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    The Steam Chronicles
    The Steam Chronicles
    The Steam Chronicles
    Ebook207 pages2 hours

    The Steam Chronicles

    By Zimbell House Publishing

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    About this ebook

    The Steam Chronicles is an anthology featuring seven unique contributors boasting tales of airships, trains, mechanical marvels, espionage and secret missions. If you enjoy steampunk, these short stories are sure to delight you.
    Featured Contributors: Amy Braun, DJ Tyrer, E.W. Farnsworth, Kevin Brampton, Larry Lefkowicz, Matthew Wilson, and S.L. Gilbow.
    Zimbell House Publishing is committed to helping new writers become quality authors.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherZimbell House Publishing
    Release dateOct 24, 2015
    ISBN9781942818342
    The Steam Chronicles
    Author

    Zimbell House Publishing

    Zimbell House Publishing is an independent publishing company that wishes to partner with new voices to help them become Quality Authors.Our goal is to partner with our authors to help publish & promote quality work that readers will want to read again and again, and refer to their friends.

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      Book preview

      The Steam Chronicles - Zimbell House Publishing

      The Steam Chronicles

      A Zimbell House Publishing Anthology

      Distributed by Smashwords

      This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real locales are used fictitiously. All characters appearing in this work are the product of the individual author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead is entirely coincidental.

      All rights reserved, including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the written permission of the publisher.

      For permission requests, write to the publisher at the address below:

      Attention: Permissions Coordinator

      Zimbell House Publishing, LLC

      PO Box 1172

      Union Lake, Michigan 48387

      mailto:info@ZimbellHousePublishing.com

      © 2015 Zimbell House Publishing, LLC

      Published in the United States by Zimbell House Publishing, LLC

      http://www.ZimbellHousePublishing.com

      Distributed by Smashwords

      All Rights Reserved

      Print ISBN: 978-1942818144

      Digital ISBN: 978-1942818342

      Library of Congress Control Number: 2015908490

      10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3

      Acknowledgements

      Zimbell House Publishing would like to thank all who submitted their work for this anthology. We chose seven contributors to entertain us with eleven short stories. We sincerely hope you enjoy their work.

      We would also like to thank all those on our Zimbell House Team that worked so diligently to get this anthology to press. Your dedication to our shared vision of helping new writers become quality authors is appreciated by all.

      Contents

      Airships and Sidekicks by S.L. Gilbow

      Amanuensis by E.W. Farnsworth

      Confidence Man, Mechanical Man by Larry Lefkowicz

      Dark Stars & Steam by DJ. Tyrer

      Dismantle by Amy Braun

      Fragments by Kevin Bampton

      Mars Miner Mustang by DJ. Tyrer

      P.O.N.I. Express by Kevin Bampton

      Synchronicity Jones by E.W. Farnsworth

      Tower Of Dead Men by Matthew Wilson

      Treachery on The Factory Floor by DJ. Tyrer

      Contributors

      Additional Anthologies from

      Zimbell House Publishing

      Airships and Sidekicks

      S. L. Gilbow

      I should have noticed the man wearing the black top hat and brass goggles much sooner than I did, but my mind was on other things. Lots of things.

      Gary Jordon, my ex-husband, had died two days before, and I was waiting at the Atlanta Airport to make my connection to Houston to attend his funeral. Over the past few years, I had seen Gary only during awkward handoffs of our daughter Lindsey who lived in Virginia with me during the school year and in Texas with her father over the summer.

      Gary fought a losing battle with cancer for ten months and passed away during Lindsey’s visit. Lindsey spent most of July with Annette, her step-mother, but she kept in constant contact with me, texting to say how much better Gary looked only to follow it with another text about how weak and yellow he appeared.

      Finally, she called. Please, Momma, she said, come to the funeral.

      Would that be alright? I wondered if my presence at Gary’s funeral was even appropriate.

      Please, Lindsey pleaded.

      So I was flying from Newport News to Houston to be with Lindsey and pay my respects to a man I no longer respected. Actually, that may not be true. Sometimes I remembered Gary fondly. Sometimes I didn’t. But after one more trip to Houston, Gary would be out of my life forever.

      Janice, said Kim, who had been sitting quietly beside me.

      Yes?

      How are you doing? When I told Kim about Gary’s funeral, she scheduled some business meetings in Houston and insisted on flying with me.

