Deadly Things

By Rick Newberry

Welcome to Fabulous Las Vegas

Erected in 1959, the iconic sign welcomes millions of visitors each year. Thousands of tourists line up every day to take a “selfie” with the famous marker in the background. The sign, which symbolizes the classic start of the world-famous Las Vegas Strip, represents hope, imagination, and ingenuity. It is one of the “things” visitors to the city delight in seeing.

What is not so delightful are the unexpected things awaiting Las Vegas visitors and locals alike. Things such as locusts, witches, and droughts. Not to worry—locusts tend to be migratory, witches mostly keep to themselves, and water shortages are, for the most part, a temporary thing and cyclical in nature. There are, however, other things which cannot so easily be dismissed. Supernatural beings, hungry beasts, and perhaps the deadliest thing of all: humans.

• Language: English
• Publisher: NewLink Publishing
• Release date: May 22, 2023
• ISBN: 9781948266963

Book preview

Deadly Things

Rick Newberry

Copyright 2023

All rights reserved

This book is a work of fiction composed from the author’s imagination. It is protected under the copyright laws of the United States of America. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by an information storage or retrieval system, without written permission from the publisher. Contact the publisher at [e-mail].

Line/Content Editor: Janelle Evans

Interior Design: Jo A. Wilkins

Cover: Janelle Evans

p. cm.—Rick Newberry (Science Fiction)

Copyright © 2023 / Rick Newberry

All Rights Reserved

ISBN: 978-1-948266-90-1/Paperback

ISBN: 978-1-948266-96-3/E-Pub

1. Fiction/Horror

2. Fiction/Thrillers/Supernatural

3. Fiction/Thrillers/Suspense

www.newlinkpublishing.com

Henderson, NV 89002

Printed in the United States of America

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 0

For Tetsuro Shigematsu

(Mentor, guide, supporter)

Thank you for the words of encouragement.

Sometimes, things go bump in the night. We’ve all heard it, tried to explain it, and on occasion, summoned the courage to investigate. But when it happens in Las Vegas, during the unbearable heat of a summer evening, it’s hard to ignore. Not to worry, the left side of our brain assures us, it’s just the house settling.

Then the right side takes over.

Is it a supernatural presence? A creature of the night? Or could it be the sins of the past, come to haunt the living? In a place like Sin City, a town built in the middle of the desert with mob money and innocent blood, those sins are many, and the creatures all too real.

I hope you enjoy Deadly Things, the final installment of the Deadly (People, Places, & Things) Trilogy. However, if I may, a warning. These short stories of science fiction, dystopian futures, creepy-crawlies, and evil intent are best read by the light of day—before things begin to bump.

Table of Contents

1. The Resistance

2. The Swarm

3. The Fetish

4. Fender Bender

5. Bounty

6. The Entity

7. 32 Ounces

8. The Book Club

9. The Termagent

10. Project Origin

11. Nocturnfelas

12. Character Assassins

Navigation Page

Deadly Things

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

About The Author

The Global Triumvirate passed a new law. All written words are now illegal. This has been done in hopes of plunging the world into a new Dark Age, crippling all opposition.

In this sequel to The Man from Pahrump, Samantha Porter and Darius Walker find themselves separated by distance and unable to communicate.

Will the Global Triumvirate be victorious? Or has the new law only strengthened the resolve of the Resistance?

IV

New Las Vegas

Home of the Resistance

Pops, these are dangerous times, we have to sell this place and leave Palisade. Officer Darius Walker pleads with his father, as he’s done for the past three nights. His words are passionate and come straight from the heart, but he suspects they fall on deaf ears.

Pops sits back in his recliner in the office of the Palisade Happy Lodge. This has been his world for over thirty years, and all he ever seemed to want in life. The recliner, next to the office desk, gives him a clear view of the forty-inch flat screen, and puts him within easy reach of the customer service window. And what about you? You gonna quit your job with the Jurisdictional Authority?

No, Pops. I told you, I asked for a transfer and there just so happens to be an opening in Pahrump, Nevada. They want me to go there for an interview, but they won’t wait forever—we need to go now. Please, Pops. You know I promised mom, I’m not leaving without you.

Pahrump? That’s where you bought that retirement house of yours.

And?

And that means we don’t have to leave Palisade for another twenty years.

His father keeps the office as hot as a rotisserie, making Darius feel like the main course.

The pressure on him to enforce the new law, the one which has outlawed all written words, is extreme. The Jurisdictional Authority expects him to act with reckless abandon, turning a blind eye to the freedoms guaranteed by the US Constitution—a constitution now illegal to read.

C’mon, Pops, I told you, my boss is requiring us to confiscate a certain number of books every day. And you know what they do to those books? Burn ’em. That new law is not only ridiculous, it’s immoral. You of all people should know that. Pops, twenty more years is out of the question. We need to pick up and leave now.

