Tides of Shadow

By Rob Gilchrist

Mankind lays scattered after the Greek gods return to earth. The oceans are poison, and the world is dying. But, touched by the gods, Eric Stowe follows the directions of a voice in his head in search of a key to the future. Accompanied by a lone wolf and the saber on his hip, Eric moves along the east coast in search of the Dead City. He is not alone in his search; and the only currency in this w

• Language: English
• Publisher: Rob Gilchrist
• Release date: Dec 6, 2013
• ISBN: 9781311898197

Rob Gilchrist

Born on October 16th in Waco, TX Rob has since lived in more than 20 cities over his childhood giving him multitudes of experiences to draw from. In 7th grade he got hooked on Stephen King, and his love of storytelling spiraled outward. Currently living in Arkansas, he is at work on the second book in the Tides series.

Book preview

Tides of Shadow

Rob Gilchrist

Copyright 2012 by Rob Gilchrist

Published By Smashwords

Acknowledgments

Thank you to my family and friends that helped pull this book from the recesses of my brain. It’s dark and confusing in there and without you it may never have seen the light.

Salle, for pushing me to get it done.

Adam Wenger for the first piece of fan art, and creating the cover.

Ryan and Eric Paulk (Paulkspub.com) for their magical internet knowledge.

Chapter 1

-Now-

The old gods grow weary and time grows ever slower. The man moved north along the old highway 64, while the ocean mocked from nearby. On occasion the wind would pick up and his nose wrinkled from the smell of salt and fish. Eric walked slowly but determined along the broken highway, his boots filmed over with a thin layer of ancient concrete dust. Forgotten condos and hotels peppered the east side of the highway along the beach, many broken down, burned, or eaten by the sea. A graveyard of cars stretched out before him, they had once been bumper to bumper in the middle of the road but now lay scattered to the sides, pushed either by a large plow or some angry beast.

The man looked like a modern day gunfighter, with a worn down cowboy hat and two pistols slung low on his hips, but there were additions to the classic western image. A thin, lightweight, saber hung off his belt behind his left gun, the sheath a muted metal but the sun still caught light in the handle. Across his back was an old backpack, of the mail pouch variety, that contained necessities and memories of old.

Thunderheads were pushing in from the east but he ignored them; he only saw the sign informing him that he was 35 miles out of Richmond and he kept moving. His long wavy blond hair and thin beard would have reminded anyone a few hundred years old of the classic cowboys. Pushing the hair out of his face he stopped to listen. The voice had said to head north toward Richmond, and then fallen silent once again, but he had his doubts about this new direction. Apparently the voice had a fondness for cross country trips and cold weather.

The sea was sick, there was no question about that, the water was a dark grey, and swirls of black ran in its currents, like mixing two thick paint colors. The animals that survived the changes were angrier than ever, and most of the survivors had the good fortune to mutate into something bigger and fiercer than anything that had existed in the past. Eric took a deep drink from a Boca bag that could have been found in any surplus store. Always walking, he looked down at it, cradled in both hands. The large burn on the back side of the bag seemed to grow darker every time he drank from it.

I’m sorry Rose, he muttered down to the bag before tucking it back in his satchel. A flash of lightning brought him back to the present and he started into a jog toward a car dealership that was still able to support the weight of the large awning. The first few large drops of rain hit the dusty asphalt and the result was a sizzling sound, like cooking bacon. Damn it, forced its way out of clenched teeth and he fell into full sprint making it under the awning just as the sky opened. Looking back toward the road, the entire earth seemed to be covered with a coating of acid, it smoked and sizzled. Breathing out a sigh of relief Eric took a seat next to one of the supports and leaned against it watching the rain burn away the earth.

That’s some nasty shit right there, a man spoke from behind and Eric was up with his large gun out before the sentence was finished. Stepping to the side of the support, Eric studied the new arrival, a man in his twenties, dirty, and who spoke with a Boston accent. Whoa, there buddy, hey, I didn’t mean nothing by it, came out ‘netting by ait’. He raised his hands to prove his point.

Are you alone? Eric asked lowering his gun slightly, still keeping the end of the barrel pointed at the legs of the man.

