Lanterns And Shades - Part 9: The Last Lanternman

"There was never any place for someone like me to be totally happy. I'm running out of clock and that ain't a shock, some things never do change."

By the time I arrive home, the day is losing what little light it had. Voices from the living room take me straight there, and I find JD sitting with my father and Dennis.

“Where have you been?” she asks me. “I was worried.”

Dennis and dad exchange an amused glance.

“I’m okay. I went to Quarter A. I was with Henry Nicholls.”

I sit down beside her and touch the small of her back. She closes her eyes for a moment, smiles.

“Henry’s a little…” Dennis touches the side of his forehead with his index finger. “Had a run in with our friends a few years back.”

“I know,” I say. “Like I did.”

“I get it,” my father says. He looks more awake than he has in a long while, and I have a sudden and painful memory of him dancing my mother around the living room, the pair of them laughing loudly. How old was I then? Four? Five?

“The Touch,” JD says. “He’s like you.”

“Bingo. What did you guys find up at the Curfew Bar?”

JD turns to Dennis.

“There was nothing wrong with that Lantern, but some of the piping that comes from the generator up there had been tampered with,” he says. “It’s not really my field, so I couldn’t say for sure. But there’s a possibility somebody was playing silly buggers the other night.”

“You know Lanterns, though, right?” I ask him. “I mean, anybody could cut into the pipes.”

“Absolutely. But those generators aren’t obvious or easy to get into. The one up that way wasn’t vandalised or damaged. Somebody knew what they were doing.”

“A Lanternman, in other words.”

“You realise what you’re saying here, don’t you, Ken?” my father says.

I nod. “Dennis, do you know any of the guys in this union?”

“Sure, some of them. You’d have to ask Cartwright if you wanted the whole story. To them, I’m just an old drunk who drives a truck. I’ve never been invited to their little get-togethers.”

“Hey, I know the Lantermen are supposedly the bad guys here,” JD interrupts. “But you’re talking about them trying to kill us. I mean, what’s the motive?”

“The motive might not have been you two at all. Shelley was a pillar between two communities. A lot of the old folk really respected her. She wouldn’t have given a Lantern Tax the time of day,” my father says. “If there was a terrible accident and it resulted in both her and a couple of local kids dying, especially so hard on the heels of the Judy Nicholls thing, what greater argument would you need for the presence of Lanterns?”

“New Lanterns,” says Dennis.

“What?” my father and I say, almost simultaneously.

“I mentioned it to you the other night, Ken. Pat Cartwright says he’s been working on something, says he has a working prototype of a new Lantern.”

“But it’ll cost us,” I say, glancing at JD.

“He’s been our Lanternman forever,” she says, frowning. “I can’t accept that, Ken.”

“I second that,” says my father.

“Actually, I agree. Cartwright and I had an interesting chat this afternoon. That’s why I was asking you if you knew anything about the union,” I say to Dennis. “I’m thinking that maybe there’s a core of Lanternmen from the Dead Quarters who might be looking for a repeat performance of what happened there. Cartwright and his new Lantern might even be their opposition.”

“Now wait a minute,” my father says. “Pat might be greedy, but he’s not a murderer.”

“I’m not sure those Lanternmen are either. My theory is that they switched off the Lanterns to give the people of C and D a jolt, make them more receptive to the idea of a tax. It went wrong and they were pretty much the only ones that got out. If our theory about the Curfew Bar is right, then that same tactic has already raised its head here. Only this time, whoever it was had no desire to switch that Lantern back on. Rather than put the whole community at risk, they chose to sacrifice three people with the same goal in mind.”

“Daniel Nolan,” Dennis says, and we all turn to look at him. “He’s a big Irish fella. Hell of a temper. Came out of Quarter C, if memory serves.”

“I know him. Well, not personally, but I know who he is,” my father adds.

“I’ve never heard of him,” I say, and JD nods in agreement.

“You wouldn’t have done. Nolan’s a Lanternman, but Carrie Lewis does the maintenance up Northwood Gardens. That’s where he lives. Keeps himself in the background, does Daniel. But he’s very vocal in the union.” Dennis lights a cigarette and offers my father the packet.

“Very vocal how?” JD asks.

“I wouldn’t know. I only hear what others tell me, and even then only down the pub when tongues are loosened.”

