, then began to roll forward again. We were on our way! Soon we’d be in the tunnel, and the going would be smoother.

Something was wrong, however. I could feel it in the vibrations beneath my seat. The perpetual motion device was ticking faster now, and when I craned my head around to look, I saw that the pendulum was swinging back and forth with a distinct wobble. Suddenly, a wrenching shudder ran through the limber. I heard a large
spanging
noise and a clatter as something metal broke — and then the limber was rolling down the hill. Try as I might to stop it, I could not. The perpetual motion device had disengaged, and the brake was not working. The limber hit a bump that sent the Manitou Stone several inches into the air, nearly sending it flying, but it crashed back down onto the limber again. The limber smashed through one of the piles of bones at the bottom of the hill, and then rolled, at last, to a stop. The pendulum was still ticking — but the gear I’d replaced was hopelessly broken.

I cursed, and then began to silently weep. The cursed bad luck that caused every mechanical thing I approached to go awry was my downfall. There was no way I would get the Manitou Stone to its original resting place now — no way for me to save the settlers and bring my daughter back to life. All of my efforts had been for naught.

Stone Keeper shifted on the seat beside me. The blanket in which Iniskim was wrapped had come partially undone in our wild ride down the hill. Stone Keeper tucked the blanket back around Iniskim, then sat in silence, staring straight ahead of her.

Suddenly, her head turned. I heard her gasp, and looked up to see what she had spotted. My mouth fell open as I saw a yellow-haired buffalo descending the hill where the Manitou Stone had stood. There was only one person it could be.

“Steele!” I shouted, waving my arms.

As the buffalo trotted toward us I wiped my tears away with the back of my sleeve, and climbed down painfully from the limber. Steele came to a halt a few paces in front of me, and shook his mighty head, as if in disbelief at the fate that had befallen him. He bellowed, then lashed his tail back and forth in frustration at his inability to speak.

“Superintendent,” I said, gritting my teeth against the pain that wracked my stomach. “The Day of Changes came to pass — but there’s a way to reverse it. We have to get the Manitou Stone back to its original resting place. We can do this by carrying the stone through the tunnels — but only if you help us.”

Steele stood with round, dark eyes fixed upon me, listening with rapt attention. Despite his buffalo body, his mind was still that of a man’s. He nodded his massive head. It was clear that he understood my every word.

Quickly, I explained what needed to be done. The traces that Chambers had used to harness Buck to the limber were damaged, but the rope in the limber’s toolbox would do the trick. I fastened it to what remained of the traces, then made a makeshift harness. When I was done, I held the loop out for the Superintendent, who stepped neatly into it. I tightened it around his chest, apologizing for the indignity. He shook his head and snorted, as if to tell me that no apology was necessary.

I climbed back onto the limber, by now feeling so weak that I allowed Stone Keeper to help me into my place. Then Steele dug his hoofs into the earth, and with a massive pull hauled the limber into motion.

It didn’t take us long to reach the tunnel. Stone Keeper’s feather was still sticking in the earth where I’d left it, and a dark hole led into the earth. Either the Indians hadn’t realized that the tunnel was open, or they had forgotten about it in their excitement at having successfully brought about the Day of Changes. Steele headed for the cave, hauling the limber along behind him. We paused only briefly, to retrieve Stone Keeper’s feather. We might need it to open the tunnel at the other end.

As we entered the tunnel, clods of earth began to fall behind us, sealing us inside. The pendulum picked up its pace again, but this time it wasn’t my proximity that was causing it to do so. It flashed back and forth in a
tick-tick-ticking
blur, propelled by the wash of etheric energy that flowed through the tunnel. I felt the hair at the back of my neck rise as a shiver passed through me, and saw that Stone Keeper was also trembling. I laid my hand on her arm — taking care to avoid her hand, with its severed little finger — and gave it a comforting squeeze. She turned her pockmarked face to me and smiled, then looked away.

The limber trundled on through the darkness. Unable to see, Steele had slowed to a walk.

“Follow the curve to the right, Superintendent,” I called out to him. “Ignore any side tunnels; they’re only tributaries. Keep to the main tunnel.”

From the darkness ahead of the limber came Steele’s answering snort.

The pendulum on the limber was still in motion, its rapid ticking as loud as a clock in an empty room. After a minute or two, its heavy brass ball took on an eerie blue glow. Sparks crackled across its surface and spun off in spirals like ball lightning. Soon the light they produced, although inconsistent, was enough to see by. Steele picked up his pace, pulling mightily upon the rope and moving at a brisk trot.

How long our journey through the tunnel took, I could not say. I couldn’t trust my pocket watch, and the pain in my gut was distorting my sense of time, slowing it to a painful crawl. I spent much of the ride bent nearly double, arms wrapped tight around the throbbing ache that my stomach had become. I felt sweat trickle down my temples, and bloody bile rising in my throat. I told myself that the journey would be a swift one; I could almost feel the current of etheric energy pushing us along. I just had to bear it a little bit longer.

After what seemed like an eternity, Steele’s questioning snort caused me to look up. Ahead, I could see a patch of light. It grew steadily brighter, and I could see that it was the mouth of a tunnel, filled with bright sunlight. Beyond the cave mouth, I could hear the rush of flowing water. The tunnel went no further; we must have reached its end point: the spot on the Battle River where the Manitou Stone had originally stood. I was glad that we didn’t have to use Stone Keeper’s feather to open a cave here; I was feeling so nauseous that I was no longer certain I could climb down from the limber. Only the fact that Stone Keeper was seated beside me caused me to choke down my bile; I was too much of a gentleman to be ill beside her.

The pendulum was acting strangely now, no longer ticking back and forth but instead spinning in a furious circle. It spiralled first in one direction, then another, as if the current of etheric energy that flowed over it were changing direction. Sparks crackled from it in a continuous stream, shifting back and forth through the colours of the rainbow as the pendulum whirled first counter-clockwise, then clockwise, then back again. A peculiar hot burning smell filled the air, stinging my nostrils.

Steele had stopped in the cave mouth, his nostrils quivering. Beyond this exit I saw a gentle, grassy slope leading down to a wide river. The tunnel gave egress onto the crest of a hill. The grass that covered it was being stirred by a stiff breeze that blew it back and forth. A series of tiny whirlwinds seemed to be chasing each other across these bending stalks, and converging on one particular spot: a barely discernible depression in the ground, no more than a dozen yards outside the cave mouth.