Ahead, the horizon stretched endlessly, the thick woods on either side enclosing the road in a corridor of green shadows. Overhead, the sky shifted between ominous gray clouds and brief patches of sunlight that danced across the damp gravel. The air smelled of wet earth and pine, a sharp contrast to the acrid stench of oil that had dominated his life on the rig.
The Warlock’s engine roared like a beast as Joel guided it over the winding gravel road. Steam hissed from the pipes as the monstrous truck powered forward, its reinforced wheels kicking up dust and loose stones. It wasn’t a smooth ride—the twisting road through the woods jarred him against the seat more than once—but at least he wasn’t walking.
The interior smelled faintly of oil and scorched metal, a mix that Joel had grown oddly comforted by. He reached over to the passenger seat where a crumpled, hand-drawn map sat, weighted down by a wrench. Joel had studied it more times than he cared to count, its smudged lines now etched into his brain.
“Come on, Grandpa,” he muttered under his breath, steering carefully around a particularly tight curve. “Hope you left me some of that map-reading luck.”
The road wasn’t exactly forgiving. Between sharp turns, overgrown branches clawing at the sides of the Warlock, and the occasional fallen tree, Joel was constantly on edge. He missed the days when a simple GPS app on his phone could tell him everything—where to go, how long it would take, even the best place to stop for beer.
“God, I could go for a cold one right about now,” he said to himself.
Now, his phone was nothing but a silent brick, shoved in the glove compartment for lack of anywhere better to put it.
The truck bounced as it hit a rut in the road, rattling the loose metal around him. Joel cursed and grabbed the map before it could slide off the seat. Well, it was more of a connect the dots than a map, if he was being honest with himself. He pulled over at the next straightaway, steam venting loudly from the Warlock as it idled.
Leaning back in the seat, he unfolded the map. His finger traced the crude route. The jagged lines leading to Kitimat meandered through thick forest and eventually hugged the coast. A few landmarks were scrawled on the edges—an old lookout, an abandoned mill, and a spot ominously marked cliff zone.
“Out of all the times I used to daydream in the back of The Company bus, I wish I had paid more attention.” Joel sighed, leaning his head back against the seat. “Two hours, they said. Yeah, maybe if the road wasn’t built for a damn roller coaster.”
The only paper maps he’d ever seen had been in his grandfather’s hands, laid out on the hood of an old truck while they’d planned a fishing trip. He could hear the man’s voice now: “You always need a backup, kid. Technology’s not forever.” Joel had rolled his eyes then, as any kid would. Now, he wished he’d learned that lesson.
“Just like my old math teacher, Mr. Stevens, you aren’t always going to have a calculator on hand.”
Mr. Stevens stood at about 5’9”, his slightly rounded figure giving him the appearance of a man who never turned down a good meal—or the chance to share one with others. His kind, weathered face was framed by silver-streaked hair, always neatly combed, though perpetually mussed by the end of the school day.
His perpetually warm smile could ease the nerves of even the most math-averse student, and his laugh, a rich and hearty sound, often filled the classroom. A veteran teacher from Vancouver, Mr. Stevens exuded the patience of someone who had seen it all but still approached each day with fresh enthusiasm. Whether explaining the mysteries of algebra or the wonders of Newtonian physics, his passion for learning—and his students—shone through in every word.
Stolen story; please report.
Joel glanced at the dense trees around him. “I wish Stevens was here now, I am sure he would find this whole system thing amazing.” The mechanic let out another sigh and then smiled thinking of his past, trying to distract himself from his fears and nerves.
The forest was quiet, save for the occasional rustle of branches in the wind. Too quiet. Joel had learned to mistrust that kind of silence. He folded the map and stuffed it into the door pocket, reaching for the shotgun mounted under the dash. Just in case.
“Alright, Warlock,” he muttered, patting the dashboard. “Let’s see if you’ve got what it takes.”
With a pull of the lever, steam hissed again, and the truck groaned as it surged back onto the gravel. Joel adjusted the throttle, careful not to push the Warlock too hard. This old beast was tough, but it wasn’t indestructible. The last thing he needed was to blow a gasket out here in the middle of nowhere.
The forest eventually began to thin, and Joel caught his first glimpse of the coastline. The road dipped steeply, winding along the edge of a cliff. Below, the ocean stretched out in an endless expanse of churning gray waves, the sun breaking through the clouds in streaks of pale gold."I bet you’d have loved this mess, Grandpa," Joel muttered.
For a moment, Joel slowed the truck, taking it all in. He let out a low whistle. “Not bad,” he said to himself.
Then the moment passed. He adjusted his grip on the wheel, eyes fixed on the road ahead. Kitimat was still kilometres away, and he didn’t trust the quiet. Out here, it wasn’t just the terrain that could kill you.
Steam hissed louder as the Warlock picked up speed, gravel crunching under its massive tires. Joel’s heart pounded with every turn, every shadow that flickered across the edge of his vision. The long road to Kitimat wasn’t going to make this easy.
But neither was he.
----------------------------------------
After nearly two more hours of grinding gravel under the Warlock’s tires, Joel crested a hill and spotted the faint outline of Kitimat in the distance. It was just shy of 10 a.m., though the gray overcast sky gave no indication of time. From here, the road dipped into a valley, the dense forest giving way to patches of open land dotted with skeletal remains of long-abandoned vehicles and structures. Joel eased the truck to a stop at the side of the road, steam hissing gently as the Warlock idled.
“Almost there,” Joel muttered to himself, gripping the edge of the hood tightly. His knuckles whitened for a moment before he let out a long breath.
He stepped out, boots crunching on the gravel as he stretched, his legs stiff from the long drive. The salty tang of the ocean was stronger here, mingling with the faint scent of rust and decay that seemed to linger everywhere. Joel rested his arms on the truck's hood, scanning the town below.
Kitimat looked… different. The system had reshaped the coastal town into a strange hybrid of ruin and reinvention. Some buildings stood half-submerged in brackish water, their roofs jutting out like awkward, rusted islands. Others leaned precariously, their warped frames creaking in the ocean breeze. Smoke spiralled faintly from somewhere deeper in town—a sign of life, or at least activity—but it wasn’t the smoke that drew Joel’s eye.
Towering above the uneven skyline was a massive clock tower, unlike anything that should have existed here. Its gears, exposed and gleaming, turned with rhythmic precision, each tick audible even from this distance. Steam hissed from pipes that wound around the structure like metal vines, venting in sharp bursts that caught the light. The tower itself was a fortress, its base sprawling outward in a maze of ironclad walls and jagged spires. Copper-plated turrets crowned the corners, each one topped with rotating, gear-powered spotlights that swept lazily over the waterlogged streets.
The clock face was enormous, its hands moving with an eerie regularity despite the chaos of the town below. Strange symbols glowed faintly on its surface, marking the hours in a language Joel didn’t recognize. Beneath the clock, the tower seemed to hum with energy, as if it were alive—or waiting for something.
"That’s new," Joel muttered, his voice lost in the Warlock’s low rumble. He eased the truck to a stop, his eyes fixed on the steampunk monstrosity. He glanced back at the Warlock, its pipes still venting steam like a resting dragon. “Guess it’s time to see what’s waiting for us down there.”