Incidents in Idaho: Monster Marshals

By Troy Lambert and Danielle Parker

Witch Please: 

Nolan was lucky to be alive. But maybe it wasn't right to call it luck, not with that many broken bones. Still, to have survived at all indicated a heap of luck so big that it would attract Leprechauns from thousands of miles. Instead he got an invitation to join a secret team, policing the real-life monsters inhabiting the world. His first mission? There's a witch with a domestic dispute

Incidents in Idaho: 

The Monster Marshals, a secret government agency, has been formed to protect the world from misbehaving monsters using the procedural acronym NECK, or Neutralize, Extract, Capture, or Kill. This time agent Aria Peirce and Jim Underwood have been sent to a mine in North Idaho, where an apparent AHOOL -- a giant bat or winged primate usually found in the South American jungle, has been discovered. 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Bert Books
• Release date: Nov 19, 2019
• ISBN: 9781393812357

Book preview

Part I

Book #1: Witch Please

A Monster Marshals Story

by

Danielle Parker

1

Rapid Descent

They entered the cave system well after the sun had set. A fresh discovery by a drone, one that Arkwright wanted searched post haste. They didn’t care much about the time of day that got done, or how much more dangerous that choice could make such a thing.

Under the light of the moon, at least the sweltering heat dropped to a more tolerable temp. It’d be cold soon enough. The miserable desert couldn’t make up its mind. Hotter than hell most of the day, colder than a frog’s ass at night.

Arkwright didn’t care about any of that either, but their money was a green as any. Which was how Nolan made peace with all the buffoonery.

He swallowed down yet another sigh and grabbed at his walkie. Nuts, we’re going in the west entrance now. You and Disco stay frosty.

Roger that, Cowboy, Nuts radioed back. We’re heading in the east entrance. Going silent. Don’t get dead.

Copy.

They weren’t expecting any hostiles – Arkwright wasn’t about fighting wars – but caution was never a bad idea. A little care could mean avoiding a bullet, and he’d found that hunting for treasure or rare antiquities could make men just as crazy as war.

The flashlights attached to their vests illuminated a path ahead. Nothing special, there weren’t any stalactites, or whatever the others were called. Stalagmites, he thought, but what the hell did it matter.

The walls were all smooth, and the caves were silent, and spooky as a mausoleum, enough to make the hair on the back of his neck stand up and his beard itch.

Probably full of snakes, porcupines, and crocodiles. Nolan shuddered and held tighter to his M4. This thing have enough stopping power for a croc? Let’s not find out.

Tony ‘Brooklyn’ Antonelli followed behind him, still grumbling over the assignment under his breath. Kid signed on for war and found himself trotting the globe looking for weird historic shit. Nolan couldn’t blame him for being squirrely, but it wasn’t like they had anything better to do. If they hadn’t been tasked with exploring the cave they’d have been back in their racks, waiting and itching for something to do.

He had enough time logged in staring at the wall. At least searching some stupid cave meant they were doing something.

Hey, Cowboy, Brooklyn said. Nuts said I should ask you about prom.

I’m flattered, but I already have a date, Nolan said with an eye roll his companion couldn’t see. Of all the times for chit-chat. He swiveled his light side-to-side, sweeping the area. Something was there, he could feel it in his beard. I asked Nuts, actually. Now shut up and look for dusty shit that might be important.

Brooklyn huffed. Come on, there’s nothing in here, and I’m bored already. You always have the best stories.

There’s plenty of something in here that could kill us and you want to talk. And what do you mean bored? He paused and turned to eyeball his young companion. Brooklyn was tapping at his rifle with quick, fidgety fingers, and looking everywhere but at Nolan. Ah, you mean you’re nervous.

No way, Brooklyn said with a scowl. His fingers stilled and he raised his chin to glare up at Nolan. This is actually boring, you know? I signed up for globetrotting, adrenaline pumping action. Instead I’m running around the worst places in the world looking for artifacts, or whatever. It’s like boring Indiana Jones.

Were you expecting to punch Nazis? Look, don’t be in such a hurry to prove you’re a badass, alright? Nolan shook his head and continued forward. Damn kids all wanted reality to be like those first-person shooter games, with no concept of the value of life, real danger, or limited ammunition. This isn’t boring, not if you’re engaged like you should be.

I am engaged, that’s the problem. What’s wrong with wanting some conversation to help pass the time?

It’s a distraction. We can chat all you want later. Maybe. If there’s bourbon. You’re going to get a chance at action soon enough and I don’t think you’re going to like it. It’s not like the movies. All this tough-guy sh-

On Nolan’s next step forward something crunched under his boot. It didn’t click, so he felt confident it wasn’t a landmine – but still… He carefully shifted, trying to feel out what he was standing on. It was stiff but bowed under his weight. Not compact sand, it groaned and creaked like wood. Wood that cracked meant. . .

He froze, caught eyes with a pale-faced Brooklyn, and then the ground opened up.

The buried haphazard bridge of particle board he’d stepped on shattered. Thick splinters shaped like ragged teeth scratched him as he plummeted down a man-sized crevice. Brooklyn shouted and tried to catch him, his gloved fingers grazing Nolan’s.

Too little, too late.

God! Nolan howled, arms flapping at the air, hands slapping out against walls in a futile search for handholds. It was smooth though, a grainy sand tube, he had nothing to latch onto. Brooklyn’s shouts grew more distant. Dust and granules of sand clogged Nolan’s nose and throat. He bounced off one of the walls and then he was sliding, instead of falling, down the world’s driest waterslide.

