Inferno Gulch

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Fantasy  |  House: Booksie Classic

Chapter 20 (v.1)

Submitted: May 26, 2014

Reads: 61

Comments: 2

A A A | A A A

Submitted: May 26, 2014




“The Crossover”


The Tracker could see the canoe swiftly catching up to the barge. The ghostly shapes within wore shaggy, shredded clothing, seemingly made of animal skins. They also carried bows. Suddenly, a volley or arrows struck the barge. The Tracker quickly drew her revolver and opened fire.

She could see the trail of her bullets as they passed right through three of the ghostly shapes, who immediately dissolved. The Ferryman hastily set the barge controls on auto and ran to the stern. He lifted up a crate that was positioned on the rear deck to reveal a Gattling gun beneath. Ferryman then swung the gun around and began to turn the crank.

Immediately, the waters surrounding the canoe exploded under a shower of bullets. The ghostly shapes randomly disintegrated, as the canoe dissolved into nothingness. Meanwhile, Tracker continued to fan her own revolver.

“Cease fire!” The Ferryman shouted, “They’re not here anymore.”

Where’d they come from?” Tracker asked.

“From elsewhere,” Ferryman answered, “Another reality. Another time.

“Were they dead?” Tracker wondered.

“Maybe. Maybe not,” Ferryman doggedly replied, “Either way they’ve moved on.”

Tracker continued to hold her revolver steady.

A crossover point, Tracker remembered the Mystics had told her.

So the barge moved on.

Suddenly, up ahead on the side of the banks stood a figure. As they approached the figure waved frantically.

“Stop!! Please!!”

Tracker could hear the figure shout as they grew nearer.

The Ferryman slowed and steered the barge near the bank, as the man quickly hopped on board. The man was very large and intimidating and wore shabby clothes with chains wrapped around his wrists and ankles.

“For awhile I thought I was going to have to wait an eternity,” the man spoke real friendly like.

“How far are you going?” The Ferryman called out from the barge house.

“Not far, I believe,” the man replied, “my name is Elton. I was a slave. I was captured and taken aboard a sailing vessel. A slave ship. Several days out to sea, the ship was caught up in a storm and sunk. Suddenly, I found myself standing on the side of the banks of this river. Thank you for giving me safe passage.”

“Safe passage to where?” Tracker asked.

Elton pleasantly smiled, “To Hell, of course.”

Next: Part Twenty-One

“The Judged”

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