Herbie Hunter and the Fathomless Legion

By Michael HH Warren

In 2026, Pyramid Lake is drying up and the wicked are thriving. The bodies of over twenty men found floating in its waters baffle the locals of Gerlach, the nearby town where a crescendo in the rise of evil has slowly been creeping over them.

When Herbie hears news of the mysterious Pyramid Lake massacre, he immediately suspects there's more to it than meets the eye. With the help of his friends and a local vampire slayer, they trigger a course of events that begin to uncover a massive conspiracy in the United States army, unveil the truth behind the reappearance of the Nephilim, and have Herbie dancing closer with death than ever before.

Last Generation is a series of YA magical realism action and adventure novels that tells a story of the battle between good and evil that has been waging since the dawn of time. The second installment, Herbie Hunter and the Fathomless Legion opens the gate to the dark future awaiting humanity. The mystery only becomes more tangled as it unravels, and the true face of evil begins to rear its ugly head.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Michael HH Warren
• Release date: Jan 10, 2019
• ISBN: 9780463128633

Michael HH Warren

Michael HH Warren began writing about his life during the South African winter of 2009. Driven by a strong desire to tell his story, what began as a creative outlet would eventually become his first book, In The Name Of God. The writing bug has bitten, and Michael has since published several novels. A far cry from his memoir, these books are aimed at teens/young adults who represent Generation Z (GenZ). Still having a passion for the world of non-fiction, Michael has several ideas presently evolving into draft manuscripts. He lives with his wife, two children and three Jack Russells.

Book preview

Herbie Hunter

and the

Fathomless Legion

Last Generation – Book Two

Michael HH Warren

© Michael ‘Double-H’ Warren 2018

www.michaelhhwarren.com

www.sleightsoccer.com

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission from the author. Brief excerpts may be cited in book reviews, provided the narrative quoted is verbatim and due credit is given by way of the book title and name of author.

Herbie Hunter and the Fathomless Legion, although a work of fiction, has a very strong correlation to historical facts and religious spiritual concepts, and a certainty in the reality of the near future to be faced. However, for the reason that it remains a work of fiction, kindly accept that no apologies will be forthcoming for any offended sensitivities.

While many names of most entities and places are factual, the majority of other names, characters, places, incidents and events are products of the author’s imagination and therefore used fictitiously. However, some terms are deliberately fictitious to avoid confusion and to preserve anonymity. Even so, the reader will naturally relate to basic emotional signals.

Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or having the seemingly impossible likelihood of imitating any actual incident or event, is purely coincidental. Should any artifact, business, event, incident, institution, name or place be found to be evident and occurring in public domain source documents and resource repositories, then accept that they are true to life and therefore factual.

Should any factual inaccuracy or a suspected lapse in basic acumen on the part of the author be detected in the narrative, I hope the reader will interpret the oddities with humor, gravity and/or relevance. Accordingly, the author hereby absolves himself from any libelous action or responsibility for any unintentional errors or omissions.

Illustrations: Siané Power

Cover design: Michael Corvin

Book design: Leila Summers

Editor: Karen McKee

Storyline Advisor and Editor: Ross Julius Henshall

Contents

Glossary

Authors_Note

Preface

Prologue

Chapter One: Get Out

Chapter Two: Going Down Country

Chapter Three: Darkest Town in America

Chapter Four: Legion in the Lake

Chapter Five: Lovelock Cave

Chapter Six: Area 51

Chapter Seven: Ezekiel the Destroyer

Chapter Eight: Jacob

Chapter Nine: Night of a Thousand Demons

Chapter Ten: Together

Acknowledgments

Glossary

Abraxas

A powerful military land/air hybrid vehicle capable of moving heavy loads.

Celtic knot

A stylized graphical representation of a knot present in Celtic mythology.

Chevra Kadisha

Also known as Hevra Kadishah, an organization of Jewish men who prepare the bodies of deceased Jews for burial.

