Copyright 2012 Michael Offutt. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions.
No part of this story may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including printing, photocopying, recording, taping, or by any information storage or retrieval system without permission in writing from the author.
This novella is a work of fiction and uses characters featured in the book "SLIPSTREAM" available in ebook or paperback by Double Dragon Publishing and Media Group. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Email: kavrik@hotmail.com Website: http://slckismet.blogspot.com/p/books.html Twitter: @MichaelOffutt
Author's Note: If you visit my website, there is a picture of Jordan that I drew myself in the gif image (link above). You will also find a link to a blog post I wrote on Kolin and killsuits (with a pic of him I drew myself). This novella and the book "Slipstream" is based off of the events established in the short story, "The Insanity of Zero" also published on the Nifty Archive. If you haven't read it, please check it out.
Chapter Four
Absolute darkness surrounded them on all sides and time seemed pointless. The only choice lay forward, trailing a single spot of yellow light through cold, lifeless earth. Jordan caught a flash of silver on the track. An old iron cart perched on the path. Part of it along one edge, gleamed brightly against a dull rusted finish.
At first, it seemed to materialize from out of nothing, summoned into the present by a single stabbing beam from the glass at the front of the torch. On the right lay the desiccated remains of two human beings, clothed in rags. The face on one had cracked and now resembled unpolished brown leather.
Jordan peered inside the mine cart, but he saw nothing save for some rocks, black dirt, and old spider webs. The dirt clung to the sides like old coffee grounds at the bottom of a cup of coffee. Its wheels had derailed off the track, seized up by a boulder the size of a human head, misshapen and oblong, that had shook loose from the ceiling years ago.
Ten feet further on, he spotted a fork in the road. Littered castoffs of broken tools burst from a burlap sack next to an old, dirt-encrusted Colt .44. Jordan picked it up, opened it, and counted three unused rounds inside the cylindrical chamber.
"Do you even know how to use that thing?" Kathy asked him.
"No," he answered. "I don't even know if it'll work, but I'm still taking it."
Kathy bent down next to one of the cadavers and shone her flashlight inside an aged canvas pack and pulled loose a badly degraded piece of parchment.
"I think this is a map of some kind." She held up a large, crumpled piece of paper that started to immediately disintegrate along one edge. "Rather, it probably was a map. I can't make out any of the details though because the ink has all but faded away."
Jordan walked over to her and knelt down. "Let me have a look."
"You going to use the slipstream?"
"Yes," he said. She handed him the remnants, flimsy as ashes.
He stared at the yellow, horribly degraded map and decided that it'd be best if he ignored the fact he was crouched in the dark in peril of his life in some abandoned mine in the middle of a desert. Given the morbidity of corpses lying at the tips of his feet, he decided to ignore that as well. He closed his eyes and let his mind drift in an effort to summon the slipstream. It seemed more difficult this time than it had been on previous attempts.
"Concentrate," Kathy urged.
"I'm trying."
Then, he felt the tiniest of surges and the static electric pulse of energy ignited along the tips of his fingers. It flowed up from his nails like infant fire being fanned with the desperation of one's breath and coaxed into life.
Jordan likened the touch of the slipstream to what he imagined the touch of a lover might feel like. It flowed over his arms, causing the hair on his skin to rise up from a tension only excitement can stir. Slowly, the decayed remnant became whole in his hand. The paper lost its yellow coloring, became brighter and more vibrant. Images appeared on the map, the ink that had all but faded became more dynamic.
But with the use of the slipstream, Jordan felt a steady and agonizing pressure begin to build. It rested behind the sockets of both eyes like coals sizzling on skin.
"It hurts," he said, forcing his breath from between clenched teeth.
He called to the power like the Pied Piper of Hamelin, and it responded with urgency, bursting forth from the latent sleep of oblivion. It multiplied upon itself, feeding upon Jordan's will, his life, and he directed it outward with his mind and sent it exploding along the line of his body. He extended the borders of his vision to include Kathy and in his hands, the map underwent a metamorphosis. It seemed to renew itself, erasing the years as if they were merely an illusion.
Jordan held the slipstream stable and bled from his eyes. The pain became harrowing. But he searched out every detail.
