Rocco & the Russian Mountains

ROCCO & THE RUSSIAN MOUNTAINS
BY JACK CHAUCER
CHAPTER ZERO: HISTORY, 8:20 A.M.

“What the …?”
Pop!
“Ho - lee …”
Pa-pa-pop!
“Look ou …”
Pop!

CHAPTER 1: FLIRTING WITH DEATH

Rocco Falcone loved roller coasters. They provided an exhilarating escape from the tedium of high school history, English and math. He didn’t know much about the Romanovs, dangling participles or algebra, and he didn’t care. When Rocco was at the amusement park, he wasn’t required to stare at a bunch of letters and numbers, and come up with an answer that made no sense to him. He’d rather feel the multiplication of forces flinging his body this way and that. He’d rather have the track subtracted from beneath his dangling shoes, levitate for one spine-tingling moment at 300 feet and nose-dive. Now that was addition by subtraction -- and each ride came loaded with its own set of exciting variables.
The only down side to roller coasters was their down side, that they eventually brought Rocco back to Earth, where he would return to his life of shuttling between divorced parents and their not-so-significant others; feeling like he belonged everywhere and nowhere at the same time. He was the only remaining byproduct of a broken marriage. Both of his parents had moved on and started over with new spouses and new children. Rocco was doing his best to move on, too -- jumping on anything that provided a dramatic diversion from reality. If he weren’t balancing himself atop a skateboard, surfboard or snowboard, then he was most likely riding a roller coaster.
　
Katerina watched the tall, handsome brown-haired teen ride nearly every roller coaster in the amusement park, several more than once. She followed him and was impressed by his efficiency. If the lines were too long for the newest and most popular coasters, he wouldn’t hesitate to jump on the old wooden coaster nearby. The boy didn’t seem to mind sitting next to strangers, but he didn’t interact with them either. It was like he was in his own little world. Two rides later, Katerina made sure her world collided with his.
　
“Wooden coasters are boring, don’t you think?” Katerina said after settling into the seat next to Rocco and lowering the lap bar across her blue jean-clad thighs.
Rocco just looked at her for a second, stunned by her exotic beauty and thrown by her unfamiliar accent. He found himself slightly paralyzed by the playful, disarming and enchanting tone of her voice.
She looked like she was in her early 20s. Most of the adult women he had dealt with up to this point in his life were much harsher on the eyes and particularly the ears.
“I … I like the sound of them,” Rocco eventually replied, struggling to blink and break his stare into her striking green eyes.
He finally looked straight ahead and focused on the track as their car slowly began to ascend.
“My name is Katerina,” she said, extending her hand toward his. “Nice to ride with you.”
Rocco slowly shook her hand, trying not to look up into her eyes this time.
“Hi … I’m Rocco,” he managed to utter as the roller coaster neared the top of its climb.
“Ooh, Rocco, that’s a nice, not-so-boring name,” Katerina said while grabbing his hand for the rapid descent
and sudden turns. Strands of her long, black hair whipped around in the air and sometimes lapped against his cheek.
Rocco remained silent for the rest of the ride, but his thoughts were swirling around and jumbled by this strange encounter. He felt excited and uncomfortable all at the same time.
As Rocco and Katerina exited the ride, the woman smiled at him and said, “Would you like to ride the Russian mountains with me?”
“What ride is that?” Rocco asked. “I’ve never heard of it.”
“Never heard of the Russian mountains? Come on. That’s where this all started. One more ride won’t take but a flash,” the woman insisted, snaring his arm with her long fingers and leading him toward the oldest roller coaster in the park, The Black Hole.
“OK,” Rocco said, “but why this one? It’s not that exciting.”
“That’s because you haven’t ridden it with me yet,” Katerina replied with a seductive smirk.
Rocco slowed his gait slightly.
“But it doesn’t do much. If it weren’t for the one decent drop in the dark, it would be totally lame,” he told her.
“Trust me,” Katerina countered, “you’ll be telling all your friends about it.”
“I doubt that,” Rocco said as they snaked through the short line and got strapped into the lead car. He suddenly felt a strange, sharp pain in his gut.
Katerina put her right arm around Rocco’s shoulders and, in her left hand, presented him a small vial of clear liquid.