Cosplay

Costume play; the practice of dressing up as a character from popular culture. Costumes are often tailored by their wearer.

Earthship

A house built from local clay and recycled materials. They are built to be eco-friendly and self-sustainable, powered solely on renewable energy harnessed from solar panels and windmills.

Earthshippers

People who live in earthships.

GenZers

A nickname used for people born in Generation Z, the most recent generation. It is widely accepted that GenZers are those born between 1995 and 2012.

Golem

In Jewish folklore, a clay figure brought to life.

Gubernatorial Election

The election for a governor.

Moshiach

In Jewish belief, a spiritual leader descended from King David’s bloodline that will bring unification to the tribes of Israel.

NSA

The National Security Agency, infamous for tracking private data on the Internet.

PTT Button

Push to talk button. Present on walkie-talkies, this button is pressed when the user is transmitting.

RPD

Reno Police Department.

Sit Shiva

In Jewish religious custom, the seven day mourning period practiced by the Jewish people. All the mirrors in the deceased’s house are covered, and mourners are discouraged from making their own food, rather receiving food from friends, family and neighbors.

TL;DR

Too long; didn't read (abbreviated TL;DR, tl;dr, and tldr) is shorthand notation indicating that a passage was considered too long to invest the time and effort to read and absorb.

Wannabees

Slang for want to be. Someone trying to achieve a certain style, status or image, but distinctly failing to do so.

Dedication

For Kelly, Caden and Generation Z.

Michael HH Warren, 2018

Author’s Note

Herbie Hunter and the Fathomless Legion questions the connection between the degradation of society’s moral fiber, the universal rise in drug abuse and the worldwide obsession with the occult. When we normalize concepts and practices that were once taboo, we forget why they were ever spoken of in hushed tones, and we fail to see the impact they have on our spiritual wellbeing.

Herbie Hunter and the Fathomless Legion asks the reader to look at the way our society has changed in the last hundred years. The modern age has been molded by fantasy—aliens, vampires, werewolves, zombies, outrageous conspiracies—and the line between reality and fiction has become ever more blurred. What effect has this had on our psyches? Can anyone be sure where the line truly is?

We’ll rejoin our hero, Herbie Hunter, as he battles to find justice for his losses in this turbulent climate. He will have to draw his own line between fantasy and reality, but more importantly, a line between justice and vengeance. Now that he has committed himself as a warrior for the forces of good, he will have to ensure that he does not unwillingly fan the flames of evil by blindly following a misunderstood sense of duty in pursuit of justice. Only when he risks losing everyone he loves can he start to value them over his quest for vengeance for those he has lost.

Michael HH Warren

October 2018

Preface

Herbie Hunter believed in justice; that the evil were punished and the good rewarded. But now, after staring evil in the eye and committing himself as a force of good, he received no reward, and evil was left to fester and grow uninhibited.

In the summer of 2026, the world economy continued to show no sign of recovery. Every day, automation filled another thousand human roles in society, and another thousand humans found themselves with no way to put food on their tables other than leeching off an already incapacitated government.

The perpetrator was no secret: automation. Those who believed themselves to hold the reins of the United States of America could never have comprehensively calculated the impact automation would have on them. Local governments were throttled by self-driving cars that broke no traffic laws, received no speeding tickets and never parked. States that had relied on profiting from coal, oil and gas production found themselves with no market due to the influx of renewable energy sources, rendering their products obsolete. Large cities faced mass exodus as the water tax skyrocketed, and their populations had no choice but to seek settlements around the remaining springs, rivers and man-made lakes. There was no one to tax, no property to profit from, and no way to keep the wheels and cogs of the rapacious administrative machinery turning. The rules of the game had changed, and an outdated system found itself too short-sighted to adapt.

The federal government had failed to produce adequate laws to tax the corporations that no longer provided society with jobs. They were too distracted by the wars they waged at every front, fighting alongside Israel to claim ever larger chunks of the Middle-East, surrounding Russia and China with ever more military bases. The imminent threat of conflict demanded larger and larger budgets to keep ahead in an arms race and to produce ever more effective killing machines controlled by increasingly sophisticated AI.

