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Back The Trickster Save as PDF
Chapters (74)
  1. The Trickster
  2. Copyright
  3. Dedication
  4. Contents
  5. Preface to the 20th anniversary edition
  6. Introduction
  7. 1
  8. 2
  9. 3
  10. 4
  11. 5
  12. 6
  13. 7
  14. 8
  15. 9
  16. 10
  17. 11
  18. 12
  19. 13
  20. 14
  21. 15
  22. 16
  23. 17
  24. 18
  25. 19
  26. 20
  27. 21
  28. 22
  29. 23
  30. 24
  31. 25
  32. 26
  33. 27
  34. 28
  35. 29
  36. 30
  37. 31
  38. 32
  39. 33
  40. 34
  41. 35
  42. 36
  43. 37
  44. 38
  45. 39
  46. 40
  47. 41
  48. 42
  49. 43
  50. 44
  51. 45
  52. 46
  53. 47
  54. 48
  55. 49
  56. 50
  57. 51
  58. 52
  59. 53
  60. 54
  61. 55
  62. 56
  63. 57
  64. 58
  65. 59
  66. 60
  67. 61
  68. 62
  69. Keep Reading
  70. FURNACE
  71. Acknowledgements
  72. About the Author
  73. ALSO BY THE AUTHOR
  74. About the Publisher

Just the simple action of letting go. That’s all it would take. He felt his arm ache, the weight of his body pulling at the muscles as he stared dumbly down the face of the rock. Beneath his fingers he felt a vibration. Slight, but definite, and its throbbing snapped his attention back to the rock that held him. It was starting to quiver, vibrating with a deep internal pulse that was increasing in waves.

Sam knew what that meant. He jammed his hand deeper into the crack and adjusted his weight, bracing himself for this piece of bad timing. If his mind had been contemplating the voluntary release of its life, his body had other plans. Its muscles and sinews tightened and adjusted, altering themselves subtly like a cat’s to best hold onto the rock and life.

Sam looked up as the vibrating turned to thundering, and the train he had felt coming burst out of the tunnel entrance. From down here, the engine was massive, its yellow-and-black striped snout pushing through the curtain of falling snow, its thrumming contents filling the air in Sam’s ears with a roar. He ground his teeth as his numb bloody toes were being shaken from their sliver of a hold and he wormed them back into the sharp rock with a grunt. The cars being pulled started to roll out of the tunnel, red and black, with their plain CP Rail insignia of a forward-pointing white chevron mocking Sam like salutes as they passed. How long would this take, for Christ’s sake?

This train could be a mile in length. It would be an age. Billy would know how long it would take. He always knew. He could squint up at the tunnel entrance nearest Silver and tell his Dad exactly how far away it was, and how long the train would take to reach them. But Billy wasn’t here.

The thought of his son made Sam ache with longing. Before he could block it he saw that face again, the way he had last seen it, looking up at him from the gory mess of Bart’s remains, and Sam wailed out loud with despair into the thunder of the train’s bellow.

Then the thought again, cutting through his pain like light. Let go. Just let go of the rock. Your family will never love you again. Never. It’s over. He closed his eyes and felt the stabbing of the cramp that was gnawing at his arms and legs and summoned his resolve.