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Author Information: Website: http://slckismet.blogspot.com/p/books.html Email: kavrik@hotmail.com Twitter: @MichaelOffutt Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/pages/Slipstream/164452693676933
Author's Note: I have included a picture of Jordan that I drew myself in the gif image (let me know if you think he's cute so I don't think I'm weird). You will also find a link to a blog post I wrote on Kolin and killsuits (with another pic of him I drew with coloring pencil).
Kolin is an assassin that has been alive almost 100 years, but he remains young-looking (in the mid-twenties) because he is addicted to Liquid Life (a drug common on Avalon--the world in which this story takes place.
I have not explained Liquid Life in this novella, but it is explained in the short story "The Insanity of Zero" also on the Nifty Archive. "Wraith" uses the main characters featured in the science-fiction novel "Slipstream", but is its own story which will be featured entirely on Nifty. Both of these tales are based on the events established in the short story, "The Insanity of Zero".
Chapter Eight
They pulled up to the concrete pad and looked for the metal plates concealing the valves that fed into the underground fuel tanks. Once Jordan found them, he chose one, popped it open, unscrewed the valve, and looked about for a hose.
Kathy strode over to him carrying the same one that they'd stolen a couple of days ago at the service station in southern Utah.
"This must've been Kolin's bike," she whispered. "I found this under the seat where he'd tucked it away for later use."
He reached out and gently took it from her, his expression somber because he couldn't stop thinking about Kolin. He found himself praying silently that the Brit remained alive. Staring into space, Jordan unwound the coils and dropped them one by one into the tank.
"I'll be right back," Kathy said. She turned and walked toward the building.
Jordan sat there on his haunches. Once the hose reached the bottom of the tank, he sucked on it as he'd seen Kolin do to get the fuel started. Then he placed the other end into his sister's gas tank and waited, tapping his sneaker on the concrete.
Near him, a vulture landed on a bent utility pole and watched. Its greasy black feathers shone in the sunlight.
When Jordan finished filling their tanks, Kathy emerged from a door at the rear of the station. She carried a tattered canvas backpack with her. She walked up to him and offered a packet of peanuts and some caffeine pills.
"I found these inside on a corpse that still looked fresh. I checked the label, and it read 'packaged in San Andrea'--whatever that place is. I think they might still be good." She held them out for him to grab.
Jordan didn't register what she had said right away. He just stared out over the ruins, feeling the heat already rising with the summer sun. His blond hair lifted for a moment in a bone dry breeze.
"But even if it isn't, we can't keep going like this or we'll just doze off and end up dead. Also, here's some bottled water," Kathy said.
Jordan took the pills and without a second thought, popped them into his mouth. Then he started hungrily into the peanuts. "Were there anymore?" he asked, disappointed that he'd devoured his share so quickly.
Kathy shook her head. "I'm afraid not. You can have the rest if you like."
Jordan looked at the packet of half-eaten peanuts and shook his head. "You need your strength too."
It didn't take long for the caffeine to kick in. Just like any other teen his age, he gulped Mountain Dew down like a fish does water. However, he'd never gotten shakes, and that's what the pills gave him now. Jordan's hands trembled in the same manner as those who have advanced Parkinson's disease. He still felt exhausted but couldn't close his eyes because the drugs forced him awake.
"I feel rode hard and put away wet," he said to his sister. Jordan picked himself up off the curb where they'd rested for twenty minutes, his legs and back both stiff and sore. Kathy had plopped next to him, leaning her head against his shoulder while she ate her meager breakfast. As Jordan stood, she shifted her position and lay back against the weeds.
"Yeah," she uttered, staring up at the blue sky. "My hands are shaking."
"Mine too."
Reluctantly, she forced herself to stand. Jordan winked at her and put his water bottle away under his seat. Still three quarters full, he wanted to save some for later because he didn't know when he'd find suitable drinking water again. "You said you found a dead body?"