So despite a crippled people and government, the military and industrial spheres had never been so prosperous. They fed into each other—the military developing the systems to replace people’s jobs, and the industrial mega corporations devouring military contracts that cost them next to nothing to fulfill. Anyone who bothered to pay attention could see this double-headed dragon was quickly becoming its own independent force, working by its own laws, untethered and apathetic to the bubbling turmoil around it, if not actively stoking its flames.

The Light Seekers, funded by Osiris Corp—one the greatest profiteers of these chaotic times—were determined to use this free fall into depression to their advantage. High-ranking Magisters toured the country, preying on the desperate and providing them with an ill-fated solution to their woes—an all-expenses paid trip to Paradise Rift in exchange for their unyielding loyalty to their cause.

The Rift was preparing for their arrival. With most of the outlying farms securely under Osiris Corp ownership, new developments were popping up every day. Construction on the Osiris Corp hospital, now dubbed Ishtar Clinic, had accelerated with round-the-clock shifts now that summer’s heat strangled construction by day.

So despite what had seemed at the time as a victory over Don Balcom, Herbie had done little to stop this multi-tentacled machine from grabbing ever more power. Now that the Grand Magus was touring Nevada in preparation for the November gubernatorial election, he didn’t even have a figure to aim his rage at. The summer was moving quickly, and he had used the time to smolder in his anger, obsess over his failures and spit at an apathetic universe that seemed to have no sense of justice.

But what Herbie didn’t know was that the ultimate justice was well on its way, the only true justice, the only real justice—Divine Justice. It would come swift and merciless upon the wicked—upon humankind’s last generation.

The heart, like all muscles, is born for a tussle

Is battered and bleeds before healing

You’ll find there’s an issue when rampant scar tissue

Hardens its wounds while it’s sealing

You may reach for your chest, feel the cold stone infest

From a battle, a bruise or a beating

You strike out at others, those you should call brothers

But it’s you that’s the foe you’re defeating

Prologue

July 01, 2026

TOP SECRET

URGENT

Self-terminating message drop

Subject: Specimen 6

To both our government and external funders: The A51-S6 team is glad to announce that Specimen 6 has proven stable. A word of thanks goes to Don Balcom, who resurfaced the work of Paul Hunter and proved his original hypothesis correct: Gene N66 is capable of successfully being incorporated into the human genome with incredible results. Not only has Specimen 6 managed to repress the physical deformations of Specimens 1 through 5, but physical strength and mental prowess is seen to perform at a superhuman level. At first glance, it would seem that Specimen 6 is a complete success.

But we fear that we have opened Pandora’s Box. As you know, Specimens 1 through 5 succumbed to the mental illnesses associated with Omega Energies. The addition of Gene N66 made them susceptible to this phenomenon that we have spent countless years trying to study, but they are yet to truly understand. A small portion of humans have been studied to contain Omega Energies, and all on record have died shortly after levels spiked, much like Specimens 1 through 5.

Despite seeming mentally stable on the surface level, Specimen 6 contains unprecedented levels of Omega Energies. It is our hypothesis that its heightened mental capacity allows it to control the schizophrenic-like compulsions associated with this phenomenon, but they still exist somewhere within its psyche. If Specimen 6 were allowed to continue with the planned protocols, it is entirely possible for it to break free of our control.

After analysis by military psychologists, psy-op agents, neurologists and geneticists, team A51-S6 is hereby recommending that Specimen 6 be terminated immediately and any further incorporation of Gene N66 held off until the Omega Energies are fully understood. It is an unmitigated risk to national security and the future of humanity. We plead with you to receive and consider this suggestion with the utmost severity. We have attempted to create the next step in human advancement, but it seems that we have, instead, created humanity’s possible demise.

