Nights Gone By

By Jason McIntyre

In the tradition of Hitchcock, Rod Serling, Ray Bradbury and Shirley Jackson, "Nights Gone By" is an anthology of six horror, science fiction, drama and suspense stories.

DDA // Ada Verhoeven has just graduated from a Berlin university. Now she’s following her father’s words of advice, getting things in order and making plans for her new life.

House Lights // Thinking he needs to get out of the house Abe is now face-to-face with the girl he pined for through high school...and he’s taking an acting class with her.

Man With an Addiction // The man in the pickup truck tells Katie that he’s just out to buy dog food for his newborn pups but surely there’s more to his offer of a ride home.

Down The Line // Otis Derry’s lead line inspector finds something on the early morning train bound for the mountain pass through Willis.

East Meets West // Duncan loves to work in the dirt and now that spring is here he can finally get that new flower bed planted before darkfall but the next-door neighbour has other plans.

Through the Transom Light // Henry can’t sleep and hasn’t for some years now--not since that night seven years ago when his and Anna’s lives were shattered with the scream of the baby monitor.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Jason McIntyre
• Release date: Nov 30, 2011
• ISBN: 9781465903204

Jason McIntyre

Born on the prairies, Jason McIntyre eventually lived and worked on Vancouver Island where the vibrant characters and vivid surroundings stayed with him and coalesced into what would become his novel, On The Gathering Storm. Before his time as an editor, writer and communications professional, he spent several years as a graphic designer and commercial artist. Jason is the author of more than two dozen short stories, several novellas and full-length fiction.Currently, Jason is at work on new novels and stories in the Dovetail Cove world -- companion books to BLED and SHED.His latest full-length novel, THE DEVIL'S RIGHT HAND, is out now!Synopsis:The saga began with The Night Walk Men, the #1 Kindle Suspense novella by Jason McIntyre. Now it continues with The Devil's Right Hand. And a war is brewing.Meet Benton Garamond. He's lost. He careens through the wet streets of downtown Vancouver on a collision course with a dirty lawyer named Levy Gillis. He wants something from Gillis and he aims to get it.Meet Donovan Lo, former drug kingpin and not bad with the ladies if you ask him. He's in hiding and has a plan to leave his empire for good. But something -- and someone -- aims to put a bullet through his last big score.Now meet Sperro. He has a lot to say about his job, about Benton Garamond and about Donovan Lo. Sperro will be your tour guide."We are Night Walk Men, imbued with the lives of at least ten men, and we walk among you like a blur, unseen but often sensed or smelled like pollen in the air when you can't see flowers--or the tingle you get when the hairs on your neck stand up."If you hear footsteps on the parched earth behind you, or if dry autumn leaves scrape concrete with a breeze, that's most likely one of us, walking just a little ahead or just a little behind. If it's dark and you climb into your car and for once--for no reason at all--wonder why you didn't check the back seat for strangers, one of my brothers is mostly likely back there as you drive off."We are everywhere at once and nothing can stop us. We are Death incarnate, walking under long robes of black and chasing down the winds to read from a discourse that may be the last words you'll hear..."Be prepared to shake The Devil's Right Hand.

Book preview

Nights Gone By

A Short Story Anthology by

Jason McIntyre

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Published by &

Copyright © 2012 Jason McIntyre

Smashwords Edition

Fiction titles by Jason McIntyre:

On The Gathering Storm

Shed

Thalo Blue

Bled

Black Light of Day

Walkout

Nights Gone By

Learn more about the author and his work at:

www.theFarthestReaches.com

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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. Thank you for respecting the work of this author.

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Contents

DDA

House Lights

Man With An Addiction

Down the Line

East Meets West

Through the Transom Light

DDA

Borough of Lichtenberg

Central Berlin, Germany

Wednesday, 11th March

Ada Verhoeven's dad always gave her advice. Things like, Don't spend your time on lost causes or Ally yourself with successful people. Another favourite was, Don't sign anything unless you're one hundred per cent certain.

She didn't know the value of many of his shared tidbits, but at the moment, she was rolling her mind through the various Dadisms of her childhood to try and ease her mind and relax the tension in the small where her skull became her neck. There were other Dadisms, too, the ones delivered during her brief flirts with adulthood when he was still trying to guide her and teach her before she flapped her wings and finally plummeted from his nest for good. Reeling through them all, Ada tried to come up with something appropriate for right now. This moment.

