by Dan Padavona
Storberry is an old-school thriller that returns the vampire mythos to its horrific roots. See what others are saying about Storberry:
“A Genuine Gem of the Horror Genre”
“A Classic Horror Novel”
“[Padavona's] descriptions paint vivid portraits in the mind and help with the visual 'Drive-In movie feel'."
"Finally a vampire story where the monsters are actually scary."
"Foreboding and moody. I love it!!!"
"[Padavona's] descriptive imagery is outstanding. I truly 'see' this town and the characters."
Ready to be scared? DOWNLOAD STORBERRY at http://www.amazon.com/Storberry-Dan-Padavona-ebook/dp/B00N0D2LUG and turn the lights to low.
Read on for an excerpt
From
Dark Vanishings: Episode Three
“Dan builds tension like few others can. His prose is rich and his characters are memorable. I dare you to read a Padavona story with the lights out." - Zach Bohannon, author of the Empty Body Series
Starlight distorted the angles of the seaside community and probed its murky reaches without revealing its secrets. Breakers crashed along the shoreline in silvery black, while gulls circled and cried down the beach, made restless by the fury of the waves.
Inside the beach house, Viper teetered on the edge of his sleep. As his eyelids closed of their own weight, he heard his friend, Hank Jenner, calling frantically over the walkie talkie, like a voice from a dream. Viper jumped off the couch too quickly and plowed into a recliner that was an indistinct, gray shape in the darkness. Still groggy from his nap, Viper pulled open the sliding glass door and stumbled out to the porch. The sea breeze roared in his ears, sand grains stinging the deck like tiny wasps.
“I’m here, Hank. Slow down and tell me what’s happening over there.”
What Hank told him sounded too crazy to be true, and yet Viper knew Hank to be reliable. But a monster attacking Florida Bliss? Hank had to be mistaken. A big wolf, or maybe a bear had wandered into the community. Behind Hank’s fluster, Viper heard people screaming and something that sounded like gunfire. Viper looked from the unforgiving surf to the corner of the house where the Harley stood resting at the top of the driveway.
“Get everyone inside, and don’t let anyone try to be a hero. Wait for me. I’ll be there in a few minutes.”
The gusting wind whipped around him in eddies, swirling dessicated leaves over the blacktop. Sand grains pelted the backs of his legs, biting into his skin like tiny mosquitoes. Stuffing a handgun into his pocket, he started the Harley’s engine and turned into the street. He took a sharp left onto a western thoroughfare that led back to the commerce center, the highway, and eventually Florida Bliss. Leaning into the turn, he came within inches of scraping his shoulder against the street, but the Harley took the turn smoothly, and he quickly righted the motorcycle and accelerated westward. Now a quarter mile from the beach, the wind died off significantly, shunted by construction—boutiques, apartment complexes, gas stations, a scattering of residential homes—and tall palms. Each building appeared as a lifeless crypt under the night sky, facades colored gray by the starlight.
He pushed the bike harder, cranking on the accelerator as the scenery whipped past in a blur. From the corner of his eye he recognized strip malls and a multitude of big-box retailers. He turned down a side street and reemerged on the western side of the commerce glut, signs for I-95 interspersed along the roadside with hurricane evacuation route markers. Florida Bliss was only a few minutes away, and he might have seen the lights of the community had it not been for the high rise office buildings and condos which blotted out the horizon. His mind kept replaying the panicked cries of the community and Hank’s frantic call over the walkie talkie. What is happening inside the neighborhood? I never should have left them alone.
Seeking the interstate, he swung the Harley northward, passing between a community college and a row of chain restaurants. Street lights became pendulums, swinging along black strands of electrical wire nearly invisible under the depthless sky. The motorcycle’s speedometer hit 60, 70, 80 mph, buildings to either side of the road altered to nebulous grays. The salty taste of the Atlantic hung thick with the dewy night, and as he peered toward the now visible lights of Florida Bliss on the west side of the interstate, the highway entrance ramp appeared on the far side of a travel plaza set off to the right.