Child of the Night

I’ve been dealing since high school. It came naturally to me. I needed money, and I didn’t give a damn what the consequences were. Drugs didn’t scare me—they’ve been a part of my life since I realized that daddy gets mad when he drinks the brown juice and mommy makes up stories when she smokes her special cigarettes. And don’t get excited about those promises of holidays, or expect anything for Christmas—but whatever. I don’t feel sorry for myself. If it weren’t for them, I would have never ended up here, about to have my wildest dreams come true.

In fact, I can’t thank them enough. I might have got stuck in the corporate rat-race with a necktie noose suffocating me all day, living my life in a cubicle cage like some sort of rat. I might have even been dumb enough to go to college if I wasn’t so eager to get away from them. I guess getting expelled from every school they ever sent me didn't help either.

But I didn’t need school. I scored big time when I was just sixteen. I made the connection of a lifetime—a walking, talking prescription pad. I never got the guy’s name, but he worked for Osiris Corps Pharmaceutical. Super shady dude, but his supply was endless. It was like the guys at Osiris Corp were just throwing stock away. You want it, he had it—codeine, Vicodin, OxyContin, Valium, Xanax, Adderall, Ritalin, heck! I had a whole range of barbiturates at my disposal if you really got a kick out of sleeping all day. I sure popped a few to drown out my parents’ fighting every now and then.

So let’s just say I was making big bank for a high schooler. Enough to make it on my own, that’s for sure. The kids at my school ate that stuff up like Halloween candy. You see, I had matured waaay beyond my years when I was a teenager. Finishing school would have just been a waste of my time. School’s for conformist worms that can’t figure anything out unless it comes from a book. I’ve got street smarts. I own the night—always have, always will. And things are only going to get better when I receive my powers …  

Shut up, Daniel! I’m totally gonna get powers! It’s my fate! It’s always been my fate! I mean, do you even know how I ended up in this backwater town? Yeah, I didn’t think so! It all makes sense if you know the story from the beginning … well if you can shut your trap for one second, I’ll tell you!

I think I was suspended from Robert McQueen, or was it North Valley? Who cares—they're all the same conformist mind control camps. Some kid had ended up in the ER ’cause he was bouncing off the walls from a Ritalin overdose and the freakin’ rat told his parents that he got the pills from me.

Not that my parents really cared. My dad was drinking away welfare checks whilst my mom was picking up shifts changing sheets at the Sunrise Motel, and neither of them bothered to show up for my disciplinary hearing. They didn’t even realize I wasn’t going to school in the morning.

Most of the time my dad was home alone and let’s just say he didn’t waste any time staying sober—that dude was wasted from the second he rolled out of bed. Whatever, I had to get out of the house anyway. Being suspended meant I could sell pills all day and make some real money.

But that fateful day, I messed up. I slept in, and I didn’t get out fast enough. I woke up to my bedroom door being thrown open, my stinking drunk dad stumbling in nothing but his vest and boxers. And you want to know what that loser was doing? Trying to find my wallet! He didn’t even realize I was lying in the bed just a few feet away. He just started going through all my dirty laundry on the floor to see if he could find anything he could trade for a drink.

I was like, Stop touching my stuff, DAD! which made him jump six feet in the air. He totally didn’t expect me to be home.

He shook his head like a freakin’ pig that had just been shot by an arrow and started yelling, Whaddya doin’ here! GET yerself ta school!

So I yelled back at him, I’m suspended! If you weren’t wasted all the time you’d know that! Now get out of my room!

He must have downed a pack of forties by then, ’cause he just sort of swayed there trying to figure out what was going on, until he finally asked, What’s that crap in ye ears?

He was talking about my flesh tunnels. I had literally had them in for over a year, and we’d had this fight plenty times before, but he was acting like he’d just seen them for the first time.

And what’s going on with ye nails, he grumbled, looking like he could fall over at any time, Ya dressin’ like a girl now?

He didn’t get my whole image, that cretin. Of course, if I paint my nails black, I must be trying to look like a girl. I didn’t let it get to me. But then he crossed the line.

