Ravenous

by West, Terry M.

  RAVENOUS

  A Car Nex Anthology

  featuring

  Terry M. West

  ER Robin Dover

  Joseph Ramshaw

  Kerry EB Black

  Shaun Hupp

  introduction by

  Zachary Walters

  Copyright © 2015 by the individual authors

  Published by Pleasant Storm Entertainment, Inc.

  http://www.pleasantstorm.com/

  Car Nex created by Terry M. West

  Like the Car Nex page on Facebook:

  https://www.facebook.com/carnexseries

  All rights reserved. No part of these stories may be reproduced in any form without permission from the publishers, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages in a review.

  These tales are works of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are products of the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Terry M. West Author Page

  Terry M. West Facebook Page

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  HONGER

  Now available from Morbidbooks!

  Hunger knows no friend but its feeder…

  Tarrytown, NY

  Winter 1679

  Willem Tenner is a God-fearing Dutch wheat farmer. After he and his family take in a half-dead old man that has come to their doorstep, a violent and gory nightmare that will last for an eternity begins. Basilius De Vries is an undying creature. He consumes Willem's family and curses the wheat farmer with the bite that never heals. De onheilige honger. The eternal hunger.

  Piermont, NY

  Winter 1997

  Willem Tenner works at a video store and has few friends. He has lived many lives since 1679. He doesn't know what he is. He doesn't even know the name for it. When the hunger comes, he picks victims who have already given their lives away: Junkies, hookers, criminals. He will soon have to abandon this life and start again before people notice that he doesn't age. Willem had thought himself the only monster on this endless, ravenous trek through time. But he was wrong.

  An enemy has come for him. And the monster plans on tearing Willem's life, body, and soul apart.

  WARNING: This story contains scenes of graphic gore and violence.

  All of the Flesh Served Available May 5th!

  “Those who can make you believe absurdities, can make you commit atrocities.”

  ― Voltaire

  Any record of the 45th that does not recognize him as a prophet is propaganda and a lie. False history. The truth is with the 45th. His word is absolute for it is God's word…

  Hundreds of years after the great cataclysm, the Ministry of the 45th survive in a network of scientific bunkers. The last bastion of the old holy order, the 45th are bent on rebuilding the scorched earth and eliminating God's enemies. The Ministry wages a war against the mutant topsiders that occupy the dead states of the Soviet Union of America. Defending the 45th are the Red Guard, genetically engineered soldiers who are programmed to obey through their lifebrand. Dr. Morgan is a serviceman for Unit 468 of the Red Guard. His lifebrand being medicine, Dr. Morgan is the longest surviving field medic to serve. But Dr. Morgan is a deeply conflicted man with violent fantasies that contradict his pledge to preserve life. After escaping an abduction by the topsiders, Dr. Morgan's faith is cracked. During a furlough in the high Chancellor's bunker, Dr. Morgan is hailed a hero and taken off the front lines. But he soon realizes that someone has altered his lifebrand and lifted the veil that concealed the greatest deception ever perpetrated. Dr. Morgan has just become the most dangerous man in the wastelands. And when he discovers who the real enemy is, the revelation unleashes a fury strong enough to destroy what is left of the earth.

  Available 06-30-17! Pre-order now!

  "A person often meets his destiny on the road he took to avoid it."

  Jean de La Fontaine

  Houston, Texas. Summer, 1984

  Binh Pham is a street hustler who suffers from narcolepsy. After his pimp is killed by a Mexican drug cartel, Binh realizes they are coming for him next. On the run, he thumbs his way down Interstate 45, a heavily wooded straight shot between Houston and Dallas. He meets Paul Marrane, an eccentric and charismatic road scholar. Paul travels with Binh, acting as protector and friend. But Paul's odd behavior soon turns dangerous. Convinced his road companion is a lethal psychopath, Binh discovers Paul Marrane is much worse than that. As the two men travel the dusty road, their odyssey becomes a harrowing nightmare from which there is no escape. PICARO is a bloody road trip to Hell from acclaimed author of horror, Terry M. West.

  WARNING: This story contains scenes of extreme violence and gore. Not for the squeamish or easily offended. Reader discretion is advised.

  And now for our Feature Presentation!

  Contents

  Introduction by Zachary Walters

  Car Nex by Terry M. West

  Car Nex: The Evil One by ER Robin Dover

  Car Nex: The Mighty and the Merciless by Joseph Ramshaw

  Car Nex: Storm by Kerry EB Black

  Car Nex: Trailer Park by Shaun Hupp

  Introduction by Zachary Walters

  "A simple introduction from a simple reader..."

  I am not a writer. Although every single human, me included, who has ever sat alone in a quiet space to enjoy a book has entertained, nay, fantasized the notion. In my fantasies it's a world of oversized chairs, heavy wool button-ups with leather elbow patches, smoking a large pipe in a musty and dim library (or bar, yeah, that would be cool too). Pecking away at an antiquated typewriter.

