Excerpt – Mirror Images
11
Suicide Mission
The soot-filled air swirled around the
train tracks as the locomotive pressed on towards its final destination. The
tracks would end at Los Diablos, the mirror image of New Jersey, a place where
there were no roads and off roading meant walking since most people didn’t own
vehicles. Where the tracks ended, a large barricade was set up, complete with
orange hazard signs, scrap metal and sandbags. The train could easily barrel
through the poorly thrown together dead end, but then it would plummet over the
edge of the rocky cliff that lay just beyond. Certain death awaited any
conductor foolish enough to try to travel past Los Diablos. The Conductor of
the train carrying Gabe and his fellow passengers was no fool. The train slowed
down and screeched to a final halt just a few feet from the barricade.
The terrain around the tracks was copper
in color, what Mars always looks like in science fiction movies. The dirt was
grainy, like the consistency of the dirt you would find in an anthill. Funnel
shaped, jagged rocks grew up out of the ground. Hot steam spouted up from the
vents at the top of the small, three feet high volcanoes, placed sporadically
across the ground. Dark mountains set up the backdrop, far off in the distance.
There were no trees, no vegetation, and there was no evidence that there had
ever been any in the area.
Gabe and the others exited the train
looking exhausted, but optimistic. Misery set in as soon as they took one look
at the dreadful looking scenery around them. The Conductor stepped out of the
front car carrying a shotgun. Gabe wiped the sweat from his forehead.
“It’s
so humid,” Lisa complained.
“Worse
than LA,” Sergio added. “Dios Mio.”
“Mind
if me be comin’ with Yees?” The Conductor asked.
Gabe
stared at the man’s shotgun. He knew that they would need all of the support
they could get, but he also knew that The Conductor was an image and may
possibly be interested in the so called bounty that was on his head. Gabe
glanced over at Lisa to see what she thought about it. She didn’t say a word so
he turned his attention to Dozier, the one person he knew would speak his mind,
whether he liked it or not.
“He’s
an image,” Dozier said as he shrugged his shoulders.
Language
rolled her eyes and looked somewhat hurt by Dozier’s remark.
“It’s
dangerous where we’re going,” Gabe informed him.
“Isa
dangerous where ye are. Me can’t stay here by me lonesome and me ain’t goin’
back withan da track alls broken an ‘em maniacs a waitin’ for yees.” The
Conductor replied.
Gabe
was amazed that he’d seemed to pick up on the Conductor’s speech pattern. He
wasn’t nearly as confused as he’d been in the beginning. T-Nate leaned over and
whispered in Gabe’s ear.
“Don’t
know what the fuck he just said, but if you’re thinkin’ of bringin’ him along,
remember that there’s a bounty on your head, and he could be one rich son of a
bitch if he collected it.”
Either
The Conductor had incredible hearing, or he was a mind reader, because he held
his shotgun up high and stamped his foot in anger.
“Yees
afraida I’s might be wantin’ a killin’ a one a yees? ‘Em maniacs back ana
tracks a been searchin’ fur sumpin’ ana I’s bettin’ I’s know whatsa is.”
He
held his shotgun out with one hand and pointed it at Gabe.
“Isa
that fella ‘er. Bounty, big royce a collection on ‘er head, hah?”
He
shook his head and stamped his foot once more.
“I’s
donna need ‘en royce. I’sa charge for da train, buts royce no good fur the
likes a me. No good atall. I’s help yees ‘cause I’s ain’t got anuthin’ else ta
do.”
T-Nate
looked over at Gabe, completely confused.
“He’s
not interested in the money,” Gabe informed him. “He said that he’ll help us
because he has nothing else to do.”
The
Conductor laughed aloud.
“An
fur aventure!” he cheered.
“We’re
going to the Slums,” Gabe said.
“Me
figured it cause ‘er ain’t nothin’ here, but death,” The Conductor replied.
Dozier
pointed at The Conductor’s shotgun.
“You
know how to use that thing?” He asked.
“Well
I ain’t buy at ‘er train. I took it! If ye know what me mean.”
