Iron Horsemen by Brad R. Cook Page B

through the market, a flash of bronze and spark of electricity caught my eye. Down a dark, narrow alley, I saw Col. Hendrix in his black coat and bowler hat talking to a woman with long, black curly hair and the man with the tattooed face.
    Genevieve yanked me back out of sight.
    I drew the Thumper from its holster and opened the breach. I loaded one of the two shells from my pocket and peered around the edge of the building. Anger welled up inside me, and I wanted to charge down the alley, throw that abomination against the wall and demand to know where my father was, but even I knew that was foolhardy.
    Col. Hendrix handed the woman a small leather bag. She smiled with delight, peered inside, and drew up a handful of coins.
    Hendrix said. “I’ll rejoin the ship as soon as I’ve checked the island.”
    The dark haired woman bit down on a coin. “Don’t worry, I have my end handled.”
    Hendrix turned toward me. I snapped back, but my knee struck the drain pipe. A symphony of sound echoed along the narrow alley. I gripped my knee trying not to screamin every language I could think of and peered through the chipped wall.
    The woman spun on her heeled boot, her leg jutting out the high slit of a full, black skirt. The sun glinted off the silver skull-and-crossbones that decorated her black corset. She snatched the pouch closed and asked, “What was that?”
    â€œTrouble,” Col. Hendrix said. “Get out of here. I’ll handle this.”
    She motioned to the tattooed man. “Tobias, go with him.”
    I heard the sound of gears locking in place.
    Genevieve tugged at my sleeve. “We need to leave,” she whispered.
    Nodding my head, we fled as the Colonel and Tobias stepped around the corner. I turned, saw the Colonel raise his mechanical arm. A gun barrel extended out the sleeve. “Run!”
    â€œWhat do you think I’m doing!” Genevieve sprinted down another alley and up a set of stairs.
    I followed, but turned around as we reached the top. Col. Hendrix swung the lever under his arm and cocked the rifle. The tattooed man carried a sickle blade.
    I fired. The concussive blast slammed into the wall as the two men ducked.
    Genevieve and I ran across a square heading for the road that led to the airdocks. I loaded the final percussion shell.
    I looked back, but didn’t see anybody, perhaps we’d lost them. Then Genevieve screamed. I spun around.
    Tobias’ tattooed face stood in front of me with his sickle in his right hand and a club in the other. Both covered in black leather gloves. A cord from the club wrapped around his back. He coughed, wheezing to catch his breath like a singing bird.
    Genevieve drew her saber and blocked the sickle just as I raised my Thumper, but it was knocked aside by the thickserrated blade extending out of Col. Hendrix’s sleeve.
    â€œSo predictable,” Col. Hendrix sneered. “Come to find your pa?”
    â€œWhere is he?” I demanded.
    â€œNear enough to tease you, but far enough, that you’ll never find him.”
    â€œI want him back.” My knees wanted to crumble, but I refused to falter in front of this monster.
    â€œFoolish boy,” he hissed through the bronze plates on his face. “Why don’t you come with me, I’ll take you to him?”
    I paused, and for a brief moment the offer sounded like the best idea yet. I could go with Hendrix and, once reunited with my father we could sneak out and meet back up with Genevieve. But who knew what they’d do to Genevieve in the meantime and my father wouldn’t listen to me long enough to escape on my terms anyway.
    â€œWhat are you thinking?” Genevieve tugged at my sleeve and whispered through gritted teeth. Thank goodness she returned me to reality. I shook my head. Going with Hendrix was not an option. This needed bolder action, Baldarich style.
    I raised my Thumper and pushed the trigger; the concussive blast