About the Mineral

This contrast of speed and permanens had always fascinated Wayne. For a few seconds, he could even feel himself again, the boy who had first sensed this effect so long ago.

No matter how fast the Continental Express raced forward, the snow-capped Peak beyond the window remained motionless, majestic. Forbidden. Full of danger. From afar, the silver streak of the train visually vanished against the ancient volcano, cooled for many years.

The train had picked up a rather respectable speed on this stretch. And almost all the passengers at that moment were staring, transfixed, at the view unfolding outside. Only Wayne, having made sure the Peak was still in place, feeling the train’s velocity in his gut and sensing himself suspended between those two extremes, preferred to watch his fellow travellers. Today, seated nearby, was a group of five young men. To him, they were still boys in their early twenties. But they clearly saw themselves as mature men, knowing everything, capable of practically anything.

This amused Wayne, even at nearly sixty. He’d seen enough of such daredevils to say with confidence:

“Boys, I’d strongly advise you against whatever you’ve got planned. Most likely, you’ll all be dead. Very soon. And most unpleasantly.”

The boastful chatter died down abruptly. One of the young men, the one with “Mark” embroidered on the shoulder of his army jacket, turned to him and asked quietly, but sharply:

“Where’s your intel, grandpa?”

“It’s written on your forehead,” Wayne said, glancing slowly over the group once more. Then, leaning slightly toward Mark, he added in the same tone: “Leave me your boots when you’re gone, they’re damn fine. Pity if they go to waste.”

Without blinking, but shifting to a more condescending tone, Mark said:

“Listen, grandpa, spill it, what do you know? If you turn out to be useful, I’ll give you the boots later, on warm ground.”

“You’re no fool, kid. Might last longer than the rest. Here’s a deal: you listen to me, you stay alive a little longer and walk away with one hell of an experience.”

“All right, lay it out. We’ll listen. Then decide what to do with you.”

“Who you are and what you’re after? Clear as day from ten miles off. At the station, people like you get intercepted and sent back home, straight to your mamas. Even if you slip past the checkpoint, you’ll vanish along the way. It’s hellish out there. Disneyland is in the other direction. Nobody will come looking for you. And if by some chance you do make it back, no guarantee you’ll last long. Still interested?”

“Wow. Gives you chills,” Mark said with a smirk. “So what, you some kind of superhero? What’s next?”

“Come with me. Do exactly as I say. Breathe only when I allow it. Then maybe, things will work out. Whoever makes it back gives me half. In exchange for my knowledge and experience. Enough to last you through girls and gear. Only this way.”

“Tempting,” Mark replied. “There are five of us, grandpa. We’re not some damn scouts. We know what we’re doing. And we’ve got the right connections, so no need to scare us. Here’s how it’ll be: we take you with us. If you keep up and don’t piss me off too much, you can keep a little something for yourself when we return. From me — you get my boots, and a return ticket… with lunch. Deal?”

“You reek,” Wayne said, leaning back against the sofa. “You know why the locals don’t go up to the Peak?”

“We know. But we’re not locals.” the whole group snickered. “You believe in local folklore?”

“I need to think over your generous offer,” Wayne said, glancing at his watch. He stood, slung his backpack over one shoulder, picked up his travel bag with the other hand, and walked out of the carriage.”

“Crazy old bastard,” Mark muttered, clearly unsettled but refusing to show it.

The guy with “Stan” stitched on his sleeve stood up and started making his way toward the exit:

“I’ll go see what he will do.”

He found their fellow traveller in the service compartment at the end of the carriage. Wayne was gazing out a small window.

“Excuse me,” Stan said quietly, carefully closing the door behind him. “Is it really as dangerous as they say?”

“No,” Wayne didn’t turn from the window. “Only if you’re hungover in the morning might you wet your boots. But they do serve coffee and hamburgers.”

“You have a good sense of humour.”

“And seriously, do you believe in Nekh? No one’s ever seen him. Maybe they just spread the rumours to keep people off the Peak?”

“Those who’ve seen him won’t tell where their feet vanished. I don’t believe the rumours, I believe those who found the shortened wretches.”

The train’s furious speed began to drop. The climb to the pass had started, beyond it lay the only station for miles. Wayne suddenly glanced at his watch, adjusted his backpack on his shoulders, and slung his bag across his chest with the straps in front, making him look like a parachutist ready to jump. He pulled his hat down tighter and tucked the end of his unusually wide scarf under his collar. The train noticeably slowed as it climbed.

“What are you planning?” Stan asked, trying to make sense of what was happening.

Wayne didn’t answer. He pulled a key-card on a lanyard from his pocket, used it to bring up a control menu on the small monitor beside the door, selected the required option, and pressed the red panel that appeared.

The doors slid open silently in both directions, flooding the men with a rush of cold air. Stan flinched sharply back from the exit, but Wayne stepped forward, standing right at the edge, his back turned to the wilderness.

“It’s a shame we didn’t make a deal,” Wayne shouted over the roar of the wind. “Stay well!”

He jumped backward, back first, twisted strangely in midair, and vanished from sight.

Stan peered out into the open doorway. The dark silhouette of Wayne, half-buried in the snow-covered slope, was slowly receding, waving one arm through the air. The countdown timer on the control panel was running down. Stan glanced around, hesitated for just a second, then, taking a deep breath, kicked hard off the train with both feet.