The Flux Engine by Dan Willis Read Free Book Online

guest will persuade him to be more explicit.”
    The deputy grabbed John by the shoulder and jerked him to his feet. He winced as the mostly-healed bullet-wound in his chest spasmed in protest.
    “I never let things go, John,” Batts said as John was forcibly escorted from his office. “Think about it.”
    The holding cells were on the main floor of the jail, behind an ironbound door. John shot a longing look through the front door at the street beyond as the deputy escorted him into the back. Despite its reputation as a quiet, law-abiding town, the Sprocketville jail had a dozen cells for malcontents. John knew from experience that the ones closest to the door were reserved for the handful of drunks that the guard would round up every night and then release in the morning. He’d had to come get Doctor Shultz once or twice when his mentor had an especially festive night. The cells in the back, however, were for the more permanent residents, those awaiting trial.
    John shivered. If he were found guilty of the Tommy disaster, they’d send him to prison for years. If someone had died during the mayhem it would be murder. He could be hanged.
    He had to get free.
    The face of the Enforcer, Bill Hickok, came unbidden to his mind but he banished it just as quickly. Hickok would get him out of trouble, but then the Alliance would get his mother’s crystal and probably him too.
    As they moved down the row of cells, a man wrapped entirely in stained, brown rags looked up at him from the drunk tank. John shivered as the tang of iron and sweat assaulted his nostrils.
    The poor man was a leaker.
    The leaking disease was a horrible leftover from the war of independence from Britannia. Those who caught it lost their own blood as it bled through their skin. No one knew what caused it and there was no cure. It was a horrible way to live, though most who contracted it didn’t live all that long.
    “Inside,” the guard said, pushing John through the open door of a cell in the back. John stepped into a small cage, barely big enough for the wooden cot within. The door slammed shut behind him with a ringing clang that set his teeth on edge.
    “If you change your mind, just yell,” the deputy said, then he locked the door with a twist of his key and retreated to the cell with the leaker inside.
    “All right, you,” the guard said, opening the cell. “Get out and stay out of trouble.”
    The leaker stood, adjusting his wrappings, and left with the deputy who shut the outer door with a boom.
    John just stood there a moment, letting his eyes travel around the little cell. It was empty except for the cot and a tin bucket in case he needed to relieve himself. A gnarled wooden broom leaned against the stone wall just beyond his cell door, but even though John could probably reach it if he tried, he doubted it would prove an effective weapon or escape tool.
    He sighed and sat down on the lumpy mattress. This was not how his life was supposed to turn out.
    “So,” a new voice greeted him. “What are you in for?”

Chapter 5
    Criminal Mischief
    Startled, John sat up. His cell was at the end of the row and all the others were empty.
    The only other cell in the block stood apart from the rest. It had thicker bars that were anchored directly into the floor and a shocker box that sent an electric charge pulsing through them. This special cell was designed to hold Scrapstalkers, humanoid monsters of living metal that formed when too many scraproaches combined. John had only heard stories about Scrapstalkers. They hated anything living and existed only to kill; worse, they were clever. Few things in the territories were as dangerous.
    John peered through the bars of his cell. Now that he was paying attention, he could hear the hum of the shocker box and smell the faint trace of ozone in the air. He’d never seen a Scrapstalker. What stared back at him, being careful not to touch the bars, however, was no Scrapstalker. It was a girl. She looked