The Clockwork Kid by Zachary A. Pieper

My name, is Leon Pieper. And this is the story of the time I almost died as a kid.

When I was still pretty young, I got sicker than a dog. Local doc couldn't figure out what was wrong with me. Mom's remedies didn't work. Finally, I remember after one evening of arguing in the other room where they thought I couldn't hear, my old man sat down at his desk to pen a story about something he had never told me about prior. About his experience with a man named Doc Ebert.

He told me after he sent the story to about a dozen different newspapers across the states, that he was sure if his old friend Doc Ebert came to help, I would be fine. But I could tell by the look on his face he wasn't actually sure. He and my mom sounded like they didn't agree on this at all. I got the feeling my mom made him do it.

I was getting worse by the day, symptoms came and went, but the main thing I remember, or rather, that makes it hard to remember, was the damn fever. I was always feverish back then. I would spend entire days in the tub, the water-absorbing my body heat to keep my brain from being cooked. My old man said it was something the doc taught him.

Then one day, in the dead of night, I was woken up by pounding at the door. I got up out of the tub where I had started sleeping for various reasons, trouble getting out being one. But for some reason, that night, my limbs didn't feel quite as shaky as they had been, my feet weren't quite so full of lead. I crawled out of the tub and pulled on my breeches.

I didn't even think about whether it was a good idea to open the door in the middle of the night. Fever made thinking awful difficult. I stumbled to the door and weakly pulled it open. The chilly March air rolled in through the door. A dark overcoats' tails billowing, an old worn bowler hat resting atop a shadowed face.

"You must be Rubert's son," He said in warm greeting, as his face moved further away. I don't remember hitting the floor.

"He seems to have some kind of chronic autoimmune disorder," I heard the man from the door say. I left my eyes closed, opening them was hard.

"So, can you fix my baby?!" My ma asked, desperate.

"I may be able to. At my lab. But there is a problem."

"What kind of problem?" my old man asked.

"The government seized it. The US Marshal showed up making claims of 'national security' this, and 'threat to the common good' that. It's all a bunch of rubbish, they're just trying to steal my work!"

"So what can we do?"

"Well clearly we will need a distraction," The man said.

"I might know some boys,"

"Well, no time to waste then."

I heard them pulling on their coats. And I suddenly got the urge to go with. "Can I come?" I croaked.

"Leon, baby, you're in no…"

"Actually, Madam, if I may, it might be wise to bring him. The sooner we get him to the lab, the better his odds will be."

I finally got my eyes open, Ma looked like she wanted to argue, but my old man shot her a look. I knew what it meant, it was his final say look. He pulled me up and helped me to my room, helped me get dressed, and with my Ma crying in the background, we left.

My mind went in and out as we traveled in my old man's wagon, frankly, some of what I remember might be delirium. But I remember going to the other side of town, where my old man told me never to go.

We stopped in front of an old worn-in building, looked like it got the bare minimum in caretaking. My Pa dragged me in the front door, I had trouble keeping my feet under me. The inside was smokey, and everyone inside looked like the kind of guy you don't screw around with. My Pa set me down on a stool near the door and walked over to a man at the counter where everyone was drinking.

"Evening trapper," my old man said.

"What're ya doing here peeps, thought we had an understanding," Trapper said. He was a bit older than my Pa, and a lot more grizzled, and if the scars on his face were any hint, he had seen his fair share of scrapes.

"I know, I know, I don't want to grief, but I'm in a awful bad way, my boy over there is half-dead, and I need your help."

"The fuck you need my help for? I ain't no doctor?"

"Well, ya see…"

"No good sir, but I am, and I assure you, we require a man of your talents…ah…whatever they may be."

"Who in the blue blaze is this limey cock?" Trapper asked.

"Sir I will ha…"

"He's an old friend." My old man cut the doc off. "Trapper listen, the damn marshal seized the doc's lab, and my boy needs that lab. I know we ain't had the best history, but come on, for my boy's life Trapper, please." My old man was almost begging. I was vaguely aware of Trapper looking over at me and giving me a once over.

"He does look like shit don't he," he said before turning back to my old man.

"One hundred US dollars, not a red cent less." Trapper said.

"Fuck! Why don't you just take my legs while you're at it Trapper, maybe ask for my house, too? Or maybe…"

"Done!" the Doc cut in. My old man looked shocked, but Trapper just nodded.

"Me and my posse will be out front in five minutes." Trapper said, my old man looked irked, but he and the doc came and collected me and we got back onto the wagon.

Normally I was the talkative type, full of questions, but back then, I struggled to stay awake for ten minutes at a time. I wish I had been able to ask my old man what was going on.

Next thing I remember, my Pa, Doc, and a posse are riding out of town. The sun was just beginning to peek over the horizon when we crested a hill, that overlooked another small town.

"I can't believe you've been a few hours away this whole time." My old man said.