Something blocked the ramp, and Viper needed to crank hard on the brakes to avoid smashing the Harley into the unexpected wall. The back tire skidded past the front, spinning the bike in a half-circle that left him facing the travel plaza, a lonely cemetery standing against the silence.
“What in the—”
Turning the motorcycle toward the highway ramp, he saw the barricade. Two dump trucks blocked the foot of the ramp, parked bumper-to-bumper so that nothing could slip past. Even the shoulder was cut off by the rusty behemoths.
Viper, a former bounty hunter who preferred the solitude of his coastal beach house to the community of survivors at Florida Bliss, stood studying the barricade. Since the majority of the world had disappeared, Hank Jenner and the few people Viper encountered had opted to live in the solar-powered neighborhood, slowly rebuilding their vision of society and community.
The Harley rumbled as it idled, the headlight casting a solid beam that glistened against the pockmarked exteriors of the trucks. He stood watching the barrier, listening to the howling wind, watching the shadows for movement. The barrier was newly erected, the ramp having been passable as recently as yesterday when he had driven his Chevy truck past the survivors’ community. Nothing had seemed out of place in the neighborhood, and he had viewed several vehicles parked past the entry gates, while a myriad of people unloaded supply boxes, shaking hands and making introductions.
As he replayed Hank’s panicked call in his mind, worry knotted his stomach. Something he couldn’t comprehend had attacked the community. A bubbling nausea in Viper’s gut told him several people were already dead, and plenty more would die if he did not find a way around the blockade. Setting the bike on its stand, he climbed off the seat and approached the dump trucks, gun in hand. His footfalls were silent, as Viper was quite capable of moving unheard when the situation required. His eyes moved up and down the thoroughfare, which rapidly fell into darkness in each direction, swallowed by the night. Glancing at the hulks of abandoned vehicles, he felt exposed crossing the roadway. He sensed eyes upon him. As he scanned the shadows for someone hunkered down, waiting to get the jump on him, he saw only the desolation of a vanished community. While he drew closer, the dump trunks appeared to grow in size, like metal mammoths in a world enslaved by machines.
He was about to climb into the cab of the first truck when a pinging sound brought his head around.
The engine is still hot.
Now he knew the trucks had been set in place in the last several minutes. Whoever was responsible was close by, watching. Before his mind registered the impending danger, headlights blinded him from opposite directions. The scream of tires tore through the gloom. As Viper swiveled his head between the opposing beams, two vehicles barreled out of the darkness from either end of the thoroughfare, trapping him in the middle of the road. He had no time to react. It was by pure instinct that he lunged away from the motorcycle, falling toward the dump trucks. The first vehicle, a station wagon screaming out of the night, clipped him in his back with the side mirror and sent Viper careening toward the entrance ramp. The gun flew from his hands, disappearing across the street. The station wagon struck the Harley flush, catapulting the motorcycle into a row of abandoned vehicles, where it shattered into disparate parts. The scent of gasoline was everywhere. Agony wracked his back, threatening to cripple his escape attempt, yet he had the presence of mind to scramble across the blacktop toward the over-sized tires of the trucks.
The station wagon spun, narrowly missing the pickup truck coming head-on, before clipping a parked hatchback. The driver of the pickup slammed the brakes
. While Viper crawled across the road, the two vehicles backed up and gunned their engines, high beams glaring across his back like rising suns. Something slipped and popped in his back as he crawled. He lost control of his legs.
Viper crawled forward, his forearms bearing his weight and dragging the rest of his body behind him. If he could crawl under the dump trucks, the vehicles would not be able to reach him. His back was afire with pain, his body wracked in agony.
The vehicles shifted into drive, tires squealing.
Viper twisted his body sideways and rolled the final few feet until he was beneath one of the dump trucks, framed by the huge tires. The pickup slammed into the dump truck and bounced off, shattered glass raining down like diamonds as he lay panting, praying for the feeling to return to his legs. Blood trickled out of a million tiny cuts, and every breath made him feel as though someone jammed a switchblade into his back.
