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‘No?’
‘That’s a shame.’
Franco heaved the door ajar. The gentle tinkle of a bell caught the attention of the women inside, especially the one in the middle of the kitchen who was jabbing at something boiling in a large pot. In a flurry, Colette advanced on them, waving the pair out.
‘The sign says closed. Did you not see it? Out please, there’s another hour to go until …’ Her eyes squinted in thought at the man and the woman who meekly hid herself beside him. This simply wasn’t possible. ‘Oh no. There is no conceivable way you … you …’
By now the others had taken notice of the confusion and they too questioned what it was they were witnessing. Someone dropped a glass in shock. The woman in the middle of the kitchen fainted in disbelief, taking a pan to the floor with her, which was, thankfully, not hot.
‘Kitty!’ someone cried out and rushed to help her.
Collette still couldn’t believe what was happening. Her heart pounded furiously and tears welled up, causing any other words to fumble out.
‘Franco? Is that really you?’
The owner of the Morning Star removed his sunglasses and smiled his best. ‘Not just me,’ he said. The woman beside him was adamant to shield herself from attention. Finally Misu raised her head, removed the hat, and braced herself for the worst.
Hands covered mouths. In the back, some began to sob.
Katerina staggered out from between the congregation, silent, and stood before Misu whilst examining her face. Suddenly she grabbed her old manager and embraced her tightly, letting some tears fall.
‘Your hair looks nice,’ Katerina said, muffled by Misu’s coat.
In reply the woman choked a thanks, reciprocating the gesture.
* * *
This moment was suddenly shattered, as was the ashtray that had been launched at the wall nearest to the arrivals. It burst into pieces, dotting the ground with chunks of glass. Misu shrieked as it exploded. Franco stood firmly in his place, unflinching.
‘That was uncalled for,’ he firmly stated to the culprit.
Corinne, situated at the bar, lowered her arm, furious and quite disgusted at the pair.
‘Am I hearing things or does the ghost before me actually have a line that defines when things are inappropriate? Because that would be ridiculous to the point of downright tragic,’ she seethed, all a fluster. This remarkable revelation was welcome – of course it was, as every day since the tragedy she had thought of those who were killed – but it wasn’t a tragedy now. It was a lie. A horrid two-year lie made at the expense of those who loved them. Jacques was right: the girls had all been used.
‘I told you …’ Misu whined under her breath to him.
‘It’s a pleasure to see you too, Corinne. Dramatic as always but still, a pleasure.’
‘I wish I could say the same.’ She glared, suppressing the desire to insult him further. Her gaze now fell to Misu who shuddered at the realization.
‘It’s your turn to say something,’ Franco whispered beside her.
Misu elevated her hand and weakly smiled. Corinne rolled her eyes in response.
‘Try actual words,’ Franco insisted. ‘It might help.’
Corinne waited patiently for the gesture to be made.
As Misu attempted to quell Corinne’s understandable outrage, Franco was mobbed by the rest and many tears were shed at the sheer relief of both he and Misu being among the living. They all gathered around to hear the dramatic tale of how the pair survived though the latter months were only touched upon.
Corinne eventually rejoined the group, stony-faced but willing to hear them out, much to Misu’s considerable relief. When Kitty had come around, Colette stood beside her, fanning her with a dishcloth. Whilst everybody came to terms with what had transpired, the girls insisted that they both tried the house special – a pecan pie that Kitty proclaimed was the best ever concocted. She wasn’t wrong.
‘This is all yours is it?’ Franco asked, waving his fork around before succumbing to another bite of the dessert.
‘The best place for eats you’ll ever find in Windberg. Fine décor. Spellbinding staff. Amazing food. Best in the city according to some of the papers,’ Kitty proudly stated, her chef whites impeccably crisp despite the earlier mishap.
‘I can’t knock that,’ Misu agreed, polishing her portion off and sucking upon the fork until clean. ‘Something like this must be a dream come true for you.’
Her words tapered off as she and Franco glanced at one another.
‘I take it you two have been keeping a low profile.’
‘Something like that. We’ve been in Eifera mostly, waiting for things to cool down.’
‘Doing what?’
‘Well …’
Corinne, who leant over the back of a chair at the rear, found it all painfully apparent, especially for someone with their ear to the ground as much as her.
‘You don’t even have to answer that. The Morning Star is yours, right?’
‘Is it that obvious?’ Franco laughed, partially from nerves, curious considering the company.
‘A ballsy loco like that rolls in – of course people are going to talk about it. It’s all they were discussing at market when I was collecting the meats. A train like that is only suitable for transporting royalty – or one of your shows.’ She played with the gold rings on her fingers, turning them this way and that. ‘And I sure don’t see a crown on either of your heads. You using a second chance to get up to your old tricks, Franco?’
‘No tricks, I promise you.’
‘This isn’t a catch-up is it?’ Corinne stated with arms tightly folded.
‘I don’t get what you mean.’ Kitty was quite dumbfounded at the accusation. ‘What are you on about?’
