The Man Who Broke the World (Miles Franco #4)

By Chris Strange

Freelance Tunneler Miles Franco could only watch helplessly when his friend, ex-detective Vivian Reed, was banished to the space between worlds. Now he means to get her back, whatever the cost.

But he can't do it alone. Only one woman has the skill and smarts to help Miles tear reality asunder. Trouble is, she once tried to kill him -- and nearly succeeded.

Even worse, Miles' old nemesis won't work for free. She wants the only thing a woman like her cares about.

Power.

And if Miles wants her help, he may have to sacrifice his city to get it.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Chris Strange
• Release date: Apr 26, 2016
• ISBN: 9781311855961

Chris Strange

Chris Strange is a writer of urban fantasy and other fantastika. He is especially fond of writing hardboiled stories with a noir influence. His goal is to deliver intense, humorous and sometimes dark stories to his readers.In his spare time, Chris is an unapologetic geek, spending far too long wrapped up in speculative fiction books, watching old zombie movies and playing computer games. He lives in the far away land of New Zealand, and occasionally he goes to university like he’s supposed to.He doesn’t plan on growing up any time soon.

Book preview

Chris Strange

www.chris-strange.com

The Man Who Broke the World

Smashwords Edition

Originally published by Cheeky Minion 2016

Copyright © 2016 Chris Strange

Version 1.0

All rights reserved.

The arcane circles in the cover art were created by Obsidian Dawn.

www.obsidiandawn.com

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, locales, and alternate dimensions are either the product of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons (living, dead, or in another plane of existence) is entirely coincidental.

TABLE OF CONTENTS

TITLE PAGE

ONE

TWO

THREE

FOUR

FIVE

SIX

SEVEN

EIGHT

NINE

TEN

ELEVEN

TWELVE

THIRTEEN

FOURTEEN

FIFTEEN

SIXTEEN

SEVENTEEN

EIGHTEEN

NINETEEN

TWENTY

TWENTY-ONE

TWENTY-TWO

TWENTY-THREE

TWENTY-FOUR

TWENTY-FIVE

TWENTY-SIX

TWENTY-SEVEN

TWENTY-EIGHT

TWENTY-NINE

THIRTY

THIRTY-ONE

THIRTY-TWO

THIRTY-THREE

THIRTY-FOUR

THIRTY-FIVE

THIRTY-SIX

THIRTY-SEVEN

THIRTY-EIGHT

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

ALSO BY THE AUTHOR

ONE

The bug was the size of my head.

I know that’s the kind of thing people say all the time. So we were outside, enjoying a couple of brews, and all of a sudden I look down and see this big-ass spider crawling up my leg. I swear to God, it was as big as my head!

But I mean it. The insect was literally the size of my head. It was totally inconceivable that those six little humming wings could keep the bulbous creature afloat.

I sat there and watched the bug as it buzzed lazily about in the heat of a purple sun. It flew less than an inch above the polished surface of the glass desert, dragging its long legs behind it. A dozen eyes—most of them positioned on the underside of its abdomen—swiveled about, scanning the ground.

While I watched, a cold fire pulsed through my veins. There was a pressure just behind my eyes, throwing the world in and out of focus. But I just kept watching the insect as it rambled about like a giant bumblebee. It was an ugly bastard, sure. But I have a fondness for ugly things. They are what they are. That’s more than you can say about me.

Finally, the bug seemed to sense something. It lifted its hindquarters up and performed an excited loop. The wings stopped buzzing and the creature came in for a bumpy landing, legs flailing to find purchase on the slick glass surface that stretched out endlessly around us.

For a second I thought the damn thing had injured itself falling out of the air like that. But a moment later it was up, skittering about on all six legs until it came to a stop not a foot from my right knee. A couple of eyes swiveled to examine me. I didn’t move, didn’t breathe. A couple of drops of sweat were trickling down the side of my face. Not just from the heat.

It’s all right, pal, I said silently. I’m not going to hurt you.

