The Man from Mittelwerk by M.Z. Urlocker

Author:M.Z. Urlocker
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Inkshares
Published: 2022-08-08T18:30:26+00:00

Part II

Chapter 21

The Color of Dreams

There was no sound. No light. Nothing. I wondered whether I was anywhere at all, whether I even existed.

I’ve been kyboshed before. That happens when you’re deep into the wrong kind of case against the wrong kind of people. But this was different. My head didn’t throb. I had no sensation at all. I was a speck of dust floating in air, slowly, slowly falling to ground.

I had to give it to Schuler; his Z-machine put me out beyond the far edge. You could kick the gong around on a three-day bender and end up in a place you might not want to come back from, and I was way past there now. I was staring into a deep dark mirror with nothing reflecting back. It scared the hell out of me.

I heard a cough. It was Sergeant Major Kolchak, my drill instructor from Camp Adair, ahem-ing to get my attention. Then there were three or four of him coughing. Then a whole platoon. The coughs were getting faster and higher pitched until they became the cawing of crows.

The air rippled and I was back. The room was the same as before, but everything felt hopped-up, like a movie set. That was it. It was a set-up. A bunch of Hollywood razzmatazz to spook the defective detective. But when I looked up, there were no klieg lights. Just a 40-watt Edison hanging from a wire.

I could see more detail than before. I saw the wood grain in the wall down to hair-sized lines. In a corner, across the room, I saw an ant walking up a beam. It was carrying a white particle the size of a pencil tip. I could smell it. It was a breadcrumb. But it had mold. I could smell that, too. Be careful there, Mr. Ant, I thought. I shook my head. I shouldn’t be talking to ants. That was a bad sign.

I looked around again. I didn’t notice before, but the room was familiar. I’d seen it dozens of times in my dreams. I looked to the corner again and the ant was gnawing on his bread. His fuzzy antennae were vibrating in sync with the clenching of his jaw. Only now he was looking at me with his black oval eyes, as if I were the ant.

I closed my eyes and tried to shake myself out of it. My eyes felt scratchy and sharp.

I felt pretty stupid falling for Schuler’s theatrics about Jordan and the Z-machine. It was a bunco job. The room was cold and silent with a thin ray of moonlight shining in from the windows. At least the rain had stopped.

Good that Schuler had untied me and left my gun on the table. I suppose he didn’t want to stick around and risk my wrath when I came to. I got up slowly, but my head swayed. My legs wouldn’t hold and I fell back into the chair. I took a deep breath. I held my weight on my arms and then gradually stood up until I regained control.

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