I am now; my lady and brother got the sickness, so now it’s just me, he lowered his hands to his sides now that there was a line of communication. The Man eyed him over and glanced behind him, taking in the lobby of the car dealership for the first time. The lobby looked the way he assumed it would, the cars that had been shipped in during early 2013 were still sitting there, sand, dirt and broken glass had covered the floor over the years. The storm had darkened the large room stretching shadows along the floor and walls. Many of the desks were still set up, untouched, with computers in place covered in dust. Water dripped through a crack in the large skylight that had been partially covered in dirt and sand, flown in through a hundred and fifty years of windy springs.

Why are you here? Eric asked lowering his gun all the way to his side, though he left his finger on the trigger.

Same reason you are I figure, saw rain comin, didn’t want to fry, so I decided to take a breather. He stepped back toward the lobby of the building and turned around, My name’s Johnny by the way, you wanna see if anything good’s left?

Johnny was being very friendly for a world with few people left in it, and Eric didn’t trust anyone who came on that hospitable right away. Sure, I’ll join you, while he spoke, he thumbed back the hammer on the revolver, covering the sound of the click with words.

Johnny walked through the lobby leaning in a large SUV to get a look, and Eric walked the other way, keeping his distance but his eyes on his new friend at all times.

Man I sure would love to find one of these that still work, Johnny said slapping the side of the SUV, I would be the king of the state in this baby, he snapped his head back and cackled.

Some still run, they need batteries; they’ve been sitting too long though, that might not even do it, passing a small car, he leaned in the window and breathed in deep, the new car smell was faint but it was still there.

Johnny lifted his head and stared at Eric blankly, Whateva you say pal, but I betcha even ole Zeus couldn’t drive this bad boy now adays huh? he scoffed to himself.

I think Zeus is a fool who can’t do much of anything these days, he replied opening a mini fridge and pulling out a few bottles of water, then sticking them in his bag.

I wouldn’t say things like that if I were you, Johnny had lost his cheeriness and was staring solemly at Eric, In fact, I don’t want to be saying anything along those lines ever, Spoken as ‘eva’.

If he has a problem with my words, then we can chat it out, Eric returned, blowing off the fear and anger in Johnny’s voice, though he made sure to mark his placement. Getting knifed by some half wit religious zealot in the name of Zeus would be a horrible way to start the day. Thunder crashed loud and hard enough to shake the remaining glass in the building and Johnny cried out.

It sounds to me like he definitely has a problem with your words, Johnny stepped back separating himself from Eric.

There’s a big difference between an angry god and a thunderstorm, ignoring Johnny’s fears, he leaned in and popped the hood of the truck closest to the window.

You did this! the fear in his voice was only matched by the fury. Johnny picked up an ancient keyboard and turned toward Eric raising it over his head. I’ll take care of him god, he’s a heathen, protect me!

Johnny didn’t even get a step forward before the keyboard he was holding exploded into a shower of plastic. Smoke fluttered from the barrel of Eric’s .45 and he lowered the gun to Johnny’s chest, Zeus isn’t listening, in fact, he’s more than likely dead, another crash of thunder followed his words making Johnny shutter.

Dead my ass, he doesn’t like how you’re talking, and neitha do I, lightening flashed across the sky lighting up the dark room and Eric could see tears on Johnny’s stubbly cheeks, Fuck this, he’s not gonna take me with you! With that he ran out of the building and into the rain. Screams of pain loud enough to be heard through the thundering rain over head. Johnny’s hair was the first to go, sizzling and rolling off of his head. The second the water touched his skin in turned dark red, then bruised purple. His clothes got thin and seemed to unravel themselves until he resembled a screaming trundling version of Quasimodo. He got all the way across the street before he fell. He never got up.

What the hell was that? Some psycho? A large man with a shaved head and burn marks over the left side of his body emerged from the back of the lobby and froze when he saw Eric.

Yes it was actually, Eric raised his gun toward the burned man. The man only had enough time to grit his teeth and let out a small shout of anger before the bullet smashed through his left eye eliminating the back half of his head.

Charlie! came a cry from back the way the burned man had entered, followed immediately by a barrage of frightened cursing. Eric took a couple steps until he was behind a truck and could see down the hall through the windshield. A single door swung halfway shut as he got his gun up.

