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EXCERPT FROM ‘ANDY OF THE DAMNED TWO:THE NECROMANCER AND THE DYBBUK BOX’ BY M.MATTERN & P.MATTERN COPYRIGHT 2017/2018 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED CHAPTER FOUR-ONWARD AND DOWNWARD I had never traveled by portal before, and after I did I decided I would actually have preferred another long road trip rather than the disturbing sensations that come along with it. For one thing traveling through a portal gives me a temporary case of the trots. I think it’s all that damn vibrating. It goes right through you. Vunida , as it turns out , has a rare gift of being able to discern the escape hatches in the time space continuum that we refer to as ‘reality’. She had become aware of a good sized one, located in the trunk of one of the ancient elm trees that ringed the small cemetery that G-Ma had been buried in. We drove there and parked. I wasn’t sure of the rules and regs concerning long term parking in mortuary parking lots, and there is no telling how long this questionable quest will take… So I really don’t want to drive my Yaris there. I am relieved when Marna volunteers to drive us all in her muscle car, a Ford Mustang from the 1980s in cherry condition. We all pile in, and for a moment, as my eyes meet Marna’s, I can feel myself just losing it. The past few days have been too much. Losing G-Ma has harsh, but I was sort of prepared because she was ancient. But the reality of Max being gone is starting to sink in, and I can’t stop the tears from falling. My nose automatically starts to drip too, Marna look over at me as she starts the Mustang up fishes briefly in her Coach handbag and hands me a sheaf of tissues “This is no time to grow a “Mangina” Andy,” she tells me, but I can see sympathy in her eyes. “We’ve got this! We’re getting Max back, no worries!” It is times like this I am convinced that I have married the only woman in the world for me, and I immediately cease the waterworks and start feeling halfway normal again. At the same time I feel a clawlike hand on my left shoulder. It is so icy cold that I can feel it through my hoody and two teeshirts so frigid that it almost burns. It is the hand of my Grandfather. As I instinctively jerk away he seems to realize his mistake in his attempt to comfort me. At that moment I realize that, whatever else my Grandfather may be at this point, he is definitely not alive. At least not in the usual sense. He is as cold as a cadaver, he has the worst breath EVER even though he is constantly sucking on mints, and he looks a good 50 years younger than he should, as if he were frozen in a particular moment in time. “Sorry,” he tells me, ”My hands are cold.” I want to be flip and answer ”Ya THINK?” but I say nothing. If there is half a chance that this walking popsicle can show us how to get Max back I don’t want to screw it up. …COPYRIGHT 2017/2018 BY P.MATTERN ‘ANDY OF THE DAMNED ONE AVAILABLE ON AMAZON Link: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B00M5WHYRI/ref=rdr_kindle_ext_tmb