Its wings buzzed a couple of times as it settled itself. Then, apparently, it decided I wasn’t a threat. Its eyes returned to the desert surface, scanning again.

A small opening appeared in the creature’s undersized head. Faster than I could blink, a needle-like proboscis shot out, piercing a quarter-inch into the surface of the glass desert, straining for the nectar of the plants beneath.

Not bad, little guy, I whispered. But you’re going to need a longer needle.

One eye glanced at me with what I swear was an affronted look. And then, as if to prove me wrong, the creature’s proboscis began to rotate. It spun up faster and faster, until the air was filled with a piercing whine. The damn thing was drilling into the glass.

Huh, I said. I guess I’ll shut the hell up.

There was an icy knife stabbing into the base of my skull, and the sound of the bug’s drilling wasn’t helping things. I gritted my teeth and screwed up my eyes, riding it out. I just had to do this one last time. One last time.

The whining of the drill dropped away, and once more the only sound was the whistling of the wind as it blew across the desert. There wasn’t much around here, in this part of Heaven. It was easy to feel alone. I was thankful I had the big ugly bug to keep me company. It’s just no fun going mad by yourself.

As the cold spread through my skull, I opened my eyes again and squinted against the glare. I was sitting cross-legged on the ground, basking in the alien sunlight. I was already sunburned. It was my own fault. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been outside in the daylight. The people I worked with now tended to be night-owls.

The bug seemed happy, though. A little pile of powdered glass surrounded the tiny hole he’d drilled into the desert floor. His proboscis pierced the thick, juicy leaf of one of the hundreds of plants trapped beneath the glass desert. His wings buzzed excitedly as he enjoyed the fruits of his labor.

A shadow passed over me, fluttering along the desert floor. I looked up, shielding my eyes against the sun, searching for whatever creature had made the shadow. But the sky was clear. A sickly green tint hung over everything, mirroring the nausea pooling in my own stomach.

Just one more time, I told myself. Just ride it out.

I took a deep breath and lowered my eyes. The bug was still feeding happily. Only this time, there was something different.

Someone was riding him.

The figure was a hand-span tall. He was a shaggy-looking guy, slouched over the insect’s torso with a mop of curly dark hair hiding his eyes. He was wearing a T-shirt and a pair of jeans with a hole in one of the knees. The bug didn’t pay him any attention as he straddled its back, legs swinging like a kid on a playground.

Well, I said. That’s new.

The man lifted his head, his eyes meeting mine. His face was gaunt, with black rings around his eyes. It was a face I recognized well. I saw it in the mirror every morning.

What’s new? he asked.

I’d half-expected him to speak like a chipmunk, but instead his voice was an echo of my own.

Usually my hallucinations don’t ride bugs.

Of course I ride a bug. I mean, look at the size of me. You expect me to walk? It’d take me all damn day to get anywhere.

I thought it over. My mind was thick and soupy. That doesn’t make sense.

You’re in Heaven, bud. You’re in the wrong place if you want things to make sense.

That’s different. There’s weird, and then there’s just plain ridiculous.

He shrugged. Well, you know what they say. Chroma: it’s a hell of a drug.

That’s one thing we can agree on.

I pulled the needle out of my arm and tossed the syringe back into the satchel I’d brought with me. A drop of blood appeared on the surface of my skin, trickling down from the hole I’d left in my vein. I put my thumb over it and waited for it to clot.

It’s not too late to forget about all this, my mini-doppelganger said as he stood up and started pacing up and down the bug’s back. Plenty of empty space out here. You could just run around until the Chroma wears off.

Can’t do that.

Why the hell not?

Chroma’s hard to come by these days. This is the last of it. It’s now or never.

He folded his arms across his chest. What’s wrong with never?

I made a promise.

A smirk touched his lips. Look at this. Miles fucking Franco. Keeper of promises, guardian of morality. You think this is going to balance the scales?

You know, you’re a real jerk. Why do I listen to you, anyway?

Because I’m the only one who talks back. Not like them.

He jerked his head, pointing with his chin. I looked behind me.

