Knights: Campsites, Fireworks, and Grub

By J. N. Sadler

KNIGHTS
The Lunds, an urban couple, try camping. Their weird cousin, Victor, gives them directions to Knights Camp Ground where they meet Zane Whittle, a domineering taxidermist who insists that they go fishing with him in the swamp. Their car has broken down, so they play along.
A missing girl is found dead in a strange place, pointing the finger at Zane; but he gets killed, too, in a freak accident while the girls body is being discovered.
Victor and his secret alter-ego, Santiago, come to rescue his cousin and wife, but he winds up back in Bellevue when he sees what was happening in Knights General Store.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Feb 18, 2014
• ISBN: 9781493157020

J. N. Sadler

Janet Sadler is a resident of Havertown, Pennsylvania. She has published two volumes of poetry with her illustrations: Headwinds and Full Sail and has been published in many small literary magazines. Once member of the Mad Poets Society in Media, PA, and also the Overbrook Poets in Philadelphia, she reads her poetry at local venues. She was the former poetry director at Tyme Gallery in Havertown, PA and at Baldwin’s Book Barn in West Chester, PA. She has authored thirty flash fictions novels. Twenty-seven titles have been published through Xlibris and can be found at Xlibris.com, under J. N. Sadler Author’s email address: [e-mail]

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CONTENTS

CHAPTER 1

CHAPTER 2

CHAPTER 3

CHAPTER 4

CHAPTER 5

CHAPTER 6

CHAPTER 7

CHAPTER 8

CHAPTER 9

CHAPTER 10

CHAPTER 11

CHAPTER 12

CHAPTER 13

CHAPTER 14

CHAPTER 15

CHAPTER 16

CHAPTER 17

CHAPTER 18

CHAPTER 19

CHAPTER 20

CHAPTER 1

A young, stylishly dressed urban man with dark hair, wearing a dark suit, sat at his desk drinking coffee, studying a financial graph on his laptop screen. The name plate on his desk read: Manfred R. Lund, Jr. Associate. He worked on the eighteenth floor of a tall skyscraper in Manhattan.

There was a tap on his office door. Dee Hoffert, a confident twenty-year-old administrative assistant dressed in a pin-stripe mini-suit with a lacy blouse showing ample cleavage, walked in on stilettos; hair, short and angled. She wore fashionista glasses and was holding a silver Starbuck go-cup.

Manny looked up and smiled, sheepishly. Good morning, Dee. I’ll have those reports by noon. I would have had them earlier but…

She laughed and held up her hand for him to be silent. Slow down. I’ve got a surprise for you. Forget the reports for a minute. She looked over her shoulder, walked forward, and leaned over the desk. Rumor has it that you’re up for a promotion… a big one; new office, and all.

His eyes got large. You’re just jazzin’ me, right?

She answered, Wrong. It’s you, Manny. They’ve chosen you. Get ready to do the executive swagger. You’re the best, and they know it. You’ve always had my vote. But, its’ a big secret. Act surprised!

CHAPTER 2

Across town, Dr. Peter Leiderkrantz, a psychiatrist in his late sixties, sat back in his leather chair. He was clean-shaven with gray-blond hair and a big frame. His hands were folded in front of him as he stared at his patient, Victor Lund.

Victor, a young punk with bleached blond crew cut, big dark eyes, and a sallow complexion refused to open his eyes. He was too thin; he twitched occasionally on the doctor’s brown leather couch.

Leiderkrantz looked at his watch, and synchronized it with the wall clock behind the patient. The clock had imitation human hands that were lost in a circle of numbers, hidden in a tangle of plastic green vines; designed to further boggle the minds of his patients.

The doctor had the manner of a gestapo. It has been fifteen minutes, and you have said nothing. If you cannot answer the questions, I will rephrase them for you. Do you remember what made you take the fit of rage in your apartment? What was it that set you off? Do you know why the neighbors called 911? Do you remember them breaking down your door?

Victor shook violently then slumped into unconsciousness. The doctor stood, walked around to the leather couch, where Victor was prone, in a faint. He stared down, unmoved and addressed his unconscious patient. Well, then. When you regain consciousness, we will discuss putting you under hypnosis, but we are out of time.

He withdrew smelling salts from his pocket and held it under Victor’s nose. Victor came to, batting away the doctor’s hand that held the vile fumes.

Very good, Victor. The doctor removed the smelling salts and put it on the table.

Victor sat up and looked around, shook his head, and focused on the doctor.

Victor questioned, What happened?

I guess I touched upon a nerve, Victor. You simply passed into unconsciousness. We haven’t even begun to get to the bottom of this, but I will prescribe you medication that will calm you and help you to think more clearly until next week; same day, same time.

Leiderkrantz scribbled a prescription, tore it off, and handed it to Victor.

As Victor sat up, he said, Doc, I do remember something. It was after I returned from one of my weekend camping trips. I don’t ever want to go back there again. Something terrified me… Victor frowned, mentally disturbed and confused.

With an air of indifference, Dr. Liederkrantz said, If you think of anything else, Victor, call me. This is really important. Until then, do nothing that will cause you stress. It’s a good thing you are on unemployment; you couldn’t handle any kind of job in the condition you are in. It will be all right. Have faith, Victor. I will help you.

Victor stood up and shook the doctor’s hand. Leiderkrantz ushered Victor to the door. Until then, Victor. Leiderkrantz closed the door quickly behind his patient.

CHAPTER 3

That afternoon, in Victor’s basement efficiency apartment on the lower East Side, Victor lounged in a tattered Lazy Boy chair, flipping stations on the television with the remote control.

He eyed a woman’s feet in stiletto heels in an easy chair across the room, then scanned more of her until he had viewed her full body. It was a mannequin with a blond wig, slouched on an angle, head looking up, a fetching smile painted on its face, legs splayed. It was clad only in a pair of black panties and a see-through bra. He muted the sound and placed the remote control on the coffee table.

A framed photo stood on the end table. It was of a young blond girl, hair pulled back. She stared at him, smiling. The other half of the photo had been ripped away.

Tears rolled down his face when he turned his attention to her. He spoke to the photo. Our affair is our business, not his. Then, he turned to the mannequin. And you, shut up! I don’t want to hear your jealous whispers!

His eyes became expressionless; he turned the photo face-down, picked up the remote control, and turned up the sound. He popped a few pills and made himself comfortable, a throw wrapped around his form, like an invalid. While staring at a soap opera on the television, he reached for a big bowl of M&M’s on the coffee table.

CHAPTER 4

Late in the afternoon, in a downtown boutique, Judy Lund, Manny’s wife, shut out lights in the little shoebox store that sold unique women’s fashions. She was in her early thirties, of average height with shoulder length brown hair and big, brown eyes, wearing tastefully applied makeup. She wore a fashionable dress with a large