Ridealong

By Stephan Michael Loy

Frank Keith, sheriff of Conroy County, embarks on the strangest day of his life, and you ride along. Before a background of political upheaval, economic uncertainty, and a slew of disappeared family pets, Keith must puzzle out mysterious speeding super cars, a yard full of gore, and monsters among the crops. Regardless of what comes at him, Keith knows this day defines his whole existence. Is that existence a mystery? Is it a horror? Or is it something far darker: the bizarre, spiraling crash into the thorns of everyday life? For when nightmares merge with the commonplace, when the commonplace becomes surreal, how can a man realize the fate his life must take him to? Ridealong is Everyman in the instant before awakening. It is heartwarming, frightening, funny and grim. It is life, and the razor's edge of opportunity before life deserts its young. It's also a damned fine cop story.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Stephan Michael Loy
• Release date: Oct 26, 2013
• ISBN: 9781310730870

Stephan Michael Loy

Stephan Michael Loy has been churning out stories of adventure and fantasy since way back in junior high. He's been writing professionally since the 1970s, breaking in his writing chomps on the Louisville Courier-Journal and IU's Indiana Daily Student newspapers. He has a degree in Journalism from Indiana University and an advanced degree in Art Education. He is a military veteran, having served five years in Armor and Cavalry commands in Europe and the United States. He uses all of these experiences in the stories he creates. He has published multiple novels and novellas on Smashwords that can also be found in print at Lulu.com and Amazon, among other online sources. Go to stephanloy.com to easily find these books in print or ebook formats. Stephan Loy lives in Indianapolis, Indiana with his wife Amy and their two criminal cats, Buffy (the Cat Toy Slayer) and Oz.

Book preview

Ridealong

By Stephan Michael Loy

Ridealong

Smashwords Edition

Copyright © 2013 by Stephan Loy

All Rights Reserved

Published in the United States of America

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 except as stipulated in your user agreement. Outside of such stipulations, if you would like to share this book, please purchase another copy for each person you share it with. If you are reading this ebook and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for you by another person, please go to your preferred point of purchase and purchase your copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work and intellectual property of the author. We all gotta eat.

Be sure to check the notes following the conclusion of this ebook.

Contents

Part 1: Morning

Part 2: On Duty

Part 3: Carnage Before Lunch

Part 4: Lunch and Paperwork

Part 5: Afternoon Questions

Part 6: Monsters in the Long Shadows

Part 7: Evening's Rest

Part 8: Morning Mysteries

Part 9: Resolutions in Ambiguity

Afterword

More Books from Stephan Michael Loy

Ridealong

Part 1: Morning

(Back to Contents)

Frank Keith lived with interrupted dreams. Oh, he slept all right, no problem there, but he still marked his dreams, his waking ones, as interrupted, truncated, unfulfilled, squashed. Frank was a man going nowhere in a hurry. Even when he slept, he stewed in that predicament. He dreamed of his marvelous, beautiful wife wearing away from domestic labor, and of his kids discovering their dad's surfacing impotence. He dreamed of his friends shaking their heads and clicking their tongues. Poor, poor Frank. All those tortures, real or imagined, dug him into a pit from which a future was unattainable. He'd fallen, Frank knew, and could not get up.

He awoke with a start, his subconscious horrors vanishing in an instant, leaving only their residual phantoms. Momma! he exclaimed, then found himself on his side on dry, soft, clean sheets.

No, he heard from behind him, it's just Gomer.

A lean, defined arm reached across him and snapped off the alarm just as it started to ring. Frank felt more than the slide of that arm past his shoulder. He felt softness along his back, the smooth length of a leg against his and a quick, suggestive kiss on his ear. Those sensations retreated with the arm and he rolled onto his back to recapture that seductive company. He was met with a drool-drenched tongue on his face.

Ach! Gomer, down! He shoved the dog away, but Gomer was determined to present his morning greetings. After a moment, Frank gave up. He dropped his defending hands to the mattress and let the dog coat his face with slobber.

Embrace the horror, Jenny said, and laughed. She stood next to her side of the bed, drawing a robe about her naked, supple, sadly distant body.

Come back to bed? Frank begged.

Eww! You're all nasty.

Gomer laid off the soaking and settled like a sphinx atop his master. He ignored Frank's theatrical groans of agony and stared at him with rheumy, adoring eyes. Drool dribbled from his jowls.

You're a disgusting bastard, Frank told him.

Playfully, Jenny tweaked one of Frank's toes as she padded past the bed to the doorway. Up and at 'em, hero. You gotta fight evil throughout the county if we're gonna eat next week.

I can't. I've been immobilized.

Should I call the police? Jenny yelled from down the hall.

No, Frank answered, that would be redundant.

He lay in the bed beneath his dog, his huge mutt of a dog with its mastiff's lips, its boxer's short, wiry pelt and its mongrel's curled, thumping tail. Okay, he said, what's it gonna be? I'm a trained peace officer and I'm telling you to cease and desist in your present behavior. Do you want me to use unreasonable force?

The dog stared at him, its tongue hanging out and dripping.

Frank rolled to unbalance the animal. Get outta here, you goof.

The dog yelped, leapt to the hardwood floor, and clicked out of the room with a Woof! thrown over its shoulder.

Same back at ya, mister! You wouldn't say that if I had my gun.

Frank sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed. He scrubbed his face with his dry hands and willed himself alert. Going to work was getting to be hard.

When he opened his eyes, a tiny, pudgy-faced human stood in pajamas in front of him, holding a teddy bear in a well-meant headlock.

Frank squinted at the intruder, a male, medium build, approximately three-feet tall with brown eyes and brown, straight hair. Too much of it. Who the dickens are you? he asked.

I'm Franklin David Keith, Jr., sir, and I can spell my name, the round-faced midget declared.

Izzat so? Frank looked him up and down. Well, Mister Franklin David Keith, Jr. Who Can Spell His Name, you think you can give your ol' dad a hug?

Frank gathered the child in his arms and squeezed, enjoying the pressure of little kid arms and a teddy bear against his neck.

Okay, he said after releasing the boy, go on, now, and check in with Mom. I'll see you soon enough.

A shave, shower and tooth brushing later, Frank felt more like facing the world. He pulled on his livery of office, the sand-colored trousers and tan shirt, both with the creases sewn in permanently. Cotton tube socks and steel-toed boots, then the numerous accouterments that made dressing in the morning a drawn-out adventure.

The belt came first; heavy, wide and laden with pouches holding handcuffs, receiver-transmitter, and clips of ammunition. Then he snapped the radio handset onto the leather strip hanging from his left epaulet. At the mirror inside his wife's wardrobe, he inspected his varied plethora of insignia: the name tag, the six-pointed star of a badge, the whistle he hung from his right pocket button, the silver pips that showed rank on his epaulets, and his commendation ribbons. Frank wished he made more money. He'd keep multiple sets of all that junk and apply it as soon as his shirts left the ironing board. Or Jenny would. When Hell froze over.

He critiqued himself in the mirror. One had to do such things as a public figure in a small town. The uniform was crisp, the man not so much. He couldn't do a thing about the slightly receding hairline or the horsy face. He still had his spare, athletic body, though it slid toward looking