Have Vampire, Will Travel - Case File: Ruby of the Rails

By Scot Savage and Eric Bieche

Hold on to your hats for this paranormal adventure! Vampires, shape-shifting, spiritual fog, a soul caught in Limbo a Wendigo; and hobos-the rail-riding kind. But, what if those hobos were more than mere mortals? What if a gang of them worshipped a deity that lived in monster form and survived on human hearts? Enter detective Maxx Shadow, a man who narrowly escaped his encounter with the monster. Twenty-five years after that attack, he's hired to reclaim a necklace and find justice for a lost soul. The moment he sees the picture of the necklace, the face of the man wearing it jars a memory loose from the spiritual fog that has prevented Maxx from remembering all the details around how he became scarred. The closer the hobo with the necklace and the monster come to Maxx's Chicago, the more he remembers and the more he realizes he can't take them down alone. Fortunately, he has a new employee who happens to be a vampire.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu.com
• Release date: Sep 5, 2014
• ISBN: 9781312492363

Book preview

Have Vampire, Will Travel - Case File: Ruby of the Rails

Have Vampire, Will Travel - Case File: Ruby of the Rails

A Maxx Shadow/Roger Sparks Paranormal Thriller Mystery

Scot Savage

with Eric Bieche

SSE Logo.jpg

Scot Savage Enterprises

Schaumburg, IL

http://www.havevampirewilltravel.com/

[e-mail]

Copyright © 2014 by Scot Savage and Eric Bieche

ISBN # 978-1-312-49236-3

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

This novel is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination, or, if real, used fictitiously. No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including, but not limited to, photocopying, recording or by any information storage retrieval system, without the express written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews or where permitted by law.

Cover Art by Julie Kukreja

Pen & Mouse Design House Inc.

Printed in the United States of America

¹⁰ ⁹ ⁸ ⁷ ⁶ ⁵ ⁴ ³ ²

Dedication

Scot’s Dedication

To all of the medical professionals and staff at

Alexian Brothers Hospital, Elk Grove Village, IL, who saved my life and made the creation of this novel possible.

Eric’s Dedication

To my mom and dad.  Thanks for all that you do!

Acknowledgments

Scot’s Acknowledgements

The road to publishing our first novel was a twenty- seven-year journey; however, the dream would not have been possible without the help and support of some very important and special people.

First and foremost: to my lovely and dedicated wife, Nicole, for her emotional support as well as her understanding for all the time I was away while we were penning this novel. We are also thankful for her patience, diligence and the long hours of her indispensable service as our initial proofreader.

Eric Bieche, who unselfishly came to visit me at the hospital and took on the additional responsibility of co-authorship. Your hard work and dedication to this project was instrumental to its completion. Thanks for your content editing and for keeping me on my toes.

We are grateful to the efforts of the people that helped us put this novel together. Special thanks to our editor, Brittiany Koren, for her expertise and time in polishing up our manuscript as well as Julie Kukreja for her fine work on our cover art.

To fellow thriller authors Marcus Sakey, Sean Chercover, Shane Gericke, Tom Tancin, Carl Alves, Michele May, Anna Grob, Diane Boone, Melissa Baron, Annie Hansen and the mysterious Ghost Writer for their pearls of wisdom, valuable advice, motivation, inspiration and tidbits of information.

Eric’s Acknowledgements

What started out as helping a friend in a time of need became a shared labor of love. Thank you Scot for letting me into your world and being a part of this grand accomplishment.  What a long way we've come from taking notes at your hospital bedside to full recovery and finishing our manuscript, getting it published and to where we are now. I'm looking forward to working on the next book with you and hopefully many more.

I'd also like to thank all the teachers that I've had during the years. I hope that I can help future generations as they helped me.

Finally, I'd like to thank the friends that helped me through some really tough times, especially Brandon, Brett and Kat. Thanks for being there for me!

From the Private Journal of Maxx Shadow

Case File: Ruby of the Rails

When I initially heard the phrase, we are not alone, I mistakenly believed it was referring to the presence of extraterrestrials.

Instead, it’s the existence of supernatural creatures that live amongst us, hiding in plain sight, interacting with us constantly.

They mask their presence with spiritual fog—a phenomenon they use to make us forget what we saw due to the rationalization that their kind don’t exist, writing it off as a dream or suffering from a delusion.

I’ve suspected my employee was one of them, but the fog, along with my own subconscious fear of uncovering the truth, prevented me from confronting him.

That all changed when circumstances forced me to open my eyes.

PROLOGUE

Colmar Manor, Maryland

April 1894

The creature knew its name was Ruby.

