Bram didn’t believe it for one minute, but something was going on at the docks, and he didn’t intend to hear about it second-hand from those incapable of speaking without embellishment.
The man’s fanciful statement proved itself true in a matter of minutes. Bloated, scabious bodies dragged themselves across the docks with single-minded focus despite the chaos around them. Panic reigned, people running with flailing arms and hollering mouths as the river churned and screamed. A black cloud hovered above the thick orange fog, obscuring the sun.
“Did you see that one chasing Harold Scoggs?” someone nearby yelled to his friend. “Reckon that’s his wife wanting revenge?”
“I reckon they all want revenge,” the other man said. “Look at ‘em, Mick. They’re hunting.”
Bram couldn’t deny that the corpses didn’t seem to care for the crowd, more intent on getting wherever they were going. He lost sight of Uriel and Cecilia as he watched the dockers using winch ropes to scramble up the warehouse walls to safety. He scanned the area around the basin to no avail, and just as he was about to give up, he spotted Armando, Cecilia in his arms, heading past the Tobacco Dock onto Pennington Street. Bram raced after them, calling Armando’s name once he crossed the road, but they were so far ahead, he wasn’t certain he’d ever catch up.
He was considering giving up as he reached the corner beyond which lay the Blackwall Railway tracks when he hit something speedy and solid, his body spinning before hitting the ground. He landed on his bottom, a little dazed by the force of the impact.
“Bram,” Cecilia cried, her small voice fuelled by panic. “We were just coming back to find you.”
“Find me or kill me?” Bram adjusted his hat, crossing his eyes to cheer her up. “I’ve been chasing you,” he told Armando. “Goodness, you’re fast. Didn’t you hear me call?”
“I would’ve stopped if I had.” Armando pulled him to his feet. “The only thing I could hear was my heart trying to pump its way out of my ears.”
“Those things are everywhere,” said Bram. “And I don’t think this area’s safe. Rumours are already flying.”
“What rumours?”
“That all these—” Bram gave Cecilia a pointed look, and she put her hands over her ears. “All these corpses are out for revenge against those who murdered them.”
“Murdered?” Armando whispered.
“Most dead bodies do not end up in the Thames, Armando.”
“Of course not.”
Bram frowned when he realised where they were—deep in Jack Wish territory, which he only knew because Armando had told him so. If murderous corpses were seeking revenge, this was the first place they would look. “This is… not a safe place to be.”
“We’ll take the alleys and head west.” Armando urged Cecilia into a run. “By the way, I followed Vernon.”
Bram rolled his eyes, not wanting to believe the evidence that was stacking up against the man. “Vernon is harmless. He couldn’t scheme his way through an open door.”
“He plans to kidnap Miss Hallam tonight.”
Bram stopped running.
“Keep moving, Bram,” Armando urged, as he continued his tale about Lord Vernon. “He has employed a man called Firkin to do it, said his own coach was too noticeable. He told the man Miss Hallam would be home alone.”
“What do I do?” Bram asked, trying to steady his breathing.
“You stay with me tonight.”
“I can’t.”
“We can discuss this when we get to safety, but one thing is absolutely certain. You cannot go home tonight.”
When Armando came to a sudden stop, Bram fell sideways against the wall to avoid crushing Cecilia. Up ahead, two corpses shuffled into the alley, one more decayed than the other.
Bram lifted Cecilia back into his arms. “Cecilia, close your eyes. And do not open them until I say.”
They turned and ran back the way they came, but almost immediately a gang of drunken men staggered into the alley ahead of them.
“Well, you can run, boy. I’ll give you that,” said the man in front, whose shoulders were almost as wide as the alley. “Mr Wish wants a word with you.”
“Mr Wish will have to wait,” Armando said boldly. “Try to find an unlocked gate,” he whispered to Bram, shifting Cecilia to his hip to give him more cover. “Cecilia, keep your eyes closed.”
Bram fumbled with the latches on the gate to his left, then the one to his right, backing up to the next set of gardens. Armando shuffled with him until he finally found an unlocked gate, scrambling inside to scan the garden for anything useful. Armando slammed the gate shut.
Bram wedged a short plank beneath the handle. “That should hold them, but hurry. They might climb over the top.”
“This is Sam Hewett’s place,” Armando told him.
“Who?”
“Backyard blacksmith. Makes shovels and what-have-you.”
Bram tried to climb the outhouse, though he wasn’t sure why. “Do you know everyone? And do I need to know who lives here?”
“He’ll have tools,” Armando said.
“Do you think they’ll go away if I give them this?” Cecilia asked, reaching inside her dress for a pocket watch.
Armando was not impressed. “Cecilia!”