Dozier
laughed and walked away.
“Fuckin’
images,” he said under his breath.
Language
tapped Gabe on his shoulder and then pointed in one direction.
“That
way?” Gabe asked.
Language
smiled and nodded her head.
The group walked through the smoldering
heat, miserable and dripping with sweat. They’d had no time to truly plan for
this trip so they didn’t have a cart full of water and food being pulled by a
donkey. They had only their weapons and willpower to keep them moving forward.
Dozier, with his axe strapped to his back, used a stick to help himself walk.
Language led the way with Gabe and Lisa right behind her. As they passed one of
the small volcano shaped vents, it suddenly shot hot steam up into the air,
causing Lisa to jump. Bringing up the rear of the group was The Conductor, who
appeared to be more paranoid than the rest of them. He turned in all directions
with his shotgun held out in front of him, nervously scanning the terrain as if
expecting to be ambushed at any moment.
A strange, small, black, scorpion like
creature crawled up out of the dirt next to T-Nate’s foot. It had small pincher
claws and was about six inches long. T-Nate glanced down at his foot, took one
look at the little beast, and stomped on it. The creature let out a loud squeal
as it died.
“Did
you see that shit?” T-Nate asked the others. “It was this damned big.”
He
held out his hands about a foot apart from each other. The Conductor sucked in
a worried breath and shook his head.
“Ye
shouldn’ta did that,” he warned T-Nate.
“Shouldn’t
have done what?” Lisa asked.
“Stepped
on a Shivet,” The Conductor said.
“Who
gives a shit?” T-Nate asked with a cocky laugh.
“Em
other shivets,” The Conductor replied.
A
loud squeal emitted from the ground, similar to the one that the dying shivet
let out. Then a second, third, and fourth squeal, all came from different
locations. Soon after, the entire ground seemed to be squealing. Language tried
to shout at the rest of them, but no one could hear her over the loud
squealing.
“What?”
Lisa asked.
The
Conductor suddenly ran past the rest of them.
“Run!”
The Conductor yelled.
All
around them the ground started to move and ripple at hundreds of random spots.
T-Nate looked confused as he realized that everyone around him was staring at
him like it was his fault. He held his fingers out about six inches apart.
“What?
It was this big?” he said with disbelief.
At
the rippling spots on the ground, the black heads of the shivets started to
poke out and T-Nate finally started to catch on to the danger of the situation.
“That
little motherfucker called for backup?” He said aloud to Sergio who was the
only person not running.
Sergio’s
eyes grew wide. He was frozen in place. Finally, he snapped out of it and
started to move backwards. He turned to see that the shivets were everywhere,
crawling out of the ground.
“Come
on, man!” Sergio yelled at T-Nate as he took off running. T-Nate followed after
his friend. Language and Dozier were just slightly ahead of them, limping
along. The shivets began to surround them.
“Don’t
step on them!” Lisa yelled as she tried her hardest to dodge the ones that came
close to her feet.
One
of the shivets suddenly leapt into the air, right in front of T-Nate’s face. He
ducked to the right just as it sprayed a green liquid from its mouth. The
liquid sailed through the air and landed on T-Nate’s left forearm, marking him
for the other shivets. The airborne shivet fell to the ground and T-Nate wildly
stepped on it, cursing aloud at the spitting insect.
Before T-Nate had the chance to defend
himself, seven more shivets leapt from the ground and landed on his left arm.
They viciously sunk their small fangs into his arm. T-Nate screamed and swatted
at them with his right hand, but they wouldn’t let go. They were securely
fastened to his flesh. Blood seeped from their mouths and trickled down his
arm. He continued to swat at them in a deranged frenzy.
“Somebody
do something!” He yelled.
Finally,
all seven of the shivets suddenly let go of his arm at the same time and free
fell to the ground. He stomped on all of them as he howled out in pain. Dozier
and Language were the first to reach him. Language grabbed his right arm and
tried to pull him forward, but he was in too much pain. She yelped and let go
of his arm as the bite marks all over it began to leak green ooze that sizzled
and smoked. The skin and meat from his arm began to dissolve. The acidic saliva
of the shivets started spreading up his bicep and towards his shoulder.
