As Suvan rested on the sofa, I started to carefully explore the rest of the home. From the front room, the next place to examine was the kitchen. It was dirty, the ceiling-mounted light covered with gray, dirty cobwebs. Under this lifeless light there was a dusty glass table surrounded by four chairs. A hallway with carpeting was to the left, while a closed door of wood was to the right. I recognized the sink, stove, and cupboards but could not make sense of some of the other objects there.
A large metal box, big enough to fit two of me, was shoved up against the wall. It had a chrome handle, so I gently pulled on it with no result. A harder tug and the door released itself from the grip of time. Inside there were boxes and containers labeled with strange blocky writing. There was also a faint odor of decay that reminded me of sour milk. Whatever material they once contained had long rotted away and turned to dust. Returning my interest to the cupboards, I found nothing inside but plates, glasses and the carcass of a dried-out centipede. The drawers turned up some blackened spoons, knives and forks.
Next, I tried the door on the right. It opened easily enough with the rusted hinges barely protesting the movement. This was a large room, the second ingress from the outside metal door that had stymied me before. Inside this area, there was nothing but a jumble of hoses and gardening equipment, the wooden handles looking dried and fragile.
Returning to the kitchen, I then ventured down the hallway which had four doors, two on each side. The first door practically fell apart when I opened it. This was a small narrow room with two sinks and a bathtub caked with dust. Fragments of a mirror were scattered on the floor and countertop.
In the next room, the door was already open. At one time it had been a bedroom. The curtains hanging above the window were nothing but tattered scraps, but the remnants of the large bed was still occupied. Lying on the moth-eaten covers was the mummified remains of a person. The skull had empty sockets that stared sightlessly up at the ceiling. The body was shriveled to a hideous gray, reminding me of a Mutan, and covered with moth-eaten rags. Clutched in the flesh-stripped hand was an object that I easily recognized – a pistol.
Wrenching the gun from the death grip of our host was no easy matter, but I soon had it in my possession. To my disappointment, the metal had long rusted away. Pointing the gun at the wall, I tried to pull the trigger, expecting some old magic to still exist, but nothing happened. Disappointed, I threw the gun back on the bed and continued on.
The other room was also a bedroom, but was empty except for the decayed furniture.
The last door led to a stairway heading upwards.
“Suvan?” I called down the hall.
“Yes, Mikel?” her ghost of a voice answered from the front room.
“I haven’t found anything yet, but I’m headed upstairs to take a look around. Call me if you need anything.”
“Don’t be gone for long,” she said. “This place is starting to scare me a little bit.”
I took the stairs cautiously, each step creaking ominously as the aged wood protested the sudden weight of my body. The stairs ended in a large room that took up the entire second story. At one time, it must have been a beautiful place, for the walls at the back of the house were nothing but glass. Even the ceiling had a row of glass windows but they were now covered with the decayed flora that rested on the roof above. The trees here were now growing close to the house, making the outside light turn green as it shone through a canopy of leaves.
Through this vision of rippling fauna, I could see two wooden easels with paintings that had long ago faded away. On the walls there were more paintings that were now nothing but faint images. There were also the remnants of a sofa and a nearby long box with brass ends. The box immediately drew my attention since, except for the dust, it was in remarkably good condition.
I walked slowly over to it, the floor creaking uncertainly. I got down on my knees to examine the box more closely. With my sleeve, I dusted it off and found that the box was heavily covered in green paint with yellow lettering that was unfamiliar to me. There was a clasp on the front so I gave it a twist before pulling up on the lid. It was a tight fit, but I eventually managed to wrestle the box open. Inside, there were some objects wrapped in greasy paper. I nervously lifted them out before unwrapping them.
The heaviest package was a perfectly preserved, all-metal pistol that was covered in a thick coating of grease. The second package was a covered jar of oil with a dozen small metal cases inside. I didn't know what they were, so I went back to examining the gun. I had never used one before, and the only gun I had ever seen was used by the sub-Vizier.
With a scrap of dusty rag, I began wiping the pistol clean, examining the parts as I went. I accidentally released a catch, and the multi-chamber cylinder swung out. Once I examined and cleaned the chambers of oil, I realized the metal cases in the jar would fit perfectly. It dawned on me that the hammer on top of the gun would strike the end of the metal case, firing the bullet attached to the other end. I had seen the sub-Vizier fire the gun at me, but could I somehow make this ancient weapon work too?
I removed one of the metal cases from the jar, marveling at the compact machining of the Ancients. I snugged it into a chamber and closed the cylinder. With my hands shaking, I pointed the gun at the wall. I closed my eyes and pulled the trigger. There was a click but nothing else happened.
Opening my eyes, I examined the cylinder again. The case I had inserted wasn't lined up with the hammer. This time I spun the cylinder forward until the case was lined up. I pulled the trigger again. With an ear-splitting crack, the bullet plunged into the wall, shattering the plaster in a most satisfying manner. I now had a weapon that could even the odds with anything I could possibly encounter.
Chapter 15