The Last Roughneck Descends

The darkness in this car is relentless. Not that I was expecting a limo ride to my new job, though being strapped to the wall of a pitch black tin can with twenty strangers seems like it might be overkill.

I have no clue how fast we’re dropping but my stomach’s been in my throat since the hatch closed. It must be terribly fast. I press my palm to the steel restraint panel and I can feel every vibration of the pod. It’s trembling more than I am.

In here, it’s cold and quiet. No one speaks. Someone’s nervous breathing catches my attention, another man swallows. There’s the faint echo of two dozen anxious hearts pounding.

In the darkness above me, I hear a low metallic groan. Something rattles in the dark.


The pod lurches to one side at an impact that should have torn it in two. We’re spinning, I know it. BANG ! BANG! The steel under my hand shakes faster, a jackhammer; my head, though restrained, slams against its cushions over and over. The bangs become roars. My leg is suddenly warm, and wet.

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