Franco leant back. That old cocksure smile he saved for special occasions used to fill Corinne with dread as it was an introduction to something genius, or something foolish being shared. He didn’t even need to speak. She was on to him.
‘Oh hell.’ Corinne strangled an exhausted, disbelieving chuckle. ‘This is a recruitment drive, isn’t it? You want us back, don’t you?’
‘Franco is planning on creating a new venture.’ Misu attempted to field the question but Colette interrupted.
‘You’re doing the same thing as before?’
‘Not exactly.’ He nudged Misu beside him who suppressed a smile of her own. ‘Our goal will still be entertainment, only … bigger. Better.’
‘There would be new contacts, the terms flexible and open to discussion for both the individual and the group.’
‘And what would your role be in all this, Misu?’ Corinne asked, getting directly to the point.
‘I’ll be fulfilling the same role. Everybody who accepts the offer would be reporting to me directly. I’ll manage all the day-to-day running, just like on the Gambler’s Den.
Kitty scrunched her face up to its fullest extent. It was an expression seen on two occasions before. The first was when she thought about what to name the restaurant and spent far too long obsessing over it. The second was when she mixed up the peppers in a dish and didn’t expect her soup to almost melt her tongue to nothing.
‘I’ve got a question. If you’re doing the same thing, won’t people notice the similarities to the Den and start asking questions of a why-aren’t-you-dead nature?’
That old sparkle danced across Franco’s face, a tell-tale giveaway as if he knew a secret that was not to be shared.
‘I promise you, what the Morning Star will be providing, nobody will be able to make that comparison. The Den was just a prelude to what people are about to witness. We were spoken about before. Excited rumours and so forth. But this … What we will be doing will go down in literal legend. That I can promise each and every one of you. Now you’ve asked us questions that I have entertained, so I’ve got one for you all.’ Franco leant forward and folded his fingers together, sweeping his eyes across the faces before him. ‘Who’s in?’
Chapter 3 (#ub482d68b-e776-5ad6-ae28-0eac347173b1)
Out of the gates
There were occupational hazards when living nomadically in this region. Firstly, good food, hot water, and a warm bed were difficult to find so when possible, one should indulge in them. Secondly, those with money will always be sought by those without it, so one must always be wary.
And lastly, as was the rule of the desert, despite vigilance one will always be caught off guard.
Leaving Landusk behind it, the Morning Star travelled the arid landscape, which the sun baked and the rainclouds shunned. The train puffed along quite happily to its new destination, where a new show would be performed and profit made.
Before this was to happen, before the splendour and pomp could be supplied, they would need to pass through one of the many checkpoints that interconnected the various territories throughout the region. They ranged from well-funded operations to ramshackle outposts, their effectiveness normally in direct correlation to their budget. The idea was that contraband could be seized and any unscrupulous types could be arrested, ensuring the flow of traffic was in accordance with the law. Sadly those who maintained these outposts were so far from decent settlements that they were practically a law unto themselves.
Crossing out into the Sand Sea corridor, the large lawless expanse that ran from north to south would require passing through these points from the main rail routes and were, for the most part, unavoidable.
Misu stepped out of her private carriage, locked the door, and checked the handle, twice. There was normally no reason to be so meticulous with security but recent events ensured that this had to reviewed. Misu could do without any unnecessary complications. She trusted her employees, that was certain, but she would hate for curiosity to get the better of them.
She ventured through each carriage in turn, nodding hellos to those she passed who gave equal gestures of respect. The variety of carriages all had luxury in common, outfitted with heating that ran from the train’s own boiler and oil lamps. The sleeping car that acted as the showgirls’ own private residence was immaculate as always, with every bunk pristinely made, a routine she vigorously enforced. The dining car entertained a number of women enjoying downtime, or the closest thing to downtime they enjoyed. Some played cards, some read books from a makeshift library that lined a wall, containing tomes of every type including poetry, history, and fiction.
From there Misu crossed to the engine cab and stuck her head out of the cab window. The checkpoint was a good couple of miles away, a squatting wooden collection of buildings with a rather bulky red painted length of wood acting as a barrier positioned across the rail line. Warning signs whipped past demanding anyone approaching to lower their speed.
The driver, Ferry, rested his girth against the cab side, occasionally spying down the track and making changes to the train’s approach accordingly, flicking his strained eyes to the woman opposite. Misu wasn’t ignoring him. She was so absorbed in her own thoughts that it gave that impression.
‘For a moment I figured you wanted to sit this one out. I’ve got no problems getting us through here if you want to stroll on back and close your eyes. We all know that you need it,’ he gruffly offered though a thorny black bush of a beard. It was a polite offer that was made out of genuine concern though he seemed all too aware what the answer would be. When she finally paid him attention, it was given with an expectant sigh.
‘Are you insisting I need rest?’
‘I’m insisting nothing. I just thought it polite that I make the suggestion. I know better than to tell you what to do.’
