Gallop Part 2

 

There was nothing subtle about the stables. Located in the farthest corner of the racetrack, the large golden edifice stood proudly, stinking of oil and horse s**t. The ground around the building was a graveyard for discarded and rusted horse parts, ranging from metal things as small as Jack’s fingers to an actual, albeit cracked saddle. The ports on the saddle were its wirings must have once gone through were now overrun with weeds, although the flesh hooks still looked to have some bite to them.

            Pushing aside with his toe a part that resembled one of those spinning tops he used to play with as a kid, Jack almost jumped when the thing came to life and started to spin for a few minutes before losing its balance and toppled back to the ground.

            “That’s the problem with gyro XIII, can’t stay on its base for to long. Version XIV managed to fix that problem  but of course the bio sensors on that one always falls two clicks behind the base readout. Version XV clears both problems and if it wasn’t so damn expensive it’d be a winner.”

            “You’re late  Mitch,” Jack said, turning to greet the man walking towards him.  

            “Personally I like to use a combination of version IX and II. That way my base readout always stays on the margin, and the gyro doesn’t burn out the wheels as fast as the others,” said the man moving towards Jack. “Although the first version is still surprisingly useable. Long as you don’t mind replacing the animal every three races or so.” His steps almost matched the quickness of his words, which was surprising considering that for all intents and purpose Mitch waddled. Much like the penguins one saw at the zoo actually. 

            Jack had said as much on his first meeting with Mitch, the result of one too many beers in him. The man might have walked like a penguin, but he fought more like a rabid wolverine. Jack still had the bite marks to prove it. The fact that Mitch didn’t come up no higher than Jack’s waist hadn’t stopped him from managing to whup Jack’s tail all over the bar that night.

            Reaching Jack, Mitch bent over to pick up the top, flicking down a small magnifying glass connected to his lenses. “Not in bad shape some wires need to be reshaped but it’s salvageable. Definitely salvageable.” Pocketing the top, he looked up. “I’m late?”

            Pointing to the giant ornate golden  clock hanging in the center of the racetrack, Jack nodded. “We’d agreed on two. It’s two thirty. That’s late where I come from.”

            Frowning, Mitch bent over and picked up another piece of the ground, turning it over with nimble fingers. God might not have graced him with long legs, but Mitch had the longest fingers Jack had ever seen. “Sorry. There was some things that could had to be looked after.”

            “I bet. Blonde or brunette?”

            Mitch smiled, tossing the part away. “Heh, what gave it away?”

            “You’re fly is unbuttoned.”

            If there was one thing that Mitch knew better than mechanics, it was women. You’d think a man his size wouldn’t get much attention from the females, but Jack had never met a better lady’s man. Heard it said that what god took away from him in legs he gave elsewhere.

            “So where’s the loon?” Mitch asked, looking around.

            Jack motioned over to the stable doors. “Doing his part. And I told you to stop calling him that.”

“What should I call him then, Rasputin? You shouldn’t humor the man. Anyways what are we waiting for? Come on, the quicker we finish this the quicker I can be back in the folds of that young girl’s skirt. Have I ever mentioned how much of a fascinating thing a woman’s dress is? The layers after layers that go into the thing, taking hours to put on, but infinitely faster to take off.”

            “Funny, that’s never been my experience.”

            “Ah,” Mitch said, heading towards the stable. “That’s because I will wager you make a frontal assault. No, the back is the better way to go at it. Less resistance there.”

            By the time they reached the stable doors, Jack had gathered a number of interesting tips on the correct, that is, fastest way to undress a woman. This he made a point to store, thinking back to Alexandra’s dress.

            “You’re late,” Rasputin said, staring intently into one of the bronze guards.

            “He knows,” Jack said.

            “I know,” Mitch said.

            Breaking eye contact with the emotionless face in front of them. Rasputin turned to the both of them. “We must hurry. The enchantment will only last an hour exactly.”

            Jack’s hand reached to the inside of his coat, feeling empty air. He really wished he had his guns with him but there wasn’t any way to bring them in without alerting the guards. The newer sentry models had detecting nodules that could pinpoint the outline of a gun in someone’s person. Plus it would have taken away from the beauty of this plan,  the absolute security in this place made people sure no one would be foolish enough to rob it.

