Excerpt
“Pendragon, go in for Reedy,”
Coach Miller said.
Jordan skated out and almost
immediately grabbed the puck from a rebound shot. He took two whacks at it; the second went
wide. Over the next minute, the Wildcats
did a great job making the Cornell defense move out of its box set. But they also failed to get the puck to the
open spaces after they went to all that trouble.
Nine
minutes to go.
Castro passed the puck to Barker
who took a shot at the New Hampshire goal; Cox blocked and tipped it out of
play. Grego flashed Jordan a grin. Andy winked.
A shadow in Jordan’s peripheral
vision. Falna again.
Whack!
The
defenseman knocked Grego down.
Andy,
you’re too close. STOP! Jordan didn’t have time to yell the words.
In the next instant, Jordan
watched with horror as Andy, not aware that Grego had fallen down, skated over
his wrist.
Blood gushed over the ice.
Jordan dropped to his teammate’s
side, but didn’t move him, and blood spattered over the front of his sweater
and across his face. Grego’s lips
twisted in agony, whistles blew, and the Athletic Trainer skated out with a
towel as emergency staff rushed to help Grego off the ice. Blood pooled everywhere with Grego trying to
stop the flow with his fingers. As they
got the large man to his feet, Jordan trailed slightly behind, staring at the
huge and numerous blood drops left in his wake.
Jordan heard gunshots in his
mind. He recalled shattering glass. So much
blood. I’m not on Avalon, I’m on
Earth. These aren’t the Scorchers.
Andy skated over. “I didn’t fucking see him.” His face had blanched white. His eyes looked watery, emotional.
“It’s not your fault,” Jordan
said, voice desperate. “He got knocked
down and—” He shrugged helplessly,
feeling his throat tighten.
“I’m feeling dizzy,” Andy
said. “I can handle a little blood, but
this is making me sick.”
Jordan held him. Andy’s eyes brimmed with tears of
frustration.
The crowd in Lynah Rink dropped
to a whisper. Flashbulbs fired off from
behind the glass. Then the Athletic
Trainers and Coaches whisked Joe off to the locker room and another emergency
team that stood by to assist.
Jordan stared in awe at the
massive amount of blood that lay in red pools over the surface of the white
ice. Red and white—Cornell colors, only
seeing it like this was awful. Then he
heard an eerie whispering in his mind.
He did not understand the words, but it left him feeling chilled.
“There’s so much blood,” Andy
murmured, blinking and in shock.
A moment later, skaters appeared
carrying jugs which they used to apply yellow disinfectant. The color created a huge puddle of
orange-red that seemed to grow wider by the second as they pushed it around,
not really knowing what to do about it.
“It looks like a crime scene,”
Paul stated, joining them. Melancholy
layered thick upon his tone. “Like
someone gutted a pig.”
Jordan swallowed, unable to pull
his eyes away.
“Do you think he’s going to be
okay?” Andy asked him. Jordan saw his
friend was hurting, feeling bad.
Jordan tried to focus and
squeezed Andy’s shoulder reassuringly.
“Yeah. He’ll be fine. It wasn’t your fault.”
Townley skated over. “Just spoke with the refs. They’re trying to get the ice cleaned up to
resume play. Just sit tight and don’t
worry about Joe. He’s a really tough
guy. And don’t lose morale either,
men. We’re keeping the pressure on the
Wildcats, and I think we can pull this out,” he said. “It’s been fucking rough out there—I know,
especially with what just happened. No
one wants to see a puddle of blood on the ice, but we all get hurt. Hockey’s a rough sport.” He looked at Jordan. “Good job rookie, but go change your jersey
and wash your face. You’ve got blood
all over you.”
Jordan looked down at himself and
skated off to the locker room to grab another sweater from the Equipment
Director. When he returned, they were
still cleaning the ice—the stain covered fully half of one side of the rink
now.
Jordan’s fingers trembled. He kept his hands balled into a fist so no
one would notice.
“Blood has a lot of color in it,”
Klaes remarked.
Jordan nodded, thinking the same
thing.
“A video of this is already on
YouTube,” Paul said with a misplaced laugh. “Want to take a look? Andy, you look like you’re gonna cry in
it.” He offered Andy his smartphone with
a snicker, but Andy didn’t take it.
Jordan took a seat next to his friend and said nothing. But he did glare at Paul.
Autumn has arrived in
New York, and Jordan Pendragon attends his first classes as a freshman at
Cornell. Born with a brilliant mathematical mind, he balances life as a
research assistant with that of a student athlete.
But Jordan also has a
quest. He must find the Black Tower, a monolithic edifice housing a thing that
defines the very structure of the universe. Jordan believes it is buried
somewhere in Antarctica under miles of prehistoric ice.
October finds Jordan
earning a starting position with the Cornell hockey team. But a dark cloud
gathers over his rookie season. Unexplained deaths, whispers of a cannibal
cult, a prophecy, and a stone known only as the Oculus, cast a shadow over his
athletic ambitions. It is the start of a terrifying journey down a path of
mystery, murder, and to a confrontation with an Evil more ancient than the
stars.
Free short story that's
a lead-in to this book series: https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/236636
Michael Offutt graduated
from the University of Idaho in 1994 with a Bachelor's degree in English.
He keeps a blog and
would appreciate a visit or two even if all you want to do is say hi.
Art relating to
books: http://slckismet.blogspot.com/p/my-artwork.html
Twitter: @MichaelOffutt
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