The Lost Level by Brian Keene Read Free Book Online Page A

my inner self, which is the key
to successful meditation. Instead, I found myself thinking back over all of the
occult lore and spells I’d learned and was somewhat stunned to discover that I
knew nothing helpful. Oh, I could create a circle of protection to guard me
from an evil spirit, or I could bind a low–level demon, perhaps, but so far, I
hadn’t encountered the need for either of those skills here in this strange
place. It was frustrating. Why had I never learned how to dowse for water or
how to create fire via magical means? Those would have been far more useful
given my current predicament. Instead, I would have to rely on my wilderness
survival knowledge and my skills with swords and firearms. I doubted a magical
circle of protection would help against the snake men I’d seen the day before.
    Although I didn’t feel the urge, I decided to relieve myself. I went
outside of the cave to do my business, on the off–chance that I might have to
sleep there again should a better shelter not prove viable, and I didn’t want
it reeking of piss. I stood next to a boulder and unzipped my fly. My kidneys
throbbed and my stream was weak—more evidence of dehydration. Resolving to find
food and water before anything else, I collected my few belongings and started
back down the treacherous hills.
    The first difficulty I encountered was freeing up my hands to
climb. The pistol was safely ensconced in my waistband again, resting against
the small of my back, but the sword proved more difficult and unwieldy.
Finally, I fashioned a makeshift sling out of the cell phone charger wires and
cables I’d salvaged from the Jeep, tying one end around the hilt and blade of
the sword, and then looping the middle around my neck. The weight wasn’t enough
to choke me, and it freed up my hands. The only drawback was the steel sword
bouncing against my back and shoulders with each step that I took. That quickly
became annoying. I had tied the plastic bag to my belt loops again, and it
rustled as I climbed. Although game had been scarce in the rocky hills, save
for the bird, lizard, and a few insects, that noise would scare away any
potential food once I was back amongst the trees. Worse, the bag was starting
to get holes in it. I would have to find another means of carrying my gear soon
before the plastic tore to the point of uselessness.
    I made it back down to the lowlands without incident, but the
physical exertion left me winded and dizzy. I paused to rest in the shade of a
particularly large palm tree, but the weakness in my limbs didn’t abate.
Despite a careful search, I couldn’t find the trail I’d taken the day before.
Cursing, I untied my sword and used it to hack at the curtain of vegetation.
Insects swarmed me, buzzing in my face. My progress was slow.
    As I slashed through a particularly thick tangle of vines,
several of them wrapped around the blade and tried tugging it from my grasp.
They were insistent, and their strength surprised me. Gritting my teeth, I
wrenched the sword free and attacked, slicing the vines into ribbons. They
withdrew, dripping greenish sap. The severed tendrils wriggled and curled on
the ground, oozing into the dirt. I prodded one with the tip of my sword. It
curled weakly around the blade, but was easy enough to dislodge. They twitched
for a few moments, and then lay still.
    It occurred to me how utterly alone I was in this place. I’d
never been an extrovert, but I’d had a few friends and a loving, caring family,
and I missed them now. Worse, I just missed people in general. Back home, it
had been nothing for me to go a few days without speaking on the phone or
emailing someone, especially when I was involved in my studies. The difference
was, had I been lonely back home, I could have reached out to someone. Here, I
had no such option. Unless I wanted to initiate contact with the snake men, or
conjure up the ghost of John LeMay, I was alone. The realization left me feeling
gutted and