American Alchemy_Quicksilver Read online

  Tim rubbed his knuckle into Jonathan’s scalp. “Lead the way, m’lord! Be careful not to trip and split thy head. M’lord’s not too light on his feet.”

  Jonathan shook him off, half-smiling “I’m sure gonna miss you when I’m gone. Even if you’re a total ass.”

  The two miners followed the only tunnel dug in the lower level of the silver mine and soon arrived to the infamous howling cavern, the South Chamber. No spectral lament, or any other sound, came from its damp interior.

  Jonathan circled the cave, lighting his way with the orange candlelight on his cap. It was bigger than he’d expected. A forest of mushroom-like stalagmites grew all over the ground while sparkling stalactites covered the ceiling, their edges sharp and threatening.

  “This place gives me the creeps,” Tim said, trampling in front of his friend.

  He strolled around the cavern with his fingers intertwined behind his head. “I wonder, what would the good doctor say about his son playing in a rat trap.”

  “Who cares.”

  “Boy, oh boy, someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed.”

  Jonathan opened his mouth to protest. Then closed it. Then decided it was better to engage in conversation to ease his growing anxiety. “Where were you anyway? I haven’t seen you in days.”

  “Here, there. All the caboose. You know me.”

  Tim followed the far wall, the light on his head appearing and disappearing from behind the tallest stalagmites.

  “Jenkins wants Whitlock to get rid of you. You wouldn’t be here if Hickok hadn’t convinced them both otherwise,” Jonathan said.

  “Jenkins can do whatever he goddamned pleases.”

  They explored the South Chamber in silence, its smooth floor and rugged edges, its black walls streaked with green and crimson veins. Jonathan’s candlelight bounced off Tim’s strong back, but his dark hair seemed to melt with their surroundings.

  “What about you, Jonnie? How are things with the pill?”

  Jonathan lay on a big, black, boulder and sighed. “Same. I left him mad as a hornet this morning.”

  “At least your old man’s off the corn-juice long enough to care.”

  A chilly draft blew on Jonathan’s cheek. He peeked behind the rock, his candle flickering. “There’s a big crack here.”

  Two uneven, bumpy pillars stood left and right of the passage, like a ruined temple he’d seen in one of his father’s history books.

  “I wonder why Whitlock’s so interested in this hole.”

  Jonathan felt Tim’s breath on his neck as he looked over his shoulder.

  “He wants to bleed this mountain dry, plain and simple. Let’s take a look and get the hell out.”

  A sound between a long bellow and a loud, deep sigh came from the hole in the wall. The miners took a step back, bumping into each other as a pair of sparkling, blue eyes blinked twice, vanishing, then reappearing in the darkness in front of them.

  “Holy smokes,” Tim whispered. “There’s something in there.”

  Jonathan gulped and nodded. Then they raised their picks and waited as the bellowing grew closer, followed by the unequivocal sound of hooves against the bare floor.

  IV

  Those haunting blue eyes moved closer still, until the dim edge of the orange candlelight showed a curious snout, then a long, furry brow, crowned with a pair of gnarled antlers: a young stag.

  It walked with slow, elegant steps, its sparkling fur flowing as if blown by an invisible breeze. The creature’s hooves clacked and left a trail of shiny footprints as it circled the men. Its mane shone silver and seemed to swirl around the animal’s strong neck as if it had a life of its own.

  The deer twitched its pointy ears, analyzing the miners with fearless interest. It stood ominous but not threatening, its jewel-like eyes offering a hint of recognition, intelligence even. Its silver body reflected both men’s awestruck faces in distorted waves, like a rippling lake.

  When the stag snorted and shook its head, gray drops splashed the floor and the rocky walls. One stray droplet hit the tip of Jonathan’s pick. He watched it drip, spellbound, a warm memory of his childhood filling his mind as he discerned the thick, argentine liquid.

  “Mercury,” he whispered.

  Tim leaned his pick against the wall and approached the stag, his right palm extended. The animal lowered its head, docile and welcoming.

  Jonathan grabbed his friend’s wrist. “Don’t.”