Some ass hole killed Charlie and Johnny! wretched out from somewhere even deeper in the back rooms. Eric decided not to wait around and see how many of them were going to pour out. Rushing around to the drivers side door of the truck he leaned in, twisted the keys marked DEMO and put the vehicle in neutral. Then he got back behind and pushed, he didn’t get it far before he hit a desk and decided that was close enough. Thumbing back the trigger on the large gun he blasted a hole though the side of the truck into the gas tank. The familiar odor filled the room before he could even make it to the SUV. A thin smile hit his lips thinking of all the movies where the cars explode when the hero shoots the gas tank.

I think there’s a couple of them, and they’ve got shooting irons, came a voice close to the lobby. Twisting Eric could see shadows dancing around the inside of the door. With little time left he popped the rear door to the SUV and pulled out the ‘emergency road side kit’. Dropping to the ground he thumbed out a flare and pushed the rest of the box into his backpack.

There’s one, a scratchy voice shouted. Eric hadn’t realized how close they were; this one stood just on the other side of the truck, cut off from the rest of the show room. It was a short black man with a very large beard and he jumped over a desk and rushed toward Eric with an axe raised over his head. Without standing, Eric fired, striking the man in the chest, the axe head smacked onto the concrete floor making a ting noise and flipped onto its side. With that Eric rose and popped the cap off the flare.

Wait! it was the voice that had been so concerned over Charlie’s recent demise. Just take what you want, no need to do that friend. The man was dangerously skinny and missing a few teeth. We don’t mean you any harm, you just killed our friend is all.

Eric stared into his eyes, ice cold, You live, and you get to feed on the next one who come through this way. That’s not going to happen, Cracking the flare against the side of the SUV shot hot flame out the tip and Eric tossed it into the gasoline still dripping from the truck.

Get back! Skinny declared rushing through the back door as a large whoosh sent hot air and flames through the lobby. Eric ducked behind a desk, then once the fire was burning, jumped through a broken window back under the awning. The fire worked quickly and it only took a few seconds to find the battery. The front of the truck exploded, pushing fire and acid against everything. The decal from the hood struck the pillar Eric hid behind and stuck into it. Feeling it was safe; he moved around the pillar and looked back into the lobby that was now engulfed in flame.

Kneeling into his bag, the Man pulled out a plastic rain coat and put it on over his jacket, then removed his hat and stuck it in the nook of his arm, zipping up the jacket over his clothes and back pack he stepped out into the rain. The water was surprisingly cool on his face and he checked himself over to see what was burning. His boots smoked lightly but he knew they could take it. He raised his eyes to the sky letting the water run over his skin, it didn’t burn him; it never did. His clothes would though, and it would do damage to his guns. Feeling content he walked around to the rear of the building. The fire was already licking out from the roof and sides of the front, and there were muffled screams coming from inside. Around at the back of the building he found what he was looking for, the rear entrance. One man already lay dead and smoldering about 20 feet from the exit, couldn’t quite make it to a car in the lot. The rest of the men stood bunched together just inside the doorway.

After a moment Skinny appeared and glanced around seeing Eric, who stood a ways back. There was surprise in the man’s eyes, just as there always was when seeing a man not get burned by acid dumped onto his body. There was a crash from inside the building and it spooked the rest of the men, they dashed past Skinny out into the parking lot. They didn’t make it far.

Are you one of them? Skinny shouted, now that he was the last one standing.

No,

Are you dead?

Eric took a deep breath, No such luck kiddo. Skinny ducked back into the burning building and emerged with a trashcan over his head. He then rushed out toward the car in the lot and after finding it locked smashed a window and slid in, his clothes withering and hand burning he looked out at Eric and smiled.

Afraid I can’t let that stand, Eric muttered, then fired a shot into the windshield of the car. The glass shattered and water splattered throughout the interior. The smile on Skinny’s face was gone and he pushed himself toward the back of the car shouting when water hit him, like some one cooking in hot grease. Eric fired one last time, shooting out the back window. With that he turned and once again started walking North. He could hear the thin marauder screaming for some time before he found death.

