Black Trip

By Asi Hart

A private detective working illegally is hired to find a man's brother.

This leads him into a parallel universe full of ghosts.

The place is strangely compelling, and he does not want to leave.  But he still has a job to do...

• Language: English
• Publisher: Asi Hart
• Release date: Nov 12, 2018
• ISBN: 9798201933937

Asi Hart

Asi Hart is the best Sci-Fi author south of the North Pole.

Book preview

This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.

BLACK TRIP

First edition. November 12, 2018.

Copyright © 2018 Asi Hart.

ISBN: 979-8201933937

Written by Asi Hart.

Also by Asi Hart

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In the Realm of Carnal Horror

The Ultimate Killing Game

Mobile Flesh Sculptures

Carnage Desires

Standalone

Black Trip

Death from a Shell

The Man in the Corner Room

Under a Freezing Moon

Decomposing Angel

Utopian Massacre

Cat-Girls Have Four Ears

Interesting Creatures

J.K. Rowling Uses Magic to Turn Transvestites Into Serial Killers

Orbital Lily

The Many Horrors of Being a Tokyo Waitress

The Quest for Stephen King's Shorts

Starvation Diet

The Different Agenda

The Next Challenge

Surf Lenin

Table of Contents

Title Page

Copyright Page

Also By Asi Hart

BLACK TRIP | by Asi Hart

1. | The escape from Fire Island

2. | The hallways

3. | City

4. | Story time

5. | Apparitions

6. | The end of the world creeps near

7. | The Castle

8. | The Man

9. | The end of the world

10. | Home again

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BLACK TRIP

by Asi Hart

1.

The escape from Fire Island

THE SKY WAS GREY.  It was raining in scenic Smoky Bay.  The windshield wipers on Mack's rusty old Subaru Legacy flapped rhythmically as he sat and listened to the golden oldies on the radio, waiting for the light to turn green.  It was an old song from the late sixties, hummed by a singer who's name translated to fire island.  Mack liked that.  That was a very fitting name for the country, what with the constant volcanic activity and all that.  Not so much visible fire, but thick plumes of ash.  The entire southern lowland was more or less black with ashes.  He had seen it.  The song went on.  No lyrics, just vocals.  Mack liked the song.  It was ethereal and soothing, and kind of reminded him of the theme to that Are you afraid of the dark? show he used to sometimes catch when he was a kid.  It was a bloody awful show, he thought.  He wondered if they paid royalties for it.  The light turned green.

There wasn't much traffic at this time of day, which was why he chose it to see his client.  His client had told him he could come any time, which was uncommon to say the least.  The client lived in a very nice, affluent part of the greater city area.  Not really a part of Smoky Bay, but a nearby town that had just grown into it, so everybody outside of the city referred to it as Smoky Bay also, lumping the two together for simplicity sake.  It was a good neighborhood, separated from the rest by the freeway.  He view was great.

Mack drove his rust-bucket up the driveway.  It was a nice house with a built in double garage, a newish black Audi Q7 in front, some trees and flowers in the front yard.  He parked behind the other car, and got out.  He looked at the address again.  It was the right house, if he had heard correctly.  He went to the door and rang the bell.  A woman answered; about to reach middle age, seemed friendly enough, dressed casual.  She invited him inside.

Eddi is in the library, she told him, and walked with him.  Do you get a lot of jobs? she asked casually.

Not enough, Mack answered, I can only afford to do this black.

She smiled and nodded, how do you live then?

Benefits.

Ah... why don't you then just get a better paying job?

Well, I like doing this, I am my own boss, I get to do things on my own speed, said Mack, adding sheepishly: ... and I don't have any usable education, so I can't.

She nodded.  She knocked on the door to the library, which was already ajar, and pushing it open notified Eddi: the private eye is here.

Show him in.

Looks like we have us another tax evader.

That's to be expected, said Eddi grinning.

One has to make a living somehow, said Mack deadpan, adding: and it saves me the paperwork.

Do you want coffee? she asked, looking at Eddi and Mack, then said: I'll bring coffee, and silently left.

Eddi was in his early thirties, but looked old for his age.  He was missing his left leg at the knee, and thus he sat in a wheelchair.  Mack saw his prosthetic leg propped up against a table near by.  He wondered why he didn't wear the thing, then figured it could be uncomfortable, and kept it to himself.

I am reminded of a story, said Eddi, a friend of mine was driving a taxi once.  This was just after the collapse, 2010, I think.  Maybe earlier.  You know: five years ago.  Anyway, he picked up this passenger in the city center, paying him no attention.  He got into the back, this guy, had some papers and things with him.  Looked awful busy and uninterested in conversation.  Anyway, he drove him where he wanted to go, and once they reached the destination, and the meter read 2500 or some such, and my friend said to his passenger: why don't you just pay me 2000 in cash and we'll let it be at that.  No reason to get the taxman involved," and this is when he peeked into the rear view mirror to see if the passenger agreed.  And he saw the