The Bounty and the Briefcase (Cattlepunk) [WIP]

21 - The Bomb

Wendell hated Conor. There was no other way of putting it.

Ever since he had begun to work for the Steam Union all those years ago, the guy had tormented him without end. Rivals, he and Conor had always been near equal in skill. Yet somehow, Conor was able to get to higher places.

That wasn't why Wendell had left. That wasn't the main reason.

But he still felt no remorse shoving him into the basement with all the other Steam Union guys. Swiftly, he locked the door and latched it with a wooden board.

"Here." Wendell looked up at Frances, who was dragging a chair to the door. She shoved it under the knob. "Extra measures. So, Vanessa's nowhere to be found."

"Gone." He made sure to speak loudly so that he heard over the muffled, outraged shouts. Turning to wide-eyed Idella, he said, "Don't mind them. They're just hungry."

She nodded and shut her eyes, rocking back and forth slowly. Her nonchalance was one of the things Wendell didn't like about her, but he certainly didn't mind it now.

"Knew the girl'd leave. She can't handle a place like this; she should go catch the next airship back to Britain."

"Well, whatever she does now isn't our problem anymore. Those guys are." Wendell stuck a thumb in the direction of the door, which was visibly shaking. "Now, Martin said that you gotta guard them. I'm pretty sure that we need... an hour. Can you handle it?"

Frances winced for a tenth of a second, but then a wicked grin slid onto her face. "Is that a real question?"

"Okay then." Wendell strode to the staircase and cupped his hands around his mouth. "Alo! Hurry up!"

"On my way!" his voice came, and his figure appeared at the top of the stairs. The liquids in the bottles on Alo's belt swished about as he stumbled down the stairs, carrying a contraption that just looked like a heap of dynamite sticks tied together.

Alo had claimed that he had put a lot of work into it the night before, but Wendell didn't buy it; a six-year-old could make a better-looking one.

Reuben clambered down the stairs after him, and Wendell's brows lowered. However, he trusted the cousins' judgement.

"What are we gonna do with you?" Wendell said, thumbing his stubble. Last time Wendell had seen Reuben, the guy had been trying to kill him.

Reuben scratched the back of his neck. "Sorry, Wendell. I mean, I--"

"I don't want to hear it. Stay here with Frances and guard the door. Frances, if he make a move, shoot him."

She nodded once.

He handed Reuben his revolver. "Be careful with her. Gets so much as scratched, and sunrise tomorrow will be considered a miracle."

Reuben gave Wendell a sorry smile, and Wendell almost felt bad. Guy was naïve, not malicious.

He backpedalled towards the front door, Alo following. "Don't let them out." She seemed capable, but fear nagged at his chest.

Her grin grew sharper still, and she leaned beside the basement door, resting her pistol on her shoulder.

Somehow, he found her smile reassuring.