And for the love of football, Barry, the hell is sticking out ye mouth?

The fangs were new, so I understand why he was surprised, but he had to go and do the unthinkable. He broke a rule there. He knew I hated that stupid name—my slave name—and I wasn’t going to let him get away with it.

I leapt out of my bed and pushed him yelling, MY NAME IS BARNABUS BLOODBORNE!

He stumbled back against the wall, trying to shake his double vision off. He snarled as his eyes locked in on me, No childa mine is gonna walk around looking like some kinda sissy!

I’m not your child! I screamed at him, I’m a child of the night!

That idiot tried to punch me. Lucky he was so damn drunk, ’cause my dad weighed, like, two hundred pounds, and if he’d managed to land a hit on me, he probably woulda cracked my skull open. But I was ready for it, and moved out of the way pretty easily.

I don’t know what got into me. Maybe I was a little peeved from getting suspended again, or maybe I was just done with my parents’ crap … I’m sure none of it would have happened if he’d just given me a chance to pop a Xanax before he barged into my room. But I was peeved… super peeved.

So, just a bit of background, I like to collect daggers and knives and stuff … and to be honest, I’d been thinking about killing my dad for a while. Calm down, Daniel, I know you won’t tell anyone, just listen to the story! No one’s gonna believe a tweaker like you anyway. What? No, I don’t want a hit! I don’t smoke my own supply, just shut up and listen … well then put another log on the fire—I’m not your mom.

Where was I? Oh yeah, I stabbed my dad. I had a whole bunch of blades and swords and daggers hung up on my wall, and they’d just been hanging there, not doing their job since I got them, so I thought it was about time I put one of them to use. I don’t think I killed him. I would have heard about it on the news or something … I guess? But anyways, I pulled my favorite dagger off the wall, the one with ankh shaped hilt, and I just rammed it into his side as hard as I could.

That’s the thing about big guys—they drop really fast when they take a blade to the kidney. Makes you wonder why they took all that time to get so big! Ha ha ha, losers, thinking they’re so strong when in reality a super-fast intellect like mine can easily defeat them.

There was a lot of blood. More than I expected. I’d been living as a vampire for over a year, but I’d only been feeding off people’s energy. The Reno vampire scene was a bunch of posers that didn’t believe in the literal drinking of blood, but they’d outcast me anyway and I didn’t care much for their stupid rules. I mean, why get veneers put it in if you’re not going to use them? I was done with all the fakery—I was ready to take it to the next level. I was ready to become a real vampire.

The glimmering crimson snail-trail of blood my dad had left dragging himself out of my room got my heart racing. I followed it down the hall to the beached whale flopping around like he was tryna get back into the ocean. A nice wet puddle had collected under him so I … just sorta dipped my finger in. It was pretty gross, I’ll admit, but that’ just ’cause it tasted like grain alcohol. Still, it was my initiation. I had finally taken my first step to becoming a true child of the night, and soon, my transformation will be complete.

Anyway, I figured I better get moving. It seemed like if my dad didn’t die soon, he’d muster up the strength to call the police, and let’s just say, I wouldn’t deal well with prison. I knew I had to get as far away as possible. But first, I needed cash. What? Yeah, I was totally balling, but I’d just spent everything I had on the veneers, so I was kind of temporarily broke at the time.

I guess you can say I had fate on my side—everything happened perfectly from there on out. It just so happened that Burning Man was starting that weekend, and Reno was overflowing with hippies in need of a trip. Oh man, the bunch I found looked like they’d walked right out of Woodstock sixty-nine. There must have been ten of them crammed into a beat up old VW van. They’d wrecked that thing, painted it baby blue and slapped yellow flower decals all over it. I thought I was gonna barf just looking at it.

They were mostly girls—pretty girls. They were all dressed up with Native American headdresses on and not a whole lot else. I mean, that’s totally not my type, you know, but that doesn’t mean they wouldn’t make a delicious feast. Yeah, Daniel, I really drink blood! I’m not one of those poser vampires, I’m the real deal. Why do you think I got these veneers! They’re not just for show, you know. They pierce flesh like razor blades. What’s that? No, I don’t bite my own tongue all the time, shuddup! That was one time only!