Despite the curse, which transformed it from man to monster, there were still some scant, hazy pieces of memories from its previous life. Although it was now a monster, Ruby still retained its human intellect and cunning. That, along with its primal animal instincts, made Ruby a deadly and effective hunter.

Ruby didn’t know how, but the curse gave it the uncanny ability to navigate the continent by way of train tracks. Using this system, Ruby was able to cross over from Canada into the United States without being noticed.

Tonight, Ruby needed to feed on a human heart as the curse urged. Utilizing the cover of darkness, Ruby jumped off the abandoned boxcar from the running train. Because the transformation made Ruby a partial biped, it let its ape-like arms drop to the ground as it could only run when it was using all fours.

Ruby had to pick its hunting grounds carefully as it found that some mysterious force was preventing it from wandering too far away from the rails, always compelled to return to them.

As the creature picked up the scent of humans, Ruby’s mind began to recollect the faint memories of its own humanity…

Ruby recalled that it was once a hobo that put his train-hopping wanderlust on hold when his traveling companion, Fillmore, begged him into taking an adventure to the Yukon in search of gold.

Soon after they reached their destination in the deep backcountry, an avalanche buried them inside their makeshift cabin, cutting them off from the rest of the world. The men thought they had enough supplies to last until the spring thaw, but winter’s icy grip lasted much longer than they expected.

When their supplies ran out, hopelessness kicked in. Ruby and Fillmore discovered all the gold they’ve gathered couldn’t fill their empty bellies. The thought of starving to death terrified the two men—Ruby more so!

That’s when the madness overtook Ruby’s mind. In his desperation to stay alive, he murdered his one-time best friend, eating his flesh in order to survive. And with Ruby’s act of cannibalism, the curse was activated. The man was forever changed, a monster cursed in an endless search of human flesh to feed upon.

Ruby finally stopped on the outskirts of the large hobo camp so it could scout and find a victim. Ruby was hungry, but it was very patient.

Eavesdropping on the camp, Ruby learned this campsite was known as Kelly’s Army—a protest march of hobos and unemployed workers heading toward Washington D.C. to protest the unemployment caused by the Panic of 1893, a serious economic depression. Ruby overheard one of the leaders say that they plan to lobby for the government to create jobs which would involve building roads and other public works improvements, with workers paid in paper currency which would expand the currency in circulation, consistent with populist ideology.

Briefly pondering the conversation, Ruby surmised their reasons as self-serving and a waste of time. This rabble would probably dissolve before they even reach their destination. It chuckled at their gullibility.

It didn’t take long before a straggler walked away from camp and into the nearby woods. Ruby saw the dawdler find a place to relieve himself after a hearty meal of beans in a can heated up over an open fire.

Time to take the westbound, vagrant shitter!

Ruby waited until the straggler pulled his shabby trousers down past his knees and began to squat before it struck. The poor hobo had no chance to scream as Ruby was already upon him. Ruby let loose its animalistic instinctive side and sank its sharp fangs into the neck, ripping into the jugular.

Even the blood of a lowly, vile and dirty vagabond tasted sweet. It was like a fine wine—an ambrosia worthy of the gods. This small appetizer gave Ruby a renewed source of vitality—the very reason why it enjoyed the hunt.

Ruby thrust its claw into the chest of its prey, going through clothing, then through the rib cage. Taking a firm hold, it yanked out the prize it sought most—the heart!

No longer able to take the anticipation, Ruby bit into the organ of life and feasted, making sure to savor and devour every precious, delicious morsel.

When, at last, Ruby’s hunger was finally satiated, the monster cursed to itself. The euphoria it felt was replaced by the sense of reality of what it now needed to do. Ruby had to hide the evidence of its feeding frenzy.

Like all hunters that prey on man, it took great pains to cover its tracks as it was best its existence merely lurked in superstition and the warped imagination of others. It had a need to remain a mysterious boogeyman where its victims only believed it hunted them in their nightmares.

Despite the fact that the ground was cold and hard, Ruby’s claws were still able to unearth the dirt so it could bury the corpse. As Ruby dug the hole deep enough, it thought it heard the sound of—tinkling?

Ruby turned its head, quickly discovering the source. The culprit was only a few trees away and watering it. At first, the cover of night prevented the young hobo from seeing the creature, but when Ruby turned its head, the man saw Ruby’s bright red eyes.

Ruby saw the man look down. That’s when he saw the victim at its feet with the neck ripped open and chest torn apart.

Oh, my God! cried the young man as he was able to pull up his trousers with lightning speed, running back to camp.

