More Bedtime Stories for the Apocalypse

By Joel Arnold

At first there was Bedtime Stories for the Apocalypse – a collection of stories to keep you entertained while the world falls apart around you. Now there is More Bedtime Stories for the Apocalypse – a new collection to keep you up at night as chaos engulfs the planet!

With ten brand new stories (and three rarely seen reprints) you’ll read about:

A drug mule carrying something far more dangerous than drugs across the Rio Grande.

A teenage girl wondering if her stolen ticket will admit her to the afterlife.

An old break room calendar portending doom.

A woman making a stand in an outhouse against a knife-wielding maniac.

A macabre opportunity for a couple stranded upside down in a snowstorm.

A ringing coffin bell that signals much more than a premature burial.

These and other stories by Joel Arnold, the award-winning author of Northwoods Deep, Death Rhythm, and the original Bedtime Stories for the Apocalypse, will keep you reading late into the night.

But wait – there’s more!

As an added bonus, the brand new steampunk ghost story “Rerun” by Daniel Pyle, author of Freeze, Down the Drain, and Dismembered is included for your apocalyptic reading pleasure.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Joel Arnold
• Release date: Oct 3, 2012
• ISBN: 9781301608409

Joel Arnold

Joel Arnold is the author of several novels. His short stories and articles have appeared in dozens of publications, including WEIRD TALES, CHIZINE, AMERICAN ROAD MAGAZINE and Cemetery Dance's anthology SHIVERS VII. In 2010 he received both a MN Artists Initiative Grant as well as the Speculative Literature Foundation's Gulliver Travel & Research Grant.Arnold teaches writing at student workshops throughout Minnesota and has given presentations about the Ox Cart trails of Minnesota and the Dakotas to several historical societies and other groups interested in history. He also serves as the literary director for the Savage Arts Council.Arnold lives near the Twin Cities in Minnesota with his wife, two kids, two cats, a dog and a ball python. Plus he makes a mean coffee cake.Sign up for his monthly newsletter here: http://eepurl.com/Gre2f

Book preview

MORE BEDTIME STORIES FOR THE APOCALYPSE

by

Joel Arnold

SMASHWORDS EDITION

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PUBLISHED BY:

Studio City on Smashwords

More Bedtime Stories for the Apocalypse

Copyright (c) 2012 by Joel Arnold

Bonus story Rerun Copyright (c) 2012 by Daniel Pyle

All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

Smashwords Edition License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the author's work.

Cover design by Melissa Arnold

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For Uncle Dan Cleland; a fearless storyteller who was always quick with a stump to sit on, a cold beer, a thumbs up, and a laugh. Oh, my God, that laugh…

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Table of Contents

Last Seat on the Rapture Express – Intro

The Mule

Rotten Fruit

The Calendar in the Break Room

Last Seat on the Rapture Express – 2

The Greening of Bushton

The Coffin Bell

The Soft Caress of Falling Bombs

Last Seat on the Rapture Express – 3

Occupied (alternate ending)

Black Bags

The Opportunity

Last Seat on the Rapture Express – Coda

Rerun – a bonus story by Daniel Pyle

Author’s Note

About the Authors

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The Last Seat on the Rapture Express - Intro

Congratulations, pardner! You’ve scored the last seat on the Rapture Express. Hop on board and squeeze on in. We’ve stopped a lot of places, picked up a lot of deserving people who’ve prayed and prayed for this day to come. Well, that day has come, pardner, and we on the Rapture Express welcome you!

Take a seat. Have a blanket; this one ain’t too moldy. So buckle up and hang on tight. We’ve got a long way to go. The Rapture Express races across the land, its cars full of the chosen. And you, pard’ are one of the bona-fide chosen.

What’s that? Do I think you belong? Do I think you belong? Well…See that fella over there?

Now there’s a scrapper. He fought through a crowd of over two-hundred with just a machete and a baseball bat. Used to play on one of them triple-A teams – the Mudhens or something like that? Anyway, he fought through the whole mess of ‘em, men, women, children, batting a thousand, beating a swath right to yours truly. He even took a few bullets along the way, but kept right on fighting his way to glory. A real scrapper.

Just like you. Oh yeah, you belong.

Now over there’s an interesting fella – the one with the beard and ear buds? Don’t know what he’s listening to, but here on the Rapture Express, that little i-Whatever never needs recharging. Not now, not ever. He’ll soon figure out that his little device has every song he could possibly want. That’s one thing about the Rapture Express; it knows what you want before you do.

Anyway, that fella was out hitchhiking when we found him. Had a cardboard sign that said ‘Heaven or Bust!’ So we stopped and asked him if he wanted a ride. He fell to his knees, tears pouring from his eyes, thanks and praises spouting from his lips. He even asked me if I was Jesus.

Nope, I told him. I’m just the conductor. Hop on board!

And you? Yeah, you belong.

Those roped-off stairs? You noticed ‘em, huh? Not everyone can see ‘em. They go up to the club car. Reserved for those that can pay. Sure, money can’t buy you love, but it can certainly buy you a first class ticket on the Rapture Express! Wider seats, better food, and access to the club car. But lest you think that unfair, not to worry – where we’re going, everything comes out in the wash.