  Alas, I am just a reader, a simple reader at that. Swap the obsolete typewriter for a dog eared and spine worn pulp novel and I believe you still have a rock solid fantasy.

  Most importantly though, is that I am a fan. An enthusiast of dark words. An outsider looking in, wandering through these concocted nightmares, chomping at the bit for the next dose of mayhem. Begging like a fiend.

  So when I was asked to be a part of this, I was taken aback. Equal parts honored and stunned. It's the strangest feeling, being the one entrusted with the all important opening pages to this collection. Rolling out the red carpet for, and asking you to accompany me in, the delight of some wonderful tales written by some talented, intimidating names. It's a lot of pressure for a mere reader.

  Mr. West grasped my attention in April of 2014, shortly after his resurrection, his second coming as a writer. I sauntered into his work, all nonchalant and flippant. But I staggered out war torn, a changed man, a fan. I picked up his Cecil and Bubba tales on a goof, misjudging them on title alone, not taking them seriously. And I'll be damned, I loved them. Thankfully Terry took me seriously, sharing a few short stories and by time I bought What Price Gory I was already lost to the page. His page.

  His literary buffet of creature features spoke to me, to the youthful me that still thrives in my soul. It's a hunger that his work satiates, for the moment. Because like any inherent hunger, it rises again like the full moon.

  From the beginning of my genre fandom I was hooked by creature features; on film but more importantly on the page. My beloved Grandmother was my enabler. She didn't allow me to watch these films but she didn't stop me from doing so either. Trying to stay up late to watch the garbage monster movies on Cinemax that had ample amount of skin but also ample amount of monsters, was the story of my 11-14 year-old life. Except I'd usually nod off at the opening titles and wake up at the closing credits. The monsters were the draw for me, but let's be honest; I was preteen so the
skin was a draw as well.

  I sought out books with similar titles and storylines as the films that I wanted to watch, which my grandmother would gladly purchase for me, God bless her soul. While all of the adults were excited that I was a reader, my love affair for creatures of all ilk was stoked and fed. Again and again. Wolfmen, bloodsuckers, mad scientists, dolls, ghosts, I adored each and every one. Clowns with balloons, creatures from the depths, terrors from beyond space, aliens trapped under ice, carnivores from the nexus... wait, have you heard about that one? Oh my, you are in for a treat.

  Within these pages you will find tales inspired by Terry M. West's original piece Car Nex. A story dating back to the mid 90's and given a second life in a new era. The stories included have taken on a life of their own and been given a unique voice. They will lead you to some unexpected places and appease the genre fan inside of you.

  This is the first of what hopefully amounts to be many collections . Car Nex was one of the first few pieces of Mr. West's that I had the pleasure to read. It knocked my socks off then, it knocks my socks off now. And to think that I'll get to continue to read the continuing adventures of this monster, this universe, makes me happy to be a reader. Some of the writers name-dropped for potential future installments is like a rogues gallery of horror fiction. I even hear rumblings that my favorite Private Dick, Dunlavey, may be making an appearance. It makes me giddy. But I think I may be getting ahead of things a bit.

  Trends burst in, with studios and publishers double fisting them down your throat. Trends also go just as quickly with little to no fanfare. Tumbleweeds rolling haphazardly into oblivion as the crow caw signals death. Nobody understands and expects this more than a genre fan. And nobody dreads the next lame as fuck big thing to be pushed like snake-oil as a genre fan does. Some trends fall apart prematurely, rejected and executed before their time, leaving a splatter that is only respected and loved long after they have gone. Others stick around far beyond their usefulness and creative sparkly relevance. You may still be able to buy the shirt at your local themed product retailer that swears they have their finger on the pulse but are just grasping, guessing and force feeding. It's next to the Ed Hardy shirt. But creature features, ahh, those beauties of the horror hierarchy, they are eternal. And thankfully so.

  My sincerest thanks to Terry M. West for asking me to be a part of this. It truly is a fantasy come true. My only question is what are you still doing here? The Car Nex is waiting. It is impatient and insatiable.

  -Zachary (Z-Dubbz) Walters

  Zakk is a big dumb animal!

  Car Nex by Terry M. West

  Pleasant Storm, Texas

  September 29, 1965

  Adam Campbell bolted the barn door from the inside, sure he was sealing his own coffin. He picked up his rifle and backed away slowly, barrel trained on the door. He joined the other survivors, the few that there were, who were huddled together on the barn floor.

  There was Ted Gavin, a neighboring farmer. He was a large fortyish man with an unkempt beard and dirty work clothes, stained from personal and professional labor. He supported his small farm with a nine to fiver. The man had a laid back demeanor which may have conveyed laziness to new eyes; at least in the department of personal hygiene. This was a logical assessment, but Ted wasn’t lazy. He did prefer the easy route if it could be found, but this was merely working smart in his eyes. He embraced the arm that the thing had tasted with its fangs. The wound was hidden tightly under gauze and he was afraid to look at it. It seemed to have stopped bleeding, but the prospect of infection caused a minor panic in his mind. He didn’t want to lose it. He needed a hospital but the God damned thing was still out there, hunting in the darkness.