“Drink this,” she said, squeezing him and glaring into his startled brown eyes, “and you shall very soon see that this ride will take you places you’ve never imagined. You will have the opportunity to acquire power and wealth.”
“What?” Rocco replied with a quizzical expression.
“Don’t drink this,” she continued, releasing her grip just a bit, “and it will be the same boring ride you’ve always known.”
“Are you some crazy witch doctor or something?” Rocco blurted out as he squirmed in his seat.
The car lurched forward, coasting through the light of day, then gained speed and careened into the darkness of The Black Hole.
“Drink it now!” Katerina insisted, forcing the vial to his lips. “Before it’s too late!”
Rocco opened his mouth and drank the liquid. It had no odor, and it was strong and harsh in his throat, but he swallowed it anyway and kept it down. He wasn’t sure if it was alcohol or not. He had only consumed beer and wine so far in his young life and it didn’t taste like either. It was much stronger, but there was a hint of sweetness to the aftertaste.
“Good boy!” Katerina said with a satisfied smile as she tossed the vial over the side, the sound of glass breaking against the cold, pitch-black nothingness. “Now you’re in for some real excitement, young Rocco!”
Though Rocco hadn’t ridden The Black Hole in a while, he still anticipated its twists, turns, peaks and drops pretty well. But he didn’t remember the ride being this fast or turbulent. The security bar vibrated with a strange intensity across his lap as the vehicle dipped sharply to the left and whipped through a series of corkscrew turns. Screams grew eerily louder behind him and he tried to sneak a glance, but the force of the turns was too strong, making him sink deeper into his seat. Katerina clearly was enjoying the ride. She clutched Rocco’s hand and shrieked with delight at every violent sensation, but he could barely see her in the darkness.
Something wasn’t right, Rocco began to suspect. The ride was lasting far too long and should’ve emerged from the blackness by now. And though he was relieved the sharp pain in his abdomen was gone, his stomach was becoming increasingly queasy. A profound sense of doom was beginning to creep over him as the coaster car now raced upward and rattled incessantly.
Rocco tried to calm himself with the thought of going to the Jersey shore and jumping in the surf, but then he saw a flash of light above and to the right. Just as he realized a ghostly figure was staring down at him with an open mouth and a rope around its neck, the ride violently veered away from the ghoul and dropped into a free fall of what felt like hundreds of feet for every one of Katerina’s hysterical screams. She grabbed his right hand so hard it hurt.
As Rocco jerked his hand free of her grasp, he could feel his toes jammed against the front interior of the car and his butt seemed to levitate out of the seat. Occasional yellow flashes of what looked like burning torches rushed by him on either side of the plunging ride. He tried to close his eyes and count to five, hoping the nightmare would end and he would just wake up in his bedroom.
“1 … 2 … 3,” he uttered as his lips trembled.
Before he could get to 4, the car abruptly reached the bottom of its cliff-level drop, shot upward and then got sucked into a loop that turned the ride upside down in utter darkness. The speed and force of the ride was beyond terrifying. Rocco vomited upside down. He felt himself slipping out of the lap bar as he stared into the abyss below. He tried to flail his arms to make contact with Katerina, but she was no longer next to him. He tried harder to hit her, but he still felt nothing. He could hear distant screams, but they came from somewhere far below him. Or were they above him?
The ride continued speeding ahead upside down and Rocco felt like he was about to fall out. The loop didn’t seem to have an end.
Finally, he could feel the car shaking and righting itself for the loop downward. He was slightly more secure in his seat and he could see a few gleams of light in the distance. The car gained speed and plunged toward what looked like a massive door. The strands of light grew thicker all around the boundaries of the portal as Rocco’s car raced closer. Just as he realized how hard his heart was pounding in his chest, Rocco blasted into the light, went
blind from the brightness and felt a cold, biting wind in his face. His butt suddenly ached from the hard, frigid wood beneath him.
He managed to squint his eyes and saw a crowd of people on either side of a massive ice slide. His wooden sled rumbled down the slide at a much slower rate of speed than his body had just experienced and he could hear people cheering. The slide dropped some 80 feet, picked up considerable momentum from the ice and surged upward toward a large opening midway up one tower of a huge stone fortress.