The ghosts stood in silence. They were gathered together in a close crowd, staring at me. Dozens of them. Vei and human both, men and women. I didn’t know the names of most of them. But a few I did. Claudia Hennel. Andrea Manda. Leonard and Jason Maxwell. Olivia Emmett.

People I’d killed, or people who’d died because of me. So many of them. My doppelganger was right. There was no balancing the scales, not anymore. But that wasn’t what this was about.

My goal here was simpler. Ruin someone’s day. Fuck some shit up.

I can see I’m talking to thin air, Mini-Me said as he straddled the bug once more. But then what did I expect? Giddy-up.

He kicked the bug’s flanks with his heels. The creature retracted its proboscis, buzzed its wings, and rose into the air.

Hey, he said. Do you know what kind of bug this is?

I shook my head.

A glass-hopper! Get it? He waved his hand around to encompass the desert. Because of all the glass.

I cracked a grin. That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.

The bug spun around and drifted across the desert. My doppelganger threw one last wave my way. And then they were swallowed up by the glare reflecting off the desert.

I sighed and stood up. It was time. Power pulsed through my body, straining against my skin, threatening to break loose. The air seemed to crackle around me as I stepped forward. Behind me, I could sense my other hallucinations following me, watching me. I hoped they’d enjoy the show.

Figures and shadows danced at the edges of my vision as I walked. They shimmered, changing shape like smoke in the harsh sunlight. But whenever I tried to look at them directly, they vanished.

When the wind blew, it seemed to whisper in my ear. The words were nonsense, but they gave me strength. They made me feel powerful, god-like.

All lies, of course. Chroma gave nothing for free.

Madness flickered in the corners of my mind. Threatening to take over, like it had before. I kept my head clear, my thoughts focused. That was the key.

Chroma had swallowed me once. Not this time. You couldn’t control Chroma, not really. But you could ride it, surf it. You just had to hope you got to shore before that shark took a bite out of your leg.

Through the desert’s glare I caught a glimpse of my destination. A small cluster of structures, dome-like buildings made of some kind of orange-stained clay. In the center of the town, a fountain of water glistened blue. Didn’t seem right, somehow, for anything in that place to be so pure.

Few people were out and about. I figured most of them would be sheltering from the heat of the day, kicking back inside with a drink and a good book. Or, more likely, they were busy toying with some poor bastard, knocking out teeth and poking out eyes and all that fun stuff. You know, traditional Tombstone pastimes.

Kill them, the wind whispered. Kill them all.

Now, now, I muttered to myself. That’s not how we do things around here.

I’ll admit, it wasn’t me who figured out how to ride the Chroma high. I had a little help. See, the first time I took Chroma, I didn’t have time to screw around. Someone I cared about was in trouble. And to save her, I had to get past a lot of very bad people. So I just took the Chroma hit, let it flow through my veins uninhibited. I ripped the world apart around me. And broke my mind in the process.

Turns out it was a problem of tolerance. This time, I’d prepared. I’d gathered up every drop of Chroma that still existed on the streets, nearly bankrupting myself. And then I’d spent three weeks taking small doses of the drug. Every time, I increased the dose just a little. Building up my tolerance. Letting my mind get used to the idea of madness. Until there was no difference between sanity and insanity.

As I approached the outskirts of Tombstone, a couple of the town’s friendly residents noticed me. They’d been lounging by the fountain, not doing much of anything. Both were Vei males wearing leather cowboy get-up, hats on their heads and knives at their belts. They stopped talking and stared at me with their big eyes. I just kept walking.

One of the cowboys bared his shark-like teeth at me. The other ran off down the main street, calling out in Vei. He passed beneath a tall post set into the center of the town’s main square. The body of a Vei man hung by the neck from the post, a black bag over his head. There was a word painted across his naked chest in Vei. The writing was too messy for me to read clearly. But I figured out the first couple of characters and extrapolated from there. Traitor.

As I tore my eyes from the hanged man’s body, the remaining Vei cowboy began to head me off. He pulled a long, cruel knife from his belt and licked his lips.