Being an officer of the Jurisdictional Authority that refuses to enforce the new law, with a father who collects books—which are now against the law—he’s definitely on edge. On top of that—Samantha Porter occupies his every waking thought. Is she waiting for him in Pahrump? He doesn’t know because he can’t contact her. Yep, definitely on edge, and sweating.

He undoes the top button of his uniform and loosens his tie. The heat in the office is unbearable. At times like these, he misses his mother more than ever. She always controlled the thermostat in the motel office, which meant more than just keeping an eye on the temperature. She also managed the financial books, oversaw the scheduled maintenance of the motel, and made sure Pops kept his cool.

How can you stand it so hot in here, Pops?

Just the way I like it. Bertie never complained.

Yeah, Pops, the only thing she ever complained about was—

Me! His father laughs so hard he succumbs to one of his coughing fits. It finally passes. She always kept everyone in high spirits—you, me, the customers. That’s why—

That’s why you called this place the Happy Lodge. I grew up with that old story.

You know I been running this place most of my life—the last few years, alone—and it’s been hard, son. Why don’t you just quit the force and come work here full time?

There you go again, Pops. I told you, that ain’t never gonna happen.

Pops springs out of his recliner and pokes a bony finger in his son’s chest. And why not? This is the perfect time. What with the way things are, you know, with that new law—

Calm down, Pops.

That law is evil, just plain idiotic. I ain’t never heard nothing as stupid as outlawing words. Pops ambles to the next room followed by his son. He flicks on the light, illuminating a treasure trove of books. Classics, fictions, non-fictions, rare books, and a few first editions fill the bookcase. Can you imagine them wanting to take my babies? Burn them? No, son, they gonna have to drag me outta here kicking and screaming. I ain’t never gonna leave them behind.

And you won’t have to, Pops. We’ll rent a truck. Take all your babies, your recliner, and anything else you want, too.

Pops runs the back of his hand along the spines of a few of his babies. He turns around and eyes his son. Your mama loved these books as much as I do.

I know, Pops, I know. And that new law is the main reason we got to get outta here.

Pops wipes his eyes. We gonna have enough room for Taco?

Darius smiles, realizing his persistence is finally paying off. ’Course there’s room for Taco. He’s part of the family.

The little black Schnauzer opens its eyes for a moment at the sound of his name, stands and walks in a tight little circle, then plops down and goes back to sleep.

Pops glances around. You know, son, everything I care about in this whole wide world is right here in this room. My books, Taco—you.

Wow, Pops, I came in third place.

That’s better than coming in last, Pops says with a laugh. Tell me, Dare, if we can’t use words no more, how we supposed to sell this place? You know there’s a ton of paperwork attached to buying and selling property.

I’ll let Ray worry about that.

Ray Barrett? Your buddy? Ain’t he a fireman?

C’mon, Pops, you know he’s a fireman, and he’s a realtor on the side. Besides, I’m sure somebody’s found a way to buy and sell property despite this new law.

Hmph. Pops marches into the office, sits back in his recliner, and folds his arms. I suspect there’s a lot of things that got to be worked out yet. You know I couldn’t get my medication yesterday at the pharmacy? Said they got to relabel all the prescription bottles with little pictures. You realize how long that’s gonna take? And what if some dummy mistakes a little round green pill for a little round pink one? Folks will wind up on a slab before they even know what—

I’ll talk to the pharmacy, Pops. But you’re getting off the subject. Are you ready to sell this place, or not?

Well…I’m not ready—doggonit, never thought I’d say this—but I guess you’re right. Go ahead, call your friend and make the arrangements. In fact, I had a fellow in here last month—said he was interested in buying the place as-is. I got his card here somewhere. Pops rifles through his desk drawer and brings out a business card, offering it to his son.

Darius accepts the card. You got to be careful with stuff like this, Pops. Just by having this card in your possession is against the law. Letterheads, business cards—

So arrest me.

Tell you what, I’ll let you off with a warning this time. Darius edges toward the door and stares at the card. I’ll have Ray get a hold of, uh…Angelo Amato. Did you discuss a price with this Amato fellow?

Hell no, son. I told him to get the hell off my property. That’s what we discussed, especially with the way he was eyeing my babies.

C’mon, Pops. You gotta be nicer to people. After all, this is the Happy Lodge.

Yeah, well I guess I’ll be happy to take the man’s money—and happy to get my babies to a safe place, away from all the madness.

Don’t forget Taco, Darius says with a sly grin.

Woof. The little dog stands, stretches, and yawns.

Just relax, Pops, and leave everything up to me. See you, Taco. And you, too, Pops.

Wow, I just came in second place.

