Tinman

By Gregory Andrade

One trip down a lighthouse was a lot more than Mr. Alexandro bargained for. In the city of Copperwallow he had better learn fast or pay a steep price. A series of bombing caused by the Wings. Who will be taken down first the Wings or Alexandro

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Mar 14, 2022
• ISBN: 9781665553421

Book preview

© 2022 Gregory Andrade. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or

transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

Published by AuthorHouse 03/14/2022

ISBN: 978-1-6655-5343-8 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-6655-5342-1 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2022903911

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models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or

links contained in this book may have changed since publication and

may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those

of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher,

and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 1

Any society that would give up a little liberty to gain a little security will deserve neither and will lose both -Benjamin Franklin

1964: I woke up groggy and stiff. Surrounding me was a scruffy looking cabin being rocked heavily. I could hear the spray of waves and the air was choked with the briny smell of the sea. My nerves were still dulled, but they were quickly shot to life as I saw a scruffy looking man in a drenched raincoat. He was in a hatch like doorway and was shouting something at me.

Mr. Alexandro, we will arrive at the location soon. My head felt like it was slugging by. It even took me a second to realize the man was talking to me. I got up and nearly lost my balance on the short way over.

To where now? I asked still fairly disoriented.

The lighthouse. Don’t you remember? He told me. With those words some memories leaked into my brain. This man was taking me to a middle of nowhere lighthouse in the far north, and I was on some kind of smaller fishing boat. The man in the raincoat rushed off, clearly having to deal with more than my sorry butt.

I decided to try and clear my head on the ship’s deck. A very cold breeze nearly slapped my face, and an even colder ocean spray felt like small daggers on my face. I was quite thankful for the heavy grey overcoat I was already wearing, for I surely would have been a block of ice without it.

After ducking my head from below deck, I could see the rough ocean waves whose only mission seemed to be crashing into the little boat. I spotted the man I assumed was the captain of the one-man boat in the wheelhouse attempting to steer his craft though the rough waters. It seemed to me that the boat would be lost without his experienced piloting.

When I reached into my pockets to warm my hands some, I found a blank postcard. All it said was ‘I want to see you again. -Jane Nocebo’. That name seemed so familiar, but I could not place a face to it. It was really annoying. The postcard sparked an intense interest in that lighthouse, but I didn’t know why. It was sort of like a half remembered dream that only made sense, while I was asleep. It seriously bugged me that I did not know who this Jane was. For some reason I felt she would have the answers I need.

How much farther is the lighthouse? I shouted over to the captain. Instead of answering, he just pointed out to the distance. I looked out, and I could see a small rock of an island at least a mile away from the coast with nothing more than a decaying dock sticking out of it and a large old-fashioned lighthouse looming over the island like a tombstone. I doubted the thing still functioned. With a delicate and expert hand, the captain docked the boat on the island despite the roaring waves. I nearly fell onto the dock due to the swells. Great, I hardly started and I’m already falling on my butt. Way to go me.

I’m only staying for the hour. If you’re not back by then you will have to find your own way home, the man shouted at me over the sound of the storm, and I raised my hand in acknowledgement. I had to watch my step. Parts of the dock were rotted away and the whole thing was slick with chilled water. Thankfully, it led me straight to a large wooden door as the only entrance to the large lighthouse.

The door looked like the sturdiest thing on the small rock of an island. It took some fore, but I was in and thankful to be out of the cold. Inside the lighthouse was a large spiral staircase, but contrary to what one might expect, the staircase led downwards. There was a large metal plate on the wall next to the stairs with large letters embossed on it. It read ‘Be Polite, Be Kind, Be Safe’.

It was as puzzling as it was bizarre. I decided to follow down the metal spiraling staircase. The way was lit by strange bulbs jutting out of the wall and below each of them was a small metal plate with a different message on each of them. ‘Watch Your Step’, ‘Please, Do Not Push’, ‘Do Not Block The Stairs’. One said ‘Alcohol Is Not Allowed In The City.’ That immediately brought up the question: what was the city? I had no idea, but I was confident I would find out.

I had only gone a few stories down when I hit the bottom. It was a large flat stone surface with a single rail set in it leading to a set of large gray metal doors. The room was mostly empty except for a large metal switch on the wall. Above it read ‘Trolley.’

I figured it could not hurt since there was little else down here, so I flipped the large switch. At first I thought it had done nothing, but just before I was about to leave. There was a low creaking sound as the large metal doors were slowly forced open. That was quickly followed by a high-pitched whistle much like an old steam train.

Ambling through the doors and along the rail was a single grey trolley. It slowed to a stop in front of me. A little perplexed, I boarded the trolley. It could have easily held ten people, but it looked like it was going nowhere. In the center of the floor was a long pull lever with little writing on the bottom. One side said ‘Entrance’ and the other said ‘Copperwallow.’ The lever was all the way over on the Entrance side.

Figuring it would get the trolley moving, I pulled the lever over a bit, but instead the thing forced itself all the way over to the ‘Copperwallow’ side, nearly pulling me off my feet. I decided to sit down on one of the trolley’s sleek benches and try to figure out what all this was. I felt like there was more here than it seemed.

A female voice spoke from some hidden speaker, Please, keep all arms and legs inside the trolley until it comes to a complete stop. Thank you for choosing Copperwallow, and remember be polite, be kind, and be safe. The trolley erupted another high-pitched whistle and began ambling its way through the large metal doors.

The doorway led to a long dark tunnel, which became even darker once the doors closed behind me. Thankfully, the trolley had those strange wall lights placed on it, giving well enough to see by. The trolley was fairly clean, clean enough for the lights to shine off the metal surfaces. A low and steady lurch indicated the trolley was picking up speed.

The rock walls soon began to speed by. At first I was worried about getting back to