Höllenbadt: Book two of the Torus Saga

by Berg, Michael

  “That is what the authorities want too John. They want people to become stagnated in a way where they see progression only through status, but I suppose, like you said, that is not so relevant anymore.”

  “Maybe. But I don’t think they would ever give in. You can bet they are working on getting rid of the Agent. It is just too risky though, and he has a hold on them with the viruses. They cannot even try to oppose him with that amplifier. Even their most conventional weapons rely on processors somewhere and he can hit them too. They are powerless, more or less.”

  “That is a bit weird John…powerless, more or less. It is a contradiction. If there is nothing, or powerless, than it can neither be more or less John. So perhaps, there is a suggestion, though only from you, that power or potential is always there. ‘More or less’ is acknowledging this as the leading words to the next progression, say an immediate correction.”

  “Um…yeah, I guess you are right. You get me thinking at times Carmel.”

  “Oh, it’s just conversation John. These are just my thoughts. What happens next is anyone’s guess.”

  Frieda let out a light whinny and began to slow, “I think she wants a break Carmel. We’ll stop just over there beyond the trees.”

  “We have covered about five miles since leaving town. From what I can recall, it is about another twenty miles to the transit line leading southeast. Once we get there, we need to keep going that way for a while. I have heard it is not too pretty in the southern end of Nevada and down towards Las Vegas.”

  “It will take some time John. Those distances and places are much further apart travelling this way. It will be an adventure of sorts and I do like the thrill it has to offer, but…”

  “We need to stay alert once we get to the transit line. Some of them have been known to have people living inside and if they are anything like some I saw on the way to your house, then we need to avoid them.”

  “Are they the ‘bandits’ you spoke about?”

  “I don’t know. I just used that word to describe what I was thinking – meaning there could be desperate people in gangs.”

  “It has happened before John, in human history at times.”

  “It cannot be all bad though. There are bound to be people who still have their heads up. That too is human nature.”

  “It is. I think I …we are such people, and Frieda such a horse.” She was only a few feet away from them, feeding off the grass they were sitting on. Carmel reached into her bag and offered her a piece of carrot, which Frieda immediately came over to eat – her soft nose brushing against her palm. She gave her a pat with the other hand, “such a lovely nose Frieda.”

  A few miles on they came across a deserted farm and decided it was best to stay there the night. Before sunset, they searched around the house, sheds and barn for the best place to stay. The barn was almost full of old machinery and had no room, so they decided the best place would be in the shed and to stay close by Frieda for the night. Whilst Carmel was organising some food, John gathered what he could to make a bed for Frieda. He had gathered some old straw he found around the place, some old blankets, and a bucket to put some feed in. “Here you go Frieda,” he said as he finished preparing the bed for the horse. She gave a slight sound, as she knew he was speaking to her. When he turned, he saw some old parts and electronics stacked on a shelf against the far wall of the shed.

  “How are you going?”

  “Good John. I’ll get some food. Check out that gear over there. You might find something.”

  “My thoughts exactly.”

  “It is mostly parts, so not many complete units here,” he called from the shelf. He continued to rummage around to see if there was anything of use, but it all appeared to be in such poor condition or for diverse purpose, he struggled to find anything. When he did see an old alternator and a solenoid, he decided they might come in use. By the time he had picked them up, he knew he was right. “Carmel. I have an idea.”

  “What is it John?”

  “See this?” he had returned to her side. “It’s an alternator, and a solenoid. Now…if I can find a light fitting from somewhere around here – the house most likely, then I can make this work, providing it still does work.”

  “And you can connect it up to my little steam engine?”

  “Exactly. We will have a light. Also, if we find anything else that could work, we might be able to run that too.”

  “That’s fantastic! See my steam engine is already proving its worth to us.”

  “Indeed. I’ll just go and look for a light and come back as soon as I find one.”

  “Ok John. We can eat when you get back.”

  He returned about ten minutes later with a few light fittings, a few lamps, and a bag, “I found these so I though it best we take them all.”

  “Good idea. You are always reliable for such things John.”

  “I’ve also found this. I had a look through the barn and there are mostly just the big farm machines. They are of no use to us. But this was stashed in a cupboard – it looked really old. It is a bag of coal.”

  “They stopped burning coal long ago.”

  “Yeah, so it must have been there at least forty years.”

  “And we can use it in the steam engine.”

  “Not all the time though. We need to save it as best we can. As we travel and come across more and more people, fuel will get harder to find. I’ll go and get some wood now before it gets dark. We should save the coal – there is plenty of wood around here.” He returned a while later with an armful of wood.

  “Here, eat this while you work.”

  He ate as he worked. He connected the light to the alternator, which also had a wired switch, and then he connected it to the solenoid. The most difficult part was to then attach the solenoid to the drive shaft in the engine and keep it in balance. He tried a few items he found as he went back and forth to the bench against the wall, until he found a bracket he was able to fashion into something suitable.

  Carmel insisted that he stop then and finish his meal before they tried the engine. “I’ll get the fire going while you eat. It won’t take long. See how beautiful the little door is John? I worked and worked it to bring it up so well, it was very oxidised.”