That’s better than coming in last. Darius winks and closes the door behind him.

Before firing up the Jurisdictional black and white, he scans the empty parking lot. With fewer and fewer customers staying at the Happy Lodge in recent years, Pops had somehow managed to keep the place solvent. How do you do it, Pops?

A turquoise HFC Tesla catches his eye. It speeds out of the lot and disappears around the corner behind room number six. Funny, Pops said the motel was empty. Oh well, it was probably just another commuter saving four seconds by cutting through the lot from Fifth Street to Main. Technically a violation, but Darius doesn’t have time to bother with the petty stuff just now. He has more important things on his mind.

Contact Ray Barrett at the fire station, call Chief Dunbar Ramsey in Pahrump to set up an interview and secure a moving van.

First things first, he mumbles, adjusting his aviator shades. He’s lived in Palisade all his life, and never thought he would ever leave—not until he retired.

Desperate times. It’s becoming his mantra.

The Global Triumvirate passed the most asinine law ever written. Making words illegal. Sure, Darius spray painted over the Jurisdictional Authority letters on the side of his car—he didn’t need the hassle of being stopped and accused of breaking the ridiculous law. Other officers went as far as to place electrical tape across the words on their badges. Darius couldn’t be bothered. He simply unclipped his badge and tossed it in the backseat.

He should have read the writing on the wall—and probably did but turned a blind eye to the truth. In recent years, The Global Triumvirate passed law after law, increasing its control over the world’s population. Financial laws—putting a cap on the number of currency credits certain individuals could possess. Legal rights—limiting due process and revoking passports. Business laws—eliminating specific trades altogether—publishing, creative, artistic. Now, outlawing the written word altogether. The Triumvirate seemed to be totally unapologetic about its authoritarian ways.

Darius always quietly sympathized, on a certain level, with the struggle of those who called themselves the Resistance—a group dedicated to overthrowing the Global Triumvirate. Now, he fully agreed with their cause. The Triumvirate was out of control, nothing more than a greedy, self-serving autocracy that needed to be put in check, if not abolished outright.

Years ago, Darius purchased a three bedroom, two bath home in Pahrump, Nevada—his retirement house. His very own fortress of solitude. The thought of retiring to a desert climate and leaving the frozen winters and icy temperatures of Colorado behind makes him proud of his foresight. He purchased a fifteen-year mortgage and planned on retiring in twenty.

Oh well, desperate times.

He furnished the home little by little, and over time, filled it with his most valued possessions: high school and college awards for track and field, memorabilia from his years in law enforcement, and of course, his collection of books. Like father, like son.

He acquired his love of reading from Pops. Literature had always been a part of their life. His father read to him when he was little, and as the years went by, they would talk about their latest finds and discuss the most recent trends of the publishing business.

Now, there was no publishing business.

Thinking about the times he spent with Pops in the motel office, just the two of them, reading, talking, and laughing, always put a smile on his face, especially now, in these uncertain times. And even though he understands Pops reluctance to pick up and move, every story must come to an end. New chapters await them in Pahrump.

Palisade, Colorado is a fairly small rural community, but its growing wine industry means more and more tourists come to visit every year. Tourists are not a problem in Pahrump, and Darius looks forward to the slower pace of policing an unincorporated desert town. Also, after an initial face to face with the Nye County, Nevada Jurisdictional Chief, he got the definite impression that the laws of the Global Triumvirate will always take a back seat to general crime prevention and public safety in Pahrump.

Perfect. Darius joined law enforcement to help people—not burn books.

He speeds out of the parking lot, giving the horn two quick honks as usual. His way of saying goodbye to Pops.

His thoughts turn again to Samantha Porter, the girl he met two days ago. She fled Old New York in a little car filled with books rescued from her bookstore on the night the new law went into effect. True courage. She planned on driving to California—a mistake. Despite its original opposition to a New World Order, the Golden State is now a bastion of Global Triumvirate supporters. Instead, Darius convinced her to hide out at his retirement house in Pahrump where she and the books would be safe. He promised to meet her there after he and Pops sold the Happy Lodge. The conversation had been fast—the decisions quick.

Desperate times.

He presses the auto dial button on the dash and makes his request, Ray Barrett.

After several rings, his friend picks up. How you doing, Dare?

Are you off shift yet?

Just now, my man. It’s been a brutal day.

Sorry to hear that. What happened?

It’s that damned new law. We been putting out so many fires—book fires—all day long. It started yesterday and it’s been getting worse. People turning their friends in, neighbor against neighbor—it’s enough to make you sick. The Triumvirate’s gone too far this time.

You got that right. Listen, Ray, I need you to put on your realtor hat. We’ve finally decided to put the motel on the market. Silence. You still there, pal?

