Robert Weinberg - A Logical Magician

Fritz leaned on the handcar. “Too heavy to push ahead of us. And whoever left it here probably wedged the wheels on the other side.”

Cassandra reached for one of the boxes. As predicted, it was filled to the top with bricks. Even Fritz couldn’t move one by himself. It would take hours to clear enough room for them to wiggle over the top of the blockade.

Jack paused. If not over, why not under? Crouching, he checked the bottom of the handcar. There wasn’t much room, but it looked like enough. For two of them, at least.

As he expected, the dwarf did not like the idea.

“Crawl under the car? My shoulders are too wide. I’ll never fit.”

“I know, Fritz. That’s why you’ll have to stay behind. Cassandra and I are slender enough to wiggle through. We have to go on without you.”

Grondark scowled. He reached out and grabbed one of the wood boxes. Angrily, he jerked the container forward. Decaying old wood collapsed beneath his fingers, leaving a pile of finishing bricks in its place. Furious, Fritz kicked the handcar. It didn’t budge.

The dwarf’s huge hands knotted into fists. “You’re right,” he said. “I understand. There is no time for delay. Do what you must. It is the only way. But that doesn’t mean I like it.”

Reaching into his pockets, Fritz pulled out the plastic boxes Jack had given him earlier. “Don’t forget these gadgets. Now, go. I’ll remove these boxes as quickly as possible and follow. Perhaps, if I’m lucky, there’ll still be a few trolls to smash when I arrive.”

“We’ll save some just for you,” promised Jack.

Cassandra, ever cautious, went first. It was a tight squeeze, but after a few curses and kicks, the Amazon made it to the other side. Using her staff, she pulled the two backpacks through. Then it was Jack’s turn.

“Goodbye, my friend,” said Grondark as Jack knelt on the concrete. “And good luck.”

“Thanks,” said Jack. “Like I told Simon, we’ll be back.”

Hurriedly, Jack scrambled through the space beneath the flatcar. If his feelings of claustrophobia had been bad a few minutes ago, now they were overwhelming. Especially when he was beneath an old wooden handcar filled with bricks. He sighed with relief when Cassandra finally grabbed his shoulders and pulled him through.

Before proceeding, Jack carefully checked the wires leading from his power pack to the rectangular box he called his secret weapon. All connections remained intact. If he was going to fail in his quest, it wouldn’t be because he was careless.

Once he was convinced everything was functional, he shouldered one of the two backpacks. Cassandra took the other. Walking stick in one hand, CD boom box in the other, she took the lead. Without the dwarf to guide them, they were forced to use their flashlights to point the way.

Behind them, for a long time after they left the handcar, they could hear Fritz Grondark cursing as he heaved brick after brick to the concrete floor.

Five hundred feet further, the tunnel curved to the right.

“It’s heading towards the Loop,” commented Jack.

“Stay alert,” said Cassandra, stuffing a handful of black discs into her pockets. “This spot would be a wonderful location for an ambush.”

“I don’t think…” began Jack, only to have the rest of his sentence drowned out by the shouts of a pack of Border Redcaps charging out of the darkness.

There were seven of the fiends, dressed as always in black leather jackets, dirty old jeans, and bright red baseball caps. They were armed with chains, knives and lead pipes. None of them carried guns, worried perhaps by possible ricocheting in the narrow passageway. Except for the sameness of their expression and a certain indefinite inhuman tinge to their features, they could have been members of any of a dozen street gangs roaming the streets of Chicago.

Calmly, Cassandra dropped the CD boom box and her staff and retrieved the discs she had just put in her jeans. The nearest Redcap was less than ten feet away when, with a quick flick of the wrist, she sent one of the hard plastic rectangles flying into his face. Not one to waste an effort, Cassandra aimed it for the fiend’s open mouth. The black disc hit the astonished attacker in the teeth.

Even Jack, expecting the unexpected, was surprised by the results. With a flash of light so brilliant that it lit up the entire tunnel, the Border Redcap disappeared. All that remained of the monster was a slightly singed plastic disc and his red cap.

Unable to stop running, two more of the Redcaps met the same fate, as Cassandra flung the black rectangles with incredible speed and accuracy. Both of the fiends vanished in identical explosions of light, leaving only their baseball hats behind as evidence of their passing.

Von Bern’s minions were dumb, but they weren’t suicidal. Screaming in fear, the other four Redcaps turned and bolted back into the darkness. Cassandra flipped several more discs after them, but without scoring any hits. Seconds after the attack had begun, it was over.

“Pretty neat stuff, Jack,” said Cassandra, bending over to collect the three red baseball caps. “I’m extremely impressed. Would you care to explain to me what the hell happened? Or are you still keeping secrets?”

“No reason why not,” said Jack, drawing in a deep breath, the first one he had taken since the ambush. Until that moment, he had been working on logic alone. Now, finally, he knew his deductions were correct. “Seeing that our element of surprise is past.”

“Those dark discs,” began Jack, then glimpsed a blur of motion behind the Amazon. “Cassandra, watch out!”

The Amazon barely had time to straighten up when the Gabble Ratchet slammed into her. Instinctively, she threw up her arms and caught the gigantic Corpse Hound by the throat. But the force of its impact sent both of them tumbling backwards to the concrete.

Growling horribly, the Doberman snapped at Cassandra’s face with yellow teeth the size of ten-penny spikes. Saliva dripped in pools on the Amazon’s neck as she desperately fought to keep the dog’s jaws from ripping her features to shreds. Standing, she was a match for the monster, but trapped against the concrete, she was unable to push the creature back. Its red eyes glowing like hot coals, the beast pressed closer and closer.

With all of his strength, Jack smashed the CD boom box onto the Gabble Ratchet’s head. Plastic splintered from the impact, but the hound remained unmoved. Cursing, Jack raised the player and crashed it into the dog’s head a second time. The Corpse Hound growled in annoyance, but continued to concentrate all its energies on savaging Cassandra.

Finally, remembering the fight at the shopping mall, Jack rammed a speaker into the Gabble Ratchet’s nose. Blood spurted in crimson jets from the hound’s face. Howling in pain, the Doberman turned from the Amazon and focused its red eyes on Jack.

Anxiously, Jack scrambled away from the beast. Now that he had the monster’s attention, he wasn’t sure what to do next. He doubted that the plastic discs that had worked their magic on the Border Redcaps would have any effect on the much more powerful Corpse Hound. But the small plastic boxes in his pockets should.

Grabbing one of the instruments, Jack flung it into the hound’s snarling jaws. Jerking its mouth closed, the dog ripped the box to shreds. Bits and pieces of metal and plastic flew across the concrete floor. Nothing else happened. Jack swallowed, feeling his heart rise to his throat. He had just run out of tricks.

Snarling, the monstrous hound tore itself free from Cassandra’s grasp. For an instant, it remained motionless, muscles tensing, readying to attack its new enemy. It was during that brief respite that Jack realized his weapon symbolized nothing unless it was fully functional.