Page 53 of Sinistram
“Nearly capsized my boat,” a man told the reporter. “Like in one of those movies. Couldn’t see all of it, but it was big around and long.”
“There’s a temporary halt on small, non-commercial craft on the river until authorities get to the root of the problem,” the reporter said, looking into the camera with the river behind him.
“Larger boats are heavily cautioned. We’re told that authorities have brought in sonar and other technology to seeinto the deepest water. The city has promised to keep river traffic running, but we’ll have to wait and see whether they can deliver on that promise.”
Brent clicked away, and Travis sat. “How is that even possible with all the locks and dams on the river?” Travis asked.
Brent shrugged. “If something magicked the creature into the river, that wouldn’t matter. It’s certainly not native. And if it’s supernatural, it might have other ways to get around obstacles.”
“Maybe that’s what the priests meant by old ones,” Travis mused. “And if they really are waking up, how do we put them back to sleep?”
“If the Sinistram witch vampires are working dark magic to rile up the creatures and attack hunters, stopping the magic might make the monsters go back to sleep,” Brent suggested.
“Maybe. I hope so, because I don’t know how to fight a sea serpent.”
“I’ve also got a lead on that vision you had about the fires and the canister being blasted into the air.” Brent turned his laptop so Travis could see old black-and-white newspaper photos showing a blasted stretch of a city street.
“What is this?” Travis asked.
“The Equitable Gas Explosion of 1927,” Brent replied. “A big natural gas storage facility blew up and took a chunk of houses with it. Best anyone can figure, the company thought the tanks were completely empty before workmen tried to weld leaks shut, but there was enough gas still left to blow everything sky high. People died, city blocks had to be razed, and it broke windows a mile away.”
“Let me guess, it also sent one of those tanks up like a rocket.”
“Yep,” Brent confirmed. “But the area hasn’t been a hotbed of haunting, at least from anything I could find. So why did you see that particular disaster?”
Travis studied his coffee as if it held the secrets of the universe. “We’ve looked into several mine disasters, which could also fit the ‘old ones’ when there have also been monsters. Some of those involved fires. Now the natural gas disaster. Maybe the pattern isn’t just the ghosts, it’s the harrowing by fire.”
“That doesn’t sound good.”
Travis knocked back the rest of his drink. “Fire cleanses. It’s not just Biblical, it’s part of a lot of ancient lore. Suppose you’re a group of ancient vampire priests who want to scour minor monsters and enough pesky mortals from the area so no one challenges your power. First, you summon the old ones, terrify everyone, then wipe them away with cleansing fire, and you’re the hero to the passive saps that are left.”
“That’s crazy enough, it might just be a theory.” Brent looked vaguely ill at the prospect. He quickly typed into a search engine, and his eyes widened at the response.
“Most of the state’s natural gas production happens in Western PA, near Pittsburgh. Plenty of wells, capped and active, and storage facilities housed in underground formations like salt caverns,” Brent read aloud.
“Great.”
“It gets worse,” Brent said, “since the oil and gas industry has been in this area for so long, there are a lot of orphaned and abandoned oil and gas wells. Most of them haven’t been capped. For others, the location is no longer known.”
“How many are we talking about?” Travis felt a chill go down his spine.
“Official estimates say 300,000 to 700,000 orphaned and abandoned wells, but no one really knows for sure.” Brentsounded stunned. “Not counting all those coal mines, and no one even has a complete map of where they are.”
“Fuck. That’s like living on top of a time bomb.”
“Yeah. The wells and mines leak methane and other bad chemicals, catch fire, and can explode. And they’re fuckin’everywhere,” Brent said.
“Any other good news, while I was sleeping?”
Brent looked like he wished he could spike his coffee. At the moment, Travis was also regretting his no-alcohol policy.
“Just that there are at least twelve decommissioned Nike missile sites in and around Pittsburgh. The missiles were supposed to be removed, but…”
“Missiles?” Travis echoed, appalled. “Were they?—”
“Some carried explosive payloads. Others had nukes.”
“Oh my God.”
