The Distance Travelled by Brett Savory

By Brett Savory

"A thoroughly distinctive tackle existence in hell. Snappy conversation and a strange backdrop set this experience story except the pack." --Christopher Moore, writer of sensible Demonkeeping, The Stupidest Angel, and Lamb: The Gospel in keeping with Biff, Christ's formative years good friend Why have yes denizens of Hell taken to throwing livestock via blameless fogeys’ kitchen home windows? How lengthy does it take a lifeless, desiccated gasoline attendant to stroll out to his pumps? what kind of dating do the Lord of the Underworld and Hell’s Head Torturer have in addition to the most obvious specialist one? what sort of air con devices do they use down there? Do they hearken to Cyndi Lauper? what's Hell’s professional foreign money, and by means of what standards did the massive purple Fella opt for it? Can pigs consume cereal with a spoon? What anonymous beast dwells within the flame pit close to the outlet to Upside? what's Upside, for that subject, and why if you care besides? in the pages of this booklet, you will discover the solutions to those urgent questions, in addition to solutions to different, considerably much less urgent, questions... Welcome to Hell! the place your torture classes are scheduled... And pigs fall from the sky... And a bit lady from the Upside is missing... And it is as much as one among Hell's least most probably denizens to discover her... besides the girl's brother, a jogging skeleton of a guy who may be older than time, an incredible Hell rat and a stunning girl with too many secrets and techniques, he ventures into the guts of Hell to discover a few answers... and perhaps leave out a torture consultation or . “Brett A. Savory is going to Hell--not in a handbasket, yet in the back of the wheel of a kickass El Camino--in this un-Divine Comedy. Slapstick, surreal, and positively sizzling, the space Travelled bargains mirth and mayhem with (dare I say?) devilish glee, and at the a ways facet of the warmth is a relocating meditation at the position of the following within the hereafter. it is a wild and beautiful trip, so climb aboard...but glance out for the flying pigs!” --Douglas E. wintry weather, writer of Run “Two questions for Brett Savory: ‘What're you smoking?’ And ‘May we please all have some?’ the gap Travelled is an ergot-spawned argot of a singular that nabs its readers for a journey Charlie Starkweather'd be too poultry to take. no longer on the grounds that Lord of the Flies has fiction been so tough on a Piggy. Now, where'd I placed these damned glasses?” --Michael Marano, writer of sunrise music “I enjoyed it. trendy, enjoyable, and smartly grew to become. particular and bizarre—and I suggest that during a very good way—this is an exceptional journey via a few very strange territories." --Michael Marshall Smith, writer of Spares and in simple terms ahead “True Grit meets Falling Angel...The Distance Travelled reads like a blissed-out round-the-table collaboration among Kinky Friedman, Clive Barker, Jim Thompson, Dante, and Thorne Smith. it is a Hell shall we all learn how to love--kind of--and Brett Savory is a really undesirable guy. however the excellent news is that it’s more secure for us all that he’s penning this stuff down instead of residing it.” --Peter Crowther, writer of Escardy hole (with James Lovegrove) and The Longest unmarried notice "The Distance Travelled is a raucous blood-and-guts pulper, whole with hardboiled mugs like PigBoy, Tom China, and Portnoy Spavin. by means of surroundings his hero's mysterious quest in Hell itself, Brett Alexander Savory has begun an entire new style: real Underworld Noir." --Stewart O'Nan writer of Snow Angels and devoted co-written with Stephen King

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Wet eyes. Determination in his step. He stops in front of me, plants his feet. Two giant oaks rooted in the ground. He takes one deep breath, raises the barrel. I wonder if he was perhaps at the window, watching his daughter and wife play outside, maybe thinking about how good his life is, how lucky a man he is to have this wonderful family. Life is like this, I think, my heart settling, slowing. For both of us, friend. It steals things when we’re not looking. And then I am incapable of thinking anything at all, because my face has been blasted through the back of my skull.

Should I leave him out here to bake? Maybe just toss him in the lake and watch him dissolve? THE DISTANCE TRAVELLED No, he still has to find the pig that’s loose in my house—no doubt munching on my Wheaties by now—and besides, I have some questions for him. For example, where are they getting these pigs from? They must be coming from Upside (Hell contains precisely zero animals), but how? And if there is this opening to the natural world, why are people only grabbing pigs? I drag PigBoy into my house, put the coffeepot on, and wait for him to wake up.

PigBoy continues tapping his foot when the engine flutters off and the music cuts out. I glance at him, then at his foot. He stops, fiddles with his zipper. I get out of the car, shrug out of my protective gear, reach in, and chuck it in the back seat. Out here, away from the lake, it’s not so bad. And besides, if PigBoy can endure it, so can I. I look around for Gus but see nothing, no movement inside the station. ” I bellow, and hear the lake far to my back belch up another great gout of steam and lava, the faint sprinkle as its off-spring hits the dirt shore.

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