The sled suddenly stopped and sent Rocco flying through the opening. He could hear cheers from the crowd outside as everything went dark again inside. Rocco felt himself sliding head-first down a long, icy chute. His T-shirt felt damp against his chest and his bare forearms grew numb from the ice.
The chute dumped Rocco into a dark, dank room with a damp and stony floor. Seconds later, a rat scurried across the floor and brushed past Rocco’s sneakers. He flinched for a second, then quickly sat up and tried to make sense of the situation. He looked at his watch and the time was 5:45 a.m. What? He swore it was later than that. Then he noticed the second hand was moving counter-clockwise!
Rocco quickly looked away and tried to ignore it. He already had enough to worry about. His head and body ached, he was hungry and cold, and he was alone in a very strange place. There was no sign of Katerina. The roller coaster must’ve gone mad and dumped him off like a piece of garbage in this smelly dungeon. None of it made any sense.
Rocco picked himself up, dusted himself off and looked around. His eyes had adjusted enough to the dark that he could see the brick walls in the small, narrow room extended out on either side of him toward an arched, wooden doorway. It was eerily silent as Rocco crept toward the door and tried to listen through it. The pounding of his own heartbeat grew louder as he leaned his shoulder against the door and slowly pushed it open. The ancient portal creaked as Rocco exited the room and entered what appeared to be a brick-walled corridor with a dirty, stony floor. He could see no more than six to eight feet in front of him. He could not see a ceiling, just darkness above him. There were faint sounds of something in the distance, but certainly nothing that sounded like an amusement park.
Rocco’s stomach growled for something to eat, but he tried to stay focused on the task at hand -- find a way out of this putrid hellhole and get home. Rocco felt the brick wall with his right hand. It was damp, coarse and uneven against his palm and fingers. He used the wall to guide himself through the dark and straight down the corridor for about 20 yards.
That’s when the wall started to curve to the left.
Rocco had the sudden urge to shout “Hello!” but decided against it just as quickly. He had no clue where he was and he was still alive by being silent so far, so let’s not rock the boat, he thought.
Rocco resumed his slow creep alongside the brick wall until suddenly the wall stopped and so did the ground. Rocco grabbed the edge of the wall with both hands to stop his momentum, his shoes kicking small pebbles into the abyss below. There was no sound of impact.
“Holy crap, that was close!” he shouted as his body froze in place.
Frigid air rushed upward into his face from the opening. It was too dark to see where it was coming from. It certainly didn’t feel like he was outside. There were no stars above his head.
Rocco’s teeth began to chatter as his body shivered from the cold. He fought off tears, turned around and reversed course. He quickened his pace slightly, went past the door to the first room he landed in and continued straight down the corridor. Suddenly, a light began to shine from behind him and he could see the corridor was long and had many doors on either side of it. As he turned to see the source of the light, he was horrified by the sight of a specter floating up from the abyss. It had a grotesque face with no eyes and its head hung limp to the left atop a withered form that looked more like dust than bones. It let out a ghastly moan and grew taller as the seconds passed.
Rocco cowered for a moment against the wall in its presence, then saw something extending out from it in his direction. That was more than enough to get Rocco’s stiff legs churning as fast as they could down the hallway.
He ran about 50 yards, never looked back and tried one of the doors on the left. It budged and he pushed his way inside. It was pitch black and smelled awful, but he didn’t care. He slammed the door shut, got low and pushed his weight against it.
The moaning grew louder and the light increased under the doorway. Rocco shivered almost uncontrollably.
As the light passed by the doorway and went dark again, the apparition made no sound, but the air grew frigid around Rocco’s ankles. He slowly backed away from the door and felt squishy sand beneath his sneakers. He turned around and was surprised to find a dark room full of sand.
“It’s like the Jersey shore in here,” Rocco chuckled, quickly talking himself into feeling better now that the apparition in the hallway appeared to have moved on.
Rocco jumped with both feet into the sand and instantly fell through it up to his waist.
“What the … ??” Rocco screamed as the sand slowly began rising around him.
He coughed and flailed with his arms, but the quicksand continued to rise toward his chest.
“Get me out of here!” he shouted with all the air his impinged lungs could muster.
Seconds later, the sound of hurried footsteps in the corridor spooked Rocco. When the door flung open, a ghastly and imposing creature of at least six feet in height glared down at Rocco’s exposed head. Quicksand practically covered the rest of the boy.