Look here, pard’ – no need to be nervous. Sure, the ride might get a bit bumpy. You might see a few things you ain’t never thought you’d see, especially on a bona-fide train headed straight to the glory of all that is. Sometimes you might even wonder if you’re on the right train; if we’re going to where we say we’re going.

You’ll just have to trust me. Trust us. You belong.

See that young woman over there? The one holding that hot pink day pack on her lap, rocking back n’ forth? Now there’s an interesting case. Maybe I’ll tell you about her later, when I come around again collecting tickets.

Anyhoo, if you see a few bodies pass by the windows, don’t pay ‘em no mind. Those on the roof didn’t have quite what it takes to get on board, so they’re hitching a ride up top. But up there it’s a tad slippery, a tad slick, you might say. And even if it wasn’t, at the speeds we get up to, you’d need to grab hold of something pretty darn fast, and you better have a powerful grip. Although I hear tell that some of them are going to a few, shall we say, extremes to stay on top. They can be a creative bunch when faced with eternity, whether that eternity be heaven, hell, or a big ol’ gaping hole of nothing.

So just sit on back and relax. Want something to read? Something to take your mind off of all the excitement for a while? We’re all out of the Good Book. But here; I found this under one of the seats. Don’t mind the stains. It belonged to some fella who snuck on board without a ticket. We had to send him up onto the roof. I don’t know how he’s faring. Maybe he’s still up there, maybe he’s not.

But you’re here, and that’s what matters.

Anyhoo, here you go. Looks like a book of bedtime stories. Just the thing to put your mind at ease. So sit back and relax. Enjoy the ride. And if you need anything along the way, just holler.

Holler real loud.

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The Mule

What the fuck happened?

He heard the shhhhhh of the Rio Grande in the distance. Hot desert wind blew dust over his prone body and rattled the burrow weed and creosote bushes dotting the landscape.

My pack. He sat up frantically. There, by his feet. He grabbed it. Unzipped it. The coffee cans were still there, thank God. He pulled one out, opened it and stuck his finger in the dark grounds. When he felt the tightly wrapped brick of cocaine within, he sighed with relief.

But again…

What the fuck happened?

He’d never felt so swollen before. Had something bit him? Something poisonous? A snake? A spider? Scorpion? His tongue found a hole where one of his front teeth should’ve been.

Shit!

His skin itched like hell, and he pulled out the collar of his shirt and looked down at his chest. When he saw all of the pinprick-sized dots on his light brown skin, he remembered the blinding light. He remembered the eye on the stalk and the head it was attached to. He remembered the way the eye looked at him. And the mouth. Oh God, the mouth…

Pete made the trip twice before. Worth it? Hard to argue with a closet of old shoeboxes full of cash. Twenties, fifties, hundreds, rubber-banded in stacks of twenty-five or fifty, and after each successful trip, Pete’s uncle Allejandro invited him inside the closet, opened a box at random and tossed him one, two packs, flipped through a third and tossed that one to him, too. An extra for my favorite nephew, he’d say. You ever want work, you know what to do.

The cash was great. But the work…

He didn’t want to become dependent on the quick fix of cash he received at the end of each trip. He didn’t think of himself as a drug mule. No. He wasn’t one of them. He worked full-time in El Paso detailing cars. He paid his bills. Rent and utilities he shared with two roommates. Food, gas. He had the self-control to save up for a used car with the money he made legally. But sometimes, that little extra bumper of money in the bank made things a hell of a lot easier. Still, he didn’t want to get greedy. He was putting his life on the line with each trip, and he knew if he kept at it, eventually he’d get caught. Or worse.

But every once in a while…

He wanted to start taking classes at El Paso Community College. He could spend another year detailing cars and saving up, or…he could call up Uncle Allejandro over in Juarez, chitchat a bit and ask if he had any work for him.

Why of course, Allejandro would say. For you, Pedro, always.

Then it was only a matter of crossing the border into Juarez and taking a taxi to his uncle’s hacienda. The guard outside the gate knew Pete and always greeted him with a warm smile and a pat on the back (automatic rifle strapped over his shoulder) and let him in.

Simple.

At least the trip to his uncle’s was simple. The trip back to El Paso…not so simple.

There’d been a tunnel at one time, but that had been compromised before Pete had ever set foot in it, and now Allejandro smuggled coke across the border the old-fashioned way; hiring mules to sneak it over the border to waiting trucks.

Since this was his third trip, Pete was more prepared than he’d ever been. He had a pair of night-vision goggles; not only helpful for spotting border patrol agents, but also for spotting snakes and other creatures. He didn’t really mind snakes so much – he had a pet boa at home. But he didn’t want to get bit by anything poisonous while making his way to the Rio Grande. That would make for a bad night. And the goal was to have as many good nights as possible.

Poisonous snakebites…bad.

No poisonous snakebites (or border patrol agents)…good.

The two-kilo bricks of cocaine were wrapped tightly in plastic and placed in coffee cans. The extra space in the cans was filled back up