Even Ruby was impressed by the young man’s quickness, but as much as it admired the human’s fleet of foot, it did not need any witnesses to report of its existence. It didn’t take much effort to overtake and tackle him to the ground.

Ruby raised its claw to slash his throat, forever keeping the young man quiet; however, something momentarily stayed its attack. An item had fallen out of the hobo’s jacket pocket—a journal? This young hobo was a writer!

Ruby, again, remembered when it had been a human. He, too, had kept a journal of his travels while he was riding the rails. Seeing its prey was unconscious and could not flee, Ruby let its curiosity get the better of it. Ruby picked up the journal and began to clumsily page through it. After a few more seconds, Ruby remembered how to read.

Unlike other would-be writers who wrote in their simplistic hobo-bumpkin style, if they could even read or write at all, this young man proved he had a great command of the English language. As it read on, Ruby realized that this man was an artist—a master. His writing was a symphony of words effortlessly flowing into brilliant insights. They had emotion, wit and passion!

Ruby somehow knew this young man was not really a hobo at all and was bound for greatness one day.

Ruby had an idea! Perhaps it could use this greatness to further its own purposes.

Ruby touched the hobo’s head and imposed a portion of its will into the young man’s psyche—one of the many powers granted by the curse in order to give Ruby superiority over the humans it preyed upon.

"Write about being a hobo and the thrills of train-hopping. Glamorize it! Romanticize it! Make it sound like one great adventure! Make it so that other fools will want to experience rail-hopping and hobo life because they think they will become great like you."

Satisfied it would have a constant herd of sheep to feed upon, Ruby placed the spiritual fog on the young man to make him forget their encounter.

With this seed planted within its pawn, Ruby planned to dig into the very dregs of hobo society so it could find the scum that it needed to be its loyal followers and obedient disciples. Through them, Ruby could have protection. Through them, Ruby could hunt and they would hide its existence through their acts of violence and mayhem.

Pleased by what it had done, Ruby put the journal back in the man’s coat, quickly cleaned its mess up and then took off into the night leaving the young man to recover.

A few minutes later, Jack London woke up, rubbed his head and muttered, How did I get here?

He didn’t remember anything about his walk into the forest.

London slowly got up and went back to camp as he now had an unexplained urge to suddenly write in his journal.

CHAPTER 1

Carbondale, Illinois

Saturday, October 9, 2010

Even after some 120 years, the allure of train-hopping still managed to tempt people to live a life on the rails, whether the choice was poverty or plain old thrill-seeking. The words of Jack London, as well as other hobo auto-biographers, still enticed naïve and unsuspecting innocents, just as Ruby had hoped. Now with its small band of nomadic havoc-seekers, Ruby’s rule of the tracks was almost absolute, even if the general public wrote it off as a myth.

Martin, a recent college graduate, was also charmed by the words of Jack London and those writers that followed his path. With his Master’s Degree in Literature, he, too, wanted to make his mark on the world much like the legendary writer. Martin did not want to be labeled as someone who earned his way in life as a privileged and pampered progeny of well-to-do, upper-class parents. He wanted to make his own mark on life, stand on his own two feet and enjoy living while he still had his youth. The thought of exploring the country without constraints or obligations was intoxicating. He craved the freedom to see new things and experience different cultures.

He should have been delighted he was accepted into the doctoral program. It was also his mother’s and father’s dream for him to be a professor. A part of Martin wanted that too, but he didn’t work hard toward his degree just to educate young minds; he wanted to write!

The only way he could do that was to experience life outside the world he knew. He needed to explore the country and find some sort of inspiration to help him pen that once-in-a-lifetime great American novel.

His mind made up, Martin decided to take off the following fall semester in order to inaugurate his personal odyssey of self-actualization. However, unlike Jack London, Martin was not going to travel by way of boxcar. His research on the subject of hoboing proved to Martin that rail-riding was much too dangerous as well as downright illegal.

Undeterred, Martin took the more modern, practical approach. Using most of his savings and allowance, he purchased a modestly priced, reliable pre-owned van for his journey. Martin figured that he could experience just as much from behind the wheel as he could by way of freight train.

When Martin spoke of his plan to his on-again/off-again girlfriend, Lisa, she was enthralled with the idea as well. She believed it would be a great way to take a semester off from the real world. Martin was ecstatic Lisa was going to join him. Not only would he have someone to keep him company and share the joy of his adventure, but the trip was also a way to further bond with her.

A pair of over-concerned parents almost put a damper on Martin’s designs. Although they were legally of age to come and go as they pleased, Martin and Lisa still wanted the approval of their folks.