Rocco could see the zombie’s face featured a mixture of bone and peeled, decaying skin. Its mouth seemed stuck open, the tongue twisted and shriveled.
Suddenly, the zombie got down on all fours and stared into Rocco’s eyes. A crimson-crusted knife protruded upward from its back. It was no more than four feet away. The zombie’s eyes were like black holes with red pupils. Its nose was just stinking, rotting cartilage.
The zombie began to crawl into the sand toward Rocco’s face. The red pupils dilated and bore into Rocco’s terrified eyes. The zombie did not sink into the sand like Rocco had. It crawled right across the surface and straight at Rocco. It didn’t stop until its rotting face was a mere six inches from Rocco. The boy closed his eyes, squirmed in the sand and sank another inch.
Rocco felt no breath coming from the zombie, but the smell was making him sick to his stomach. Rocco puked in the sand, nearly projecting the vomit into the zombie’s face. It was undeterred.
Then the zombie uttered something in a different language, but Rocco didn’t understand, shivered in the sand and started to cry.
“Help!” Rocco shouted toward the open door before quickly turning his face away from the zombie.
The zombie shoved its ghastly visage even closer to Rocco and uttered with a fiendish lisp, “Welcome to Shlisselburg. I see my web has caught a fly!”
Rocco trembled and quaked.
“Ha, ha, ha!!!” the zombie laughed in Rocco’s face.
At that moment, Rocco heard a door slam loudly in the corridor. The zombie shifted backward slightly and looked distracted.
“Ivan!” a voice bellowed. “Go away!”
The zombie processed the order for a moment, then stood up, turned around and staggered down the hall in the opposite direction of the voice.
When the handle of the knife stuck in the zombie’s back was out of sight, Rocco took as deep a breath as his lungs would allow and tried to compose himself. Then he looked up toward the doorway and yearned to see who rescued him from the zombie.
He heard the sound of a chain dragging against the floor and then, after a few moments, another figure entered the room. He was a fairly large man with a bushy beard, but he was more ghostly than solid. Rocco didn’t see a chain, but he heard it as the apparition approached and stood in front of him.
This ghost did not seem sinister and the air around him did not turn frigid. He glowed a bit against the dark backdrop and his facial features were fairly well-defined -- a pronounced jaw, relatively normal nose, striking blue eyes, dark hair and dark, bushy eyebrows. There was depth to him, but he still did not seem completely real, as in human.
“What have we here?” the ghost said with a strange accent. “One head minus a body.”
Rocco just looked at him like a deer in the headlights for a moment, then managed to stutter, “Ca, ca, can you help me get out of here?”
“Out of the quicksand or out of the prison?” the ghost replied with a grin.
“Prison?” Rocco said with a baffled look.
“Yes boy, you’ve managed to land yourself in one of the most infamous prisons in all of Russia and then took it one step further by imprisoning yourself in Ivan’s sand trap,” the ghost said with an amused look. “And I thought I had it bad.”
“Can you just help get me out of the sand first?” Rocco pleaded, trying to inject some urgency into the conversation.
“Sure, just grab onto this chain,” the ghost instructed
while making a flinging motion toward Rocco.
Again, Rocco didn’t see a chain, but he heard its impact and could make out a faint line in the sand to his left. He leaned to his right as hard as he could and simultaneously catapulted his left arm upward through the sand. Rocco’s left hand scrambled around for a moment and then grasped two links of the chain. He held on tightly and nodded toward the ghost.
“Got it,” he said.
The ghost made a pulling motion with both hands and Rocco emerged from the quicksand in a matter of seconds. He stood up at the edge of the room, brushed himself off, ran his hands through his sandy hair and took a deep breath of dungeon air.
“Thank you so much!” Rocco said, extending his newly freed right hand toward the ghost.
The spirit just nodded toward him and Rocco flashed a sheepish grin, suddenly feeling foolish about offering a ghost a handshake.
“What’s your name?” the apparition asked.
“Rocco,” the boy replied. “Who are you?”
“Valerian,” the ghost said, motioning Rocco to follow him. “Come down the hall to my cell and we’ll talk.”
