Excerpt for The Steam Tunnels by Steven Hager, available in its entirety at Smashwords

The Steam Tunnels

by Steven Hager

copyright 2012 by Steven Hager

Published by Steven Hager at Smashwords

EPUB ISBN: 978-1-4657-6156-9

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The smell of freshly cut grass drifted into the classroom and Blake Moore carved his initials into the desktop with a ballpoint pen. As usual, he was seated in the back row. Blake had recently launched on a campaign of self-improvements: he'd stopped walking pigeon-toed, stopped biting his fingernails, and, most important, practically stopped stuttering. He sighed and slouched further down in his chair. Considering the wealth of these achievements, he was now nearly perfected. Except for his hair. His hair was far too short, thanks to his father dragging him, screaming, to the barber shop last week. Blake put down his pen and stared vacantly at Mrs. Braddock, who was droning on at the blackboard.

Sitting next to Blake was the long-haired Wesly Pinter, intensely occupied applying the final shading to a bulging pair of female breasts with intricately detailed nipples. The breasts had no head, just barefoot feet and miniature torso. They appeared in fast flight. Wesly wrote "Mrs. Braddock" to one side and traced an arrow to the cartoon. He raised his notebook for Blake to see.



Blake fumbled with the combination on his locker. Wesly opened his never-been-locked locker, threw in his books, and kicked the door shut.

"You're not bringing a single book home?"

"Are you kidding? I've never taken a school book home in my life, Moore. You wouldn't want me to spoil a perfect track record like that would you?"

"Heavens no," said Blake shouldering his over-sized Makaha skateboard.

Wesly inquired why Blake carried a funny-looking roller skate to school, so Blake launched into a passionate lecture on the values of the Makaha's double-damper suspension system and large-board design. It'd been a gift sent from his cousin in California, where the emerging art of skateboarding was more popular.

"It's too bad," said Blake scuffing the crumbling sidewalk outside the school, "I can't do much on this. It's not smooth enough."

"Yeah? I know where there's miles and miles of smooth concrete. I can show you. It's not far from here."

"I haven't got time right now. I have to see my therapist."

"You sick, Moore?"

"She's a speech therapist. I used to s-s-s-stutter."

"You just did."

"Yeah? Well, I used to a lot. I hardly do anymore. Why don't you just tell me where this place is?"

"I couldn't do that. It's a well-kept secret."

"I've probably been there anyway. I've skateboarded all over this town."

"No, this is one place I can guarantee you haven't been to."

"If you were going to show me, what difference does it make, so why not go ahead and tell me?"

"I think I've changed my mind, Moore. I don't know if I can trust you."



Blake couldn't have felt safer, burrowed in his bed, reading Moby Dick by Herman Melville, his little brother asleep in bed next to him. Blake had pulled several blankets over him to prevent any light from the desk lamp seeping out into the room. It was warm and toasty inside. Blake often stayed up past his supposed "bed-time" secretly reading. Science fiction and epic literary masterpieces were his favorites.

Blake heard the door open, but failed to take the immediate evasive action to avoid detection. Panic put him into a trance. Before he could gather his wits, the blankets were being ripped off, and the lamp went flying.

"What the hell is going on here?"

"I must have fallen asleep reading."

"With a light on under three blankets? Are you crazy? You want to burn the house down?! You know what time it is?! You nut!!!"

The lamp was grabbed from the floor, still blazing until his father pulled the cord out of its socket, plunging the room into darkness, his father's bulky silhouette looming menacingly overhead.

"What are you reading that you have to hide inside your bed?!"

The unexpected sight of Moby Dick produced a momentary stall.

"Get downstairs and clean up the mess you made in the bathroom!"

"What mess?"

"Don't tell me 'what mess!!!'" His father grabbed Blake's wrist and dragged him out of bed.

"I can walk! I can walk!"


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