Post by Tiago James Squalor on Jul 27, 2012 21:00:03 GMT -5
Chapter One
Sometimes when we are in a great hurry to escape some great danger, we tend to forget things as our survival instinct tells us to get away as quickly and swiftly as possible. I for one once had to escape an ambush at a grocery store, which I only did escape because of a rather daring move by a colleague of mine, who lunged into the store with her car, knocking over an elaborate pile of tinned tuna. Our enemies were covered in tuna when I jumped into the backseat, and in our escape, I forgot to tell this colleague of the important secret I had discovered from the grocery store cashier. It should be no surprise that the same thing happened to one Isadora Quagmire, a girl, which was also a triplet, which was also an orphan, and which was also on the run. Isadora, and her two brothers, Quigley and Duncan had just escaped from a grim apartment building after witnessing another gruesome murder of a former volunteer, this time at the hands of an organization called Gothic Works. There was just too much on Isadora Quagmire’s mind between the events they’d recently witnessed, their new-found fear of Gothic Works, as well as the wound her brother Quigley had been dealt by one of Gothic Works’ assassins while he rescued Natalie Finch from death-by-harpoon. The Quagmires were now well on their way to Deluge Dam, aboard their hovercraft, which had belonged to Jeremiah Hudson, a volunteer, and later his son, who was now dead, and with Quigley’s wound, there was no able time for Isadora to discuss the package she’d obtained by solving a puzzle in the runaway scientist Seth Lockhart’s apartment. They had entered the Deluge Dam’s artificial lake a while back, and they could see the slopes and crags of the Ghastly Gorge, and between them, the Dam, and the rising smoke from the town. It was a curious, interesting sight, but Isadora’s eyes were set on Quigley. He had fever, and Isadora feared the harpoon that nicked him must have been poisoned, but both Quigley and Duncan tried to trancquilize her.
‘I’m sure it’s just a cold, Izzie.’ Quigley said, using her half-forgotten nickname for when someone was trying to calm her down. Sometimes people would call her Isa too, but never Dora. ‘I’m just worried. This lake is bigger than it seemed to be on the map, and we’re still a long way from Deluge Dam.’ Quigley smiled. ‘The land is not the map, Isadora. Well, in this case, the lake is not the map. But don’t worry, we’ll be there soon and get this cut sewn up properly.’ The Quagmire triplets then fell silent as they approached the dam. They could see a watchtower of sorts, built in the middle of the dam, flying a flag – an expression which here means ‘there was a flag fluttering atop the tower’ and not ‘the tower was flying with a flag’ – and they could see a small harbor with some boats and dingies, tied to the quays. Seagulls flew over, in the sky, even if that wasn’t actually the sea. Still, they must have been somewhere near the sea. Maybe Ghastly Gorge’s once turbulent river led straight into the ocean a few miles away before the river got drained and the dam, built, though that had been a long, long time in the past.
Arriving at that small harbor made Isadora Quagmire feel much better. A fisherman was just getting on his boat when he noticed the Quagmires’ hovercraft approaching the harbor. The man waved at them, and Isadora smiled. Quigley would soon get his wound treated, but there was little joy to be found in that town, I’m afraid to report. The Quagmires’ stay in Deluge Dam was but a series of disappointments, disruptions, disasters culminating in destruction, and there is no need for me to try and fool you, dear reader. It is best that I warn you now before you read this dreadful book and find yourself disappointed and desperate.
‘We have someone who is hurt!’ Duncan, who piloted the hovercraft, shouted at the fisherman as the hovercraft slowed, making it’s way into the harbor. ‘Do you have a hospital or clinic, or maybe even just a medic kit?’ The man responded with a thumbs up. Isadora felt even more relaxed. ‘Where can find a medic kit?’ Duncan asked the man, who pointed to the watchtower in the middle of the dam. Quigley and Isadora got out of the hovercraft and sat by the harbor, trying in vain to make conversation with the man, who kept working at his boat. ‘So, Sir, this is Deluge Dam, eh?’ Isadora asked the man, to no avail. Sometimes when you want to start a conversation in a sort of desperate situation and don’t know how, you can do what Isadora did: state the obvious in an interrogative tone.
‘That’s Silent Sid.’ A voice said behind them, startling both Isadora and Quigley. They turned and saw a woman with long red hair in a peculiar dress open on it’s cleavage, with a corset tightening her waist, and an open, but long skirt that revealed a single, perfect leg, and the fact that she was wearing shorts underneath all that. Quigley’s gaze went over the leg part a bit more than Isadora, which seemed to amuse the woman. ‘Cid you said? Cid Jetsam?’ Isadora asked. The woman’s attention turned to Isadora. ‘I said Silent Sid. With an S. Cid Jetsam is able to speak, although he certainly isn’t on speaking terms with me. Who might you two be?’ She said, half talking to herself and half to the Quagmires. ‘My brother, he got wounded. A cut. It’s deep.’ That grimly surprised the woman. ‘Oh, then come with me. What got him? You two aren’t troublemakers, I hope. Fighters, I mean.’ The woman tested them, but told them to get up with a gesture. Other people appeared in the harbor, all taking to the boats, making preparations to set sail and fish. ‘No, we’re certainly not troublemakers.’
The woman led them to the watchtower, and on the way the Quagmires could see but a small part of the town of Deluge Dam. But now they needed to focus on getting Quigley’s wound sorted out – a phrase which here means ‘sewn, sterilized and properly bandaged’ – before making their way to the town proper. Duncan was knocking on the door of the watchtower, but apparently there was no one in there. ‘Quigley, Isadora! Who’s this?’ Duncan said with greater than usual interest upon seeing the statuesque red-headed woman. ‘Oh, I haven’t said my name, have I? Mind you, I’m used to everyone knowing my name. That and I haven’t met new people in a while. I’m Isabella Jetsam, pleased to meet you. Now if you three will come in we can take care of that wound.’ Isabella Jetsam opened the door with a key she had, and soon the Quagmires were inside. ‘You’re related to Cid Jetsam, then?’ Quigley asked. ‘Yes, I am his sister, though it is apparent he has forgotten that. What do you want to know that for?’ She asked them, while removing a white box with a red cross from a cabinet. The watchtower was a mess, but there was a clean space with a hospital bed, a screen and some clean medical supplies in a separate corner of the room. ‘Well, we’ve come to talk to him about this.’ Isadora had noticed a copy of The Daily Punctilio on a desk. The paper was open right where the clipped article Natalie Finch had given them, and they could see Violet Baudelaire smiling modestly at them from the paper, with a man and a woman by her side. ‘Yes, that’s my brother. He was irritated when the paper came out. That article cost him his new apprentice. That one.’ Isabella pointed to Violet. ‘I have no idea why, though, so don’t ask me. It’s not like he’d tell me anyway. Now sit, you. Let me get a look at that cut.’ Isabella cut off Quigley’s tank top, which was now soaked with sweat, water and blood on the verge of going brown. Underneath, a soiled bandage, improvised by Duncan awaited. ‘Well, it’s a good thing you got here as early as you did. It was beginning to infect.’
‘Oh no.’ Isadora said, worried. Quigley smiled. ‘It’s nothing, Isadora.’ Quigley’s mind was anywhere but on that wound, to look at him. It was obvious now that Violet Baudelaire had indeed abandoned Deluge Dam. They had come so far that it was quite a disappointment to know that they wouldn’t find Violet Baudelaire in that strange town. But they would find someone. That much I can tell you now, dear reader.