            Still, a set of guns would have gone a long way to making Jack feel normal right about now. It was those damn bronze guards. They were creepy enough by themselves, what with their emaciated figures with only the barest necessities. Two legs, a torso, and a head with a set of eyes. No details carved into any of the,  all them being replicas of their original creator’s vision.

            Who might or might not be standing right in front of Jack.

            Taking a step forward, Jack continued to eye the bronze guards, expecting them to do their usual head turning to track him. Instead every single one of the five guards remained immobile. Again Jack wished for his guns.

            “How in the hell did you do that Ras?” Jack whispered.

            Scratching his long beard, Rasputin merely smiled. “They retain the spark of the first. They are bonded to me, though not as strongly. “

            “Nonsense, machines can’t bond with humans. Everyone knows that.” Mitch said, walking towards the closest guard and once more flicked his magnifying glass down. “There must be something else to this. Perhaps you used a joint disruptor, those have been getting a lot of use out in the fields.” He started to move on to the second frozen guard, but Jack stopped him.

            “Mitch, we don’t have the time. Get a move on.”

            Grumbling Mitch turned his attention away from the guard and towards the door. “Nice design, if a bit outdated,” he muttered, looking at the giant steel contraption. Walking to the center of the door, he started intently at the spheres slightly protruding out out of the surface, all arranged in a circle. After a moment of what looked to be deep thinking his fingers began to dance across the spheres, finding hidden buttons on some and twisting others. The motions reminding Jack of a piano player.

            “It’s like a woman really,” Mitch explained, his fingers continuing to move across the spheres. “You just have to know the right buttons to push, the correct way to handle her womanly parts and…” taking a step back, he turned and grinned at Jack, “she’ll be nice and open up for you.”

            Jack looked to the door, which remained closed. “Bet that would have been quite impressive, seeing the door open and all. Would have even made me think I didn’t waste my money hiring you,” he said to Mitch.

            Frowning, Mitch turned back to the spheres and prodded it with his index fingers. “You didn’t, just hold on. They can be stubborn, but that’s alright, I like a little fight to them, makes the thing fun.”

            “We talking about the door or just women in general?”

            “Heh, I lost track already.” Taking a step back, Mitch grinned as the door came to life, the clockwork gears laid out on each side beginning to turn. The door opened with nary a sound, all the machinery oiled to the hilt.

            “Presto,” Mitch said.

            Patting him on his shoulder, Jack stepped inside. “Good job, now come on, that was the easy part remember?”

            Jack had spent a fair amount of time in stables back across the ocean, over in America. He could still remember the first time he’d been inside one of them.  Couldn’t have been more than two or three at the time, barely old enough to form words, but to his father, old enough to start getting to know the business of a work hand. The stable his father  worked at was nothing fancy, just a few wooden stalls that housed a couple of horses and one old cow. Still, to Jack it’d seem like the greatest thing in the world. The horses especially. Even now he could remember the way their muscles were coiled, as if waiting for another chance to run. How they had towered over him making him think that anyone that could ride these creatures had to be especial.     

            Looking around the stables now, Jack realized he’d been right all those years ago. It’s just that it taken till now to realized how special one had to be.

            The riders hung from the walls like marionettes laid out neatly next to their horse.  Transparent tubes coiled around their necks and wrapped around their bodies, as if trying to choke the very life out of them. They were all naked, barren patches of flesh fighting a losing battle against all the metal and the tubes.

            “For feeding,” Mitch explained, catching Jack looking at the things connected to the riders. Pretty efficient design too from the looks of it. The tubes get inserted directly into the stomach, ensuring the riders will get the proteins they need. “

            “Barbaric,” Rasputin stated, keeping his distanced from the riders. Jack agreed.

            “Quite the opposite actually,” Mitch said.  “This is progress. Just imagine, getting all our nutrients while we sleep, think of the time it could save. I think they’re testing it out on the coal mines now, with talk to moving to the orphanages as well. Will save everyone a pretty penny, I’ll tell you that.”

            Jack suppressed a shudder. The image of children hooked up like this was something he could have done without.