  The stag blinked twice, looking almost disappointed as it trotted to the opposite corner of the cavern and scratched the wall with its antlers. They left a trail of blue sparks in the air.

  “I’ve never seen anything like it.” Tim’s eyes gleamed with wonder.

  “He’s beautiful.”

  The young deer bellowed.

  Tim laughed. “Seems it likes compliments.”

  “Look at his fur.”

  “Shiny.”

  Jonathan stared at the shimmering, gray puddle forming beneath the stag’s furry stomach.

  “This might sound crazy but… I think he’s made of quicksilver. Head to toe.”

  Tim tapped his forehead. “A metal animal? Am I dreaming? How do you think it got down here, Jonnie?”

  “I guess it lives here. Our men broke into its house when they dug.”

  “Well, it doesn’t seem too concerned about our visit.” Tim placed his arm on Jonathan’s shoulders and spun him around. “Excuse us, your highness.”

  “What are we gonna do?” Tim asked.

  “Maybe we should let him be. Tell the others we found nothing.”

  “How much time do you think it’ll take them to find it themselves? Then what?”

  They glanced at the stag, and the creature’s ears stiffened. As if it wanted to overhear their conversation. The deer kept its blue eyes on them, glittering like two perfectly round sapphires.

  “I say, let’s go hunting,” Tim whispered, pinching Jonathan’s far shoulder.

  Jonathan shook off his friend’s embrace. “Are you out of your mind?”

  “Look at it, Jonnie. Pure quicksilver. Can you imagine how much it’d be worth? Mercury’s already rare, but this… This is one of a kind.”

  “He’s innocent, Tim. He means us no harm.”

  “Still, it’s an animal and we’re men, aren’t we? Mark my words, just the tip of those antlers would buy us a passage to wherever we wanted. Even across the ocean.”

  Jonathan raised an eyebrow. “Since when do you want to skip town?”

  “Why not?” Tim shrugged. “There’s not much for me here without you around.”

  They shared an accomplice smile, Jonathan picturing a life of adventure, discovery, and endless, effervescent excess. He could almost taste the intoxicating sweetness of true freedom in his lips, far away from Soul Well’s norms and unwillingness to evolve.

  “Just the antlers,” Jonathan agreed. “Then we’ll let the poor thing go.”

  “You’re the boss.” Tim winked then turned to the exit of the South Chamber.

  “Where do you think you’re going, Sullivan?”

  “I need to borrow some tools. Or were you thinking of chopping those antlers with our picks? Keep our new buddy company, will you?”

  “Don’t let anyone see you.”

  “You worry too much, Tucker. I’ll be sly as a snake in high grass.” He disappeared into the tunnel like a vanishing shadow.

  Jonathan sat down and leaned against the cold wall, keeping a respectful distance from the gleaming stag. He followed the waves of quicksilver spiraling all across its back, running from its feet to the tip of its tree-shaped antlers.

  That metallic motion put him into a peaceful haze, and he indulged in the fantasy of a brighter, silvery future as he waited for his friend to return.

  V

  The stag stood up and patted the floor, purple sparks emanating from its hooves. Its sharp eyes shone as bright as the will-o'-the-wisps that floated above Soul Well’s graveyard at night. It walked around th
e cavern as a king would walk his kingdom, minding Jonathan as much as it did the cold rocks.

  He placed his hands behind his back, pressing them hard against the wall, controlling his feverish urge to reach for the beast’s shining, poisonous skin. The animal exhumed an ineffable majesty. Its eerie beauty would enslave the eye of any beholder. Its wildness stirred Jonathan’s fiery desire to roam free.

  For a long time, he listened only to the stag’s deep breath and the dripping of the stalactites. Then a chorus of echoes came in through the tunnel behind him.

  Two mountain men went up, oh Sally Mae, Two mountain men up they went… They went… went…

  But only one would come down, oh Sally Mae, But only one would remain… Remain… main…

  Jonathan jumped to his feet and grabbed Tim’s arm. “Quiet! Do you want to alert the whole mine?”

  “You need to calm down, doll.”

  “Are you sure no one followed you? Hickok?”

  “Worry no more, my friend. A snake in high grass, remember?”