Martin could still picture the looks on the faces of their parents when they called them together to make their announcement.

Son, Martin’s father rolled his eyes. Why do you want to wander the country and live like a homeless person?

It wouldn’t be like that, Dad, Martin persisted. Where not going to be sitting on the side of the road panhandling. We’re just taking a cross-country vacation, seeing the sites.

What are you going to do for money? Martin’s father raised an eyebrow.

I still have a couple grand in the bank after I bought the van. ATMs are all over the place if we need cash.

Do you think it’s going to be enough? Lisa’s mother jumped in. Gas isn’t cheap anymore. There’s food, lodging.

Martin had prepared himself for this interrogation and had an answer for everything. We thought of that. Most towns have staffing agencies. We can sign up for day labor. It was our plan to work our way across the country.

How will we be able to get in touch with you? Martin’s mother protested. At least, bring your cell phones with you.

That would defeat the purpose of roughing it, Mom. We can always use a pay phone to call. We need to do some living on our wits. I’m not even going to bring my laptop. No GPS. Just my digital camera and pens and paper to document our trip.

What about your education?

Come on, Dad. We’re only putting it on hold for one semester. We’ll be going back to school after the Christmas break.

It took some time, but Martin and Lisa’s parents gave their approval, albeit with only slight enthusiasm. However, a compromise was made. If they weren’t going to bring cell phones, their folks insisted that they accept a pre-paid calling card to check in once a week, making it extremely clear they were to get in touch if they ever needed anything. If they wanted to come home early, that was fine too. All that mattered was they be careful.

Four months had passed since their June decision. Martin and Lisa faithfully stuck together, seeing the country over the open road, never staying in one place for more than a few days. They were young, eager and willing to see everything that this great country had to offer.

Their funds were limited, but they amused themselves over simple things like beaches, forest preserves, lakes and parks.

They didn’t mind sleeping in cheap motels, the back of the van or even in the workers’ barracks when they accepted day labor on a farm. Sometimes, they found towns where relatives lived and stayed with them overnight. It was like one big camping trip and Martin could feel that the experience was drawing him closer to Lisa.

What they enjoyed most was gathering around popular areas and just talking to total strangers, people of all different backgrounds, never the same in each town or rural area.

Most of the day labor was manual work such as picking fruit. The hours were long, the pay meager and the work hard. Even for a man in his youthful prime, Martin was having a difficult time dealing with the physical exertion and hot sun. It must have been worse for a petite girl like Lisa. Martin couldn’t imagine. Much to his surprise, Lisa didn’t complain one bit.

Despite the jobs being strenuous, Martin and Lisa found pride in their work. They realized they were blessed as they now had a greater appreciation for their lives at home and for all they had.

Even though Martin was enjoying his experience, taking pictures of every person and place of interest he came across, he was disappointed he wasn’t able to find the inspiration he craved to pen a novel. He saw many nice things and met interesting people, but nothing to catch a reader’s interest.

Everything seemed to go well until the month of October.

Martin could see the hard work was taking its toll on Lisa. Even if she didn’t say it, she was ready to go home. To her credit, Martin could feel she was sticking it out until the end just for him. Bless her heart.

The original plan was to come back home just before Thanksgiving, but the usual temperate weather was replaced by chilly damp air—a sure sign of an early winter to come.

Martin and Lisa contemplated heading to the warmer climates of California or Florida until it was time to head home. Secretly, Martin wanted to go home not only for Lisa’s sake, but also because he was frustrated that he still didn’t find his inspiration. He had seen so much already and had no ideas. Continuing to travel wouldn’t make any difference. Martin had to face the grim reality of becoming one of those boring literary professors he used to laugh at.

A part of Martin, which didn’t want to give up, was just as strong as the part that wanted to throw in the towel and head back to their homes outside of Chicago. Martin didn’t know what to do.

A deep pothole unseen in the darkness of night while driving through Southern Illinois took the decision out of Martin’s hands. Most of their cash went toward the tow and the two did not have enough money left in their respective bank accounts to cover the costly repair.

Martin wasn’t sure what to do. It would take weeks of day labor to raise the money and, in the meantime, they were stranded in Carbondale.

When Lisa suggested having their folks wire them money was when the two got into their first argument since the trip started.

We can’t ask for help, Martin insisted. The whole point of this trip was to be on our own and live on our wits. You’ve seen all those people we worked with at day labor who live day to day, paycheck to paycheck. They don’t have parents with money to bail them out.

They would call them for help if they did, Lisa fired right back.