If I can get back to my story! So the hippie chicks are totally interested in buying some pills, but surprise-surprise! They didn’t have enough cash. Typical hippies … but that’s when it hit me—why not just go with them to Burning Man? Thousands of people, out in the middle of nowhere, it would be the perfect place to hide. Yeah sure, being surrounded by happy-go-lucky hippies for that long might be enough to drive me insane, but I figured I could make some decent cash off them whilst I was there.

So I pretty much told those hippies that I’d keep them buzzed for as long as it took them to sneak me into the festival. Man, do hippies love free stuff, they didn’t even think twice. Be honest with me, Daniel, if a freak like me came up to you and offered you drugs for a free ride, would you just let them in your car? Well, of course you would, ya junkie, but anyone with two working brain cells would know better.

There was this one girl, Samantha … I mean, a total Barbie doll, totally not my type, but I guess she had a thing for bad boys. She didn’t stop talking my ear off the whole drive there.

You know, I can see into your heart, and I know that there’s a soft, beautiful baby boy that just wants to be loved in you. All this … black and piercings and dog teeth— Yeah, she called my fangs dog teeth, they’re just a cry for help. I wish I could reach into your black broken soul and hug it and tell it that everything’s going to be okay.

I robbed her blind the first chance I could—cell phone, jewelry, wallet, pretty much anything of value. Once they got me into the festival, they were so preoccupied with getting as messed up as they could as fast as they could—they didn’t even think to lock their things away. Burning Man was already proving to be a profitable business venture.

Those hippies are always talking about loving each other and acting like they’re going to change the world for the best, but trust me on this, Daniel, there were some nasty people around Burning Man. Which was great for me, ’cause I knew one of them would buy the phones I’d stolen, maybe even switch them out for some stock.

I wasn’t going to walk around during the day though—it’s a desert, Daniel, it's freakin’ hot. Why anyone would willingly pay money to sit out in the hot sun for nine days is beyond me. I’m a vampire, dammit! I’m not even supposed to be out in the sun! There are rules I’m supposed to live by! 

Lucky for me, everyone there was a freakin’ imbecile. They were just giving stuff away for free! Food, booze, water, glow-sticks, even some clothes! So I figured if everyone was so generous, I might as well ask someone if I could sleep away the heat and sunlight in their tent.

I knew I’d found the perfect moron when this half naked leathery old guy tried to hug me. I was like, Ew, no thanks. Yeah, Daniel, I drink blood, but that doesn’t mean I can’t get grossed out! Anyway, this guy starts on the same trip as Samantha, that I need healing, that I need to learn to love, blah blah blah. So I tell him, Actually, I need a tent to crash in.

Anything, brother, he bows to me like he thinks I’m some sort of prince, I’d give you the clothes off my back if I had any.

Of course the second I was left alone in that tent, I took everything I could carry. Not that he had much. A bit of smoke I could sell on, fifty dollars, and some relic of a cell phone that I think I ended up throwing away. By then I had enough to trade for a good couple of grams of something, enough to see me through the next few weeks. But I needed someone to trade it with.

I got out of the tent the second the sun went down. That old guy probably forgot he’d ever let me stay in there anyway. But I was starting to get worried that word would get around that there was a vampire lurking the night, stealing people’s stuff, cause, you know, I kinda stick out like a sore thumb.

In order to find the right guy to make the trade with, I had to follow the trail back to the goods—but those damn hippies didn’t make it easy for me. Every time I went up to someone and asked them where I could get some drugs, those half-wits just gave me some for free! I mean, what’s wrong with some people? What, Daniel? I get that they were just being nice, but it just … doesn’t make sense! I was trying to get my business up and going again all their kindness was getting in my way!

