John Cold and theWeather MachineIn this extract from his new pulp novel, Ernest Lewicki(@ernestthepole) introduces us to super soldier of the fourthmillennium John Cold. Cold by name, cold by nature, ourhero is about to be made an offer he cannot refuse..MAN'S WORLD
At the eve of the fourth millennium there was a bordertown called Kirshevo. It stood in the southeasterncorner of the Neon Tsar's’ domains. Just north of it, theUral Mountains sank into the green jungle, never toreappear.Coming to it by the main road from the west, one firsthad to cross the banana and coconut plantations. Then,an extended perimeter of watchtowers appeared.Some distance behind them was a ring of dilapidatedwooden and tin buildings squatting against theconcrete walls of a fort. This was Kirshevo, and nomatter how many anti-aircraft guns were on the wallsof its stronghold, it was still a shithole.The day before the start of our story the gunslingergoing by the name of John Cold came here from thewild mountains up north, driven by his insatiablewanderlust.By the time we commence our yarn he had come toregret it somewhat, for a commotion interrupted hisstay at one of the local establishments.***John Cold stood in the corner of the room he hadrented, watching for any sign of movement. The soundsof smashing, shrieks, and cries from the lower floor ofthe bordello had ceased. Something was moving up thestairs, something very large. A hissing sound came frombeyond the southern door. Would the unknown beastattack now?...John Cold came here fromthe wild mountains upnorth, driven by hisinsatiable wanderlust.Later, when the city guards arrived, when the carcasscleaners bustled about, happy with the precious scalesand fangs, and the families of the dead wailed for theirunfaithful husbands and unhappy daughters, John lit afine Norwegian cigar and swore to his gods that thatwas the last time he would visit a whorehouse.Especially one whose proprietor had a quarrel with awarlord.It was obvious to John where the python had comefrom. Across the street from the brothel was the town’sarena. Fights with beasts - and among men - happenedthere weekly. The animal had escaped and then brokeinto the nearest building. By chance - or so theestablishment's owner would have everyone believe. Noone would doubt him anyway, as he was also themaster of the whole town.His name was Colonel Nurlan, and John knew him wellenough. They had fought on the same, winning side (butin different regiments) in the Yamalia pacification. Thatwas the first war where John was part of a regular unit,and the last.Bang! The door burst, spitting debris everywhere. Thegigantic head of a bulldoze-python appeared. Like aspearhead of the monstrous body, it immediatelypointed towards the man - and the panicked girlcrouching behind him.More bangs. That was John shooting. One round afteranother, without any thought, just instinct. The bulletshit the vulnerable tissue of the snake’s opening mouth.For a split second, it appeared the animal would recoil.No such luck. The Chernomorian beast had notencountered any resistance so far, why would a fewstings make a difference to it? It closed its mouth andstruck with the sledgehammer-like nose.What the creature did not know was that there existedin this new age a breed of men colder than the python,faster than it, too. And John was its scion.He pushed himself off to the left, with no thought for thegirl hiding behind him. The wall shook, splattered withher blood and guts. John, his hand steady, put the gunat the precise point only an experienced hunter likehimself would know. The point where the snake’s skullopened. Where a corridor of flesh led straight to itsprimitive brain. BANG.Nurlan, barely older than Cold, but native to thetsardom, had his troubles with the ‘regular’ part as well.In his case, however, the problem was all theregulations by which the Neon Tsar tried to limit warprofiteeringamong his officers. You see, the colonel hadalways been opposed to this kind of anachronism. As aman of action, he did not express this opposition inwords. He was particularly bad at hiding his corruption,though, and soon the truth came out and reached theTsar. A quick transfer to the poorer South resulted. Forsome reason, Nurlan thought John Cold was responsiblefor this.So when John got the invite to Kirshevo’s innercompound, he had good reason to be suspicious - even ifthe message praised him as 'the hero-slayer of thebeast'.***'You dealt with that snake nicely, Cascadian,' said thecolonel. 'I’d give you a medal, but they’re in shortsupply. I’m sure you understand.'With a gesture, he pointed John to take a seat across theburly desk.MAN'S WORLD 122
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