Hunting Grounds

By Krista Cagg

Dr. Nathaniel B Smythe, doctor of psychology and engineering. Philanthropist and investor. Grandson of one of the town’s founders, and confirmed bachelor. General Franklin F. Fremont, retired general in the army. Explorer and big game hunter. The two men, stalwart friends in a small industrial town on the banks of the Susquehanna River where nothing changes and excitement is discouraged. On the surface, anyway.
But there is something rippling beneath the sleepy little town’s gentle facade. It’s been there for as long as anyone can remember. No one talks about it, not even in subdued whispers, but it touches the lives of every resident...including the two friends. And when Dr. Smythe reveals one of his secret inventions to a bored General Fremont, Hell breaks loose in the form of a demon from another dimension. The two are forced to hunt the creature before it can wreak havoc on the town they both love.
It won’t be as easy as they think. the doorway they open is but the beginning, and even more horrors wait for them and the rest of the town.
This is life on the river. This is life for residents who will do anything to achieve their goals. If the town accepts you, it will give you anything you can dream.
Even if the dream is a nightmare.
Welcome to Milltown.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Chaos Publications
• Release date: Aug 1, 2023
• ISBN: 9781954413191

Book preview

Hunting Grounds

Krista Cagg

Hunting Grounds

Copyright © 2023 by Chaos Publications

Copyright © 2023 by Krista Cagg

All rights reserved. Printed in the United States of America. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

For information contact :

http://www.tamingchaos.net/krista-kagg

Interior and cover design by Chaos Publications and Krista Cagg

ISBN: 9 7 8 1 9 5 4 4 1 3 1 8 4

1st Edition: August 2023

Dedication

This book has been a pain in the butt to get out into the world. Without certain people it would still be locked in Delay Chaos. So, without further ado, I would like to thank the following:

(In no particular order.)

My Dad and Husband

My Furry Demon Overlords

Maggie and Tray

Jen and Crystal

Kate and Benny

Chelle and everyone at Chaos

Santiago Cirilo

Midnight Syndicate

Milton, PA

If your name isn’t on the list it doesn’t mean I don’t appreciate you. It just means my mind is busy with my make-believe people.

Love you all!

Sympathy for the Devil

Not a bad Black Pudding, eh?

Dr. Nathaniel B. Smythe had been lost in his thoughts until his dinner companion’s question brought him back to the here and now. The scientist and philanthropist raised brows the same pitch black as his hair as he glanced at retired General Frederick F. Fremont. Forgive me, old man. My thoughts were on the council meeting. Twenty years separated the two men, but from the day they had met seventeen years prior, the difference had never seemed to matter.

Smythe’s family had a long history with the quaint, small municipality of Milltown. The only remaining member of the founding families, the Smythes had had a standing seat on the town council, status, and sway over local government for generations. It didn’t hurt that they were wealthy from their investments in coal, shipping, and local industry. Nathaniel looked to be the last, however, having never married, nor sired even a bastard to inherit the family name and wealth. He was aware of the mixed feelings certain members of the town had about this. Some were eager to get the residents’ attention onto a central government and council, while others felt that without the Smythe money to support it, the town would founder and die in under a decade.

Now entering his forties, Smythe was a shade over six feet tall, lithe of stature, and quiet of voice. His smooth baritone sounded out only when his perpetual mind had a solid contribution to the conversation. He was a modern man, dressed in the height of style in a tailed black evening coat with matching tapered pants. His waistcoat was double-breasted red and gold brocade, and his pressed shirt was a pristine white. The black silk cravat at his throat sported a solitary lapis lazuli cabochon, which tacked the neckwear in place. Smythe still appeared youthful with the sole exception of a streak of grey that marred the center of his goatee.

Fremont was a contrast to Smythe. The retired General was loud, boisterous and his thoughts spilled out his mouth without hesitation. Though six foot tall and broad of shoulder, the rest of the older man had the look of stout muscles gone to seed. A firm physique had softened around the edges, but had by no means diminished entirely. A lack of an active lifestyle made itself known in his jowls and cheeks. The mutton-chop whiskers and mustache hid the telltale signs for now, and his hazel eyes still held a keen spark to them. His evening wear was much along the same lines as Smythe’s, but Fremont did not wear them as easily. He had a tendency to tug at his collar, hitch the legs of his pants when he sat, or rotate his shoulder. The fidgeting earned him a few looks, which he ignored with blatant disdain.

The two men were walking home from their late dinner after the monthly town council meeting, reminiscing about a time when the council wasn’t as collectively thick-witted as they had been tonight. Their friendship began many years ago when Smythe was a young man who hadn’t yet inherited the family estate and businesses. He’d had wild ideas on advancing industry and radical new technology. At first, Fremont had simply been amused by Smythe’s youthful ramblings. Eventually, he had recognized in the young man a kindred spirit of adventure and discovery, and he actively encouraged Smythe’s ideas. Years later, after the death of Smythe’s parents, they became more like associates, even meeting once or twice a week for dinner and an evening of conversation. Fremont guided the young aristocrat as needed or requested, but otherwise gave Smythe his stalwart support and companionship. These days Smythe didn’t require more than Fremont’s friendship. The council meeting had tarnished their standard plans for the evening. It wasn’t entirely ruined, just delayed.

A small town, Milltown was founded in 1770 around a limestone mill on the Susquehanna River. The town developed around the industry as more manufactory became necessary until it spread up from the valley into the surrounding rich farmland. Most activity remained firmly in the downtown area and near the river. Churches of various denominations sprang up within blocks of each other, their spires and bell towers reaching for the sky. Original homes were