The Lost and the Damned
There is a darkness waking up in the Bellingham mental hospital. Around this evil, the building is twisting and distorting, becoming a place of monsters and murders. With each death, the darkness grows stronger. Doors are opening to other times and other places, reality is shifting.
Into this comes John Keats, a private detective more accustomed to catching infidelity than missing persons. In pursuit of a half a million dollar bounty, he has tracked down missing rock star Katie Vanders to Bellingham, but he has no idea what waits inside. It should have been easy money: go in, get the girl, and leave. But now that he is in the hospital, he has no way out. The exits are blocked, the hospital is falling apart, and something is chasing him. Even after finding Katie, there is no escape from this trap. His rescue mission has become a game of survival as the hospital twists apart across time and space.
As deadly secrets are uncovered, a malevolent intelligence is awakening. Can John and Katie figure out how to stop it and escape the hospital, or will they find themselves forever lost in darkness?
Voices of Madness
Compelled by screaming voices, sorcerer William Drake travels across America in a desperate attempt to free himself from his misery. But the end of his pain may mean the resurrection of a god long banished from our world. Ripped apart and trapped, this god has gone mad over the centuries.
As Drake carries out his plans, there is collateral damage. People die, prized possessions are stolen, vengeance is sworn. His actions disrupt the lives of four unlikely heroes who band together in an awkward alliance to stop him. Armchair occultist, Taoist exorcist, college dropout, and punk rock musician - they are a strange set of companions, but they're all that stand between Drake and the mad god.
Will these four heroes stop Drake in time? Or will the voices spur Drake on to the resurrection of a cosmic madness?
Cowards and Killers
"In the end, most of humanity are one of two things: cowards or killers."
When Michael died, there was no Heaven waiting for him, no eternal rest. There were only two choices: Hell or killing his fellow man. Waking up after death in his own bed, he began receiving calls from a mysterious voice. The voice offers a simple option: become an assassin and kill those it designates. Refuse and the power that keeps him in the world will be removed... and he'll go straight to Hell.
Coward or killer, he accepts the deal. In a black suit and tie that conceals his identity with a black gun that never runs out of bullets, he is their assassin. But he is not alone: there are other tortured souls who have agreed to the same bargain. They are all Hell-bound; only by killing their targets before the timers on their phones count down do they postpone their fate.
But this is a fate Michael won't accept. Together with other agents, he plots to rebel against the mysterious voice and the blood-soaked deal. But can they really win this fight when the voice holds all the cards? With each kill, his humanity slips away. Is there a way to escape, or do all roads lead to Hell?
Cthulhu, Private Investigator
Cthulhu's partner, Dagon, has been found floating dead in the water at the docks. The Elder Gods have given him three days to find Dagon's killer, or Cthulhu is going to take the fall for it. Starting on the trail of a femme fatale that had hired Dagon, Cthulhu begins searching for the Pnakotic manuscripts and finds himself on everyone's hitlist. Navigating a web of lies and betrayal, he becomes involved with a rogue's gallery of untrustworthy Old Ones who are after the coveted Silver Key. As things hurtle towards their inevitable confusion, he discovers to what deadly lengths the others will go to obtain the Key.
Excerpt from Burning Monday
The Need for Rocket Enhanced Speed
"Second stage engaging!" yelled Dane Monday from the bed of the El Camino. He looked over at the sports car next to them. Though he could see it clearly, he could also see right through its transparent body and driver. The car was not of this world but still a quite capable racer. What they were trying to do made perfect sense to Dane. All they needed to do was outrace a ghost car.