"Well, I must confess, I moved into the area because I heard you were here."

"What?!"

"I need a lab assistant! And no one else seems willing to stick around! Honestly, the bulk of your countrymen seem to believe science is some form of elaborate witchcraft."

"Well…I can't argue there…" my Pa said.

"Ladies, this is a lovely chat, but might I ask when we're going to get on with it?" Trapper asked, his posse waiting off in the distance.

My Pa and the doc looked downright irritated, but my old man always said, ya need to get along to move along.

"Doc?"

"Yes, that building down the hill on the right. You can see the marshal's horses tied up out front, they are quite literally occupying my laboratory."

"Okay, me and my boys will go stir up trouble on the other end of town, lure 'em out. How long you need?"

"I have no way of knowing that, seeing to the boy could take days."

"You got an hour, tops."

"that's simply not enough time!"

"Then I guess you wasted your money, let's go boys." Trapper and his boys rode off into the town, and not twenty minutes later, yelling, squealing, and ringing bells could be heard. Closely followed by the smell of smoke and crack gunfire.

"Rubert, it's not enough time," the doc said as we rode into town to get ready to seize the lab.

"We'll make it work Doc, we gotta."

We parked in an alley on the far side of the street and waited. Sure enough, once the chaos got bad enough, marshals had no choice to come out and help. My Pa and Doc rushed across the street and slammed the door behind us. My Pa carried me over to a table and set me down.

"Stay here son," he said before running back off.

The doc appeared at my side a moment later.

"Doc help me with this," he turned to look in the direction of the door.

"Rubert, what are you doing?"

"Barricading us in,"

"Ahh, serviceable plan sir," Doc said as he walked over. I had just enough strength to lift my head and look around as my dad and the doc, barred every window and door. I remember passing out watching them nail planks into the frame.

I woke up to pounding at the door, "US Marshal, open this door now!"

A man outside kept repeating variations of that, alongside threats of prison and hanging. My old man and the doc didn't seem to care, they just kept standing over me, doing…something or other. I blacked out again.

When I woke up, it was nighttime and I felt, well, good. Really damn good, compared to how I had felt for months. I was still weak, but the fever was, if not gone, much lighter. And I didn't feel so delirious. First thing I noticed was a bunch of small tubes running into my arms. I began scanning the room, and I found my dad sitting by the door, holding a rifle with his hat low over his eyes. I kept scanning, the lab was like nothing I had ever seen before. All kinds of crazy glassware and gizmos. Sometimes I wish I could go back.

Finally, my eyes panned over to the far edge of the lab, where a man with gray skin and black eyes stood at a bench, mixing liquids in small glass tubes.

My breath audibly caught in my throat, and the man looked over.

"Oh dear, oh dear," he said as he noticed me looking, and set down his glassware. "You were not supposed to see that, not supposed to see that at all," he said as he walked over. He poked some weird-looking needle into one of my tubes, and I blacked out again.

Over the years, when I've told this story, people keep insisting I was just dreaming, or the fever was making me see things. But I know what I saw.

I woke up when the sun began peeking through the boards on the windows, and the marshals once again were pounding on the doors. My old man stirred in a hurry, and to my surprise, I shot up to a sitting position.

"Feeling better I see." The doc said walking over, once again looking like a normal man.

"Ye…yes sir," I said tepidly.

"My boy!" My old man rushed over and squeezed me in a hug like he hadn't in months.

"Rubert, mind the tubes,"

"Right, right doc."

They began removing the tubes from my arms, while I sat confused as to what was going on. My memory still trying to arrange all the fragments collected in my fever.

"We're breaking the door down in 5 minutes!" the marshals shouted.

"Doc…"

"Just go Rubert,"

"But Doc,"

"I have no family, no one waiting on me. Your wife needs you, Rubert, Your son needs you. I will hold them, you leave. I made an escape tunnel, it's in the supply closet floor" The doc said, not a hint of remorse or frustration in his voice."

"Doc I…I can never repay you."

"Nonsense Rubert, you have already repaid me with your friendship."

My dad rushed around the table and roughly embraced the doc.

"You damn yanks and your constant impropriety,"

"You damn limeys and your stupid manners," they parted and shared a genuine grin. My father offered his hand, "thank you Doc."

"It was my pleasure, Rubert." The marshals started pounding away at the door. And it gave pretty quick. "Go!" the doc shouted, my old man scooped me up. And we both stole glances back as the doc wrestled them in the doorway, holding them just long enough for me and my old man to get into the tunnel and lock the door from outside.

It's been fifteen years since that day, and I ain't been sick since. But Ma and my old man both died last year of some damn sickness going around. And I didn't have much keeping me tied down, so I decided it was worth seeing if I could track down the doc.

They say he escaped prison seven years ago.

I don't know if I can find him, but bounty hunting pays for food and a place to sleep along the way. And I really feel like I need to find him.

I got this gray spot on my back that's getting bigger.