“OK,” Rocco said, following Valerian and his invisible chain down the corridor before the ghost pushed open a door to the right. Rocco entered a small, candle-lit chamber complete with bed, wooden desk and chair. Books and letters were stacked on the desk. Valerian closed the door and offered Rocco the bed.
“Rocco, lay down for a while and recover from your ordeal,” Valerian said with a genuine tone of hospitality. “Sleep if you want and we can talk later.”
“No, I’m OK, we can talk now,” Rocco said as he sat upright on the bed and tried to stay alert. Though he was beginning to trust Valerian, there were already too many surprises on this nightmarish journey to get too comfortable.
Valerian sat in the chair behind his desk, the sound of the links in his chain finally settling still at his bare feet. Rocco looked at his feet and was unable to distinguish individual toes in the ghostly blur. It seemed Valerian’s appearance was more defined at the head and upper body, less defined the further down Rocco’s eyes went.
“How did you scare that thing away?” Rocco wondered.
“Ivan was murdered here back in 1764 and he hasn’t quite gotten over that,” the ghost replied. “He’s always looking for revenge and taking it out on others, but deep down he’s mentally weak and he’s got no heart. It doesn’t take much to put him in his place.”
Rocco listened intently to Valerian’s strong voice. Not all of the words made sense to Rocco, but he felt comforted and was amazed by his presence.
“What about that other ghost I saw?” Rocco asked.
“Which one? Unfortunately, there are many in this place. This prison was built in the year 1323 and it has a long, bizarre history,” Valerian said.
“The ghost came up from the big drop-off at the end of the corridor and chased me,” Rocco said. “It was the most gruesome thing I’ve ever seen … at least until I met Ivan.”
“My guess is it was probably Aleksandr,” Valerian said. “He was hanged here a while back and he’s got a bit of a nasty streak, too.”
“How come you’re not nasty like them?” Rocco asked.
“I have every reason to be, but I choose not to be,” Valerian said.
“How long have you been here?” Rocco asked.
“I guess that depends on what year it is right now in the living realm,” Valerian said. “I have no idea. Perhaps you know.”
“2010,” Rocco said matter-of-factly.
“Wow,” Valerian said with a look of amazement. “Well, now I know there are 180 links in this chain. It grows one link per year, much like the rings on a tree.”
“You’ve been imprisoned here for 180 years? That’s insane,“ Rocco said. “I don’t even see your chain, but I hear it.”
“I don’t see it either, but I feel it … around my waist and dragging behind me,” Valerian said. “I’ve had it so long I’m used to it. I guess I’d feel lost without it.”
Rocco just shook his head.
“How did you end up in this place anyway?” Rocco asked.
Valerian paused to think before answering.
“I was sent here for believing in something that didn’t sit well with the powers that be,” the ghost said. “They saw me as a threat because I used my eyes to see and my brain to think instead of just accepting what they told me. Well, I didn’t like what I saw and I made up my mind to act. I used my mouth to tell them what I thought and all of my strength to challenge their power. That’s when they locked me in this place where nobody could hear me anymore. I can talk to the walls all I want. They don’t care what I have to say.”
“Why don’t you just leave?” Rocco asked.
“I’ve lived here, I’ve died here, it’s my home,” Valerian said with no hint of sadness. “But enough about me, boy. How old are you? Where are you from? You can’t be from here. I’ve never seen you in this dungeon before.”
“I just turned 17,” Rocco said. “I’m from New Jersey.”
“New Jersey? Never heard of it,” Valerian replied with a grin. “Is that a new, undiscovered place?”
“No, it’s in America,” Rocco said.
“Oh yes, the United States of America,” Valerian said with a nod. “I’ve never been there, but I was sorry to hear about your war. I heard stories about it a long time ago from some of the other prisoners.”
“What war? The Iraq war?” Rocco asked.
“I-raq? What’s that?” Valerian wondered.
“It’s some place in the desert,” Rocco said. “You know, just a bunch of people running around with sheets on their heads. Kind of like some of the crazy ghosts in here.”
“No, I’m talking about the war between your own peoples … the Blues and the Grays, I believe it was,” Valerian said.