Over the noise of the car's engine, Dane barely heard the click of the igniters in the huge experimental booster engines right behind him. As they roared to life, the car leapt into motion, a screaming blaze of jet-fueled fire unleashed behind them. Dane barely kept his hold on the car as it roared forward in barely controlled acceleration, reaching speeds undreamed of by most cars, but especially this old, almost junker Chevy El Camino. But that El Camino had been perfect for their purposes - in its original form it was already a Frankenstein-like mutation of car and truck, so it had a truck-like bed in back. It was on that bed that Dane's friend and ally Jaya had installed these enormous and experimental booster engines. They fired off like rockets, but if Jaya had made them, then Dane expected that they were more elaborate than mere rockets. Dane expected some sort of robotic or particle based propulsion. All he knew was that it was making the car go far faster than normal, which was what they needed to catch the ghost car. He also hoped that the engines stayed attached to the car. He knew the boosters were welded onto the El Camino's bed but at the velocity they were moving, it was still possibly enough force to wrench even welded metal apart. The engines and car both rattled uneasily, as if in a very uncomfortable symbiosis. Dane was in the back in the small space between the cab of the El Camino and the gigantic engines to try to correct any problem in the case of emergency. Being as they were hugely experimental, made of volatile Avalon Brass, and poorly attached to a junk car, malfunction was more of a question of when than if.
Malfunction was not the only possible problem with the boosters. Handling was the other risk. High speed driving required special driving skills even with a conventional car engine, but with experimental booster engines, it required someone skilled at taming a raging beast so that it didn't pancake them against a wall or overpass at a near catastrophic speed. If Dane was a safer, saner, or more careful person, he would have had a professional race car driver. Instead, at the wheel of the El Camino was his friend and aspiring journalist Abby Connors. She had no special driving skills other than that she knew how to drive. Dane didn't even know how to drive. So as his sidekick, by default she got the job over him. Though she reluctantly accepted, she worried that driving a better-than-rocket-powered El Camino down city streets in the middle of the night was beyond the expertise of all but the most seasoned stunt drivers. Unfortunately, they hadn't had time to try to recruit an actual pro driver and even if they had, no driver would have thought them sane enough.
Not everyone is going to see the wisdom of trying to outrace a ghost car.
Speaking of their spectral opponent, once Dane felt secure enough that Abby had some semblance of control over the wildly accelerating rocket propelled El Camino, he looked into the adjacent lane to see how their opponent was faring. Before the second stage of the boosters were engaged, they had been neck and neck with the ghost car, the El Camino pushed to its limits but the ghost car seemingly unimpressed. With second stage, the El Camino surged ahead and now it was the ghost car that struggled to keep up.
To an astute car fanatic, this was a ridiculous race. Neither car should push these speeds, but also there should not be a competition. The El Camino was not a fast car by any stretch and the current speeds were pushing the reaches of impossible. The ghost car was at least a sports car - the black Chevy Chevelle SS was from the 1960s and older than the El Camino, but it should have easily outrun the junker. But now Dane was watching as that ghostly Chevelle was pouring on the speed to be neck and neck with the rocket assisted El Camino. Dane wondered if maybe the flames painted on the side of the Chevelle really did give it extra speed.
All bets were off with the Ghost Greaser.
Although the Ghost Greaser was a well-known part of New Avalon's urban legends for decades, Dane had never encountered this phantom before. Or it would be accurate to say he had never knowingly encountered it. It was common for lifelong Avalonians to suggest
that they once saw something that could be the Greaser. In the middle of the night they may have seen a white speeding mist, gone a split second after it appeared, flashing through the streets, only a faint enthusiastic yelping and laughter echoing in its wake. Other times citizens were driving in the middle of the night, just wanting to be home, and a car came from behind and overtook them, a black car that stopped for no lights or signs before disappearing. Others just know that they were about to step into the street and were luckily yanked back from the curb by a friend, feeling only the rush of wind and mist as an impossibly fast car just narrowly missed running them down. Avalon residents had been reporting sightings and experiences of the supposed Ghost Greaser for decades.
But none of that was anything like seeing the Ghost Greaser in front of you, in full spectral technicolor, as real as a restless racing revenant ever got. That was the view Dane had as he looked over to the other car as it maintained its neck and neck race with the augmented El Camino. With the speeds so similar, the car across from them almost appeared to be standing still despite the ungodly dangerous velocity of each vehicle. Dane could see every curve and line of the 1966 Chevelle SS, the beautifully painted flames and the fancy rims. He could also see inside the window, at the Ghost Greaser himself, his hair slicked back in a 1960s pompadour, his spectral cigarettes rolled up in the sleeve of his white T-shirt.
