Short Stories for the Long Haul

By John T Buckley

Depending on the story you’ll hopefully laugh,cry, or be terrified. This is a back pocket book to enjoy on a trip or with a few minutes at work.

• Language: English
• Publisher: John T Buckley
• Release date: Aug 4, 2022
• ISBN: 9781005170363

John T Buckley

I’m a 48 year old bibliophile, writer, and outdoorsman. I was hatched in northern Maine in the town of Presque Isle. I love sci-fi books as well as movies and music. I attended Vermont Technical College where I studied Architectural Engineering. I also went to the University of Southern Maine and studied English Literature. I’ve written 50 novels to date with a new one in the works!

Book preview

Chapter 1

The Billiard Ball Killer

April 8, 2067 Goartoe Massachusettes.

I’m Handoe Gibbs detective and to most a complete asshole, pardon my French bud. I’ve seen men stabbed with straws, punched to death, and shot into the sweet oblivion. Just work, just another cup of coffee. These days it’s the Billiard Ball Killer, one hell of a scumbag. Not only does he slowly molest and torture his victims; he puts a different number pool ball in their mouth before he blows their brains out. He’s polished off 6 people so far and I know this game ain’t over yet. Today I’m on my way to a The High Holy Mountain. Which for the lay person would be Police precinct 24 and that’s the killing zone as one officer put it jokingly. It’s gonna be one hell of a day, always is.

Detective Gibbs, how’s the head? asked Chief McGory as he slicked back his blonde hair. He’s our station chief.

Full of holes and last night’s whiskey, I replied as I put on my black full length jacket. I know things will get harry on the streets again, but I’m ready as hell if they do.

What say you fine gentlemen, will there be wine and steak for the king’s table? asked Detective Andrews as he strutted into the station. Andrews and I are partners. We’ve been working the streets together for a few weeks and friends we are.

Hey, Andrews, nice leather jacket. Who’d you steal that off of? I asked as I checked my Larex gun and tightened my holster.

Andrews strutted in and did an awkward spin. The chief laughed but I could only smirk.

Hey, Gibbs, Andrews, My Office! shouted Detective Joseph Rothman as he slapped a transient who was trying to steal a pen. Rothman runs things for all intensive purposes regardless of his rank.

Andrews and I make our way down the long hallway to Rothman’s office. On either side there are round windows with all the hookers, pushers, and murderers yelling and screaming they’re innocent. We walk past the statue of dirty Harry that was donated by the Daughters of Isabella. We each touch the right cheek for luck.

Sit down and listen! snapped Rothman as he smelled a sandwich from yesterday and then threw it out the window.

Your overflowing joy is intoxicating, Rothman, said Andrews sarcastically as he sat down and grabbed a soda from the mini-fridge.

Look you idiots he’s out there. He’s out there right now and he’s gonna kill somebody, stated Rothman sharply then he spun his chair around and gazed out the window. Rothman saw the moon peak out from behind the clouds and continued, He’s a keen intellect this guy and he doesn’t kill in anger. No…it’s a game almost a sport for him. McGory might have told you someone actually saw the guy.

What, are you serious? I asked as I pulled out a Marlboro Red cigarette.

Easy…they saw him from behind running from the scene, no photos. He’s approximately 6 feet tall and skinny as hell, said Rothman as he spun around with his fingers intertwined. He was wearing a jet black coat, could have been leather we’re not sure. He had Disco Danny blonde hair.

Where was he last scene? I asked as Rothman exhaled.

Goverville Road…I need you two to go over there and crack some heads. We’re not playing around so bend the rules if you need too, replied Rothman as he put his feet on the desk and cooled his fingers in his fishbowl.

Goverville Road 9PM.

We’re just outside Crackly Jacks nightclub and drug den. I’ve been here before of course to thump a few Fentanyl poppers, but not with this bad feeling I can’t shake.

You think he’s dumb enough to come back to the scene of the crime? wondered Andrews as he slid his right hand closer to his pistol.

I never underestimate the ego of a killer. They hunt with the lack of fear the rest of us live with, I said as I and Andrews sat down in the Packer. The Packer is an anti-gravity sports car of death. Equipped with every weapon a cruel man would love including a poison spray and acid grenades, only the best.

As I ride over the city my mind races back to my true love Helen. It was a toxic relationship with all the trimmings of disaster, but I loved her warts and all. The stale glow of the 3d cartoon characters boggles the mind. Where are the streets I used to love? Now it’s all Disneyland light shows to steal the dollar in your pocket. Man what happened?

