The Brimstone Network by Thomas E. Sniegoski

Author:Thomas E. Sniegoski [Sniegoski, Thomas E.]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Fantasy, Science Fiction, Young Adult
ISBN: 9781416951049
Publisher: Aladdin
Published: 2008-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

10.

BRAM COULDN’T BREATHE.

It was like being inside the intestine of some gigantic, nightmare beast.

His lungs had filled with the stink of the place; so thick and unpleasant, it was like trying to breathe underwater. He was sliding down a membranous tube, feeling the slime-covered walls around him pulsating as if alive, squeezing him through the passage; moving him along to who knew where. He cried out for Stitch, but his mouth was filled with the foul-tasting fluid that lubricated the walls of the tube.

He tried to slow his progress, but the harder he fought against it, the faster the muscles flexed, squeezing him along with increasing speed. Bram was beyond tired, the overpowering stink of the tubular environment wearing him down, threatening to steal away his consciousness.

Then suddenly he found himself falling, no longer trapped within the constricting confines of the fleshy passage, plunging into a thick pool of the nasty-smelling liquid that coated the walls of the tube. The fluid eagerly filled his lungs and mouth. Bram tried to fight it. His arms and leg flailed as he fought to swim toward the surface, but he couldn’t tell up from down. He was growing weaker, his struggles more feeble.

His father had been wrong about him; he wasn’t ready to be a leader.

Not even close.

Something grabbed him, powerful fingers wrapping around the collar of his jacket and pulling him up through the viscous fluids. Bram broke the surface and greedily gasped for air, noisily expelling liquid slime from his mouth and nose as he was laid upon the fleshy shore.

Solid ground beneath him he flipped onto his back, wiping the stinging substance from his eyes.

Stitch stood over him.

“Are you all right?” the artificial man asked.

Bram could only cough, but he nodded his head vigorously. “Where … where are we?” he finally managed, between coughs, pushing himself up into a sitting position to check out where they’d ended up.

If he thought the inside of the tube was bad, this place was three times worse. They were in some sort of gigantic cave system, yawning black openings pulsating like open mouths in pink, fleshy walls. Above him the open ceiling went on seemingly forever into darkness.

“One of the worlds between worlds,” Stitch explained. “The tree back in the forest had pieced the veil between our world and another, its roots taking sustenance from both places.”

Stitch extended his hand, taking Bram’s and hauling him to his feet.

“Not a very welcoming-looking place, is it,” the boy commented.

“Beggers can’t be choosers,” Stitch replied. “I sensed the potential for passage as we ran into the forest and I remembered that I had an open invitation to visit.” The patchwork man was studying his hand, the one that had wielded the magick that had brought them to this place.

“Open invitation?” Bram asked.

Stitch nodded, still fascinated with his hand. “To this place … the world of Guttswallow.”

“So we’re not in any danger here?” Bram asked, suddenly overcome with the sensation that they were no longer alone.

And as if

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