I stopped in the middle of the street, watching the other Vei running toward the mansion that peeked above the top of the orange dome buildings. More Vei cowboys were beginning to emerge in response to his calls.

Kill them, the wind whispered again. Kill them bleed them crush them burn them kill them kill them kill them KILL THEM.

I shook my head, trying to clear my mind. I had to keep it together. Ride the Chroma, that was the key.

I started off small. A little cut in the fabric of Heaven’s reality. Just enough to let another world’s reality seep in.

I didn’t have a clue how many worlds were out there. No one did. Thousands, millions. Maybe they were infinite. Until the Bores opened, connecting Earth to this world, Heaven, most people figured our little universe was the be all and end all. We’ve had to reconsider that position in the last few decades.

Usually, when a Tunneler like me wants to start tinkering with worldly realities, we need a few things. Namely, enough smarts to be able to construct a Pin Hole or Tunneling circle, along with some Kemia to act as a catalyst and turn a few scribbled symbols into a fully functional Tunnel.

But today wasn’t usual. Today, I was running with a tank full of Chroma. I didn’t need a catalyst. I was the catalyst.

I made the cut in reality. It wasn’t something you could see, not really. But I could feel it. And a few seconds later, I knew the rest of the town could as well.

Fear settled over the town like fog. It seeped into everything—the walls, the glass beneath us, the air we breathed. The sunlight seemed a little less bright now, and the wind seemed a little colder.

A cowboy’s fierce expression slipped as he headed toward me. He faltered and glanced around nervously. The other cowboys did the same, as if one by one they felt cold fingers wrap around their hearts.

It didn’t have a name, the world I’d allowed to seep in here. I didn’t think anyone else knew it existed. I’d found it myself a week ago, in the haze of yet another Chroma dream. I’d never been there myself. I didn’t want to. Like the leftovers I occasionally found buried in the back of my fridge, there was something very, very off about it. A world where fear was so thick you could taste it in the air like smoke.

People of Tombstone, I shouted in Vei, the guttural noises harsh in my throat. Listen to me.

Several of the cowboys jumped and backed away from me. They seemed more like scared children than vicious killers. I almost felt sorry for them.

Kill them kill them kill them.

Leave this place. I shouted. This town will burn. I will grind its bones into the dust. I will scour it from the desert. You cannot fight. All you can do is flee. Run. Run. Run!

I opened another hole in reality. The ground began to rumble. A squealing groan ripped through the air as another plane of existence forced itself into Heaven. A more familiar one, this time. Earth’s reality.

Cracks split the glass desert beneath us. All around me, Vei screamed in terror.

Our universe—the one where Earth exists—is strictly controlled by a series of laws. Universal constants. Quantum mechanics. Relativity. Thermodynamics. Cause and effect. All those things your high school physics teacher told you were important but you never really gave a shit about. Everything that exists in our world has to follow those rules.

Heaven’s not like that. The rules are a little looser here. Heaven is a world of chance and improbability. Things exist in Heaven that shouldn’t be physically possible. Which is all fine and dandy until some jackass—me, for instance—decides to introduce the laws of physics.

That’s when things start breaking.

The cracks spread across the ground like forked lightning, creeping up the walls of the nearby buildings. As the shaking intensified, the few Vei who’d stayed inside began to flee the buildings. Almost all wore similar cowboy outfits, weapons included. There were few innocents left in town. The mayor had seen to that.

Run! I shouted again, letting a little more fear seep into their hearts. Leave now, or die.

Sure, it was melodramatic. But you can’t argue with results. Vei began to break away, turning on their heels and scurrying off into the glass desert. Not all of them—a couple of dozen still stood facing me despite the terror in their eyes. I didn’t want to kill more than I had to.

Liar, the wind whispered. You like killing. It’s what you do best.

For a moment, shadows slipped across my vision. Something screamed in my ear, louder than a jet engine, louder than a gunshot. My control slipped, just for a second.