You hungry yet, Gibbs? asked Andrews as he watched a young Chinese boy doing advanced martial arts on his balcony.

I stared down at the crowds and then said sternly, Not tonight, Andrews, he’s still out there.

We flew for another half hour and then we came to the stale glow of Goverville Road. Goverville Road is where you break the law just by walking down the street. The Last Hell Hole is what the poppers call it and they’re right for once. We land I feel the eyes of a Korean man on me. We get out of the Packer and he motions to me with his hand. This is a signal he’s got drugs. He can keep those life-ruiners. They had me once but no more.

Hey, Andrews, set up the Web, I ordered as I looked at the dead body inside the drug den and then I continued, Let’s see if he fucked up.

The Web as we call it affectionately can use the digital cameras to recreate a holographic picture of all the comings and goings of any establishment. I’m convinced we got him this time. The Web starts playing and the store is filled with holograms of people buying and stealing what they need.

This thing takes the cake, said Andrews as he walked through a hologram.

Andrews watched as a kid in a hoodie bumped into me hard and I snapped, Watch it fucker! I grabbed him around the waist and fling him into a pair of black floating trashcans. The kid doesn’t look back just runs off into the night and I said sadly, All cities die from the young ones up. What a waste.

The kid stopped and yelled back, Lickin Lizzy loves your girlfriend!

Andrews grabbed me as I was just about to chase after and thrash the young punk. He’s not worth it. Just a punk kid, said Andrews as he watched me fume with anger.

Fine, but I’ll only let that shit slide once, I replied as I pushed Andrews back and give him a stern look.

Hey, Detectives, come over here quick, shouted the Korean store owner Mou Pei as he ran his hand through what was left of his black hair.

What is it? I ask as I pull a gummy bear off my jacket.

Mou Pei points to the right corner of the Web and declares nervously, I’m sorry, so sorry he blocked his image somehow look here. Mou showed us a man start to enter the Web, but then his body completely disappeared from view.

Impossible no one can do that, said Andrews as he walked through the blocked image.

I punched a hole in the candy rack and said coldly, We’re not dealing with an idiot. If he can do that we’re really going to have a hard time finding him. God help us damn it!

Don’t worry we’ll catch him, assured Andrews as he patted me on the shoulder.

Chief Rothman’s hologram came out of the Packer and he said sadly, He’s just pinned another person to the wall. I’m sorry but he’s snapped whoever he is. Why don’t you and Andrews try canvassing the area of this latest murder and forget this scene, said Rothman as he sipped a bottle of whiskey and then continued, Nail this sucker. Its Silverton township, Gibbs, I’m sorry you have to go back there…after what happened.

I can take it. We’ll see you later, I said quickly as I skirt past a painful memory.

Andrews gives me a look as he wondered what Rothman was eluding too. I know he wants an explanation but time is cheap and the meter’s running. We hop a Skidder through town. The Skidder is an advanced above ground subway where you sit in an open air capsule. It’s the type of ride you love and hate at the same time. We ride for 15 minutes and the silver statue of G.S. Silverton rises over the night sky. They light that sucker up with flames and a lightshow every night. Silverton made sure of that before he died with a fat stack of cash I heard.

He could be anywhere, Gibbs, what the hell are we doing?

Andrews, relax…he’s here, I said as I stared into the laughing crowds. It’s a warm night and that brings out the freaks.

Andrews decides to pull out his Larex gun and check the energy cell. I see this and do the same. It’s game time now.

You got fifty dollars I can borrow? I swear I’ll pay you back real soon, asked Ben Best a local homeless man known for his undaunted sense of humor.

Not tonight keep moving, Ben, said Andrews sharply as he pushed Ben aside. Then we hear an explosion down the street in one of the old furniture warehouses. What the hell was that?

That’s him, he knows we’re here, I replied sternly as I took off my jacket. The heat is on and anything goes. Andrews and I skate down the center of Main Street using anti-gravity coils in our shoes. It’s dangerous but we’re out of time and we know it.

Hey did you hear the explosion. I thought woo, woo, woo its Christmas, barked a drifter as he sipped a Budweiser bottle.

Hear it, I’m surprised you’re still alive, I replied as I made my way through a large group of homeless men and women. The warehouse is burning out of control. I see a young woman run out of the warehouse with her dress on fire. I grab her and pat out the flames. You’re alright, Hun, don’t worry, I reassured as I watched the flames in the night sky and wondered how does this happen.

Hey, Gibbs, let’s circle the building and see if he’s still here, said Andrews as he clicked on the flashlight in his jacket.

Good idea but let’s run not walk.

You’ got it!

We make