But like I said, everything that happened after I stabbed my dad was meant to be—written in the book of fate. That’s why I eventually met Smokey Joe. Oh man, Joe was messed up when I found him, but he was giving off that greasy vibe that I knew would lead back to the good stuff. He was lying in the dirt, staring up at the stars with black hole pupils, making angels in the desert sand as he waved his arms and legs like a jackass.

Try to imagine this guy, Daniel, he somehow was bald and had a ponytail. A stoner, drunk, tweaker and everything in between. He was under the impression that denim waistcoats were still in style and his teeth were all the colors of the nastiest rainbow you’ve ever seen. I was dumb enough to stand over him to get him to notice me and my face was blasted with meth breath.

After I made sure I wasn’t going to pass out from the smell, I asked him, You got any drugs?

He showed off that foul smile of his and stared up at me in wonder, For a child of the night, I got whatever you want … he paused a moment as he kick-started a couple of neurons, As long as it’s meth.

To be honest, I liked Smokey Joe right away. He was the first person at the whole stupid festival that looked at me and didn’t immediately want to change me. He didn’t have a monologue prepared about how broken or hurt I was—all that went through Joe’s head was, this guy likes to party, so let’s party. If he hadn’t been a breath of fresh air—figuratively speaking, I probably never would have gotten involved with meth.

Joe’s campsite was a screaming orange custom built chopper with aquamarine and emerald flames painted on the gas tank and—well, that was it. The moment I saw that monstrosity of a machine I had no doubt in my mind that Smokey Joe spent most of his life high as a kite.

I sleep under the stars, maaan, don’t need no blankets in the desert, he told me whilst rummaging through his saddle bag. And most of the time I don’t even bother sleeping, ya know? he carried on as he threw a sealed plastic bag filled with murky white crystals at me.

I’d never seen meth before to be honest. It never really crossed my mind to get involved with it, and I wasn’t all too happy that Joe had just tossed a ten year sentence into my hands—but then he gave me the lowdown.

I get this stuff for next to nothing. Guys upstate are pumping it out faster than I can sell it.

Huh? Uhhh … no, Daniel, this isn’t the stuff I’m selling you, of course not! I pay top dollar for your supply, don’t worry. Ummm … so, yeah, Joe explained that he pretty much rode through Northern Nevada, visiting the ghost towns to find clients. Once they were hooked, he could charge those poor fools whatever he liked, ’cause no one else was gonna bring it to them. But Joe was getting old and the cops were on him like flies on excrement. He’d made enough dough to rock his socks into an early retirement and wanted out of the game.

So, he decided right then and there that he was going to pass his business onto me, Do it for a year, maaan, make your cash and jump ship. Trust me man, you can head to the Bahamas when you’re done.

I had nothing better to do, but I also didn’t have a chopper to mission across the state with. But Smokey Joe persisted, Lemme show you how it’s done, man, then you make up your mind.

I was pretty eager to get out of hippie hell, so I shrugged and was like, Sure, whatever, and got on the back of that citrus nightmare that Joe called a ride. That’s how I ended up in Gerlach.

I’d heard of this place before, of course. It’s the darkest town in America, so it always seemed like the perfect place for a vampire lair. But I guess you know as well as I do, Daniel, that there isn’t a whole lot to do around here, so it wasn’t exactly my first choice.

He drove us to the train tracks, far enough out of town that we could be sure there’d be no one around.

Eight o’clock man, you can bet that trains coming through. Runs like clockwork, man, Joe explained to me as he turned off the road onto a dirt path leading up to the tracks.

And the ol’ geezer was right! We’d barely been waiting there for thirty minutes before this old freight train started making its way towards us. At first I was like, So what? It’s just a train, why are we out here you half-cooked basket case?

I guess I was starting to worry … just a little. I had followed some old guy that had fried half his brain out into the middle of nowhere, and now all he had to show me was a freakin’ train. I was ready if he tried anything funny, don’t you worry, Daniel. The night is my ally.