  “Mm, it’s great.”

  She lit the fire and then sat back beside him, “It’ll be ready in a few minutes and then you can switch on the light.”

  When the gauge on the engine indicated it had built up enough steam, John tried the light. “Ok, here goes.” He connected the last wire between the solenoid and alternator, and then counted, “three, two, one.” The light flickered for a few seconds and then as the engine let out a slight hiss, it became stable. They had steam-powered light.

  “It’s beautiful John. You are so clever.”

  “It is, and so are you Carmel.”

  She couldn’t help herself, so she let out a couple of steam whistles – drawing Frieda’s attention from the feed bucket.

  Their light, a single light, was the only one for miles – they were the only people for miles. As the night went on, it was lit by the stars, yet dark without a moon. Around them there were no signs of human life, there were just the elements in progression. A faint call from a creature, the sound of water dropping into puddle, and the slight rustle of breeze amongst the gathered fallen leaves, were the only sounds amidst the silence.

  “You know I think in my ways John.”

  “Hmm yes.”

  “Well our cart has four wheels and so does my steam engine – but they are parts of the engine, not wheels for running along the ground.”

  “Yes.”

  “Then together that makes eight. It has been eight years since we first met. I like eights John. They have no beginning and no end.”

  “Ok Carmel. How about we eat now? I’m hungry and we should make use of the earliest part of the day.”

  “Alright then.”

  Again, they started the day off amongst the mist as they rod
e out from the farm. They cast fallen leaves into the air from great Oaks standing along their path as they left - Frieda was just short of a gallop as John urged her on. Carmel and John laughed as they rode for the entire quarter mile and when they had come to a stop at the gate to the road away from the farm, Frieda was billowing clouds of steam into the chilled air from her nose as she stood there catching breath.

  Ahead lay a seven-mile journey through the restored forest of sequoia and other pine, before the last leg to the transit line. The forest formed a distinct line of tall trees covered in mist as they approached a few minutes later, and as they drew nearer, it began to loom over them as it stretched into the distance, to then be lost in the mist.

  At the threshold, they stopped to give Frieda a rest – Carmel was standing beside the base of a large tree, “They are so beautiful John. All this majesty – you can feel their presence. It is invigorating.”

  “They are majestic – you are right. I loved spending time in the forests in Alaska, though not as tall as these. You get a feeling there is so much going on around you, yet it all seems still and silent mostly.”

  “I sense that too John.”

  Just inside the forest a short while later, they turned back to see the light of the gap where the road entered, slowly getting smaller, as they continued on. “It’s getting pretty dark in here. And the weather looks like it is not really going to lift much – it is still cold. We will need to go slow and take it easy.”

  “Yes, I agree John.”

  The trunks of the sequoias formed a hallway of misty columns as they went deeper into the forest. Their density grew so as to make it seem they were in a great cavern, with its roof a shroud of unknown secrets out of sight. When an owl suddenly flew past very close overhead, it startled them, including Frieda – she broke into a pace for a moment, but then settled as John calmed her down.

  “An owl in the day time. I suppose it is dark in here.”

  “They have been seen as wisdom John.”

  “Yeah. Many things have, whether or not it means anything…beautiful though. It was a bit difficult to see with it being white, in this mist.”

  “Yes and such flowing movement. Maybe people saw the owl as a reminder to them of wisdom. Anyway, it is a positive thing and such a beautiful creature.”

  As they went on the temperature began to drop. “Gee, it’s getting cold John.”

  “Yeah I noticed too. Maybe they are using HAARP again to try for a long winter struggle against the Agent.”

  “Yes, they have brought long winters.”

  Within an hour, the mist had given way to a steady wind, and light snow had begun to fall. Overhead, the snowflakes tumbled into view from above, falling between the branches of the trees in a magical sight to Carmel. She had never been in a place like this before and she was enchanted. The soft caress of each flake as it landed on her face, and some on her tongue, which she tasted – light and fluffy, melting in an instant. John watched her, fascinated with seeing her encounter snowfall in a forest – something he had experienced many times.

  “They even taste magical…well in my imagination.”

  “They do…I think we’ll stop for a minute, I’ll just put a blanket on Frieda that will keep her from getting wet.” He steered her to the side of the road, by instinct – they had encountered no other people on the road so far that day.

  “How much further do you think? You said it was seven miles though the forest.”

  “I reckon we are about half way. It has been slow, but we are in no real hurry and we cannot risk Frieda too much in this weather.”

  “She’s so lovely. I’ll give her a carrot.”

  “I think we should see what it is like when we get to the edge of the forest on the other side. If this snow sets in even only a little, it will make progress more difficult. At least with cover from the trees, we will not be exposed to the weather out in the fields.”

  When they reached the edge of the forest, there was three inches of snow on the ground. “I still think we stay here for the night. There is only an hour or two of light left. If we stay here, we can set ourselves up well enough for the night during the remaining daylight.”

  “I agree John. It is the most sensible thing. Frieda needs some cover too.”