A bolt of ice pierced my skull, right between the eyes. Cold radiated through me, splitting my head in two. The shifting shapes at the corners of my vision began to solidify. A hundred voices whispered in my ears, talking over each other, shouting, clawing, screaming for my attention.

I dropped to one knee and planted my hands on the cracked ground. Nausea swirled through me. My eyes were open, but all I could see were faces, and the flash of gunshots, and blood.

I was shaking. Terror took hold of my gut and twisted. The same terror that was assaulting the rest of the town.

It’s just the Chroma, I told myself. Ride it!

I was in too deep. I’d miscalculated. I thought I could handle the full dose. She said it would be okay. Why did I listen?

Miles, a woman said. Get the hell up.

I blinked. The whispers and screams faded into the background. I looked up.

Vivian?

She gave me a little shrug. She looked like she did the last time I saw her—hair cut short and dyed red, bags under her eyes. Like she’d been through hell.

Hallucination? I asked.

Yup.

It’s still good to see you.

She smiled and shook her head. Up. Come on. You don’t have time go crazy.

Not even going to give me a hand?

I’m not real.

Excuses, excuses.

I closed my eyes. I could feel the Chroma inside me, pumping through my veins. Threatening to overwhelm me.

Breathe in. Count to five. Breathe out. That was the way. I opened my eyes and pushed myself to my feet.

The shadows had receded again. They were still there at the edges of my vision, whispering to each other, but I could think again. I could maintain my tenuous grasp on sanity.

Vivian was still there, watching me. Not like my other hallucinations watched me, not a cold, dead ghost silently staring. There was concern in her eyes, not judgment.

I’ll see you soon, I said.

She nodded. A promise is a promise.

I looked around. The remaining cowboys stared at me. There was fear in their eyes, the same fear that still hung thick in the air. But as they noticed my weakness it was hardening, becoming something else.

Fear leads to anger. Just like Yoda said.

One cowboy, bigger than the others, unfastened a vicious barbed whip from his belt. As the others all stood frozen in fear, he pulled his arm back and swung. The whip cracked with a boom that echoed across the glass plains. The cowboys jumped.

Fight, you cowards! he roared in Vei. Get the Tunneler!

He cracked the whip again. And as one, the cowboys began to close in on me.

I sighed. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.

TWO

Tombstone crumbled around me.

Chroma surged through my veins, reveling in the destruction. It laughed inside my head, dancing to the sound of screams. I cast my hand to the side and opened a Tunnel beneath the feet of a trio of cowboys trying to flank me. They toppled into the black hole, crying out as they fell. As they disappeared from sight, the Tunnel snapped closed again, banishing them forever to an unknowable emptiness.

Shouting a battle cry, a female Vei with blades in each hand charged at me from the other side. With barely a glance I sliced open another Pin Hole in Heaven’s reality. The ground exploded beneath her, glass shattering in all directions as the improbability of Heaven met the stability of Earth. She fell with glass shards embedded in her chest, blood spilling from a hundred cuts.

Still they came. Not because of bravery. They were fighting for their lives now. Terror drove them on.

I ripped open another Tunnel in front of me. A group of charging cowboys faltered, staring warily at the new hole on the ground in front of them. In the back of my head I could feel something pounding, like the beating of an animal heart. The big cowboy cracked his whip again.

Go! Go!

The cowboys screamed and charged forward again, raising their weapons as they skirted the edges of the Tunnel. I watched them closely.

A flurry of shapes burst from the Tunnel, each little more than a blur of fur and teeth. With high-pitched cries, the dog-sized creatures launched themselves at the cowboys.

Three Vei fell without even seeing the creatures that buried teeth in their throats. The others cried out in horror, turning to face this new threat. The balls of fur skittered forward on spider-like legs, snarling with cavernous maws full of teeth. There was hunger in their eyes.

One Vei turned his back and tried to run. Big mistake. Two spider-dogs launched themselves at him, sinking teeth into his calves. He fell screaming as they swarmed over him.