  Tim carried a long piece of rope around his shoulder, and the top half of a rusty saw shoved in the right pocket of his overalls. The blackened lantern in his hand filled the cavern with a sickly, yellow light.

  The stag backed away.

  “It knows we’re up to no good,” Jonathan said.

  “Then we better hurry before we have to race it through the tunnels.” Tim handed him the lantern and a pair of cowhide gloves. “With Jenkins’ regards.”

  “You stole Jenkins’ gloves?”

  “Borrowed.”

  Jonathan put them on and grimaced. They were damp on the inside.

  “What did you expect, m’lord?” Tim said as he put on another pair.

  “Who did you borrow those from?”

  “Some generous compadre. We can buy every man ten pairs when we’re done. Here, distract our pal while I throw the lasso. Who knew those awful days helping my uncle with his cattle would come in handy.”

  Jonathan leaned in. “What if it charges?” he whispered.

  Tim walked past his friend and watched the silver deer. “You would never hurt poor Jonnie, would you?”

  The stag twitched its right ear.

  Tim smiled. “Sweet as a doe.”

  Jonathan waved the lantern in front of the animal while his partner positioned himself behind it. The curious creature followed the yellow light with its deep, blue gaze.

  “That’s it, look at me, boy. I don’t want to hurt you.”

  Tim tossed the lasso and tugged, snaring the stag by its neck.

  “Yee-haw!” Tim shouted. “Am I the best or what?”

  The creature made no effort to fight back or try to break free. It looked down at the thick rope around its neck, now drenched in the quicksilver flowing from its mane. Then it raised its head to Jonathan and blinked.

  “Tim, what the hell—?”

  Tim shushed him, and the stag turned, stepping toward his green-eyed captor.

  “That’s it. Stay calm.” Tim lowered his hand and grabbed the handle of his saw.

  Tim grinned and wet his lips. “Get ready, Jonnie. You might need to give me a hand if it gets nervous. That’s it… Sweet as a—”

  The young stag lowered its head, but didn’t charge, almost as if it was offering its antlers as a prize. Then it stretched its neck and tapped Tim on the chest, just once, leaving a shiny, silver mark on his shirt.

  “What do you know.” Tim smirked. “It wants to play tag.”

  The quicksilver stain expanded like blood pouring from an open wound, smoking, burning through the linen cloth. Jonathan’s eyes widened.

  “Take it off!” he yelled.

  Tim dropped the lasso and threw his cap away, shaking as he lowered the straps of his overalls. He pulled his shirt over his head then tossed it on the floor, still shuddering.

  The stag sniffed the crumpled shirt as the cloth turned into a thick puddle of mercury.

  Bare-chested, Tim shivered under the faint light of the lantern.

  “Jonnie…” he wheezed. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

  Jonathan pointed a trembling finger to Tim’s chest. A drop of mercury glittered in the middle of his pectorals, above his sternum. And it was getting bigger.

  Tim wiped it off, but the quicksilver grew on his palm, crawling over his gloved hand, up his arm, all the way to his shoulder. A layer of liquid metal stuck to his upper body like a layer of thick paint, then ran down his waist, covered his crotch and wreathed around both his legs, wrapping his whole body in streaks of mercury, like the gray, sparkling bandages of an Egyptian mummy.

  Tim’s screams turned into death rattles as the living metal reached his mouth, shutting his lips forever. It turned his handsome face into a grotesque venetian mask.

  Jonathan ran to his suffering friend, but the stag cut his way, threatening him with its antlers and deep, cerulean eyes.

  Tim disappeared into his smoking, quicksilver cocoon. The air thickened and smelled acrid, pungent, like some of Doctor Tucker’s strongest concoctions. It also carried a slight stench of charred meat that made Jonathan gag.

  The young and carefree Tim Sullivan, now a silver, misshapen horror, trembled inside his shimmering pall. Then he cascaded like melting ice, until there was nothing left of the former man but a slimy puddle of swirling mercury.

  The stag stood on two feet, kicking the air with its front hooves and bellowing so loudly the whole cavern quaked. The quicksilver on the floor flowed to him in thin streams, like tributaries to a river, gathering under his hooves, then feeding into his legs and calves.