      I’m fine, I said. It’s just hard to take in.

      Death is always hard.

      I didn’t think this one would be. I had, after all, known Gary was dying for almost a year, and in all that time I never went to see him.

      No, said Kim. Death is always hard.

      ****

      I should have noticed the woman wearing the under-bust corset and black lace blouse much sooner than I did. But my mind was on other things.

      It’s not the end of the world, said Kim.

      No, it isn’t. I knew Kim wasn’t talking about Gary’s death.

      Two weeks before Gary passed away, Kim asked me to move in with her, and I didn’t say yes. I knew Kim thought I was saying no.

      Kim leaned in close and took my hand. It really is going to be okay.

      Why couldn’t I say yes? Was it because of Lindsey? Lindsey was starting her freshman year at Christopher Newport University next month and had already made arrangements to live on campus. Besides, she knew I loved Kim and seemed perfectly fine with it.

      I knew that by not saying yes my relationship with Kim was all but over. Kim hadn’t said as much, but this trip provided us the opportunity to say goodbye. We were flying to Houston together, but Kim had booked us separate flights on the way back, saying she needed to stay a few extra days to finalize a consulting contract.

      I could think of a lot of reasons to move in with Kim. She was kind. She was beautiful. She loved me. But I could think of reasons not to move in as well. I had committed to someone else long ago. He was nice. He was handsome. He loved me. But in the end it didn’t work, and now he was dead.

      ****

      I should have noticed the woman with the red embroidered clutch purse, cream bustle dress, and spiked-healed leather boots much sooner than I did.

      But my mind was on other things.

      This is it, isn’t it? I said.

      Kim squeezed my hand as the ticket agent called for us to board our plane. I picked up my purse, Kim grabbed her carry-on, and we got in line.

      Must be a convention, said Kim.

      I looked up and down the line of passengers at enough derbies, feathered hats, waistcoats, suspenders, and petticoats to make me feel like I had stepped onto a Victorian movie set.

      I guess, I said.

      All aboard! called the ticket agent as the line inched forward.

      When we got on the airplane, Kim stowed her carry-on in the overhead compartment, and I stuffed my purse under the seat in front of me. I took my seat next to the window as a parade of costumed characters shuffled down the aisle. Gowns and long coats. Coach hats and bonnets. Spats and parasols.

      I have no idea how they made it through security, Kim whispered.

      Kim had on gray slacks and a green blouse which matched her short red hair. I wore a simple purple dress. But I couldn’t help feeling that Kim and I were the ones dressed all wrong.

      ****

      I took a couple of chewable aspirins and braced myself for takeoff. As soon as we leveled off, I put my seat back and closed my eyes. Kim hadn’t said whether she would come to Gary’s funeral. I wondered how I would introduce her if she did join me. I usually went with my good friend Kim. There were rarely follow-up questions, but it made me nervous thinking about it.

      I finally dozed off. When I woke up, Kim was sound asleep, snoring softly beside me.

      Kim no longer wore the slacks and blouse she had on when we boarded. She was now decked out almost entirely in black, a color I rarely saw her wear. She had on black leather pants with three silver buttons dotting her fly and a black jacket adorned with two columns of embossed silver medallions. A gray woolen scarf circled her neck. If it hadn’t been for the distinctive red hair sticking out from the sides of her leather aviator’s cap, I might not have recognized her. Silver framed goggles with smoked-glass lenses sat high atop her cap.

      Kim, I whispered. You okay?

      Kim’s eyes flickered open. Janice, what did you do to yourself?

      I looked down at a brown bustier and matching skirt adorned with copper cogs and brass gears. I lifted my feet which were beginning to tingle. At least I still had on my black loafers. As I stared at my shoes, black suede transformed to brown leather which slowly grew up around my ankles and calves. Eyelets blossomed like tiny flowers. A pair of thick laces crawled out from under my seat and twisted in and out of the eyelets like little, brown snakes. Within thirty seconds, I sported a well-worn, neatly laced pair of high top boots.

      What was going on? I answered my own question quite simply. I was still asleep. I grabbed my armrests, squeezed hard, and decided to enjoy the dream. This was better than most of the dreams I had been having lately.

      The transformation carried on all around me. The rectangular window beside me grew wider and wider until it had formed into a perfectly round gilded portal. Our single vinyl seats merged with one another, darkened and hardened into wooden benches.

      What’s happening? asked Kim.