He had to.
Their very survival depended on it.
He spied a trail marked with hashes; it was the rail line according to the legend. He followed it to a fork in the path, their present location. Beyond this point, one path dead- ended a mile or so down the line in some kind of cave-in. Another led off and across an underground abyss.
Jordan spotted a bridge of some kind. The tunnel beyond had several branches that led off from the main route. Many of these stopped abruptly in areas where Jordan assumed miners continued to pull ore from the earth until the whole operation had shut down.
Then he saw the elevator shaft. It led to different levels of the mine, but according to the map, it also led to the surface. He counted the distance they'd have to walk, and it came to just under two miles.
"Do you see that, Kat?" Jordan asked. A drop of blood fell from his nose and splashed on the parchment. In the artificial light, his blood looked like black oil.
"Yes."
"We take the tunnel that forks to the right then. The left just ends after a mile or so. Agreed?"
"Yes."
When Jordan dropped the slipstream, he felt the life get sucked out of him.
He collapsed, gasping and clawing at the earth an inch from his face, but he hadn't the strength to push himself up. Blood flowed from his nose, eyes, and he even tasted it in his mouth.
Jordan fell back on his left hand to steady himself, and his palm stirred the dust.
Kathy pressed part of her shirt to his face to stop the flow of blood. "You did it," she whispered. Then she held him close, letting the warmth of her body roll over his. He realized how cold the long timeless dark had become, like the borderlands of death itself.
He gazed up at her with warm spring eyes. "I haven't done anything yet," he declared, "but it's a start." He wrinkled his forehead as he attempted to push back the throbbing, almost stabbing pain in his head, but it came in waves so intense that it brought tears to his eyes. "Give me a minute, Kat. I need to catch my breath. God, what I wouldn't give for some Extra- Strength Tylenol."
Kathy moved in behind him and sat low in the dirt, supporting his back with her heaving chest. Then she cradled her brother in her arms and started stroking his dirty blond hair with gentle fingers.
It was the only thing she could think to do that might slow his blood down and make the headache fade. The slipstream extolled a price in life every time it got called upon. It was a caged animal that refused to be tamed, but powerful when unleashed.
After a few minutes, Jordan's breathing slowed to a normal rhythm. The pain had begun to fade. Kathy's body seemed like the only warmth in the chill air of the tunnel, and he could feel her heartbeat trying to regulate his own. Minutes later, Jordan turned his gaze upward and noted that the ceiling appeared fluorescent, lumpy, alien.
Thick webbing covered everything. It seemed out of place outside the den of an orb spider.
He turned the glass of the flashlight up and aimed it over his head where it reflected brightly off a tapestry of white. Lumps under that carpet seemed to form the shapes of human bodies suspended in webbing, but he couldn't be sure. He swallowed hard trying to convince himself that the distinctive shapes were just the natural curves of the rock ceiling showing through. However, he admitted to himself that the truth might be far more sinister.
"You notice that before?" he asked her.
"Most definitely not," she stated. He followed the long patches of thick white webs with his gaze, and it extended beyond the beam of his flashlight to the right, along the tunnel that he and Kathy intended to follow. The expression on his face became worried.
"What the hell," he stated. "It's so thick-"
"How's your head?" She asked him, to get him off topic. She was afraid that the slipstream might spontaneously activate as it'd done earlier yesterday at the Tesoro station.
"It feels better, thank you," he said, locking eyes with her. "Don't worry Kat, I wouldn't have the energy to summon the slipstream again."
Her lips stayed closed, her expression grave. "The webs are fresh. If they were old they'd be gray and tattered."
"Yeah," he agreed. He had overlooked this small detail, but knew she was right. You could always tell an abandoned spider web from a fresh one. Whatever had laid these webs had done so recently. "Let's just focus on getting out of here."
She helped him to his feet, and they edged past the mine cart. They continued to walk forward into the gloom, shining the flashlight ahead of them. The echo of their own footsteps trailed behind them as they went. Anything could've crept up on them in that darkness.
Just knowing that made the black snapping at Jordan's heels that much scarier.
Chapter Five Coming Soon :)