“Yeah, I guess that was the Civil War. I don’t know much about that. Way too long ago,” Rocco said, before changing the subject. “Not for nothing, Valerian, but I really need to get home to New Jersey. So if you’ve
got any clues on how to get out of this roller coaster … err, prison, I’m all ears.”
“I’d be happy to help, but first I have to ask you … whatever happened to Poland?” Valerian asked. “That was my homeland.”
Rocco just looked at him for a second.
“Poland? I’ve heard of it,” the boy said. “I’m pretty sure it’s still there. A lot of times people where I’m from make fun of Polish people for being stupid. Polish jokes, you know.”
Valerian frowned and looked directly at Rocco.
“This upsets me,” the ghost said.
“I’m sorry, but it’s true,” Rocco said.
“Do you think I’m stupid?” Valerian shot back.
“No way,” Rocco quickly replied. “You’re the smartest Polish person I’ve ever met. You may even be the only Polish person I’ve ever actually talked to.”
“Well, thank you,” Valerian said. “How did you end up in this dungeon in the first place?”
“Well, I was riding the roller coasters at an amusement park in New Jersey,” Rocco said. “Then this strange and beautiful older woman named Katerina talked me into going on this ride called The Black Hole. Normally, it’s a fairly lame ride and takes only about 3 or 4 minutes.
“Well,” Rocco continued, glancing at his watch in horror, “now I’ve been on it for like minus 4 hours. Clearly something went wrong. The ride turned crazy, like all out of control, I saw some gnarly things, I hurled -- which I never do by the way -- and then I got tossed down an icy chute and ended up in this hellhole … no offense, I know it’s your home and all.”
Valerian tilted his head and shrugged his shoulders.
“The woman gave me something to drink before the ride and I think that must’ve done something,” Rocco added.
“Then I’m afraid you may be under her spell,” Valerian said with a look of concern.
“Spell? For real?” Rocco said.
“Have you seen this woman since she gave you the drink?” Valerian asked.
“Yeah, she rode the ride with me for a while, but then she disappeared,” Rocco said. “I thought she fell out when we turned upside down, but who knows? I don’t know what to think anymore. I just need someone to point the way home.”
Valerian pondered the situation for a moment.
“My guess is you’ll have to deal with her in order to get back home,” he said. “Her spell, her rules.”
“Have you ever gotten out of this place?” Rocco asked.
“I have not since my incarceration,” Valerian said. “I no longer have much interest in the outside world.”
“You’re kind of missing out. Don’t you have a family?” Rocco asked.
“I did a long time ago,” the ghost said. “They were kept in the dark as to my whereabouts, but I’d rather not talk about all of that. How about yourself? Any brothers or sisters?”
“I … I’m an only child,” Rocco replied with some hesitation, then abruptly changed the subject. “Where should I go in this place? There’s like a zillion doors. Maybe I can find a weapon or something to slay the witch.”
“I would only attack her as a last resort,” Valerian cautioned. “You’ll probably have to outwit her somehow. You are already under her control and that is a huge disadvantage for you. You will have to search this dungeon for things that can help you.”
“Like what?” Rocco asked.
“Well, you found me and I can help,” Valerian said. “But I can only help you so much. You will have to explore. My guess is this woman will toy with you and test you. She lured you here for a reason. Only she knows why.”
“Hey, is she the one who put you here?” Rocco asked.
“No, but I have heard tales about her kind,” Valerian said. “She will try to trick you and seduce you for her own dark purposes. This is Russia, Rocco. Strange things happen here all the time.”
“Wow, she really did hijack me to the Russian mountains,” Rocco muttered to himself. “I’ve got to go look around then and figure this thing out.”
Valerian handed Rocco a small, rusted cowbell.
“Take this,” Valerian said. “It will help you find your way around the dungeon.”
Rocco grabbed the cowbell and shook it a couple of times. An orb of light emanated from it.
“Damn!” Rocco said. “Are you a wizard or something?”
“No, no,” Valerian replied with a chuckle. “Just an ancient ghost with a couple of old tricks up his chain.”
“Thanks Valerian,“ Rocco said as he opened the door. “Maybe I’ll see you around.”
“I have a feeling you will,” the ghost said with a smile. “Good luck finding your way home.”
“Thanks, it looks like I’ll need it,” Rocco said, slowly closing the door behind him and stepping warily back into the dark, spooky corridor.