Mythbreaker by Stephen Blackmoore

Author:Stephen Blackmoore
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fantasy
Publisher: Rebellion Publishing Ltd

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

FITZ STUFFS THE two pistols into his waistband at the small of his back and lets his jacket fall over them. He should be able to get hold of them in a hurry if things go south. His hands have a slight tremor and he considers taking some oxy. Instead, he drops one of the bottles in his pocket in case he needs it later.

The burger still sits uneaten on the plate, and now it’s too disgusting to even consider eating. He’s managed to get a couple hours of sleep, but it was fitful and full of dreams of gods and torture. Thousands of them transforming the world into a Hell on Earth, an Amanda Terminator turning the land into a Hieronymous Bosch triptych of blood and fire and pain. Blake standing on top of a huge pile of broken vinyl records shooting Agents out of his hands like death rays. He wonders what will really happen if the gods force him to make people believe in them again. Will it be that bad? His subconscious certainly seems to think so.

There is no way he’s going to let that happen.

He’s paced his room like a caged animal that knows it’s safer where it is but desperately wants to get out anyway. He has unloaded and reloaded his guns, taken a shower, got dressed, loaded his guns again, and now he’s fidgeting.

He’s considered knocking on the adjoining room door to see if it’s time to go yet. He’s gone to the door half a dozen times already, but he’s still freaked out by his last conversation with Amanda.

The phone buzzes on the bed. MEET ME IN THE LOBBY, it says.

Is he ready for this? If this other Chronicler is as crazy as Amanda says, he’s not sure what he can show him. Has he figured out some way to influence things the way Fitz could at Big’s casino? Can he teach him to do it again?

And more, is he ready to trust Amanda? He keeps going back and forth. She’s human one second, some kind of weird construct the next. What exactly is she capable of?

All the things he’s met so far have some kind of power unique to what they are. Downloading her brain into a clone body can’t be the only thing she can do.

He takes a deep breath, closes his eyes. Types OK into the phone and, before he can change his mind, slips out the door.

The guards on this floor were given explicit instructions to not be seen; he knows they’re watching him from behind the doors. He still feels exposed. The carpet of the hallway muffles his footsteps, but they sound like gunshots to his ears in the thick silence and when the elevator dings it’s like the pealing of a funeral bell.

Only four floors, but the ride down feels like he’s descending into the underworld. Maybe he is. The elevator opens and he steps out into an eerie emptiness. The doors slide shut behind him.

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