If It Bleeds

By Darryl Dawson

Television is killing us. A wave of violence is sweeping across the city, triggered by subliminal messages in local TV broadcasts. And those messages are more than suggestion–they are living demons corrupting the souls of unsuspecting viewers, driving them into insane rampages of cannibalism that no one can stop. A video journalist named Moses Mayborne sees the changes first-hand in his wife, and now he must rescue her and their child, or get swept up in the carnage.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Nightshade Publications
• Release date: Dec 2, 2013

Darryl Dawson

I was born in L.A. and raised, along with my big brother, in a lovely suburb called Harbor City by a wonderful pair of teachers that I still call Mom and Dad. I watched reruns of Night Gallery as a kid, which helped develop my taste for the bizarre.I have written three books: THE CRAWLSPACE, IF IT BLEEDS, and my latest, DEATH'S DREAMS. I specialize in short stories.I write because it's easier than speaking. Most people who know me know that hearing me speak at length about anything is as unlikely as Apple going broke. Having the gift to put my thoughts down on paper (or WordPad) and turn them into wild, terrifying stories is a wonderful gift. I don't know what I would be or do if I hadn't found that gift.I write horror because the dark places are more fun. Horror is my fifth limb, an inseparable part of me that may make me appear to most as a freak, but feels perfectly natural.I currently survive in Phoenix, Arizona with the help of a tight-knit group of Manchester City fans..

Book preview

Bleeds

CHAPTER 1

8

Commitment…2News!

The bass tones of the voice-over actor shattered the air with

unquestionable authority. A blaring TV news theme pummeled

underneath as flashy motion graphics swooped and dashed across

the screen.

"…With Logan Daffney, Simone McMerriman, and certified

meteorologist Kevin Drane."

The music lunged and hacked with a final sting.

…This is your news at five!

With that declaration, Moses Mayborne knew he had exactly

thirty minutes to complete and transfer a reporter package that

was handed to him only three minutes ago. Moving with urgency

and accuracy against his digital video editor in Edit Bay 2, he

laid down the audio tracks while the sound of his employer’s

newscast slithered in from the monitor hanging on the wall.

"Thank you for joining us. Tonight, our commitment to

breaking news, said Logan. Right now, Phoenix police are on

the scene of a possible murder-suicide."

The cursor moved like a gnat on the computer screen,

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If It Bleeds

dragging and clicking pieces of the report to be assembled into a

story for the lead at 5:30.

"An entire family was found dead in a home near Union

Hills Road, said Simone. 2News reporter Len Percy joins us

live from the scene of this horrible tragedy."

Moses was a video editor—one of the quality-control

line workers in the TV news factory. With all the changes in

technology over his decade-long career, one thing remained

constant: the closer he was to a deadline, the less visually striking

a news story was going to look. This was true in every station,

in every market. The name of the game now was to make sure

it made its assigned slot on time, or else endure the wrath of a

producer who would have to juggle the show lineup and make

up for ninety seconds of missing material, which, in most cases,

would bring the flow of the newscast to a screeching halt. With

twenty-five minutes and counting to slap, tickle, and send to

playback, Moses and everyone in the newsroom understood that

this was unlikely to resemble a Speilberg film. Still, he hated

mediocrity, especially since this one was written by his wife, a

reporter named Sheila. Taking as much time as allowed to make

it shine, he took a quick glance at the television monitor. They

were still in the first block.

Logan was speaking. "It was a day of shouting matches

and raw emotion at the state capitol as protests continue over

Arizona’s tough illegal immigration law."

Moses had laid down his first two shots when it happened—

the cursor suddenly froze like a fly in a jar of tree sap. The editing

program was unresponsive. He hissed an expletive and clicked

his mouse. The computer screen flushed with a veil of soft white

and all activities within came to an abrupt end. His desktop was

having a heart attack, and only a time-consuming reboot could

save it.

There was still time, and none could be wasted on pissing

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If It Bleeds

and moaning. He rushed to the edit bay next door hoping it was

empty. It wasn’t.