            The tubes weren’t the worse of it though. It was the legs. Or to be more specific, the lack of them. Instead every rider had long, thick copper  wires coming down from the waist down. They connected from a spot right below the belly button, where the little flesh that was left had given in to an ocean of silver metal.

            “Do they know we’re here?” Jack asked.

            Shaking his head, Mitch moved closer to a rider and touched one of the wires hanging limply. “No, they’re sleep. Forming a good enough connection to their horses burns a lot of energy. If they’re not racing, they’re mostly sleeping and feeding.”

            “What about their horses?”

            “Same thing, take a look for yourself,” Mitch said, motioning to the stall next to the rider.

            Jack and Rasputin both peered over the stall closest to them. “This is not a horse,” Ras stated.

He was right. The thing that Jack was looking at might have once started as a horse, but that had been a long time ago. Much like the rider, what was in that stall was less of an living animal and more of a machine. The flesh had been stripped and replaced with tough leather and copper sheets. The legs were intricately carved pieces of metals, miniature pistons at rest. Jack could just see the saddle, with is many open ports and tiny bristles that would connect the rider and horse.  The thing had no eyes, the sockets  they once had been now closed off. The rider’s own eyes were all that was probably deemed  necessary.
            Reaching out to touch the thing, Jack was surprised when the its head stirred slightly, angling its nose towards his hand. Tentatively Jack’s fingers grazed the nose, feeling the cold surface of the metal. “This is not a horse,” he repeated Ras’s words.

            “It’s better than one!” Mitch said, oblivious to the other two’s feelings. Races are much more exciting since the good old army allowed their design out into the open. The riders and the horses are now one single creature when out racing, able to make spur of the moment reactions.”

            Jack continued to stroke the horse, trying to find a part where his fingers could feel something other than the coldness of the metal.  “Has America done the same?” he suddenly asked.

            Mitch frowned. “Hard to say actually. You know how the government likes to keep details of the war close to them if possible. I heard rumors, but,” he shrugged, “so far that’s all they been.”

            Nodding, Jack stepped away from the horse. “Good. Let’s find what we came for and get out.”

            “I still don’t see what all the stink is about,” Mitch said as they walked deeper into the stable. The smells of oil and manure seemed to almost create a physical wall the three of them had to overpower through.

            “Ever seen one up close?” Rasputin asked.

            “Can’t say I have.”

            Jack smiled and zeroed in to a large enclosed stall at the very end of the stable. “You’ll see then.”

            The door to the stall was secured into place with a single lock, and it was a doozy. Almost as large as Mitch’s head, it had three different key holes, as well as a number dial. Clearly whatever was inside the stall the stall was worth a lot to certain people. Which was good news for Jack, meant that his contact hadn’t been lying.

            Cracking his knuckles, Mitch eyed the lock with professionalism.  “Okay, this one is going to take me a while. The key locks will be relatively easy, easier if I had my tools with me, but still easy. It’s that number dial that’s got me worried. Could take me more than the hour we half.”

            “Half an hour,” corrected Rasputin.

            “Half an hour then,” Mitch said, right before he jumping out of the way, just as Jack brought a large piece of a broken pipe he’d found down on the lock. “Or I guess we could do it your way.”

             The clang of the pipe meeting the lock echoed across the stable, but Jack didn’t worry about it. The stable wasn’t the quietest of places to begin with so he hoped that anyone walking past the building would take the noise to be someone working on the horses.

            The pipe and lock both broke at the same time. Letting the pipe fall to the floor Jack wiped the sweat of his brow and moved to open the stall door.

            “Don’t even think about it Jack,” came a voice behind them. Jack didn’t need have to turn around to know who it’d belong to, but he did it anyways for two reasons. One, he could never get tired of staring into Alexandra’s face. And two, he wanted to satisfy his curiosity about which gun she would be pointing at him with.

            Turned out to be a modified Baker rifle, which she wield with the touch of someone used to firearms. Its sights were aimed squarely at Jack, which he found to be unfair. There were, after all two other people with him.

            “Mighty fine weapon you got there. How you manage to smuggle that in?”

            She smiled at him from behind the weapon’s sight. “You’ll be surprise what one can bring in under the folds of this dress.”