“We…” I begin, and then there is a light tapping at the front door. “That’ll be Henry,” I say.

“Henry Nicholls?” my father says.

“You know any others? We need him.”

But when I go into the hallway and open the front door, the man on the doorstep is not Henry Nicholls. It’s Cartwright.

“We need to talk,” he says.

I nod and say nothing, turning away from him and going back to the living room doorway.

“It’s Cartwright,” I tell them. “I’m going out for a bit. What I want to do,” I say, mostly to Dennis, “is catch a Shade. Why don’t you guys think on that until I get back?”

My father’s mouth falls open. Dennis blinks. JD actually laughs.

“If Henry comes, include him. I don’t think I can do it by myself, and so far as I know, he’s the only one that could possibly come with me. That would leave the other issue to you three.”

“You’ve gone insane. You’ve really lost it this time,” JD says. Her eyes are alive, though, and she’s smiling.

“I’ll try not to be too long,” I tell her.

I grab my coat and join Cartwright outside. We walk in silence for a while, along Abbot Street and then through the alleyway towards Oak Park. Neither of us leads the way, it just seems like a natural destination, an open space where there are Lanterns but no people after dark. I feel like I’m in some kind of spy movie, meeting an agent from the other side to talk where no-one will see or hear us.

Even in my lifetime, we’ve played football and rugby in the park until well after dark during the summer. It has always been a centre of my community, and while that spirit may be dark and somewhat lost these days, this is a place of sunlit memories and triumphs that would mean nothing to a tourist. As long as there are Lanterns, we will always spare a few for Oak Park.

“You’ve been doing a lot of prying,” he says. We’re off the path and walking the grass now, hunched in our coats and keeping our heads down.

“I’ve been looking out for my own. I gather that’s a concept you’re pretty familiar with.”

“Maybe so,” he says, and there is something of a smile in his voice. “Maybe so.”

“Things are getting pretty fucked up around here, aren’t they?”

“I don’t know. I have my suspicions. I’ve seen some odd things. It’s been a strange day.”

“Up at the Curfew Bar?”

“You’re full of surprises, Mr. Trent,” he says.

“You can still call me Ken, Mr. Cartwright. Reason being, I don’t think you’re a murderer or even a con artist. I think you’re the guy that has always looked after the Lanterns round our way. We need you. I’m sorry if I came off too hostile this afternoon. I’ve had a hard few days.”

“If I’m calling you Ken, you’d best call me Pat. You were up there, at the bar.”

“I saw Shelley die. I thought I was next.”

“I don’t…” he sighs heavily and stops, looking up at the sky. “I don’t think that was an accident. But then you seem to know that already. There is a union, and we do want a tax, Ken. I was a little dishonest about that this afternoon, just as you were a little hostile. But there isn’t any blood on my hands. I promise you that, God as my witness.”

“Then who does, Pat? Nolan?”

We start walking again.

“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph,” he mutters. “What don’t you know?”

“I’m guessing, mostly. Looks like I’m scoring plenty of points, though.”

He nods. “It was Nolan wanted the union in the first place. We’ve always had drinks together, played cards, talked about the work. That’s only natural. But it wasn’t until Nolan came up from C that the idea of a union came about. He’s got a lot of influence, you know? They respect him and they’re a little afraid of him. He’s a big guy, smart, has a reputation as a brawler and a short temper.”

“And you?”

“I’m the only qualified Lanterman in these parts. I got my certificate through the council. Used to work for them, back in the day. The others taught themselves. That’s a respect thing, as far as they’re concerned. We can all do basic maintenance, and there are a few that can fix a truly broken Lantern. But I’m the only one with that qualification and the only one that can build from nothing. I’m the last real Lanternman around here.”

“Dennis told me you were working on a new one.”

“It’s done. Finished it back in the summer. I’ve been keeping it to myself.”

“You want to introduce it, like at a meeting or something. Give people hope so you’ll get what you want.”

He looks at me, and in Lanternlight he is drawn and white.

“I’ve thought the same thing,” I say. “If I had a weapon, something to fight them with. All I have is ideas.”

“Like?”

“The Touch makes you immune.”

“What?”

“I walked down Witches Path last night, around ten o’clock. I went right up to a Shade. I spoke to it. I’m still here.”