“My
arm!” T-Nate yelled through clenched teeth.
He
began to foam at the mouth and his eyes became bloodshot. His screams caused
Sergio to turn and head back in his direction.
“Argh!”
T-Nate screamed. “My arm! Take it off!”
Language
pointed her gun at the ground and pulled the trigger, spraying bullets all
around them, but careful not to hit any of the shivets. It was enough to scare
most of them and they dug their way back into the ground. Dozier glanced down
at T-Nate’s arm and realized that the acid was climbing its way up to his neck
and if he didn’t do something soon, T-Nate would be dead. He heaved the axe
from his back and raised it up high over his head.
“Close
your eyes!” Dozier yelled.
Language
shook her head frantically and pulled on Dozier’s arm, trying to convince him
not to do it. He shook away from her grasp and shot her an angry glance.
“He’ll
die if I don’t!”
She
backed away from him.
T-Nate
closed his eyes and dropped to his knees. His lips trembled. They were turning
blue from the loss of blood as the remainder of his arm was being eaten alive.
Dozier raised the axe and touched it once softly to T-Nate’s upper arm, making
sure that he was lined up correctly. With a horrific growl, he yanked the axe
high into the air and slammed it down hard against the upper part of his bicep,
cutting his arm off just above the infection. T-Nate’s eyes shot open. He
screamed in pain and fell to the ground.
Sergio reached his friend and rolled him
over to see that he was shaking and his arm was losing a lot of blood.
“He’s
going into shock! Tie off the arm!” Sergio ordered.
Gabe
and Lisa caught up with Sergio. Lisa backed away, shocked by the horrible
picture in front of her. What was left of T-Nate’s arm lay in a sizzling puddle
on the ground. Gabe helped Sergio try to drag T-Nate back up to his knees. As
they lifted his body up off the ground, they saw a shivet hanging from T-Nate’s
thigh. Its teeth were buried in the skin and a second shivet was hanging from
his calf. His entire leg was being eaten; the flesh began to dissolve at
once.
Sergio’s bottom lip began to tremble as
he pulled out his gun and placed it against the back of T-Nate’s head. He
closed his eyes.
“Vaya
con Dios, amigo,” he whispered.
He
pulled the trigger and a spray of blood hit him in the face. Sergio stood with
his gun held out for a few seconds, watching as T-Nate fell to the ground,
dead. The shivets’ job was done. They climbed back into the ground and left the
others alone. Lisa buried her face in Gabe’s shoulder.
“They
only wanted him,” she said.
“This
is a fucking suicide mission!” Dozier yelled in an outrage.
He
paced back and forth with his axe dragging across the ground. Language followed
after him, trying to calm him down. She reached out to take his arm, but he
pulled away from her angrily and walked away. Sergio wiped the blood from his
face and stared down at his dead friend without blinking. He was in a trance
like state.
“There’s
no difference between us and our images,” he said.
Gabe
put his hand on Sergio’s shoulder.
“There’s
a big difference. You just helped your friend. The images are cold blooded
killers.”
Sergio
shook his head in disagreement and walked away.
About the AuthorC. Michael Powers (Christopher Powers) started writing at the age of
16 when his dad and younger brother were out fishing, and he was left
alone, with only his thoughts, his sleeping grandfather, and an old
typewriter. Since then he hasn't been able to stop. Now, living in his
wife's beautiful country of Panama, with she and their four kids, he's
finally finding time to write. Living in Panama has given him the
opportunity to write freelance about retirement locations all over the
isthmus, and has even given him some time to work on his true
passion...fiction.
Mirror Images Book 1: The Darkness of Man is the first book in a four
part series. Originally written in screenplay format, Christopher felt
constrained trying to bottle up the entire story in 110-page scripts.
Now he's letting the virtual pen fly and loving every minute of it.
Available at:
http://www.amazon.com/dp/
And:
https://www.smashwords.com/
