Advanced Clockwork: Young Writers Prize 2014

Chapter 19

Darek sat by his son's bedside, his hands clasped firmly around Elisha's as the child seemed only to sleep. The older man sat there, looking at his son with the saddest eyes a man could have. The eyes of a man who has lost everything to something he could not control. The eyes of someone who had nothing left to live for.

Mr. Rogers waited in the doorway silently, his face contorted into a sad expression as he watched. "Lord Stanly," He said gently. "you should rest."

"I am fine, Mr. Rogers." Darek said with a hint of anger. "I just... I just want to be with my son right now." Mr. Rogers sighed, nodding as he closed the door quietly.

The darkened halls of the mansion were silent, the only sound was the rain as it beat down harshly apon the windows and roof with a harsh fists. There was no one there because of this storm, but Mr. Rogers knew that this the help was not going to be necessary. There were two people he needed to take care of today, and one person was going to be a handful all on his own. But with this stranger hanging around within this house,  he did not like what could be happening in that workshop.

Sighing, the old man walked through the passageways and down flights of stairs to get to the kitchen at a rather hurried pace. He had a bad feeling about what was going to happen soon. First the Lord of this house wouldn't come out of his underground workshop for hours, now he would alternate between the workshop and the bedside of his still unresponsive son once this stranger came and started living with them. He did not like anything that was going on within these walls, not at all.

There was a chilling energy in the air, something that he did not like to admit or want here. Something dark that was digging it's claws into the walls and not letting go even if it wanted to. And from what the old man was seeing....

Disaster is soon to follow.

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Christopher woke to the sounds of screaming, the cries of pain making him jolt from his bed and hurry out the door with no time to think. Weapon in hand, he ran straight for the sound of screaming and found one of his men curled into a ball in his room. The other men ran in as well, their weapons ready as they skidded to a halt behind their leader and took in the horrifying sight.

The man lay in his bed, his face scarred from the burns that were still eating away at the flesh. Drips of greenish water fell in droplets onto floor just a little ways away from him, the acid burning away at the carpet where it landed like a minefield they could not cross to get to their wounded friend. Christopher's face was hard and expressionless, his gun aimed at the ready at his acid eaten soldier.

"What are you doing?!" One of the men cried, grabbing his shoulder. "We can't kill one of our own!"

"Would you rather that he died painfully slow then?" Christopher asked icily, looking at the Guard as if he were only a pawn in a game of chess. "Because he will not live after exposure to this." The soldiers looked between each other, then backed away. "Didn't think so."

The gunshot echoed through the halls only seconds after, the deathly screams stopping instantly. The people in the bar beneath them fell silent, as if scared of why this had happened. But as soon as they saw the three remaining Guards, they dispersed within seconds. The only one that seemed to be left in the room was the owner of the hotel and bartender, the woman who had given them their rooms only the day before. She smirked at them as they approached, her eyebrows arching just a little in amusement as she took in the sight.

"What can I do for the pajama wearing Guards today?" She asked, trying not to laugh at what she was seeing. Christopher didn't seem as amused however.