The Clockmaker's Shadow | ONC 2021 | LGBT

15. Pursuit

(Author's Note: This chapter is dedicated to @RJGlynn, whose creepy ONC 2021 story Reaper, deserves far more reads than it has so far!)

Rik woke with a sense of excitement. Today he was going with Ned to the sawmills.

He dressed hastily and gulped his breakfast, one ear tuned for the sound of the hired cab arriving. He had ordered it yesterday on his way back from the clockmaker's shop and had to work hard to disguise his sense of bemusement when he saw the vehicle in question. With a bicycle in front and the passenger carriage behind, he would have called it a rickshaw. Still, if it meant someone else was doing the pedalling, he wasn't going to complain.

Ned came downstairs, having breakfasted in his room as usual, dressed in fawn breeches and a white linen shirt. A dark blue coat was slung over one shoulder. He smiled at Rik, seeing the cleared plate.

"All ready, I see. You'll need a notebook and pencil. There are some upstairs in the desk if you haven't got them yet."

"Yes sir- I mean, Ned." Rik trotted upstairs.

By the time he came back down, the cab had arrived.

A young man in a cap and a grey suit was standing beside the vehicle, brushing an infinitesimal piece of dust from the padded seat and he'd put up the green canvas hood, to protect them from the weather. It all looked very smart.

Not for the first time, Rik found himself wishing he still had his camera, lost ages ago in one of the first worlds he'd landed in when he'd had to run for his life.

Rik waited for Ned to climb in to the carriage first then took the seat next to him. He tried to leave a polite gap between them but it was impossible in the small space. Their hips and thighs were pressed together despite his best efforts.

"Ready!" called Ned, and then they were off, their driver peddling at a steady pace.

Ned grinned at Rik and leaned a fraction closer on the seat. "This is going to be fun!"

The sawmills were just as interesting as Rik had expected. Situated on the river bank, the huge wooden wheels were turned by the flowing water, powering the mill. Huge tree trunks were fed in one end and came out as planks and Rik found the smell of fresh sawn wood intoxicating.

He accompanied Ned everywhere. Following him as he inspected the mill in person, and making notes as Ned directed when he talked to the manager about quotas and production schedules. It was a long day, but for the first time Rik felt like he was earning his keep.

And on the journey home, he made no effort to keep a gap between them, enjoying the warmth of Ned's leg, pressed against his own.

A good day.

~~~~

Darkness fell over the town and the Shadow stirred.

The factory had closed years ago, the building now left to scavengers and rats. The top floor was open to the wind and rain, where portions of the roof had fallen in or blown away, but the ground floor, though missing most of its doors and windows, was still solid enough. The trapdoor to the cellars lay splintered and broken. Wafts of stale urine emanating from the space below kept most of the curious youngsters away but the tramp who had occupied the cellar before the Shadow was a different matter. It had taken several appearances and one near smothering to make him pack up his few worldly goods and leave.

As time had passed, Shadow discovered he no longer needed to retreat to the mirror world at dawn, provided he had somewhere dark to spend the daylight hours. He didn't exactly sleep, but it was close enough. This place was perfect, quiet and dark, and as he had no sense of smell, the odours didn't bother him.

He left the factory and stood in the street, leaning against the wall, his eyes closed, and searched for the green thread which would lead him to his quarry. There.

He was getting better at this, as if practice was making the bond stronger. Time to see what his fellow-traveller was up to.

Like the shadow he called himself, he slipped silently through the streets, dodging pedestrians and skirting the lamplight. He felt a twinge of unease when he began to recognize the streets. What was happening here? In his experience so far, worlds never replicated exactly, but this one could almost be the same world as the last one. He hurried on, anxious to see where his chase led him.

He came to a sudden halt outside the clockmaker's shop. It was the same! Had he gone back in time? Caught in some sort of bizarre loop? He stared, frozen to the spot. The lights were off and the shop was dark, but his enhanced night vision could pick out the clocks on display. Everything looked the same, as far as he could remember.

He could tell his quarry was no longer inside, though he had definitely been here, but for once he didn't care, this was more important. He had to know. Was the clockmaker the same man, and was he alive... or dead?

There was a small gap under the door, big enough for him to slip through. No-one was watching as Shadow collapsed and disappeared, then resumed his usual form inside the shop. Slowly, he mounted the staircase.

Faint snores came from the bedroom, answering one of his questions immediately. This man, whoever he was, was alive.

Shadow crept forward and slipped inside the open door. He stared down at the face on the pillow. It was the very same! The man he was certain he had killed in the last world... For a sickening moment the room spun and he stretched out a hand to steady himself.

Whether his movement disturbed the air or a primal sense of danger kicked in, the Shadow didn't know, but the sleeper's eyes opened wide and he sat up with a gasp, his hand reaching for the lamp.