Read Online Eldorado by Jay Allan Storey - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Jay Allan Storey
Tags: Fiction
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England – man-made slabs of rock projecting starkly from the surrounding wild landscape.
He almost laughed when he considered the parallels. Like Stonehenge, the giant pillars were monuments to a dead civilization. He wondered if someday the purpose of the line would be forgotten and if, as with Stonehenge, scholars would theorize about its function.
Approaching more closely he saw that the columns, and even the rail-bed itself, were plastered with ancient graffiti – a testament to the days when spray paint, like food, shelter, clothing and transportation, had been plentiful and inexpensive.
Along with spray-paint and Sky-train, there were a million things once so common as to be taken for granted that could only be dreamed of now. Some of the graffiti was in the form of slogans. One said: This Sucks! Another, scrawled and badly faded, said: Welcome to Die-off!
To know how far he was from his goal at King George he needed to find the nearest station. Disintegrated as the line was, he hoped the stations would still bear some indication of their original names. He could match these names to the ones recorded on his map.
He approached the nearest column, but stopped short when he heard voices. He crouched behind some scrub to have a look. In the space beside the column was a semi-permanent camp, with a fire pit and a few shabby tents. The Sky-train rail-bed above provided shelter from the weather; there were probably camps all along the line. Several people sat around a fire with a metal pot hanging over it. One of them, a ragged middle-aged man, unexpectedly glanced up and spotted him. The man pointed, jumped up, and yelled something. The others turned to look.
“Shit,” said Richard, and took off. Several of the men chased him for half a mile. Finally, apparently satisfied that he wasn’t coming back, they abandoned the pursuit.
He hiked parallel to the line at a distance of about a quarter mile – close enough to keep it in sight, but far enough away to minimize the chance of contact with other people. He wasn't sure what he would do when he reached a station. There would almost certainly be people living in the station structures, which would provide excellent shelter and be easy to defend. At some point he’d have no choice but to approach close enough to find some hint of a station's name. It was a problem he’d tackle when it arose.
For a long time he moved through open fields, passing the occasional tree or clump of brush, seeing no structures other than the Sky-train track. After hiking for an hour he began to encounter the crumbling ruins of what were once buildings, roads, and parking lots. Eventually he spotted what he guessed must once have been a light industrial manufacturing complex. Sliding garage doors, probably once loading bays, were spaced evenly around the outside.
He approached it warily, guessing that wherever there was shelter, there would be people. He’d planned to make a wide berth around it, but as he passed he heard the sound of laughter. His instincts told him to ignore it and continue on his way, but his curiosity took over. He couldn't resist investigating.
He entered the grounds and followed along the rear walls toward the laughter. Within a few minutes it was clear that the action was just around the corner from where he stood.
The hair on the back of his neck stood up as he realized that the laughter was mingled with a woman’s screams. This was no innocent fun – he’d walked into an attack. Again he told himself to back away and leave this place, but he couldn’t just leave without helping her.
He crouched down and poked his head around the wall. A cluster of small buildings faced an inner courtyard. Near the northeast corner, no more than thirty feet away, two men were attacking a lone woman. A bicycle and a backpack lay on the ground nearby. Near the backpack lay a hunting knife. The woman's pants were undone and her shirt torn open. One man held her arms behind
He almost laughed when he considered the parallels. Like Stonehenge, the giant pillars were monuments to a dead civilization. He wondered if someday the purpose of the line would be forgotten and if, as with Stonehenge, scholars would theorize about its function.
Approaching more closely he saw that the columns, and even the rail-bed itself, were plastered with ancient graffiti – a testament to the days when spray paint, like food, shelter, clothing and transportation, had been plentiful and inexpensive.
Along with spray-paint and Sky-train, there were a million things once so common as to be taken for granted that could only be dreamed of now. Some of the graffiti was in the form of slogans. One said: This Sucks! Another, scrawled and badly faded, said: Welcome to Die-off!
To know how far he was from his goal at King George he needed to find the nearest station. Disintegrated as the line was, he hoped the stations would still bear some indication of their original names. He could match these names to the ones recorded on his map.
He approached the nearest column, but stopped short when he heard voices. He crouched behind some scrub to have a look. In the space beside the column was a semi-permanent camp, with a fire pit and a few shabby tents. The Sky-train rail-bed above provided shelter from the weather; there were probably camps all along the line. Several people sat around a fire with a metal pot hanging over it. One of them, a ragged middle-aged man, unexpectedly glanced up and spotted him. The man pointed, jumped up, and yelled something. The others turned to look.
“Shit,” said Richard, and took off. Several of the men chased him for half a mile. Finally, apparently satisfied that he wasn’t coming back, they abandoned the pursuit.
He hiked parallel to the line at a distance of about a quarter mile – close enough to keep it in sight, but far enough away to minimize the chance of contact with other people. He wasn't sure what he would do when he reached a station. There would almost certainly be people living in the station structures, which would provide excellent shelter and be easy to defend. At some point he’d have no choice but to approach close enough to find some hint of a station's name. It was a problem he’d tackle when it arose.
For a long time he moved through open fields, passing the occasional tree or clump of brush, seeing no structures other than the Sky-train track. After hiking for an hour he began to encounter the crumbling ruins of what were once buildings, roads, and parking lots. Eventually he spotted what he guessed must once have been a light industrial manufacturing complex. Sliding garage doors, probably once loading bays, were spaced evenly around the outside.
He approached it warily, guessing that wherever there was shelter, there would be people. He’d planned to make a wide berth around it, but as he passed he heard the sound of laughter. His instincts told him to ignore it and continue on his way, but his curiosity took over. He couldn't resist investigating.
He entered the grounds and followed along the rear walls toward the laughter. Within a few minutes it was clear that the action was just around the corner from where he stood.
The hair on the back of his neck stood up as he realized that the laughter was mingled with a woman’s screams. This was no innocent fun – he’d walked into an attack. Again he told himself to back away and leave this place, but he couldn’t just leave without helping her.
He crouched down and poked his head around the wall. A cluster of small buildings faced an inner courtyard. Near the northeast corner, no more than thirty feet away, two men were attacking a lone woman. A bicycle and a backpack lay on the ground nearby. Near the backpack lay a hunting knife. The woman's pants were undone and her shirt torn open. One man held her arms behind
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