The Dead Files

By Andrew Patterson

The Dead Files is a horror novel. In The Dead files, I follow two men from the Grateful Dead parking lot to the jam shed and then off into the veil. It’s a political piece, and it’s an acid trip. It’s a book about the dead, the Grateful Dead, the soon-to-be dead written by a dead man. It’s called The Dead Files. This book has murder, rape, riots, explosions, fistfights, demons, aliens, and even an appearance by the devil himself. I wrote this book while living in my van on napkins and open-house fliers in a drug-induced haze. It is a journey of the mind, and it is dripping with blood. It is The Dead Files.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Page Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: Nov 8, 2021
• ISBN: 9781662433115

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The Dead Files

Andrew Patterson

Copyright © 2021 Andrew Patterson

All rights reserved

First Edition

PAGE PUBLISHING, INC.

Conneaut Lake, PA

First originally published by Page Publishing 2021

ISBN 978-1-6624-3310-8 (pbk)

ISBN 978-1-6624-3311-5 (digital)

Printed in the United States of America

Table of Contents

I Died Right Here

Strait Dead

Chapter 9.6

Chapter 6.9

Chapter 9.6.9

Chapter 6.9.6

Chapter 6.6.6

Chapter 6.6.9

Chapter 9.6.6

Chapter 9.9.6

Chapter 9.9.9

Chapter 9.9.9.6

Chapter 9.6.9.6

Chapter 6.9.6.9

next chapter

I Died Right Here

I died right here. It was right here. I was riding a bike at night with no light threw the forest high on methamphetamine. I was going more than 40 miles an hour. Had to be since I was flying by the cars in a 35 mile an hour zone on the way here. I had just gotten out of jail. I had to do thirty days for cashing a bad check. After getting my close from the guard and signing my walking papers I headed out into the street in search of my woman April. A young hot blond bombshell, like the dew on a perfect rose bud. The first place I went to was my friend’s house because I knew he would know where she was. A guitar player named spot. He was half white and half black and it didn’t mix very well so he had spots. Anyway he mixed me up a shot of meth and I puked my guts out. Then he gave me a bike and told me that my girl was at 7-11 on Franklin Blvd. Heart pumping a million miles an hour. The chain on my bike ringing from the force of my legs trying to break the sound barrier. I flew threw red light after red light never slowing down, in, out and around traffic.

My mind always calculating the path of least resistance. Like going thru a wormhole at the speed of light and the light at the end of the tunnel was my heart and sole my woman April. When I got to the bike path things had changed since I had ridden it last. I had rode this path many times during my life. Many times without a light at night. As you fly threw the darkness you can see darker shadows that you know are trees so you avoid them. On that night when I rode through I thought of when I was a kid. Back then there was one trail. A dirt trail that was made by us, we called it the old indian trail. The trail went from the boat dock to the bike track at Autzen Stadium where the Grateful Dead used to play every summer. We made the indian trail by using our bikes as bulldozers. We would just plow threw the bush’s and grass. Sense then they had changed things a bit. The old dirt trail had been replaced by three concrete ones and the old trail had been retaken by the forest. I couldn’t see so I took the old Indian trial. All of a sudden I am plowing threw bush’s and thorn vines, you name it. I had plenty of speed going so my bike cut threw just like butter. Didn’t even slow me down. I pop out of the forest onto the new path that goes under the freeway bridge. They were doing work on the bridge at the time and had put a concrete divider across the path.

I remember seeing it right before I hit. I remember thinking OH SHIT. I died right there It was right there. I remember the crossroads and the flame. The silver cord that stretches between nature and the spirit world. Right at the base of the bridge that crosses the river. Between right wing Springfield and left wing Eugene. Between east and west the north and south. I was flying where the four winds converge at the eye of the hurricane. Spinning between the colors.

I don’t know what happened to my bike or the concrete wall I ran into. My next memory is I’m a half a mile down the bike path running at a full sprint. My trainer is next to me keeping pace. After several steps I realized I wasn’t breathing so I asked, don’t we have to breathe? He said you can breath if you want to. So I took a breath. We never slowed down, just kept going. I looked at the stars and some of them fell out of the sky. After awhile the trainer said this is how you take out three men at once. Then he kicked in front of himself did a side spin with a roundhouse kick to his right. Then he whipped around and started throwing a volley of punches. So in the end he had attacked three invisible enemies. He didn’t lose a step. After he had gotten done making his move he was right back in step with me. Then he says now you try so I did everything just like him. I sprang forward with a frontal kick but I didn’t stop. Instead I used my momentum to bring me around to the side. Then I flipped around to throw a vicious combo of punches. Then back to the run. When I ended he was right next to me. We ran on. First he would show me things then I would do them. Lesson after lesson. Move after move never slowing the pace of our run both in perfect sink. Anything he could do I could do. I don’t remember getting military training, unless it was in the boyscouts, but that was a long time ago. I took a karate class for two months when I was in middle school but these moves were much more advanced. Threw our running kata we connected with the nature around us. As we moved it would effect the grass and the trees even the air itself would come under our control. To the point where as I watched the stars, if I thought it, I could make them move.