Two doors slammed, footfalls approaching the dump trucks.
“You just about killed yourself, Will. Didn’t you see the goddamn dump truck?”
Lorna’s voice. I knew I should have finished them at the grocery store, Viper thought. The man and woman had inexplicably attacked Viper, but he was too fast and strong for them. A trunk popped open and was slammed shut. Footsteps approached the dump truck. Pain rocketed across Viper’s arm as it was struck by some sort of weapon. He pulled his arm under the dump truck just before a crowbar smashed the blacktop.
“You wanna fuck with me, Mr. Clean?” The crowbar bashed against the dump truck, making it seem as if his head was stuck inside a bass drum. Viper crawled deeper under the truck, the clear path of the entrance ramp just ahead, the silvery strip of I-95 winding northward into the starry night. Will ducked underneath the truck, swinging the crowbar at Viper’s legs and taunting him. Viper crawled faster, an amalgam of salty sweat and blood burning his eyes and dripping over his lips. The crowbar struck dully on his right calf. He was disturbed that he barely felt any pain.
When his head emerged from underneath the far side of the truck, a heavy boot stomped down on his skull. His face bounced off the pavement, his vision going black. As his sight returned, he watched his blood trickle along the blacktop.
Giggling from above, Lorna said, “Will is going to kick your ass, tough guy. Shoulda just given us your bike. Shame it had to come to this.”
He heard Will rounding the dump trucks, squeezing between a bumper and the guard rail as he tapped the crowbar against the trucks.
“Get up, pussy.”
Viper pushed himself onto his elbows. Will bashed the crowbar against his back. Anguish flashed in red lightning down Viper’s spine. His arms trembled, and he found it impossible to ball his hands into fists. His body started to give out on him, the interstate ramp becoming dark and blurry. As he dragged himself along the blacktop with his forearms, Lorna walked beside him and whistled to herself. Will slammed the crowbar down on his shoulder blades. Screaming in pain, Viper collapsed to the blacktop, feeling the warmth of the day’s sun still trapped within its crevices. He rolled over onto his side, his knees drawn up to his chest and his arms protectively wrapped around his head.
“I thought you wanted to fight me? Hey, Lorna, isn’t this the same guy we saw outside the grocery market? Because all I see is a chicken-shit crybaby who can’t fight his own battles.” Lorna snickered, and Will stomped down on Viper’s chest.
“Kill him, Will.”
“My pleasure.”
Suddenly frenzied, Will bashed Viper with the crowbar repeatedly, peppering his arms and legs, slamming his ribs, crushing the back of his neck. Viper’s cries filled the night, interspersed with Lorna’s maniacal laughter and Will’s grunts. The crowbar kept raining down until blood poured freely from Viper’s mouth and nose.
Viper possessed just enough strength to turn his head up toward his attacker, and what he saw froze him. Will was gone. It was his father, Dick Sanderson, holding the crowbar over his head, eyes wild with insanity.
“It’s time you took your medicine, boy. I’ll teach you to stand up against me.”
Viper’s eyes closed. The fierce beating commenced, his pain dulling until he felt nothing more. He heard them laughing, the voice of Dick Sanderson’s ghost rising shrilly over their taunts.
Viper twitched uncontrollably, and then he lay still. The stars shone down like stage lights on a tragic play. For a long time, Will and Lorna stood over the broken man, watching with queer interest as blood drained out in multiple rivulets.
After a while, she took Will’s hand and led him down the entrance ramp, squeezing between the dump truck and guard rail. They walked back to the station wagon, leaving Viper’s remains to the Florida wildlife.
Ready to find out what happens next? Dark Vanishings: Episode Three will be released in late August. Please join my VIP community list at http://www.danpadavona.com/new-release-mailing-list/ to be notified as soon as Episode Three is available.