But Smokey Joe let it slide off his back and smiled back at me with those nasty teeth, This is where the magic happens, maaan.

He searched around his saddle bag and pulled out a massive stack of cash all rolled up in a band, like, an easy five thousand dollars. It kinda caught me off guard!

I was like, What else ya got in there, Mary Poppins? and Joe just gave me that dopey smile and said, This is chump change, maaan.

The train was old and moved slower than paint dries—I have no idea why they operate out of such a relic, I guess it was inconspicuous to say the least. But Joe didn’t seem to think anything was out of the ordinary and sauntered up to the tracks, waiting for the caboose to get to him. And you wanna know what he did? He just threw the wad of cash at the train. The madman!

I started yelling, Joe, you brain-dead blockhead! If you didn’t want the cash you coulda just given it to me!

But Joe wasn’t fazed and threw me a pee-shaw, Take it easy, man, and pay attention.

You’re probably not gonna believe me, Daniel, but that train is like a magical … uh … chicken. Well, I can’t think of a better analogy! Give me a chance! It’s like a magical chicken, ’cause you put money in one end, and out comes huge bags of meth out the other, kinda like feeding a chicken and getting its eggs? Alright, fine, that was a terrible analogy, but what I’m tryna say is, seemingly out of nowhere, a huge bag of meth was thrown off the train into Smokey Joe’s hands.

I just stood there, my mind totally blown. It was a lot of meth, Daniel, like more meth you could smoke in a month, waaay more than five thousand dollars’ worth. And the craziest part? Joe just gave it to me.

That’s to start you off, man, he winked, You can have my old trailer in Gerlach, get yourself started there. But I’m out, man.

What’s that? Huh, that’s … that’s a surprisingly intelligent question from a tweaker like you, Daniel. I’m impressed. Why am I telling you all this … WELL IF YOU LET ME FINISH THE DAMN STORY YOU’LL FIND OUT! WON’T YOU? Here, take a rock, on the house, you put that in your pipe and smoke it, but just SHUT UP until I’m done, okay? Thank you!

ANYWAY! As you and I both know, I didn’t quite follow in Smokey Joe’s footsteps. After he gave me the keys to the trailer, he drove off into the night, never to be seen again. Joe had recommended I get a hog and drive up and down route four forty-seven and sell to every dirt poor trailer scumbag I met along the way, but I honestly couldn’t be bothered. I was already in Gerlach, and I couldn’t help but notice all the condos that Osiris Corp was developing there. So I figured, why bother? Why not just get the whole town hooked on meth and then I never have to get off my butt. I think we both know, Daniel, that my plan worked pretty damn well.

But to be honest with you, I’ve been getting really bored lately, I daresay, even regretful. I’m only a digital vampire with an online coven now, I feel like I’ve lost my roots. I mean, if anyone in town were to wake up with teeth marks in their neck, you can bet they’d be outside my trailer with pitchforks in no time. I wanna be a real vampire.

And yeah, selling meth is easy and profitable, but I’m super smart and could be rolling in waaay more serious dough if I put a little effort in. There are also … the moral implications. I’ve seen what this stuff’s done to you, Daniel—I know I’ve ruined your life. So, not very long ago, I was thinking of quitting the game, starting afresh, somewhere new, rejoining the vampire community.

And then something happened. Something that altered my fate forever. What? Oh, don’t worry about the whole ‘me ruining your life’ thing—I’m going to make that all right soon enough. Just give me a chance here. It’ll make sense soon.

I knew there was change coming when I stumbled across a certain video on the Tube. There’s this guy called MindWeilder that uproots conspiracies and paranormal events. I watch him all the time. Then one day, he releases a video entitled: THE VAMPIRE KING! You’re not gonna believe it, Daniel, but there’s this mysterious hooded figure—aka the Vampire King—that’s been seen around Northern Nevada, stalking the night for prey. Northern Nevada, Daniel! That’s where we are! There was no chance that it was just a coincidence. I just knew he was looking for me to join his real vampire coven.