The ride ended as abruptly as it began. He spilled out into a new abyss, and landed face first in cold dirt.

Damn it. He groaned and coughed, hands and feet stirring uselessly in the dirt. Someone send in the rodeo clowns.

His radio crackled on his chest. -owboy!

With some effort, given the weight of his gear and general state of his body at that point, he rolled onto his back and swung a limp hand to catch the walkie. Brooklyn.

-Hear you – ge – out. Hol – on, man.

Copy, copy, copy, he sent back, hoping one of those got through. Just great.

It took him a moment to sit up, aches that would later be bruises popping up all over. He rubbed at his neck with a wince. Probably whiplash. He wiggled his toes and patted at his chest, doing a quick check on everything else. Nothing felt broken, yet.

His flashlight stuttered and shut off. He sighed and toggled the switch until it blinked back on. A look up revealed the rounded top of the cavern. Tall enough for him to stand and go exploring. He struggled to his feet and turned in a circle, the beam of yellowish light revealing the cave he’d ‘discovered’.

Maybe I’ll find Aladdin’s lamp, he muttered. Arkwright would love that. Better get a raise if I do.

There were two tunnels branching off from the open area. Deep and dark and probably not filled with any treasure he’d care to find.

He should stay put and wait for someone to get a line to him, he knew that. That would be the smart play. But his skin crawled and his beard itched like mad. That feeling of another presence nearby was suffocating. Every cell in his body screamed danger, imminent threat, warning, warning, warning.

Nah, Plan B, I’m not sitting around waiting for the Devil to come get me. He grabbed for his walkie. Brooklyn, I’m having a look around. I’m alright. I’ll leave breadcrumbs.

Hopefully some of that got through. With a grimace Nolan switched off his flashlight to conserve the battery. He reached into his cargo pocket for a chem-light. The stick cracked and he shook it until the neon green color glowed vibrantly. This is a terrible idea.

He dropped the light at his feet and grabbed another one. Orange this time. Fun.

Without GPS, Siri, or Alexa to tell him which tunnel to pick he got to choose his own adventure.

Light in one hand, rifle in the other, he shrugged and walked to the tunnel at his right. He paused under the sloping entrance. Hi-ho, hi-ho, it’s off to death I go.

The gloom revealed nothing, no matter how long he glared at it. He marked his path with the orange stick and grabbed for another. Armed with a green one, he squeezed through the opening and sighed when it opened up soon after. For several long moments all he heard was sand compressing under his boots and his own breathing. The green glow surrounding him cast everything in horror movie lighting. A low-budget movie too, not the greatest ever made. Bad acting, cheap effects. He wouldn’t be running into hot cavewomen either, if he had to guess at the plot.

Go check the cave system, they said. It’ll be a piece of cake. We’ll pay you more than you’ll ever spend in a lifetime. You’ll probably even have fun. He stopped, pulled his rifle closer to his body, and held his breath.

Down the tunnel, out of reach of his pathetic light source, something… slithered. Air hissed towards him, warm and damp and putrid. Death had a certain odor; one he knew too well. Whatever was down that tunnel was decomposing or had eaten something rotten.

It’s a snake, right? He shivered as another gust of stank streamed past his face. A really big snake. Or a Graboid, and I’m so not Kevin Bacon.

The ground trembled. The whatever-it-was moved, its skin rasping along the walls.

Then it growled.

Aw hell. He dropped the chem-light and gripped his M4 with both hands, ready to fire.

Two amber eyes the size of family-size pizzas appeared. Cat-like pupils widened then narrowed.

Nolan flicked his flashlight back on. He gulped. Another wave of air brushed his face, leaving it damp. Gold scales surrounded the eyes of the thing. Its massive head filled most of the tunnel, horns sticking out in all directions, dragging tracks in the soft ceiling. Fine particles of dust swirled in the light when it exhaled. It opened its mouth, a forked tongue flicked at the air. Teeth the length of his arm gleamed. A mangled human leg was stuck in-between the back teeth, a shoe clad foot at the end.

The power of Christ compels you! He opened fire without bothering to aim properly, running backwards as fast as he could.

The thing he was not going to call a dragon roared.

Roared and came running too.

The ground vibrated with each booming step. Nolan bellowed right back and switched to three-round-burst with the flick of his thumb. That choice burned through his ammo but didn’t stop his enemy.

It made him feel better for a second though.

I’m out! he yelled to no-one and pulled his sling off. He hurled the rifle in the general direction of Hell-fire eyes. Keep it, asshole!

Out of offensive or defensive options, he turned and sprinted back the way he’d come, shimmying at lightning speed back into the main chamber he’d fallen into.

Not fast enough. He yelped as claws circled his waist, pinching him between the plating of his body armor.

Instead of stopping to munch him right there, the not-calling-it-a-dragon carried him along for a ride. It slammed him against the ground as it ran on, tenderizing him for later. He did his best to cover his face on each down stroke, spitting sand and blood every time he was lifted back up.

They blasted through another narrow opening, into a larger tunnel. The impact knocked Nolan’s head back. His nose was definitely broken, that sensation he was familiar with.

He spat out a loogie of bloody-sand and tried to blink flashing lights out of his eyes.

The not-a-dragon reared up, holding Nolan against its dry, scaly chest, slither-running on its four back legs. Another tunnel scraped by in a blur and then a half-buried opening came into view.

Impending doom was illuminated so helpfully by his flashlight that decided