      It’s a dream.

      We can’t both be having the same dream.

      You’re not real, I said.

      Kim punched my right shoulder hard.

      Stop it, I yelled.

      Still think it’s a dream? asked Kim

      The gray carpet in the aisle transformed to a beautiful oriental throw rug as if a thousand invisible weavers were fast at work. Yet everyone around us seemed as calm as could be. The top-hatted man from the terminal, now sitting across the aisle from Kim, looked over and said, Beautiful day to fly.

      The transformation continued outside my window. The left wing turned to glass and then faded away completely.

      I always tell my students that if you can’t figure something out, just calm down, study the problem, and come to a logical answer. The possibilities were running through my head. I had taken something besides aspirin, and I was hallucinating. I checked the aspirin bottle—regular Bayer.

      What the hell is that? Kim leaned over me and pointed to a vast grayness above us. We were suspended in a compartment below what appeared to be an enormous, charcoal-gray balloon. Are we in a blimp?

      More like a dirigible, I said.

      The only other answer I could think of was that this was some kind of elaborate practical joke. If that were true, whoever was pulling the prank would have to let us in on the joke at some point, and I was hoping that time would come soon.

      The flight attendant, now wearing what appeared to be an old-time train conductor’s uniform, strode down the aisle. This was it. He was coming down the aisle for the big reveal. I would laugh. Kim would laugh. She was probably in on it. This might even end up on YouTube.

      But all the flight attendant said was, Approaching Crockett Airship Station.

      I think I know what’s happening, I said, beginning to realize where we were.

      What? asked Kim.

      Have I ever told you about Janet Jenkins? I asked.

      ****

      When I met Gary in college, I was majoring in English. One of my counselors told me if I got an English degree, I had better be ready to teach because that’s what I would end up doing. So I took a lot of education classes like my counselor advised, but what I really wanted to do was write.

      In the evening, I would go to the library, pull out a legal pad, and work on some stories. I liked writing in public places and got most of my ideas by watching people around me.

      The woman behind the check-out counter may have looked like an ordinary librarian, but I knew about her secret love affair with the tattooed man at the copier. None of her fellow workers suspected, nor would they have approved, but after work she would meet up with her lover, get on the back of his Harley, and ride all night. In my story, she never slept, she never ate. She wasn’t human.

      When I saw Gary’s long, dark hair and square jaw, I figured he was either a poet or an assassin. He turned out to be a law student. He would look at me over his civil procedures textbook and smile. After a while, we started to talk about the things we had in common. I read a lot, he read some. I studied some, he studied a lot. But what we had most in common was proximity—we were both at the library every evening.

      When I called my parents to tell them about Gary, my father told me I needed to get this one before he got away. After all, he said, he’s going to be a lawyer.

      Gary and I dated on and off for over a year before we married soon after I graduated. I had never seen my mother so happy. Everything was turning out like it was supposed to.

      You’ve made such a smart choice, my mother said as I stood in the dressing room of the Hillway Baptist Church looking at myself in a large, oval mirror. I had on a stunning white dress and held a beautiful blue bouquet. Everything was turning out like it was supposed to.

      Soon after Gary earned his law degree, I gave birth to Lindsey. I stayed home with her for a year then got a job teaching high school. Gary joined Kiefer and Brunner, an excellent law firm. We were doing well. A few years later Gary ran for a spot on the Houston city council. He didn’t win but performed better than most expected. Everything was turning out like it was supposed to.

      A few more years passed, and our marriage was coming to an end. During the last few years, Gary worked very late, coming home past eleven. After I had put Lindsey to bed, I had time to myself. Time to read. Time to think.

      One night I read a novel of airships and sky pirates, of monstrous landships rolling over the countryside, of dashing figures in tight outfits doing heroic deeds. I had never read anything like it. I had discovered steampunk. The novel told of the past and the future. The novel had everything my life didn’t. I read every book I could find with an automaton, a dirigible, or a mad Victorian scientist.

      I found myself thinking about those novels more and more. The exotic places. The intriguing characters. I thought about them on the drive to work and on the drive home. I started wishing I was somewhere else, someone else.

      One night I did what I had done years before. I got out a legal pad and started to write. I created my own little world. A world of airships and analog engines. A world of explorers, mad scientists, and femme fatales. A world of steam powered creatures. I started with the city of Houston where I grew up, but this was my Houston. This was my

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