“That’s…”

“Impossible? There’s been no reason to notice it before. They all went crazy, didn’t they? I only know two people that got Shaded and are still walking around and talking sense. The others are all messed up.”

Cartwright says nothing. We complete a lap of the park and set off on our second.

“If I can be immune, so can anybody. If you’ve been Touched and survived, they can’t see you anymore. You could still be Touched, sure, but not if you were careful. All you’d have to do is keep your eyes open around the dark places. Of course, we’d still need Lanterns, to keep from being overrun. But if we were safer, maybe we could get back to thinking about how to destroy them instead of just holding them at bay.”

“The tax would…”

“This isn’t about the tax. If you want to talk about that afterwards, then fine. I’m more concerned about Nolan. There is justification for saying he killed Shelley, and also that he had a hand in what happened in the Dead Quarters. He doesn’t believe your idea will work, does he?”

“No.”

“That makes him dangerous. If he doesn’t have the support of the union, or if the union’s divided, he could be off planning to do exactly what they did in C and D right now. What happened at the Curfew Bar proves that he, or someone, is capable of it.”

“I can’t oppose him, Ken. When it comes right down to it, he has more authority.”

“Maybe not alone you can’t.”

“Who’s going to stand with me? Dennis? They couldn’t care less about that old sot.”

“My father, too. He’s known around here. Everyone knows the story about my mother.”

“And you?”

I shake my head. “I’ll be up at Witches Path.”

“What?”

“I want you and my father to confront them, but not with a view to winning an argument. I’m thinking more in terms of a distraction so that we can catch a Shade.”

“Do what now?”

“Tomorrow,” I say, and I’m thinking it through even as I’m speaking, “we go around Quarters A and B, posting leaflets through every door calling a meeting the day after. You let me know where all the Lanternmen live, and we don’t post there…”

“They’ll find out anyway. Gossip.”

“That may be, but we can delay it as much as we can, cut them out of the loop. That night, you, my dad, Dennis, and your people meet up with Nolan and his. While that’s happening, Henry and I will be up at Witches Path catching a Shade. Maybe you’ll turn the tide in the union, but to be honest, I doubt it. That’s okay, though. Only tomorrow night is crucial. We hold the meeting the next morning, and my dad tells the whole story. Getting the whole community to actually touch a Shade is another proposition entirely, but we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it. I think enough will to set the wheels in motion. When word gets around about this immunity thing, Nolan’s idea will be obsolete and he’ll be powerless. If and when that happens, we can debate the rest the way we should.”

“Why is the distraction so important? They don’t know what you’re planning or how much you know, Ken. I can tell you that for fact. And that’s just my first question. I have no idea how much of this madness is true. How do I know you’re not just another one gone crazy with The Touch?”

“As to the distraction, I’m not sure how important it is. But if nobody knows a thing, why did they turn out the lights at the Curfew Bar while I was there? And why are we out here talking instead of at my house or yours? As for my theory, I will walk you, right now, to the edge of the community, and you can watch me take a stroll up Witches Path all by myself. How does that sound?”

“Insane.”

“You want to do it?”

“No. I think I believe you. I don’t know why, but I do. Probably because I think you’d really do it, too.”

“I have and I would. They don’t see me, and they don’t see Henry.”

Cartwright closes his eyes and turns his face downward. Minutes pass. Finally, he looks up.

“I need to think, Ken. Let me go away and think. I’ll stop by your house tomorrow morning.”

“Promise me something. Promise me that even if you decide I’m a nut you won’t tell anyone in the union about this. You owe us that much.”

He nods. “Okay. I promise. I won’t breathe a word.”

“You should get home. Any longer out here and folks might wonder what you’re up to,” I say. I’m smiling, but it’s just a facial expression. I don’t really feel it. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

“You will,” he says, and walks away, leaving me standing alone in Oak Park.

My mind is racing, planning. Me and my father and Dennis and maybe Henry working on some kind of trap, JD doing leaflets. We could do it, I think. One frantic night with no sleep. We could put this plan into action so fast that nobody would see it coming. Speed is of the essence now, I know that much. The Shades are gathering, the Lanternmen are planning, and there are only so many hours between now and tomorrow night. That’s when everything will happen.

For better or for worse, this will be the end.