According to urban legend, the Ghost Greaser was the soul of Johnny Rizzelli - Avalon resident, car aficionado, and "man society could not keep down", if all accounts were believed. It was through a late night race that he met his demise. Legend says it was a race through the Avalon hills, down into the city, with a supposed finish line at the bridge. Romantic stories say the race against his rival was for the heart of a girl, but they also grudgingly admit the winner would also get the title to the other's car, so each racer had good reasons to engage in a high risk competition other than for love. Those same romantics will tell you that Johnny was winning the race... until his car exploded into flames. Those that tell the story say his rival cheated, sabotaging Johnny's car in no specific way, but no police investigation ever turned up anything - though finding evidence in the twisted wreck of metal that had once been Rizzelli and his beloved car would be difficult. Whether for love or car, by sabotage or by accident, Johnny Rizzelli did die in a car crash with his beloved Chevelle SS. And since then Avalon residents have claimed the Ghost Greaser has been sighted whizzing through the streets in the middle of the night, looking to finally win the race and find his rest.
As the years went on, the story evolved. Legend had it that if you were unlucky enough, you might find yourself in a race with the Ghost Greaser. Of course, storytellers varied and so did the legend. The darker stories suggested that losing the race would mean the Greaser got your soul. But that left the listener wondering how anyone knew this, since those who got in the race would not be able to survive to tell others the tale. Other stories emphasized not necessarily the winning, but escaping. They advised if you ever raced the Greaser that you would want to make it to the bridge over the river as fast as you can, as if the Greaser was the headless horseman of Sleepy Hollow. There were many more stories, many colorful, but most inconsistent.
There were stories that certain late night accidents in New Avalon were caused by the Ghost Greaser. Whether the Greaser did this purposefully or not was the license of the storyteller. It was this that Dane latched onto. As the Greaser could be a public danger, Dane should try to stop him. He said this repeatedly to Abby, talking about their civic duty, but she didn't believe one word of it. It was less about duty and more about his thrill of doing something new. Once Dane had the idea of racing a ghost car in his head, he would not be dissuaded.
Abby didn't have a car, so they had gotten the junker El Camino. This was before it was modified with booster engines - they didn't know yet that they would need them. Why an El Camino? Two main reasons. First was that it was cheap. Dane wasn't rich by any stretch, but he scraped together money when needed. But a car was quite a purchase and he just didn't have the cash. Second, though the El Camino was from a later decade, it was relatively reminiscent of cars in the Greaser's era. Dane hoped that a more familiar car would mean they were more likely to be challenged to a race.
Once ready, Dane and Abby had taken the El Camino out into the Avalon hills west of town. In the Greaser's day, the hills were mostly uninhabited, just a few shacks and a smattering of larger houses. Nowadays, the hills were a mix of holdout shacks and a large amount of affluent residences. If you were rich, you'd solidify your status with a house in the hills. Because of this, there were a lot more cars and a lot more police than back in the 1960s. Dane hoped that at three in the morning the roads would be almost empty.
For the first fifteen minutes, they drove around the hills aimlessly. The lack of action had Abby questioning Dane's motives, but he shrugged off the questions. She was also getting something out of this. They had installed cameras in the El Camino, one on the dash, one on either side, and one on the rear, so if the Ghost Greaser did in fact show up, she would get the footage for her web news site, Authentic Avalon. Of course, Dane had no idea how photographable the Ghost Greaser would be. It was possible she would get nothing or only sketchy footage that made Bigfoot seem credible. Of course, a segment of Authentic Avalon's audience would greet even such poor footage enthusiastically.
After aimless wandering, the Greaser did finally show up. The El Camino had come to a stop at a lonely light in the hills. On their left another car slid up to the light. A pristine 1966 Chevelle SS, black with flames painted on the sides, it would be the envy of many car collectors, assuming they ignored the fact that it was transparent. Dane and Abby looked over and saw the Ghost Greaser in the driver's seat, his hair slicked back, his arm draped over the wheel so his forearm hung down. His window was open and he was turned to look at the El Camino, a smile on his face.