            “And of course, the fact that you’re a Winchester and get to avoid the guard’s searches had nothing to do with.”

            She shrugged, her gun never wavering. “Maybe. You lied to me Jack. Again. I should shoot you just for that.”

            “I did no such thing.”

            “Yes you did!”

            “No I didn’t. I said I had no nefarious plans for today. And that there would be no at gunpoint heists. I see nothing nefarious about what I’m doing, and seeing as you’re the only one with a gun in here, I  really haven’t lied.”

            “Those are semantics,” she said.

            “She’s right you know,” Mitch added.

            “Who’s side are you on?”

            “The one that doesn’t get me shot obviously.”

            Turning his attention back to Alexandra Jack tried to take a step forward, only for her to c**k the gun. So he remained in his spot. “Is it yours?” he asked.

            She shook her head. “No. It’s an investment between four of the lower families. They think they can use it as a leverage to go up a few ranks in society.”

            “Can they?”

            “If they find the right buyer, I imagine they can.”

            Nodding, Jack slowly turned away and faced the stable.

            “Stop Jack, or I’ll shoot.”

            Ignoring her he moved backs toward the stall and took the handle in his hand. The first bullet missed him by a hair, slamming into the wall in front of him. The smell of gun powder now hung in the air.

            “Only warning you’re going to get.”

            “Let me at least see it Alexandra,” Jack said, opening the stall.

            If the horse had been spooked by the sound of the rifle, it didn’t show it. It stood calmly in the center of the stall, facing Jack.        

            “So you’re the one that’s going to make everyone rich,” Jack said moving forward. If the horse understood him, it certainly didn’t show it, merely eyeing Jack with large brown eyes. It’s coat was white with large dabs of black, as if someone had spilled oil all over him.

            They hadn’t, but if he was sold, it would be more than oil that would be spilled all over that coat.

            “That’s it? That’s what we’re going to steal?” He heard Mitch say in surprise. “Just a stupid horse? It hasn’t even been converted by the queen’s sake!”

            “Not just any horse,” Jack explained softly, moving to stroke the horse. “Supposedly the fastest horse in the world. It’s beaten every other horse that it’s race, including some like those over there,” he said, motioning to the other stalls.

            “That’s impossible. No animal could outrace the technology in the race horses.”

            “Well, this one did.” Jack circled the horse, inspect it. “What’s its name?”
            “Locomotion,” answered Alexandra.

            Jack laughed. “I like it.”

            “Are you insane Jack?” Alexandra asked, “how exactly were you planning to leave with it? You can’t exactly put it in your pocket.”

            Jack faced her and smiled. “I was thinking of riding it out.”

            Alexandra looked to almost choke. “Now I know you’re insane.”

            “He’s the fastest horse remember? This should be a cake walk for him.”

            “I won’t let you do it,” she said, the gun aimed at him.

            “I know,” The horse stirred briefly when he pulled himself up into the saddle. “Just so you know, it took a hell of a lot to convince Ras.”

            “Of what?” she asked, right before dropping the gun and falling backwards into  into Rasputin’s waiting arms. Without a word Rasputin gently moved her towards a stack of hay at the back of the stall.

            “Is she..” Mitch muttered, his face going pale.

            Jack shook his head. “Pressure points. She’ll come too soon enough. She’ll even feel rested. Or at least that’s what Ras says.”

            Setting her down, Rasputin turned to Jack. “She’s right you know. Do you really think you can do this?”
            “Guess we’re about to find out huh?” Taking the stirrups in his hand, Jack felt the horse suddenly tense up, as if readying itself. “You know where to meet?”
            “I do.”

            “Good, if all goes well, I’ll be there in a day or so.”
            “And if not?”

            Jack touched the Locomotion’s neck and felt it’s pulse. “I’ll figure something out. Kill it if I have to.”

            “What about the money?”

            “Like I said, I’ll figure something out.”

            Snapping the stirrups and squeezing his legs, they were off. Underneath him a mass of muscle and blood moved at a speed that Jack could have never imagined. The scenery of the stable moved in a blur, and before he knew they were outside and weaving through the graveyard of metal.

            You’ll never be in this graveyard. Jack thought, racing the horse out to the direction of the giant golden clock, already hearing steps behind him.