-PAST-

‘I’m runnin down a dream, never would come to me,’ Eric leaned out of bed and slapped the alarm clock shutting off his waking tune. The television was still on from the night before, now running an add for a fan duster featuring an adorable elderly woman with a reaching extension. He pushed his hand against his temple feeling a growing pain there. The black sheets had been kicked off the bed and lay in a pile on the floor. Moving out of the bed he stood in front of the window, the sunlight seemed brighter than it had ever been even with the clouds blowing in. All the buildings across the street were newer and were clean for the most part, except for an old church across and down half a block; it was barely standing. From where he stood he could see a man digging through a dumpster across the street. Looking down on the street from the 19th floor he could also see a pair of women in short skirts dash across and into the apartment across the street. Another man was stopping to pick up his dog’s dropping by stretching a bag over his hand. Suddenly he felt very sick.

He moved quickly to the bathroom and sat down on the edge of the tub. The urge to vomit was very strong and his hand kept going back to his left temple. What the hell, all this because of one beer? After another moment the sickness took him and he fell to the floor gagging in front of the bowl. He had painted the bathroom green the year earlier but it felt white, the entire room felt as bright as the sun. He gagged again, spittle flew from his lips dripping into the standing water, but there was no vomit. Taking a deep breath he could feel the blood pushing up into his face and his eyes swelling up as he squeezed them shut. A low wretch escaped his lips and then there was a pop inside his head; and the pain was gone.

Slowly opening his eyes, he stretched his neck and leveled himself. The entire world seemed to be pulsing and there was something else. It was almost unnoticeable, just a shadow of a sound but it was growing louder and somehow deeper, like it was coming from outside and inside his head at the same time. Getting to his feet he grabbed the side of the sink and pushed himself into the bedroom. The sound inside his head was growing louder and every few seconds there was another popping sound. Shuffling through the room the bed snuck up on him and he fell into it squeezing his head. The sound was growing to an unbearable volume when there was another pop, this one loud enough to make his teeth rattle. The lights in the room suddenly came on and shined bright enough to burn themselves out. At the same time the TV went white then blew. Then the noise stopped. But it wasn’t gone, not completely. There was an empty white noise inside his head, like someone had their hand on an intercom button but wasn’t talking.

What the hell was that all about? sitting up he picked up a pack of cigarettes from the bed side table, stuck one in his mouth and lit it. His hand absently rubbed at his temple, and he opened and closed his mouth a few times trying to pop his ears. The intercom feeling was still there though it was starting to seem more natural, like being in the room with a strong stink, eventually you stop smelling it.

Moving to the closet he threw on a pair of jeans and an old t-shirt. Tugging on his shoes the cell phone next to his bed began to ring and he snagged it up putting it against his ear; that’s when the noise came back. This time the noise was all external and felt like hot air against his face. In that same instant the window shattered inward propelling glass throughout the room. Eric fell to the floor avoiding a shard to the throat, trading it for a piece that cut from his eyebrow down to the cheek bone, just missing his cornea by millimeters. The noise died quickly but his ears were ringing, it felt like being close to an explosion. Rushing to the window Eric looked out at a city that would never be the same. Looking down, a row of cars blocked the street and people were rushing out of buildings pointing in various directions franticly. An elderly couple stood looking down the street and the woman appeared to be weeping. Following their glance he saw she was mourning the church down the street. The entire roof had collapsed and the side wall had fallen with a chunk of stained glass pointing toward the sky. Dust was spreading from the rubble out into the street. Sound was returning to normal and the city had turned to a chaotic mess of alarms and screaming.

That, what the fuck is that? a man in a Disturbed t-shirt was screaming to a cab driver beside him pointing down an alley. Looking up Eric saw what the man was pointing at, and it was a wonder he hadn’t seen it earlier. Sticking up over the skyline of the city was a giant trident. Not giant, colossal, the shaft of the spear was thicker than a bus and the three tips seemed to scrape the dark clouds that had rolled in. The trident was very dark, with streaks of blue and green running down it. A bloom of dust was still eradiating upward and out away from the enormous weapon.