Misu scanned the bleakness, watching the sight of a sand ship manoeuvring over the landscape, its colossal caterpillar tracks kicking up large drifts of dust. This one was a few hundred feet high and immeasurably long – a mobile village effectively.
‘Ever thought of driving on of those things?’ Misu asked Ferry who took his attention from the track to peer out the window.
‘Not these days,’ he returned. ‘Too many hijacking attempts. There’s been three in the last month alone. Whoever they paid to protect those things must have been in on it. That’s the problem when you contract security groups at port. You don’t know who you’ll get. Who you can trust. I don’t fancy getting stabbed in the back by one of my own. As odd as it may seem, this is a much safer gig.’
‘Figured the size of those things would be off-putting,’ she exclaimed, watching it fall behind a cliff side and out of view.
‘Not this far out in the Sand Sea. They’re turned into bandit nests and stripped out in the Badlands. Before I joined your brigade I did a few crossings through there – at speed may I add. There’s a graveyard around every mountain.’
‘You mean just the stripped ships, right?’ Misu cocked a brow.
‘The crew has to go somewhere.’ He kept his eyes on the track and worked the brake gently. ‘Eyes forward, we’re almost there.’
‘Of all things I get to endure today this here hole in the ground is the one I’m the least enthused about. Sadly I would prefer that I handled matters myself. I can get that sleep when I’m needed less.’
‘And there was me thinking your life is all truffles and fine wine.’
‘It’s good to dream,’ she muttered, taking another look whilst holding on to her wind-flailed locks. The checkpoint was significantly closer.
‘I’m not planning on dilly-dallying. We get things stamped and we’re gone. If I had my way we wouldn’t even put on the brakes.’
‘It’s a disappointing notion for you but even we have to abide by the law of the land.’
‘It’s not the law I’m concerned about.’
Misu hung on to the outer railing as the train pulled in to the station, lining itself up to the checkpoint platform. Its nose approached the lowered barrier gradually and fell between the well-painted markers against platform side and tracks. She waited for the clockwork jet of steam that exploded out with an almighty hiss beneath the engine itself before finally dissipating. She strolled to the steps and hopped down onto the platform, spying an unremarkable two-storey building with pitted tiling. A black painted tin sign hung on the north-facing wall, with paint flaking away from relentless exposure to the environment.
Misu shielded her eyes with a hand and scoffed at the name.
Little Heaven
What a very depressing view of the afterlife, she thought. Her impressions of such a place differed greatly.
Watching since before their arrival, two checkpoint guards sat in the noon shade, tossing cards into an upturned hat. One had his hair combed back to the point where it chanced falling out, or what was left of it at least. The other, young enough to have a badge though seemingly not old enough to shave, set about emptying the hat and recompiling his hand, almost annoyed at the interruption. On Misu’s approach the most senior on duty placed an incomplete deck of cards on the table in front of him before tipping the lip of his hat.
‘Good morning,’ he greeted from his seat, fresh-faced and unusually buoyant. Being stuck out here was enough to cause the onset of depression, Misu assumed, though it was good that someone was able to stave this off – unlike his sour-faced colleague. He watched, flicking debris away from a toothpick.
‘Good morning, gentlemen. A pleasure to be in your company.’
The senior got to his feet and stretched. ‘Kind words. I like you already,’ he stated, attempting to relieve Misu of any concern. Checkpoints were difficult places for all involved. Half were populated with unsavoury types on the take, with the other half a toxic mix of young upstarts who did everything vigorously by the book. Either way, anybody transporting goods normally spent more time at each one than was necessary – or comfortable. She accompanied him along the platform side, his stroll to the front engine slow and patient, as if work was a blight on his person.
‘How are the travels?’
‘Very well, all things considered.’
‘Considered?’ He paused, looking over the carriages that gleamed in the brilliant sun.
‘I don’t need to explain the difficulties to yourself out here, sir. The damned heat is the least of our worries. Little company. Rising costs. It’s a difficult life to be sure.’
‘Ah, yes, now that I can relate to.’ He began marking numbers down in a small notebook. ‘The Morning Star, right?’
‘The very same.’ Misu smiled. Their reputation had grown sufficiently, though in some places this could be unwelcome. Attention could be a curse if it came from the wrong circles.
‘Well I’ll be. For a moment I mistook you for that other one of your kind. What was it.’ He clicked his fingers over and over. ‘Ah! The Gambler’s Den!’
‘That, we are not.’ Misu kept a polite smile on display. ‘I can assure you of that.’
‘No, no you are not, a trick of the heat I imagine. The Morning Star, my word, oh yes. I’ve heard about you, a friend of mine caught a show not too long ago. Said you were the best thing he had ever seen. A circus of pleasure I believe were his exact words.’ He took the last of the carriage numbers down and turned the page in his notebook, giving a series of rapid ticks in a series of columns. Too quick for Misu’s liking.
‘How flattering. It’s nice to know we are enjoyed,’ she stated.
‘Been in any trouble? Any tampering of any sort while you were pulled in anywhere? People sniffing around, the likes of which you haven’t seen before?’