  Then there was George Berryman, a teacher at Pleasant Storm High School. The slight and fair-haired youngest of the men taught English. This naturally inspired contempt among his blue collar friends. And though the man was not as smart as the community may have thought, lacking wisdom and common sense in very basic departments, he still had an expensive and ornate piece of paper from a college to lord over them all. He wore thick glasses, which merely added to the myth. But those glasses only magnified frightened eyes at the moment.

  The last of the survivors was Nathan Bauer, a crusty old farmhand who was growing nothing but dust and age, these days. Nathan lent his expertise and trade secrets in pulling life from the ground to both Ted and Adam. He was a brutally honest man who wished to sell his neglected and unruly acres to the first rube with enough cash in hand. He wanted to live somewhere exotic and perpetually warm. But what he wanted most right now was a drink and another day among the living.

  Adam stood, guarding these men. He was responsible for this, after all. Something creaked in the loft above their heads. All eyes shot upwards, fearfully. Adam favored the loft with his aim. The light from the lantern that Ted had gotten going glinted off of the black barrel.

  Nothing came of the sound. Adam brought the rifle back down and toward the barn door, perspiration stinging his eyes.

  The thing Adam Campbell had called from no place had hit the weekly poker game at Ted’s house. It was a gathering Adam never missed and his absence was suspiciously noted. The poker game was always a large and boisterous ritual.

  The thing had made a meal out of it, and these were the few crumbs it had dropped. Many good Pleasant Storm men were gone, devoured by this nightmare of teeth and claws.

  It had all happened so fast, and the three men who had made it out of the house ran without direction, but collectively. They steered the night until they found Adam in the woods. He was streaked with blood and soaked with sweat. He had his rifle and was vengefully tracking the creature. Adam gave this up when he found them and he herded the survivors back to his property. He begged for their forgiveness the entire way and tried to explain the best he could. It had come out a jabbered confession that had something to do with an old book.

  Nathan finally spoke their minds. He was usually appointed these tasks. He felt confident they were safe, for the present, and an explanation was due. “What have you done, Adam? What have you wrought on us?”

  “I’ve opened the gates to hell itself, Nathan,” Adam replied, still vigilantly focused on the barn door. “I’ve done something unholy that I am sure to be punished for.”

  “Jesus,” Ted muttered, vividly recalling the scene at his house. “I’ve never seen the like of it. I stared right at it, and I was looking at dancing smoke- something that was barely there.”

  “Your eyes and mind can’t quite get a lock on it,” Adam explained, and the witnesses understood what he meant. It had looked like a storm cloud of fangs and talons. It was the only depiction that could be given to it.

  “What about this book, Adam?” George Berryman asked, using the sleeve of his sweater to mop at the sweat on his face. “How could a book be responsible for all of this?”

  “There’s power in ancient things, George,” Adam said, checking his pockets for extra shells and wondering if there were any stray ones somewhere in the barn. “And there are words with clout that are best not fed blood and recited.”

  “Adam, what is this thing exactly?” Nathan asked.

  Adam took a breath, because he needed one before he told them. “It’s called a Car Nex. It’s short for Carnivore from the Nexus.”

  “But what is it, Adam?” Nathan pressed, needing badly to know.

  “It’s a God-damn shark on two legs is what it is,” Adam explained, but getting a little heated over it. “It’s something I hauled to our world from a black sea and the fucker is hungry.”

  Adam took another breath, closed his eyes, and caught himself.

  “Where is the book?” George asked, adjusting his glasses. “Could I see it?”

  “No one is going to see that book again. It’s hidden.”

  “Maybe there’s something in there to send it away,” George offered.

  Adam shook his head. “I looked. It brought that thing here on a one way street. We�
�re stuck with it.”

  George was getting a little upset that all of his ideas we’re being shut down. “Then maybe you should have burned it,” he said, crossing his arms rebelliously. “If it brought that thing here, then it’s dangerous. I would have burned it”

  “I wanted to,” Adam admitted, nodding slightly and his eyes traveling off for a second. “For all the pain it had caused, it deserved the fire. But I couldn’t. I just couldn’t destroy it. So I did the next best thing.”

  “What possessed you to fool around with it, Adam?” Ted asked. His arm was bleeding again, but he was too caught up in Adam’s story to notice it.

  “None of you can understand,” Adam said crossly, motioning the rifle their way, which caused a new wave of alarm among them. Adam Campbell was a big man. But he was not the kind to impose that over others. This night, though, Hell had come to Pleasant Storm and Adam was quickly losing everything. His patience. His faith. His soul. And he had already lost worse than all of that combined. He could feel what little was left slipping from him as he friends and neighbors stared at him in fresh fear and distrust.

  “Hold on now,” Nathan spoke up. “No one is saying anything against you, Adam Campbell. You’ve accepted Jesus. We know this. But why would you go against the Almighty and pick up something thorny like that? Something the devil himself wouldn’t go near?”