"Yeah."
"How did it look like he died?"
"She actually," Kathy said. "I think she got shot. Do you want to see?"
"No," Jordan said. "I've seen enough terrible things to sate me for a while. I'd just like to catch up with Kolin's truck."
Kathy gave him a hug. "We'll find him," she whispered into his ear.
Jordan swallowed and tried not to cry.
He took time to slip into his motorcycle suit that he removed from the compartment under the seat. He slid it over his clothes. Jordan felt chilled despite the warm sun, and the suit comforted him.
"You can describe it to me though," he said almost a minute later.
"I saw a couple of holes in her shirt and some bullet casings on the ground. That's about it-looked like a cold-blooded killing. I guess there's a lot of that going on out here," Kathy replied.
As she spoke, she followed his lead by slipping into her suit. Then they both donned their helmets and straddled the Kawasaki Ninja's once again.
"Do you think we'll catch up to the truck?" she asked.
"Yeah," he said, running calculations in his mind. Then he started up the high-performance engine which purred like a wild cat.
Truthfully though, he had his doubts if it would even matter. Kolin could already be dead.
They drove the remainder of the day, scavenged more fuel again at a service station outside Kansas City, and pressed on along the I-70 stretch that seemed devoid of any human life or traffic of any kind.
Road signs along the shoulder kept track of their miles. Jordan's furious pace had them both flying down the post-apocalyptic interstate, dodging the occasional abandoned wreck, and hoping that he'd come upon the truck that carried his friend.
By late-evening, Jordan spotted something that lifted his spirits.
In the distance appeared crimson tail lights lumbering along the road at easily half their speed. He signaled back to Kathy to let her know not to turn her running lights on. They trailed behind by about a mile, slowing down to avoid running over debris that they could have easily seen if they'd used some artificial light. But night had fallen, and light was a luxury they could ill afford to use. Instead, Jordan relied upon his outstanding vision as he followed the truck into the cold dark embrace of St. Louis, home of the monsters.
When the moon rose to its zenith in the sky, the truck stopped on the road. Ahead, the Mississippi River glimmered like a band of liquid silver in the moonlight. Somewhere close now squatted the ruins of downtown.
Some buildings had light that shone from their windows, and the St. Louis arch formed a shadow across the skyline. Jordan and Kathy killed their engines, and they glided downhill to a stop amongst a patch of tall weeds that grew along the shoulder of Interstate 64. By moonlight, the enormous city held all the charm of grave markers spreading outward in every direction.
Jordan and his sister parked the two cycles off the side of the road near Busch Stadium, removed their helmets, and crept through the thigh-high weeds for a quarter mile. They stopped a few hundred feet behind the truck. As they drew closer to the rear of the vehicle, Jordan heard multiple coughs originating from behind a canvas tarp drawn closed at the tailgate. Forward on the vehicle frame, he observed the red glowing coals of cigarettes reflected in the passenger side mirror.
What are they waiting for? he asked himself.
Jordan crouched and continued to look on, thinking there must be two occupants in the driver's cabin.
"There's something coming," Kathy whispered into his left ear. "It sounds like the flapping of wings."
Jordan didn't hear anything, but he gazed upward and saw several shadowy shapes fly past the face of the moon. Shortly afterward, four creatures with broad shoulders and narrow waistlines landed on the road. They possessed a humanoid shape, but this is where the resemblance ended.
Here stood a monster, not a man.
Naked, black, hairless things, these tall creatures possessed the legs of a goat which ended in feet with one prehensile toe connected to the heel. A claw about four inches long capped this heel, and when it moved, the claws on the other toes scraped against the asphalt with the ring of steel knives.
Jordan squeezed his eyes shut. "Please don't hurt Kolin," he whispered under his breath.
When he opened his eyes, one of the monsters sniffed the air, and stared in his direction.
I'll post Chapter Nine by Wednesday. I hope you're enjoying my story.