Not knowing how long he had stood there Eric finally turned around and hit the power button for the TV. Then he remembered how it had popped. Rushing out of the apartment he ran to his neighbor and banged on the door.

Ron, Emily! he didn’t stop banging until they answered, they were wide-eyed and pale. Did you see it? My TV’s busted; what are they saying on the news? For a moment they stared at each other, the top of Ron’s head was bleeding and Emily looked unharmed as far as Eric could tell.

Emily, a short red head, said nothing, but Ron, a thin black man with white glasses nodded in dismay. I didn’t even think about it, but man, you are cut up bad he said kicking the door shut and turning around to the small large TV in the back corner of the room. We’ve just been watching. People are going ape shit down there. He turned to his wife and smiled slightly, but she wasn’t turned off by his slight of tongue, it didn’t look like she knew where she was.

Eric’s hand went up to his eye marking the sticky blood smeared there, then disregarded it. It was never hard to get off point in the Jerald household. For a reason unknown even to Ron, Emily had a love for Precious Moments collectibles, and they were everywhere. Even now, with a giant trident sticking out of the middle of Chicago it was hard for Eric not to marvel at the collection before him. Pulling his attention back to the television, Ron had turned it on but hadn’t stepped back, he looked like a kid watching cartoons.

It appears as though something has erupted in Kansas, the details are sketchy at the moment, but there appears to have been some sort of earthquake or explosion that has rocked Kansas. No, hold that, not an earthquake at all

Who gives a shit about earthquakes when there is a huge spear downtown? he pushed his glasses back up the bridge of his nose cutting his eyes toward his wife who had moved back to the broken window and was staring out into the chaos. Ron grabbed the remote off the coffee table avoiding a sculpture of a doe-eyed boy in a shepherd outfit. Clicking up a couple channels past The View and a Saved By The Bell rerun, Ron found what he was looking for, a multi race couple behind a news desk, one of them looking down at a piece of paper while the other one reported with wide eyes.

We are getting an overload of calls here, but what we understand is that there is a very, very large…trident, in down town Chicago. The weapon that was designed for gladiators to repel swords, we’re hearing estimated heights of around three thousand feet high, that is over twice the height of the Empire State Building. Hold on just a moment, we have Brian on the line now and he’s going to tell us what he saw, Brian can you hear us? The camera stayed on the two reporters but the voice of a young, very worried man came on.

Yes, I can hear you,

Brian, can you tell us what you see?

Well I’ve gone inside now, but I was sitting at the coffee shop this morning and this thing, it just fell out of the sky.

You’re saying it fell out of the sky, and stuck in the ground?

That’s right, the tip of it was pointed and when it hit it went deep into the ground creating some sort of shockwave that felt like an earthquake.

Brian, was there a lot of damage done? We’ve heard reports of broken windows on buildings and cars, how much could you see?

There is a crater around the contact point, it knocked me and my friend out of our seat, cars that were closer were knocked back and I’m sure there was more damage done closer to the point of impact.

Alright, thank you Brian, please stay on the line, we have a helicopter up at the site now and we’re going to go to Ed. Ed do we have that video?

The newscasters stopped talking and stared blankly off screen, after a moment of silence the screen switched from a newsroom to a view from the helicopter. The camera was zooming in on the trident and where it had gone into the street. Upon hitting the street it had pushed through the concrete deep into the earth, pulling broken asphalt and dirt down with it creating a crater. Cars had been knocked back, one of them up and into the second story of a nearby building. The camera zoomed back and they could see that when it fell the trident hit a building tearing it in half, the rebar stuck out from each broken floor like the building’s skeleton and papers fluttered everywhere. They zoomed out a little further and that’s when they saw the bodies, not many, but the ones that were there died bloody. The camera quickly shot back to the newsroom.