  Its body pulsated with a spectral light that transformed the South Chamber into a swooning, underwater mirage.

  Jonathan shook his head, trying to clear the daze, unable to tell the difference between awe, pain, and glacial fear.

  VI

  The frightful animal held its head high, its mane twirling and intertwining in silver locks. It took a step forward, then two, moving calmly, tauntingly, showing the true joy of a hunter, a hidden predator.

  Click, clack, its hooves went.

  Jonathan saw his reflection in the stag’s skin as it came closer, seeing the grim semblance of death in his distorted, mirrored face.

  Forgive me, father, he thought.

  The silver deer lowered its pointed antlers.

  Click, clack.

  Jonathan was paralyzed by the thought of his painful, upcoming transmutation from flesh to liquid metal to nothing at all.

  Forgive me, Tim.

  The stag stopped, its antlers but a few inches from Jonathan’s face. It blew gusts of warm, wet air against Jonathan’s chest. The creature’s sapphire eyes seemed to speak straight into his mind, even if the animal itself was nothing but the incarnation of silence.

  We are one, they said.

  What would it feel like to run his fingers through the creature’s glimmering fur? Would it be as cold as metal? Would it have the spark of a living creature? Would it feel as smooth as his mother’s white palms?

  Jonathan raised a finger to the gray antlers like a doomed princess to her cursed spindle.

  The silver stag waited.

  Then a husky voice called from the dark of the tunnel’s mouth. Hickok.

  “Jon? Sullivan?”

  The deer turned his head to the voice with a sharp twist of its neck. Jonathan caught its hunger in the ferocity of the gesture. He recalled the nauseating gurgle that echoed inside the cavern as Tim turned into a metal pulp, into a pool of pure life force that enticed the creature’s grisly appetite.

  Jonathan swung his lantern at the deer’s face, hoping the distraction would save him enough time to flee and warn the others. The lamp not only hit the startled creature, but got stuck in its antlers.

  The stag backtracked, shaking its head left and right, up and down. The lanterns’ oil spilt all over, splashing its snout. In an instant, its face caught fire, the flames running up its antlers like the branches of an old tre
e after a lightning strike.

  The haunting beauty of the stag vanished as it stomped the ground with furious blows. The orange flames lit two harrowing eyes that floated in a sea of red flames—the blazing skull of a fiend from the bloodiest legions of Hell.

  Jonathan covered his head as the lantern darted from the deer’s antlers, smashing on the wall above his crown. The beast charged. He leaped to the side just before it crushed him against the black rock. Chipped stone fell on his shoulders as he rolled on the floor and jumped into the exit tunnel without looking back.

  Darkness gave him a sense of protection. He dashed through the passage, blinded and possessed by a primal instinct that wouldn’t allow him to do anything else but run.

  Jonathan’s race came to an end when he bumped into a tall, bear-shaped man.

  Hickok held the bewildered miner in place before he fell backwards. “Jon? Are you all right?”

  Jenkins’ aquiline nose peeked behind the foreman’s back. “What’s taking you so long?” he asked. “And where the heck’s Sullivan? I bet he’s the one that trashed the elevator with his monkey shines.”

  Jenkins glanced down. “Are you wearing my gloves?”

  All three men turned to the sound of running hooves. A pair of gleaming, blue eyes and two blazing flames came towards them at an alarming speed.

  Hickok crossed himself. “Baphomet!”

  “I told you the place was cursed, goddamnit!”

  “Run for your lives!” Jonathan screamed.

  The miners sprinted through the exit tunnel, dust raining on their caps. Jonathan looked over his shoulder. The animal had grown so tall the tip of its antlers scratched the rocky ceiling. Its oversized feet thundered on the floor and made it shake like an earthquake that gained strength by the second.

  When the men reached the shaft, they darted up the first ramp and a hand ladder, kicking it from the edge on top of the stag as it followed. The creature was so big now it hardly fit through the passage on its way out. It charged against the walls as it expanding flesh pressed against the wooden beams, its shape twisting into a quicksilver maelstrom.