That’s…that’s good news. So, you’re getting out of Palisade?

Yup, got an opportunity out west near New Las Vegas.

What kind of opportunity?

Same thing, Jurisdictional work. But, from what I hear, they don’t go around burning books in Nevada.

Are you finally joining the Resistance then?

Not quite. We’re headed to a little town called Pahrump. Ever hear of it?

Nope. But to tell you the truth, anyplace has got to be better than here.

That’s what Pops and I think. That idiotic law’s the main reason we’re clearing out. So, you think you can help us sell the place? I even have a line on an interested party.

Sure thing, Dare. Why don’t I meet you at the motel now?

I’m off to see about a moving van at the moment, but—

Wow, you really are serious.

Tell you what, I’ll stop by Shaddock’s Rentals, put a deposit on a van, then meet you back at the motel—say fifteen minutes?

Sounds like a plan.

It takes longer to place a reservation for the moving van than Darius anticipates. Chester Shaddock is unclear of how to proceed without the use of his computer which has been shut down because of the new law. In the end, a hesitant handshake and verbal agreement between Darius and Chester reserves a late model HFC moving van. It’s small but should hold all the possessions they need to take—clothes, Pop’s recliner, and, of course, all the books from his house and the motel’s library.

By the time he pulls into the Happy Lodge parking lot, the office is fully engulfed in flames. Two fire trucks, emergency lights spinning, are pumping mountains of water from a nearby hydrant onto the blaze. Thick black smoke finally yields to white, and the inferno wanes. Darius approaches the office using his arm to shield his face from the heat. He gets too close and is held back by firefighters. One of them is Ray.

You can’t go in there, Ray shouts while clinging to his friend. It’s too damn hot.

Pops, Darius screams, hoping the strength of his voice alone will trigger some movement, some sign of life, some miracle. Maybe Pops was in the restroom and escaped through the window. Maybe the fire zigzagged across the structure allowing Pops enough room to weave his way to safety. Maybe some other phenomenon trumped the forces of nature.

Pops.

Slowly, his wild and unlikely hopes give way to reality. Nobody could have survived the conflagration. Not even the bravest man he ever knew—his father. Darius collapses in the parking lot, helped to the ground by Ray Barrett.

I’m so sorry, Dare. It was fully engaged when I got here. I called the station, but it was just too late. I’m so sorry.

When the tears start, they won’t stop. Ray helps Darius into his HFC Truck and drives him to his house on Seventh. Darius spends the night, wide eyed, choking back tears, and crying into a pillow. There is no sleep.

This never happened. There must be some mistake. Pops escaped. He’s safe—alive.

By morning, Darius is hoarse, his eyes bloodshot, and his head pounds. Friends and colleagues stop by offering condolences, but he can’t process their words. He just shakes his head, which sometimes turns into a full body shiver and doesn’t stop until he lies down. Slowly, after hours of reliving the tragedy, Darius accepts the truth.

Jeremiah Darius Walker is dead.

Acceptance gives way to rage. How did this happen? Was it an accident? Was it arson? Was it murder? What was the color of that Tesla speeding through the parking lot? Blue? No, turquoise. There couldn’t be too many turquoise HFC Tesla’s registered in Palisade.

Darius grabs his cellphone and calls the station. Mack, get me Detective Billings. Now.

Slow down, Dare. Ray offers him a cup of coffee, which is ignored.

Jesse, this is Darius. Listen, I need to get any information about a turquoise HFC Tesla registered in Mesa County. That’s right, anything at all. I’ll wait.

Ray puts the steaming cup of joe on the kitchen table and sits opposite Darius.

What do you mean you can’t check? Darius plants the cellphone against his chest so he can speak to Ray without being heard. He says the system’s down. Do you believe this bullshit? He puts the phone back to his ear. There’s got to be a way to check the records—What do you mean you can’t? What about Moffat County, Garfield, Gunnison? What do you mean you—

Ray furrows his brow during the silence.

Darius slams his cell onto the kitchen table, shattering the screen. Goddammit!

What is it, Dare?

With eyes closed, Darius says in a near whisper, That damned new law. He stares at Ray. The computer system is shut down. On purpose. Seems it would be…it would be against the law to… He is so disgusted and distraught he has no energy to waste on the implications of the new law. That senseless, stupid law.

I know, buddy. Ray puts a hand on Darius’s shoulder. Why don’t you lay down and get some rest.

Darius crawls onto the couch, this time sleeping the whole night through. When he wakes, his head is clear and his thoughts sharp.

Thanks for being there for me, he tells Ray. I don’t know what I would have done—

You would have done the same for me. Want some coffee? Something to eat? How about we go to Carver’s?

Don’t you have to work today?

Took the day off. C’mon, Dare, let’s go—my treat.

Darius turns for the door,