Chapter Five: Lightning

Michael Halcomb, the young archaeologist who has found the book, experiences it's effects.

 

Chapter Five

Lightning

 

Michael Halcomb awoke to a darkly lit bedroom with one window looking out to a small village below and a single nightstand in the corner. He rubbed his eyes and tried to remember how he got here but all he drew was a blank.

From downstairs he could hear the sounds of glasses clinging on the wooden tables and the many voices of conversations being held. He slowly got out of bed and almost stumbled to the ground. He felt as if he had been a sleep for weeks. Every step he took echoed in his brain as if he were hearing them from deep under water.

As he made his way downstairs the stale smell of smoke, beer and body odor snapped him back to reality. The floor of the bar was covered in spit, peanut shells, cigarette butts and the occasional broken bottle. In the far corner was an old piano currently pumping out old time jazz music?

He made his way to the bar and sat down next to a couple of rough looking men. The waitress was a slim, twenty three year old redhead with a great a*s and equally amazing tits.

            “What can I get you tonight,” she asked in a southern like accent.

            “Whiskey, please,” he said. “Where am I?”

            “You are in the Boars Head,” the lady said while giving him a curios glance, “the finest bar in Sloughton.”

            “Sloughton,” he said amazed.

            Sloughton was about 300 miles west of the desert he had come from. He looked around puzzled and somewhat scared. He almost asked her how he got here but then realized he would probably come off sounded like a crazy drunk and then be thrown out.

Instead he took the glass of whiskey drank it down and said, “Long night.”

            One of the men he was sitting next to glanced over. “You new around these parts,” he slurred.

            “Somewhat,” Michael replied and motioned for another drink.

            “Where you from?”

“Little place called Cherry Lake, past the Eagles Mountain in the north.”

“A little far from home don’t you think,” the man replied.

“I guess,” Michael said and sipped his second drink.

            The man he was talking to looked to be about 260 pounds and very, very drunk.

He could smell the alcohol emanating from the sweat dripping down his forehead. It looked like it took all the strength he could muster just took keep himself upright on the stool.

            The man on the barstool stared at Michael then finally asked, “What brings you to Sloughton?”

            “Don’t really know,” he said, “last thing I remember I was in the desert the next thing I know I found myself waking up in a bed upstairs.”

            “Sound’s like a good night to me,” the man laughed.

            Michael finished his drink and began to get up when the man grabbed him by the wrist. His eyes glazed over and his breathing heavy.

            “Where you goin,” he said, “I ain’t done talking to you boy,” the man said.

            “I’m sorry, I’m feeling a little lightheaded, and I’m just gonna head on back upstairs.”

            “How about you just sit back down and we keep on talking.”

            Michael took a hold of the man's hand and lightly brushed it away. The man got up from the barstool and stumbled a little bit but managed to keep his balance. Before Michael knew what was going on he saw the man's fist coming for his face. It hit him square in the nose and a hot pain shot through his head. Blood began to gush from the broken nose and caused the peanuts on the floor to slightly rise in the pool that congealed at his side.

            At the sound of the punch all the patrons of the bar went silent and the waitress in the back let out a loud scream.

            The man picked up Michael and prepared to hit him again when he noticed a white flash in his eyes. Michael tried to focus but once again the voices filled his head. No one can stop you, it said and then Michael lost all control of his thoughts and motions.

In an instant he could feel the anger rise within him, first his feet, then his hands. Just as the man clocked his hand back to strike again Michael swung his arms forward. A bright light and a loud crack immediately filled the room.

            The man was flung across the room and smoke began to rise from his beer stained jacket. People began to run for the exits and more screams began to fill the bar. Michael turned towards their direction and muttered something incomprehensible. Another flash of light and all the lights in the bar went out. Soon Michael was muttering words at an amazing speed and with every sentence he completed another bolt of lighting shot forth from his hand.

            First the bar full of glasses and liquor exploded in a shower of alcohol and glass that then began to ignite with the heat of the bolt. Then all the windows in the bar shattered down upon the room. Michael could feel the energy rush through him but yet, he was completely unaware of his actions. One, two, then three and four, people falling around him one by one till the bar was nothing left but a charred ruin of bodies and wood. Michael stumbled outside and managed to walk a few miles before collapsing on the side of the road, steam rising from the palms of his hands.

Author's Note

Last chapter I can put up. Due to the fact that if I am to get it published it wouldn't make sense, and I don't think I am allowed to put the entire book up. I figured I would end after this chapter just so you can get a little taste of the powers the book holds. Hopefully it gets you somewhat interested so that when it is completely done you will go out and buy it. If all goes wrong however, and the choose to not publish the book for some reason I will then put the whole thing up to see what you guys think.