I ended up sitting at the 711 on 7th and washington. Where we used to sit years ago. Back when we were young and the streets were filled with hippies. Where we used to sell weed and acid for 3 dollars a hit. I sat down there and started writing. I wrote and I wrote. Every now and then conversing with myself as I worked regardless of passers by. Eventually the cops started harassing me and in the honor of the old timers. My forefathers so to speak. The hippies of old. I refused to tell them my name. I refused to show them my ID. And when they tried to detain me I relaxed all my muscles and went limp. Pulled the old dead weight trick on them. Told them I was just going to die right here. When they started to put the hurt on me I said Oh ya I like pain. When they grabbed ahold of my ring and pinky finger twisting them the wrong way I said Go ahead and break my fingers. Passive resistance all the way to a sadomasochistic relationship. We got really close those two cops and I. You could say we are blood brothers now. Sense my blood got all over them. That pissed them off more than me not showing them my ID. You should of seen the look on there faces when I told them I had aids and that they should get my blood off of them as soon as possible. When they pulled out the baby wipes I told them that those don’t work against aids blood. You should of seen these two struggling in between belief and fear.

Later at the jail I had a hard time signing my name sense most of my fingers were broken. The pigs at the jail even threatened to kill me because I couldn’t hold a pen. I told them to go ahead and put me on a cross. Write a releagon about me. Here I got a couple good pages. Then I went into a really long speech about Jefferson and Adoms. The bill of rights, the constitution, and the declaration of independence. The three trump laws of witch all other laws are written and if any law goes against these three basic principles those laws are null and void. As it stands for life liberty and justice for all. Give me liberty or give me death you muther fuckers.

Or something along those lines. Every time I visit that jail sense then they look at me weird and put me back into that same one man cell. Always keep me away from the rest of the inmates but they always call me sir.

Strait Dead

I am Dead! Straight dead! I was there at the last gasp and I was there in the hay day when they played at Autzen stadium. As a little kid I road my bike at the BMX track next to Austin stadium. Me and a friend of mine would float down the river from clearwater to day Island on inner tubes. In Springfield they got signs to tell you wear to go. Like clearwater the water is clear at clearwater after that there is the weyerhaeuser mill and several chemical plants that use the river for waste water disposal. One day we passed day island and got out at the hangman’s tree. The hangman’s tree is an old tree that grew out over the river perfect for tying a rope on. If we were headed to the hang mans tree we would always bring a rope because someone would always cut down the rope we left before. Don’t know why its just a rope swing but they would always take it. The tree grew far out over the river and we would always tie the rope as far out as we could. The centrifugal force would rip the rope right out of your hands and leave you hanging out in mid air. Thus the hangman’s tree. At the end of the day someone would always test their metal by taking one last ride on the rope swing and they would always have to walk home soaking wet. Even if they were able to hold on to the rope and swing back the rest of us would stop them from getting back to shore. When they swung back we would push them back out. Over and over until they ended up hanging on the end of the rope over the river. All tuckered out in all there close trying to climb up to the tree then splash. On that day when we walked to the pay phone to call for a ride. We had to go threw the parking lot and around autzen stadium. That was when I met the Dead. Over a thousand people in tents and buses. Camp fires with people dancing, dreadlocks, tie dye everything and Artists. More Art in one place then I had ever seen. People made things to survive; drawings, paints, drum circles filled the air with tribal beats. I fell in love with the culture the family, the Grateful Dead. Jerry was Jessus on a ten strip of Jessus Crist super star LSD and he had his disciples with Phil and the gang. Pluss the following a mass exodus of hippies and freaks true pilgrims. It was not just a concert it was a 6 month traveling circus. Uppers downers all arounders! When the dead came to town a hundred thousand people moved as one it would shut police down. Smoking pot in public making love in the bush’s Freedom man. Jerry was Jack Sparrow, he was our captain, where he went we followed. If you can’t understand how people felt about their captain, maybe I can give you an example. At the last Grateful Dead show in Portland Jerry played and it was beautiful. So beautiful it put everyone in a trance even Jerry and Jerry nodded off. Just fell asleep standing in front of a hundred thousand people. For three minutes he just swayed in the breeze on stage. Three minutes is an eternity on stage. Not one person said wake up and play, they just stayed quiet and let him node. I was sitting back stage where everyone who knew where to sit was, high on some LSD. All of a sudden I came out of a trance, looked over at my friend and said Hey J I got a vile of acid and a jam shed back in Eugene, do you want to go jam? Right then Jerry wakes up and says that was free bird and the crowd went wild. Now Jerry saying that at that moment gave me my spirit name and so from Freebird himself I am so grateful to be dead.