One small knot of cowboys was doing better. The group of four stood back to back, thrusting at the spider-dogs with the points of their long blades. A spider-dog leaped for one of their throats and was skewered on the end of a knife. Further back, the big cowboy was swinging his whip in wide loops, striking at any creature that came too close.

The animal pulse in the back of my head grew stronger. Sanity slipped away from me for a moment, the shadows closing in again. The Chroma laughed louder in my ear. I held on with my fingernails, clawing my way back to reality.

A paw the size of my torso reached through the Tunnel opening and grasped for purchase on the blood-slick desert floor. Black and orange fur twitched as the muscles beneath rippled. Another paw appeared, and the creature hauled itself into Heaven.

It was the size of a small truck. Its back was streaked with orange stripes and it stared around at its new environment with a single, beady eye. Picture a cyclopean gorilla on steroids, and you get the general picture. It didn’t look particularly smart, but then it wasn’t here to recite the periodic table. It glared at the scene before it, nostrils flaring. Even some of the spider-dogs shrank away to give the new creature space.

The monster tilted its head back and roared. My teeth rattled about in my skull. With a crash, the creature brought its fists slamming down onto the ground, shattering glass. And then it charged.

The knot of cowboys who’d been fighting off spider-dog attacks were knocked down like bowling pins. The creature just smashed straight through them. It carried on, roaring as it charged towards the whip-wielding Vei.

To his credit, the big cowboy didn’t run. He stood his ground, teeth bared, and pulled a blade from his belt with his off-hand as he swung the whip at the charging monstrosity.

Didn’t do him much good, though. As the barbed whip dug into the creature’s side, the monster casually backhanded the cowboy. The Vei crumpled like a rag doll and slammed into the wall of a nearby building so hard the clay cracked. He slumped to the ground, limbs twisted at unnatural angles. His skull was a misshapen mess.

Good good good good, the wind whispered. Kill kill kill kill.

The scent of blood was thick in my nostrils. In my head. Surrounding me, filling me. I gritted my teeth and shook my head. But the stench remained. I couldn’t rid myself of it.

Something thudded into my left shoulder blade and pain ripped through me. I jerked upright, snapping back to reality. Fire arced down my spine.

I reached over my shoulder and felt the hilt of a knife protruding from my flesh. I could feel blood trickling down my back. With a snarl, I spun around to see who’d thrown the knife.

The Vei woman seemed younger than most of the others here. She stood in the doorway of one of the dome-shaped buildings, as if she’d been late to the party. She wasn’t wearing a hat, so I could see how fresh-faced and scar-free she looked in comparison to her comrades. Her hand was still outstretched from throwing the knife, and she seemed a little shocked that she’d actually hit me.

I wrapped my fingers around the hilt of the knife and pulled. Fresh pain tore through me as I ripped the knife from my flesh. I screamed a wordless cry. A cry of rage.

The woman’s wide eyes grew wider. She raised her hand as if to ward me off.

I ripped open the fabric of Heaven’s reality once more. In an instant, the clay dome was covered in cracks.

No, she said in Vei.

I tightened my fist and the building collapsed atop her.

Panting, I tossed the blood-stained knife to the ground. Lifting my left arm too high sent pain stabbing through my shoulder. That was okay. I used the pain to keep me focused.

I looked around. The remaining cowboys were scattering. The spider-dogs chased them from the town as the cyclopean gorilla monster stalked through the street, punching holes in walls for the sake of it. The screaming had faded, leaving only the cries of the wounded. I moved among the bodies, keeping my eyes aimed straight ahead. I didn’t want to see. I couldn’t bring myself to face what I’d done. What I’d done again.

Blood trickled down my left arm, dripping from my fingers. As I walked, I razed the buildings around me. One by one, bringing them crumbling down with a few shifts in reality. Once I was done, there’d be nothing left of Tombstone.

With each step, my legs seemed heavier. My old hip wound started to ache. With each new Pin Hole, I felt my energy drained a little more. Chroma burned hot and fast, taking a piece of its user with it. The blood loss from my shoulder probably wasn’t helping things. But I walked on, past