Author’s Note
While writing Dark Vanishings: Episode Two, I wanted to dig deeper into the characters we met in the first episode, and find out how they ticked. With the Florida Bliss community established, the surviving characters now had a home base, and it was up to survivors to figure out how to live day-by-day and make their own choices.
We meet a few new characters who nicely round out the community, including Melody, who is fighting her own demons and maybe doesn’t want anything to do with this new society.
Ricky is still running wild, and we begin to see the effect Lupan is having on him. Already a volatile personality, Ricky displayed his viciousness toward the end of episode one when he burned Chardray. His madness climbs through episode two. He brutally murders a man who potentially could have gotten the power grid running again, and then he turns his sights on Amy and Keeshana.
Joshua and Severin are still defending the nation’s middle ground, the boundary separating Lupan’s organizing army from the society forming in Florida. When you first encountered Joshua and Severin in episode one, you might have thought they were corrupt, too, after they murdered two looters. Joshua and Severin walk a consistent line through the first two episodes—they war against what they perceive to be evil.
Jacob’s psychosis grows after Lupan shuttles him off to the Iowa compound, and you might have noticed that I planted the first seeds of doubt about the origins of his insane desire to kill Tori. Is he a lunatic, or is Lupan controlling him, driving him toward madness? Now that we can somewhat empathize with his situation, we are torn between cheering for him to escape and fearing what he will do once he is loose.
In my opinion, Tori shows the most significant growth during this episode. Her powers are anathema to her, and she is understandably horrified by what is happening to her. By the end of the episode, as Lupan’s beast stalks out of the woods, Tori accepts her gift of magic. She becomes vengeful, demonstrating how dangerous she can be, as she finally begins to fight back.
Which brings me back around to Victor Lupan. In most post-apocalyptic horror stories featuring a dark presence bent on destroying the remnants of the human race, the “good guys” don’t have a weapon capable of standing against the all-powerful evil entity. In Dark Vanishings: Episode Two, Tori has grown into a legitimate threat, a power Lupan must respect and maybe even fear. This adds a dimension missing from many other stories.
The Wolf Man chapter might be my favorite among the first two episodes. Dark Vanishings is a combination of thriller and adventure story, with horror overtones. I took the opportunity to return to pure horror for The Wolf Man chapter. The scenes follow the two boys through the jungle bordering Florida Bliss, while they are unaware of the monster stalking the darkness. These scenes frightened me when I wrote them, and I hope they gave you a chill, as well.
I wish to thank my line editor, Jack Musci, for helping me track down the missing words and gremlins which seem always to elude the eye of the writer. My proofreaders, Laurie Love and Chad Lutzke, were indispensable. Laurie and C
had also provided excellent line editing suggestions, helping make Dark Vanishings: Episode Two everything I hoped it would be. Thank you to my team for your attention to detail.
Thanks are once again in order for my wife Terri, and our children, Joe, and Julia. I also wish to thank the multitude of friends and family who have supported my efforts and become my first readers. You are my motivation, and I hope you continue to follow along on this exciting journey.
Although some of the United States locations described in Dark Vanishings are actual places, Florida Bliss itself, Red Oak, and most of the featured locations are solely of the author's imagination. Any resemblance between the people in this book and people in the real world is purely coincidental and unintended.
Copyright Information
Published by Dan Padavona
Visit our website at www.danpadavona.com
Copyright © 2015 by Dan Padavona
Artwork copyright © 2015 by Dan Padavona
Cover Design by Elderlemon Design
Editors - Jack Musci, Laurie Love, and Chad Lutzke
All Rights Reserved
About the Author
Dan Padavona is the author of the Dark Vanishings series, Storberry, Shadow Witch, and the horror anthology, The Island. He lives in upstate New York with his beautiful wife, Terri, and their children, Joe, and Julia. Dan is a meteorologist with NOAA’s National Weather Service. Besides writing, he enjoys visiting amusement parks, beach vacations, Renaissance fairs, gardening, playing with the family dogs, and eating ice cream.
Visit Dan at: www.danpadavona.com