"Hey Red, wanna race?" said the Greaser. Abby had expected him to have the voice of the grave, something raspy or shrieking. But his voice was normal, faint and echoing, as if it came from a long way away. She admitted the Greaser was even cute, in an old fashioned and also-dead sort of way. She was only a little bit annoyed that he, as many people, decided to define her merely by her red hair.
On this first encounter, there were no experimental engines in the back for Dane to monitor, so he was in the passenger seat. "Of course we want to race!" said Dane with glee.
"Excuse me, slick, but I was talking to the lady," said the Greaser.
Abby smiled and blushed a tiny bit, a little annoyed at herself that she did. "Of course, I'd love to race."
The Greaser smiled wider, revving his engine in excitement. Something like joy lit the ghostly face. "On green, then."
Abby nodded. "On green," she said with determination, her pulse quickening. She turned forward and held the wheel more steadily, twisting her palms over it.
The light finally turned green. Abby pressed down on the gas pedal. The engine revved, and they heard both cars roar. There was a screech of tires...
And they were suddenly alone on the road. The El Camino was accelerating rapidly, but the Ghost Greaser's Chevelle was already long gone, the sound of his engine and his yahoo yell from far ahead of them the only evidence his car had even been there.
Abby let off the gas and the car slowed to a halt. Dane and Abby both stared at the empty road in front of them.
"That went well, I think," said Dane.
That's when conversations with Jaya happened. The El Camino's base engine was improved beyond the El Camino's typical limits and the enormous extra boosters were added. Abby wondered out loud why they didn't stop with just the new car engine - why did they need to go farther and have the gigantic experimental booster engines added immediately?
"Because I know Dane," said Jaya. "I've been through this song and dance before on some other windmill he was chasing. I do this, and he runs off excitedly. Then next week you'll be back h
ere, his head hung, tail between his legs, saying you two lost the race again. Then I'll have to do this same work anyway. I'm just saving myself some time."
Abby admitted that after knowing Dane for a while, this sounded very much like something that would happen.
When the modified version of the El Camino was ready, the gigantic boosters squatting in the bed, they once again took to the Avalon hills in the middle of the night, hoping to avoid the police. Abby didn't relish the idea of having to explain to the cops about the boosters, which were probably wildly illegal. This time Dane was in the bed, half sitting and half crouched in between the modified engines and the "cab" of the El Camino. They had decided this was the best place for him, so he could monitor the engines and also talk to Abby. There wasn't much he could do from the passenger seat. The back was also possibly the most dangerous place to be aside from being strapped to the hood, and that suited him fine. If anything, Abby was pretty sure it made it more appealing to him.
When their opponent showed up, it wasn't at the same intersection they had originally encountered him at, but it was not far away. The light was red. As before, the ghostly Chevelle slowly glided to a halt next to them. The window of the Chevelle rolled down and the Greaser's smiling face looked out again.
"Hey again, Red, ready for a rematch?"
"That's what I'm here for," said Abby boldly, but in the back of her head she was worried. Not just about losing, but the danger. At the great speed the engines might propel the car at, she could easily drive into a tree just by losing control for a mere moment. But worse than that, she knew her car had experimental engines made of Avalon Brass, which meant they always had a chance of just randomly exploding. She was always leery around any Brass invention.
"On green, then," said the Greaser, unaware of her anxiety.
"On green," nodded Abby.
This time when the light turned green, the El Camino was not left behind. The enhancement to the base engine of the El Camino allowed it to keep up with the immediate and rapid acceleration of the Greaser's Chevelle. As both cars cruised the road at top speed, Dane noticed the Greaser turn his head with surprise to see the El Camino keeping up with him. Dane also saw excitement on the ghost's face, and he let out a whoop! as he accelerated.
Manic Monday: (Dane Monday 1) Page 28