Date: Sun, 29 Jul 2012 16:57:42 +0000
From: Michael Offutt <kavrik@hotmail.com>
Subject: Wraith Chapter Four - Gay Science Fiction

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 :)