Chapter 9.6

If 6 was 9 to be wicked would be divine.

I’m to fucking high. I’m to fucking high man. How many drops did you put on my tongue. When you did Marvin you said one. When you did John you said two. When you did me you said oops. What did it mean when you said oops dude? I’m freaking out I have never been high like this before man. How many drops did you put on my tongue?

Well that doesn’t really matter. You took the ticket. You going to have to ride the roller coaster. When that wave comes your just going to have to ride it.

What wave? We are driving down the freeway. The ocean is miles away. Dude I’m freaking out man. How much did you give me? I can’t look at the lights. They make too much sun to hide my eyes.

No, the thousand foot wave. It’s a wave so tall that it touches the moon. Comes every thousand years or so.

What? OH SHIT are you serious. There is a wave coming. OH SHIT OH SHIT

Then J starts looking out the windows of the truck in all directions.

The thousand year storm. It’s been coming for some time. You can feel it in the forest. You can hear it in the wind. The souls of the people are burning for change and you and I are going to ride that wave. The family is in the thousands. Thousands of feet dancing to the beat, riding the wind. Its a legion and the energy is right. I mean perfect man. No bull shit. The stage is set to make ripples in the water. All we have to do is ride the wave man.

J was really freaking out now. Looked like a dog chasing his tail. Looking out every window of the truck at once.

Witch way is the wave coming from dude?

Don’t know never will never have but its coming can you feel it?

Yes I can feel it. I can see it. The mountains are melting.

Well I guess the time has come. Like I said, buy the ticket, take the ride.

Dude I see it. I see it over there and over there. J pointed to the mountains on both sides of the freeway. Looks like they’re coming fast. They’re going to get us.

Oh shit them don’t worry man. We are riding the wave now. We will stay here in the valley of death riding the back of the snake.

What dude there, there are snakes. Then J starts looking around the inside of the truck for snakes.

It’s right here and I pulled out the bamboo cain from under the seat.

What the fuck dude?

The cain reflected in J’s eyes. In the reflection it was a real snake. I could see the power I held. He was transfixed. Forgotten was the hills that he saw as waves. Now the demon was in the room. Not out there in the storm of the minds eye but right here in the room right in my hand.

We had dropped acid before the Dead show. Just one hit each but after we had gotten the keys to the truck from J’s brother we took a little more. We were high for the show now the rest was kicking in. I bought a vile in the parking lot from the queen of Sheba. That’s what she called herself The queen of Sheba. She was beautiful. She had black hair all in dreads. As she danced her hair would fly around like snakes. I found her again later in the dance circle we locked eyes and danced together. We became one at the center of the crowd moving in a circle like finding love at the center of the hurricane. Now I was riding down the old highway 66 the highway to hell right thru the valley of darkness trying not to run into any one or run off the road. Trying to be my brother’s keeper with a head full of acid. He was right about one thing I had given him too much.

Dude, that’s a snake. J was in a trance. He was in a grip of fear. His eye’s were huge. He stared at the cain in my hand.

Don’t worry about the snake. All you have to do is pet it, look. Then I stroked the handle that was curved like the head of a snake. Down the shaft of knots in the wood. The knots looked like the rattler off of some enormous diamond back rattler snake. The snake cares not who holds it. Do you want to hold the snake. As I drove I pet the cain like a snake. J had stopped asking questions and just stared at the cain in my hand.

I will tell you about the snake its an old muslem proverb older than history and few know its meaning. Do you want to hear it? and J nodded yes.

Are you shure its a tail about the very fabric of power itself? Are you shure your ready for the truth? About everything? Power is an elution based on beleaf. Free your mind and