Hey, Gonzo! I need to borrow your bay! Moses said.

Mine crashed!

Gonzo looked at him with a mixture of fear and exasperation.

Yours crashed too?

Moses would have preferred any three random words to

the ones he had just heard from the seasoned photojournalist in

front of another useless blank computer screen. A lump of air

ballooned in his throat.

System failure—a crisis only an engineer could solve.

A dread-filled music cue punched from the TV monitor as

Simone talked about the growing violence in Syria, her voice

dripping with news anchor sorrow.

He summoned the engineering department on the overhead

page, then hung up and called the producer in the control room

to let her know that Sheila’s story was going to have to float or be

dropped all together. A second video editor in Bay 4 had already

called the associate producer to keep her in the loop on the

editing system going kaput. Moses stepped out on the main floor

of the newsroom to access a show rundown at an unoccupied

desk. What he saw made his face go numb. The 5:30-half of the

newscast, which was coming up in less than fifteen minutes, was

only about sixty percent done. Sheila’s package on the Lamora

trial, about a guy accused of pushing his wife off the rim of the

Grand Canyon, was missing. So were several other stories that

couldn’t be edited or sent to the cue for on-air playback. The

oncoming train had no other route but the one that would send it

flying off its track to crash and burn. Now it was only a question

of who would remain calm and who would lose their shit.

The urgent voice of the news director, Nelson Radditch,

popped up behind him, making his nerves stand at attention.

What’s the status of editing right now?

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If It Bleeds

We’re in limbo, Moses replied. "Engineering’s working

on it."

What exactly is the problem?

I don’t know. Probably a system crash…

Can you find that out for me, please? Radditch

stormed off.

Moses cringed as he realized he had committed a deadly

sin in the TV news business. When a superior asks you a direct

question in moments when the fan is blowing feces across the

room, you never answer with I don’t know.

He heard Radditch complaining to the AP about getting

things back up as quickly as possible. We need the video, he

heard him say with desperation and annoyance in his voice. "It

can’t work without the video!"

Sheila Mayborne was sitting at her desk with her eyes to the

floor, grasping her nine-month-pregnant belly. Another reporter

stood with his arm around her. Moses ran over to where she was

sitting, feeling a new distress that surpassed the importance of a

live newscast on the brink of dysfunction.

He knelt down and looked at her face. It glistened with

sweat. Her mouth hung open to suck in as much air as possible.

He’s coming.

Are you sure?

Yes!

The other reporter, fresh off his nighttime assignment,

interrupted. "I already called 9-1-1. They should be here any

moment."

But the doctor said Saturday, Moses said, still staring into

his wife’s glazed eyes.

He’s coming now, she said between deep breaths.

Moses wasn’t sure how she would know that. This was their

first child.

What’s going on over here? said Radditch, peering over at

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If It Bleeds

the scene. Oh my God. Don’t tell me…

An ambulance has already been called, Moses

told him.

Everyone in the newsroom stopped what they were doing.

Radditch put his hands on top of his head. "Oh, Jesus Christ!

That’s gonna leave us with only one editor! What the hell else

can go wrong today?"

Fuck you, Moses replied in his head. At that moment, as his

life was about to change in wonderful, adventurous ways, he felt

a powerful contempt for his profession. How could the news, the

scornful, panic-stricken camera eye on the community, be more

important than what was happening now?

On the monitors, Logan spoke. "Coming up, a valley woman

leaves her window open for air, and becomes a victim of a home

invasion."

10

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If It Bleeds

CHAPTER 2

8

In the darkness, Moses lay shirtless on the bed with his arms

outstretched to the sides and his feet on the floor. He stared

up the ceiling fan and let the steady, downward breeze cool

his mahogany skin. He knew why he felt alone and scared;

he couldn’t understand why now, when he wasn’t alone, and

everything felt so new and perfect.

Outside, a thunderstorm crackled and rumbled in the

distance. It reminded him. Punished him.

Just a few feet away, his wife