Standing in line at the DDA wasn't the problem. It was the strange notion that all the people ahead of her knew something about the DDA that she did not. Letting someone, or some thing else be in control, that was hard for Ada. And what did dear ol' Dad have to say about that?

The line moved ahead by one person—Ada was one step closer to stepping up to bat, as Dad would have called it—and she kept searching her memories of dear ol' Dad’s patented words of wisdom for a nugget that would help her here, or maybe just one that would make her laugh when it popped into her head.

Keep your chin up, even under dire circumstance. Nope. Sorry, Dad. Good advice but not necessary here.

Do the dishes every day. Even when you don't feel like it. Stupid one. There's always more dishes to wash tomorrow. Dad.

Don't smoke. It'll wreck your lungs, make you old before your time, and paint you as a person who can't think for yourself. Gawd, Dad. Why were you always such a buzz kill?

There were three of five tellers open, each behind plexi-glass facades rimmed with heavy iron frames. Ada didn't know how else to think of them. Tellers was just as good a word as any, since this low-ceilinged, darkly-lit queue vestibule reminded Ada of the bank her mother took her to when she was young. Seated up high behind the long, dark mahogany counter—is that real wood? she thought—there were those three DDA Agents talking to individuals on this side of the counter. One long line snaked among stanchions and ropes that went three rows deep with corresponding elbows in the line of people. Yeah, she thought, Agents. That's probably a better word. She seemed to remember them referred to as DDA Agents on the paperwork she'd filled out.

Ada was about halfway through, eleventh in line from the front. Thirteenth from the back since another young woman had just come in, filled out her forms at the counter near the door and then saddled up to join. Like a pretty, blonde caboose to this train of strangers.

Not a bad morning's crowd, Ada thought to herself, pursing her lips and shrugging her shoulders. Don't wear your heart on your sleeve, you'll lose everything, her Dad had once advised her. She caught her visible mannerisms, cut them off, and silently scolded herself for making gestures like this that someone might be able to interpret.

Silly, she knew, but Dad's judgements were a powerful force.

Not a bad crowd at all, she thought again, For a secret agency, that is. "Pfft!" That last part, the pfft!, was out loud. And Ada's eyes blew wide once she realized it was, then with solid neck, her eyes looked left and then right to see if anyone had heard her and was visibly aware that she was talking to herself in her own head. No one seemed the wiser.

Silence. Someone coughed gently, far away. Then one of the three agents stood up and went around the counter, way down to the far end of it, where she met with her, uh, customer who'd been asking questions at her window. Apparently the counter agent couldn't answer them. Or, quite possibly, the customer had made a more-than-regular-sized request with fancier options or heavier details. They disappeared through a black door together and, presumably, into a back office somewhere. Maybe to discuss things in more detail. Ada turned halfway to the person waiting in line behind her and said, Must have ordered something not on the menu, huh?

The gentleman behind her said nothing, only flickered a half-second of eye contact and lifted the corner of his mouth in a crooked smile before looking blankly ahead once more. His look said, "Yeah, funny one, lady. But let's keep quiet and get through this. I don't know you. You don't know me. Capiche?"

A tiny laugh escaped her but she zipped it as quickly as it began. It was the only audible noise in the maddeningly quiet Agency vestibule. Over near the doorway, both armed guards turned their eyes towards her and shifted. She noticed their weapons shifted with them and the burlier of the two actually moved his finger onto the trigger of his gleaming black assault rifle as he made eye contact with Ada.

This place means business, Ada thought. And for what they're charging, she supposed they needed to keep the big guns out in the open for everyone to see.

When it was finally Ada's turn at the counter, she landed at the agent on the far left side, nearest a fire exit and the other, unmarked door, through which the up-sizing customer had gone with the DDA agent a few minutes ago.

There were no counting machines, no computers and no vault behind the counter. This was most definitely not a bank, though Ada hadn't seen a bank like that since she was a very little girl, toddling along in an airy pink dress with her mother while mother tended to daily errands like making a car payment or getting a money order.

No, behind the agent, or teller, who took Ada's paperwork through