  In a grove amidst the last few trees at the edge of the forest, the glow from their small fire softly shone on the timbers surrounding them. They were all asleep together. Even Frieda was very close by, with her head lying just at the wheel of the cart Carmel and John slept in. He had strung up a tarpaulin found at the farm when he was looking for blankets, so this kept the snowfall off them during the night.

  By morning it was covered in snow, but only about an inch thick and so they would still be able to continue on that day. Frieda again was enjoying herself as she kicked up clouds of powder snow when John had her at pace. Then he slowed them, pulling on the reigns to get her to ease off as they approached a left-hand bend ahead.

  As they talked with Frieda at a trot, a feral dog suddenly leaped from the brush growing beside the road and went for her. She immediately reared to a stop and stood, as the dog approached, growling. John looked for something to use to break up the situation and grabbed a stick of firewood they had on the cart, to use as a club.

  The dog was almost at Frieda by the time he started yelling and threatening it with the stick. It wouldn’t back off. He kept going at the dog, and even managed to hit it once when it started jumping around. It attacked him snapping at his lower legs to bring him down, so he jumped, but slipped on some icy snow. The dog immediately went for him, lunging forward, desperate and hungry, its teeth behind curled snarling lips, but John rolled over and dog missed his target. It turned around not willing to give in, and lunged again. This time he was ready and as it came within inches of him, he struck it with the club, sending it yelping and scurrying away with a limp – John had broken one of its legs.

  By this time, Carmel had settled Frieda and was holding her bridle, talking to her softly. “Bloody thing. Vicious,” was all John could say as he straightened himself out.

  “Are you Ok?”

  “Yeah, nothing bad. Is Frieda Ok?”

  “Much better. We should go on as there could be other dogs about.”

  “Yeah. I saw a few wild dogs up in Alaska in recent years. They are fairly dangerous in packs.”

  “The transit line will take us down the valley past Sacramento and we need to follow it all the way to Bakersfield before we can go east. That way we can stay away from the higher mountains and go for the pass through to Mojave.”

  “It still seems such a long way John.”

  “It is. It will take us about a month.”

  “What about the desert after that John?”

  “I know, but at least it will be winter by then, so the temperatures will be down, but a lot warmer than the mountains.”

  They had been travelling the transit link for three days by driving Frieda and the cart along the service road built underneath for its entire length. The tunnel twenty meters above them kept some of the weather at bay, so Frieda was dry in the snow that had turned to rain at the lower altitudes. For three days it had rained as they plodded along, without seeing anyone or any buildings. John talked about what the others had done eight years before – how they had gone to China, and how he had used flux mechanics. Carmel was enthusiastic in her responses and offered her own thoughts on the matters. “Their journey was similar to ours and all other people. It was and is one of discovery. Isn’t that thrilling? Seeing the thrill behind simple things is feeling in touch, and all else just disappears during those moments. No concerns, no fear, just being alive. I think they were learning that feeling this leads to all the rest and to really feel alive is about being alert to all, not just some.”

  “Not like the way the authorities want it to be.”

  “No. They want to hush this feeling so people forget. All the time, money this and money that, and efficiency here – i
t all came undone so very fast. Money was…is...um, a tool. It is one of the many things we use. Water is much more essential, but for so long, the water was dirty and full of chemicals.”

  “It still is in many places I have seen. The Agent has brought a lot of damage to some places. People there live almost in muck, and they go to the city to get water. It is the only place he lets it flow, but it is not that much better. Maintenance of plumbing systems is not his thing.”

  “He has brought so much pain. I think he has a lot more he would want to give people. I saw a look in his eyes…he is a maniac.”

  “Well, let’s hope he gets stopped before he can do something even more terrible. Killing all those people recently was bad enough – I can only imagine he is planning worse.”

  “Try not to John. I am trying to avoid imagining such things. It is best we do not give it any of our energy I think.”

  “Yes. I agree there.”

  Chapter 8

  ‘So small. So small they are to become nothing,’ he thought as he worked on cracking the codes required to access the operating controls for the machine. ‘With this, I will send them cascading…yes, cascading over the falls of oblivion. They will not be present then as they will never be. Such extermination of self and of soul must be my delivery of their salvation. I am not evil. I toil not with such things. I am just me. There is no issue other than my capacity to fulfil the desires of my amplifier, so starved it is of actualisation. When I have this complete, then I will give it birth and it will arise from conception into reality and so reality shall fall into misconception…and oh, forgetting, thus nothing and all traces shall be so cleanly wiped away. Not like the blood those idiots were meant to clean up. Ah, then I am most avid in my hatred, for you see, I cannot fail this time. I am so defined to become the Agent I am – the Agent of...their seduction into destruction.’ He was beginning to show signs of yet more utter contempt and graphically, of a mind on the verge of destruction of itself. Madness was not a rage to him – it was his condition, as it had always been since before he was born. For such people do not grow into these things in a life as short as a human life, despite the extra years nano technology offered. He was merely an incarnation of this…this madness, with its incapacity to relate at any level to people, and incapacity to see the elemental life and forces around them. As there were anomalies in space, so too are there in manifest of sentient beings upon the Earth and as such, such anomalies when artificially manifested with instability they interrupt the flow of waveforms.