Abner looked sick, “But that’s so—couldn’t we—”
Pix punched him in the chest. “You are such an idiot!” she screamed and stamped off.
Abner stared after her, holding his hand to his chest as he struggled to catch his breath. Despite his attempts at conversation, Pix had never said much about her life before the Circus. He had already suspected it hadn’t been a happy one—Pix had been alone when she joined, with no friends or family to leave behind. Now, he wondered what had happened to her, that her reaction to Agatha had been so fearful, and so vehement.
Payne also watched her go. He patted his apprentice on the back. “The Countess will give me hell about this,” he rumbled. “But Pix is right, if a bit overdramatic. Now, let’s move out.” When next he spoke, his voice boomed out over the entire camp. “And we move On Stage!”
All across the camp, people exchanged worried looks. Many glanced nervously at the sky. Traveling “On Stage” was dangerous.
Agatha realized that she had to stop moving, at least for a little while. She had come to the edge of the woods, and the ground ahead of her was a wide field of broken stone. She had marched over the previous hill on automatic-pilot, but this rough ground would require more attention than she currently felt capable of mustering. With a deep sigh, she sat on a boulder and contemplated the rocks ahead. They looked sharp.
Krosp gingerly settled next to her. Agatha realized that he’d been trying to talk to her, but she had been walking in a fog, and nothing had registered. He tried again. “Well. That could have gone better.”
Agatha gazed blankly up at the sky and sighed again. “I know you said that people would look after their own, but I never thought we could harm people just by talking to them.”
Krosp frowned. “They did seem a bit jumpy...” he waved it away. “But we were planning on avoiding people anyway.”
Agatha nodded. “I know, but the way they were talking about the Wastelands... and they’re people who actually know their way around out here... Krosp, I don’t know if we can do this alone.”
Krosp twisted in place to gaze back the way they had come. Even in the midday sun, the forest behind them looked dark. He slumped slightly. “I don’t see that we have a lot of choice.”
Agatha stood up. “No. No choice at all, really.”
At that moment, a hellish noise rolled through the woods. Loud mechanical grinding and thumping sounds were mixed by the wild, thin shrieks of horses and the confused shouts of people.
Leaping to her feet, Agatha ran back through the woods. Krosp ran behind her, shouting at her to wait. They quickly arrived at the crest of the hill and stopped, brought up short by what they saw. Master Payne’s circus was on the move at last, but it had definitely chosen the wrong direction.
A large, crab-like clank was breaking noisily through a last bit of forest and lumbering towards the wagons. Agatha had heard of such things—machines of war abandoned or lost in the Wastelands. This one had most likely been lying dormant for years. Its metal surface was rusted and pitted. Lichen and small bushes grew from cracks in its carapace. One of its mechanical fore-claws had been torn off some time in the past, but this did not stop the clank from wrecking havoc with the remaining stump of jagged metal. Exposed and damaged wiring crackled at the torn joint.
The wagon drivers had seen it approaching, and were attempting to disperse, but between the spring-swollen river and the walls of the valley, there simply wasn’t enough space for them to turn easily en masse.
To make matters worse, the clank’s rusty mechanism ground against itself painfully, producing ear-splitting grinding and shrieking noises. The noise was driving the horses into a frenzy. Drivers were yelling and swearing, cracking their whips furiously. Others risked being trampled as they hung onto bridles and tried to physically drag the horses about. Two wagons had already tipped over, and as Agatha watched, another went down, dragging its horses onto their sides, where they thrashed and screamed trying to break free.
As the old contraption cleared the trees, a great cracked lens, set into the face of the clank, began to glow. With a flare, a focused stream of green flame shot out and set a trapped horse aflame. The panic increased, and the wagons trying to escape rammed themselves into an impenetrable tangle.
The clank lurched toward the terrified people. “Wow.” Observed Krosp. “That’s not good.” He frowned. “Wait. Don’t they have any defenses? They’re scattering like geese!”
Suddenly, a lone cart drove wildly away from the group, straight along the road toward the attacker. The clank, apparently attracted by whatever moving object was closest to it, paused as the cart swept past it and away down the road. It then swiveled about on its six legs, shot out a billow of smoke, and began to pursue the escaping wagon. Agatha realized that the road would lead both cart and clank directly beneath the ridge where she and Krosp stood.
“That must’ve been what was out in the woods.” She said. “What’ll we do?”
Krosp looked at Agatha like she’d lost her mind. “It’s coming this way! What we do is run!”
Agatha gripped her gun. “No! I’ve got to help!” So saying, she leapt over the edge of the ridge and skidded down the rocky slope toward the valley floor. While the incline wasn’t dangerously steep, she found that she was traveling faster than she had expected—and the weight of the gun she held in both hands made for some challenging problems in applied momentum.
When she reached the bottom, the wagon was hurtling towards her. Its canvas back had been charred by a close shot of the clank’s green fire, and smoke poured from the remaining covering. In the back of the wagon, Agatha saw Olga, huddled down low, gripping a strut.
The wagon slowed as the horses reached a rise in the road. The clank raised its intact claw up high, then swept it down hard. At the same time, Agatha raised her newly-built gun to her shoulder and fired.
The claw smashed onto the back of the wagon, causing it to collapse and sending the rear wheels spinning off to either side. The passengers flew from the damaged vehicle, flailing in midair. An explosion erupted from the back of the clank and its rearmost right leg blew free. The giant machine rocked wildly for a moment, found its balance, and then spotted the wagon’s driver on the ground. The man was groggily beginning to sit up when he turned to see the great clank looming over him. He screamed as it prepared to grab him with its rusty claw.
Agatha ran forward, trying to get between the man and the clank. If it followed the closest moving object, perhaps she could lure it away... but as she darted in front of the man, the clank took another step, and she was knocked to the ground. She looked up and realized that she had fallen directly beneath the device.
It was a terrifying moment. The great clank squealed above her and its heavy legs pounded the ground around her as it shifted its weight. Agatha swung her gun straight up and fired it directly into the clank’s undercarriage. The resulting blast took her breath away and she gasped as she scrambled to her feet.
The clank wobbled and staggered to the side. Agatha barely avoided one of the huge legs as she reached the man on the ground and hauled him to his feet. He stared up at the smoking device that lurched drunkenly above them.