The Flux Engine by Dan Willis Page A

pressure from the machine became a stabbing pain.
    “There might be some discomfort,” Fixer said as John grunted and gripped the sides of the stool. “Just another minute.”
    John kept his eyes shut and his mind focused on the girl as the Neuro-Chromatigraph worked behind him. The metal tray was clearly moving through the lattice of crystals and he could hear the splash of more chemicals being added. The acrid smell of alkali permeated the air along with a burning odor, like singed hair.
    The machine made an audible clack as some lever or escapement was thrown into place and John heard the crystals begin to wind down. He ventured to open his eyes as Fixer shut off the steam valve and the Neuro-Chromatigraph lurched to a halt.
    Donning heavy leather gloves that reached past his elbows, Fixer used a pair of tongs to fish the copper plate out of the steel pan. Being careful not to drip any of the remaining solution on himself, he moved to the far end of the table and washed the plate in a bucket of water.
    John’s head spun for a moment when he took hold of the brass hoop. It seemed to have become attenuated to his mind and he could feel it trying to hold on as he lifted it off. Once he had set it aside the effect vanished. He hoped the machine hadn’t done anything permanent.
    Fixer removed the tintype from the bucket and wiped it down with a soft cloth. Once he was sure it was dry and free of chemicals, he stared at it for a long moment. He almost seemed sad to let it go when he finally did pass it over to Robi and John.
    Etched into the surface of the copper plate was the image of a dark-haired woman leveling a smoking pistol directly at the viewer. A chill ran up John spine at the sight of her and he shivered. The image depicted the last time he’d seen her, right after she shot him in the chest.
    “You’re looking for this woman?” Fixer said, a strange tone in his voice.
    “She took something of mine,” John said. “Then she tried to kill me.”
    “Do you know her?” Robi asked. Fixer stared at the picture for a moment then shook his head.
    “She’s enchanting,” he said, as John handed the brass plate to Robi.
    John started to say something but a wave of dizziness swept over him and he staggered.
    “You’d better sit down for a few minutes,” Fixer said, helping John back onto the stool. “I’ll go get some whiskey to steady your nerves,” he said. “Don’t go away.”
    As Fixer made his way back to the front of his shop, Robi examined the tintype.
    “Is this it?” She indicated the woman’s other hand where she clutched a familiar crystal. John nodded.
    “Do you think this will help us find her?”
    Robi grinned her wolfish grin.
    “I don’t care how careful she was, John, someone saw her. Someone saw where she stayed when she was in town. Someone saw where she went when she left. All you have to do is find them.”
    John’s head snapped up at this. Robi had said you instead of we .
    “You got me out of jail,” she said, “and I got you what you need to get your crystal back. It’s time for me to move on.”
    John hadn’t thought about Robi leaving. She was annoying and abrupt but John didn’t know how he would get his crystal back without her. If it wasn’t for her he would never have gotten this far.
    “I can’t stay,” Robi said, reading the look on his face. “There’s too many people looking for me here, I’m going to try my luck in Denver or Gearsburg, or maybe Castle Rock.”
    “Thanks for your help,” he said after a pause. He smiled, trying to break the sudden tension, and held up the tintype. “So, how long do you think it will take me to find someone who saw this girl?”
    “Not long at all, I should guess,” a new voice said.

Chapter 8
    The Deputy
    John leaped off the stool in surprise, nearly dropping the tintype as he whirled around. Robi was faster. She stepped away and turned. Just for an instant, before he turned, John saw her face—drained of color,