Sorry about that, seems there have been some casualties down at the site. Our hearts go out to those that have lost family and friends at this event. We are asking for the time being that everyone stay inside their homes. Emergency crews are already on the scene and more are arriving all the time. I know curiosity is strong at this point, but we will keep live coverage going today. The city is asking that everyone avoid the sight and keep it clear so that they can evacuate the injured. Thank you Brian for your time, we will be getting more information together. Please call us if you have anything…

-NOW-

…new to report, Eric sat up quickly, hand going to the gun on his hip. It only took a moment to realize he was talking in his sleep. The dark threw him off before he could see the light sneaking in around the blinds. Moving to the window he pushed back the blinds squinting out into the sunlight. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary and he pushed open the door to the RV and stepped out. The highway stretched before him with cars scattered throughout, but the RV was the most comfortable he could find to sleep in. Stretching for the sky he moved to the back of the vehicle and relieved himself. The wind was blowing and he had to twist to keep the piss off his boots. His hand seemed to find its way to the scar on his chest every time he was without a shirt, fidgeting with the soft indention. Looking down he pulled his hand back from the gnarled flesh and it quickly found the tattoo on his arm. When he was 19 he got the bull drawn into the skin on his right shoulder. On the day of that tattoo, the artist had introduced himself as Tut, and Eric had never bothered to learn his real name. Tut had been incredibly thin covered in tattoos and had insanely large gauged ear rings that would probably never be back in style. Being nineteen it had seemed like a reasonable enough question to ask if the tattoo would hurt. At this question Tut laughed out loud then pulled a needle out of the drawer of his desk. Holding the needle up he said ‘imagine this going in and out of you a couple thousand times’. Surely a yes would have sufficed, but maybe that’s what gave Tut his charm.

A murder of crows screamed at him from overhead, dissolving the thoughts of the thin tattoo artist. Looking to the sky Eric saw what would have been considered in other times the largest flock of crows imaginable. The black swarm moved lazily south, warning of the cold that followed. Ever since The Events, it seemed that animals were gathering together, protecting each other. A flock of birds like the one flying overhead could rain down like a squawking grenade and tear him apart, strength in numbers. This happened wile simultaneously the human race seemed to tear itself apart. How few there are that will step in for each other. Eric had thought about it many times, how after a huge portion of the population just disappeared, perhaps the race would step up and stand together. Without money and power standing in the way, it seemed natural that strangers would bond with each other and create a stronger community. Instead groups formed that stood alone. Some were scared, just trying to survive peacefully; others were like land mines, just waiting for the next person to cross their path.

Another shout from the departing birds broke the spell of his thoughts that he so often fell into. Shaking his head, he turned back to the RV. It had been brown at one point but the sun had worn down the paint over the years and it was almost white higher up, and surely the white looked bleached where it hadn’t been covered in bird shit. Stepping back into the vehicle he dressed himself and quickly moved back out onto the road. Something about being in such a small place made the hair on his neck stand up, it always felt like someone was watching, or had the ability to watch by simply stepping up to a window; the feeling of being vulnerable was sickening.

Once again the road seemed to stretch out before him, each step bringing him closer to The Voice, and further from the life he left behind. Grass along the sides of the road was tall enough to bend and reach downward, and it was beginning to brown. Fire was likely to follow as it did in the summer, and during the fall when the grass dried out. This close to the coast, water seemed to find its way into and on everything. Looking east Eric could see the last of the previous days rain clouds moving out over the ocean, there was barely time to focus on this though. A car sat in the middle of the road, this stood out by itself as most of the vehicles had been pushed to the side of the road years ago, but this one had its hazards on. The blinking lights were meant to wordlessly spell ‘help‘, instead these only said ‘danger‘.

As always, his first impulse was to pull the gun from its holster and check to make sure that every chamber had a live round in it; but he knew they did. Right behind that another impulse followed, this one was to pull the sword from its sheath and carry it beside him. Instead he rested his left hand on the handle of the blade, he figured if he didn’t pull it out then his presence didn’t scream, ‘hey, I’m ready to kill you’. Without slowing his walk he glanced behind him taking note that he couldn’t have walked much more than a mile before he saw the car, the car that was now only a quarter of a mile ahead of him, he could now see that it was an old luxury car. It only took a moment to look to his right and then the left checking the grass for shadows or even men running toward him, archaic weapons made of baseball bats and steel, there was none of this. When he turned back to the road he saw that the car’s hazards had slowed, battery must have only had a little juice left.

In an instant, the hand resting on the sword’s handle had pulled the pistol from its holster and moved down to his side. In the same quick movement he dashed out of the street and into the grass on the left side, if there were men ahead he was sure that they would use the cars for cover and it would make for an easy ambush. The grass brushing against his legs was oddly comforting. His mind shot backwards to his father’s farm, the way the tall grass in the pasture slapped at his boots and shins as he rode the horses. May was the shortest horse so he didn’t ride her often, but she was also the smartest and they seemed to understand each other. This thought was out of his head almost as soon as it had entered, a thin tendril of smoke was slowly rising on the other side of the car. Bending his knees to get a lower standing, he moved in around the car in a large arc, the godliness of his eyesight was not lost to him, but he had no time to marvel at his increased senses. Eric’s eyes were constantly scanning the cars when he reached a spot in the grass where he could see ahead of the vehicle, and he could see the body propped up against the grid.

As soon as he saw the shoes he froze. The legs of the body were the only thing visible but the fact that they were dressed in black dress shoes and black slacks made Eric uneasy. Taking a few steps forward exposed the rest of his body and he could see that it was a man wearing a full suit, his hair was cut in the military high and tight fashion and he was smoking a cigarette. His right hand was up over his head playing with the hood ornament, and his left was rolling across the concrete, flicking at pebbles. The first image to pop into Eric’s head was that of Malcolm McDowell. For some reason he noticed that whenever he saw a stranger he matched their face to that of someone he had already seen. Stepping forward, Eric expected the man to speak his name without even turning, like the bosses in the old mafia movies. He never expected what followed.

Moving to the edge of the street, he narrowed his gun at the man’s head. Getting this close he realized that the man that looked like Malcolm McDowell was humming Sympathy For the Devil by The Rolling Stones. Eric, only a few feet away from the man, stepped into his line of sight and the man’s eyes lit up.

Holy jumping Christ tits! The man leaped up and staggered backward around the other side of the car staring wide eyed at Eric. Where the dick did you come from? you scared the piss out of me!

I, it was the first time in a long while that Eric didn’t know how to respond. The man was aged, but in incredibly good shape, and the weirdest part about it was how clean his clothes were. What are you doing here?

Go North, the man mouthed the words but instead of hearing them the words shot straight into his head. It was Eric’s turn to stare wide eyed, after a seemingly unending travel he had found The Voice.

You’re the one who has been talking in my head? He couldn’t help but ask it like a question, but he knew the answer. The man was now looking him over carefully and after a few seconds of silence he stepped around the car and held his hand out. Slowly, Eric took it and shook, not matching the man’s smile.

Which one are you? the man asked still smiling, he brought the cigarette to his lips and inhaled deeply.

Which one of what?

The man’s smile faded, You can hear me when I push, there are two others left I think, the smile came back, but his eyed seemed concerned, the hardened man holding the gun seemed to scare him.

My name is Eric, pausing to understand the information presented to him he holstered the revolver, "Who are the others, and what is pushing?" he said the word as if he had never said it before.

The man let out a whoosh of air as if he was exasperated by the idea of explaining. Then he sat back down next to the front of the car and took a final drag of his smoke before tossing it out into the road. He motioned for Eric to do the same. I have no idea of where they are, I didn’t know you were even here until you walked up behind me in case you didn’t notice me shitting myself when you snuck up on me, Eric stood looking down at the man, and he motioned again for him to sit; he continued standing. Where are you from Eric?

Who are you? What the fuck is going on? How can you get in my head? it was hard for him not to stand up, but he did lean over toward the strange man as he asked.

I am Zygan, and I am kind of like you, I was given a gift and that is how I can communicate from a distance,

What gift are you talking about?

Zygan eyed Eric suspiciously, I am the son of Hermes, due to that I was given certain…abilities. I assumed you were kin, but now that I can see you I am having doubts,

His hand fell to the butt of his gun. It was only by sheer will that it stayed in its holster. I am no son of gods, the only thing I have to offer is a curse from Poseidon and your drama queen family,

Zygan didn’t seem to mind the outburst or the crack at his bloodline, instead he just looked at the road, It’s no curse; you have a purpose here just as I do, and like it or not, you’ll see it through. At this he met Eric’s gaze and held it, the joy in his voice