Fiction River: Pulse Pounders Adrenaline: Fiction River: An Original Anthology Magazine, #24

Contents

Foreword: Thrills, Chills, and Spills

Kristine Kathryn Rusch

Introduction: Faster Than a Speeding…

Kevin J. Anderson

The Wrong Side of the Tracks

Kelly Washington

The Ex

Michael Kowal

A Demon from Hell Walks into a Speakeasy

Ron Collins

Blood Storm

Bob Sojka

So Many Ways to Die

Dayle A. Dermatis

Egg Thief

Debbie Mumford

Dust to Dust

Annie Reed

O’Casey’s War

Patrick O’Sullivan

Looting Dirt

David Stier

The Mark of Blackfriar Street

Scott T. Barnes

Death in the Serengeti

David H. Hendrickson

Rude Awakening

Kevin J. Anderson

Cleaning up the Neighborhood

Dæmon Crowe

Redline

Travis Heermann

L.I.V.E.

Eric Kent Edstrom

About the Editor

Acknowledgements

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Copyright Information

Foreword

THRILLS, CHILLS, AND SPILLS

KRISTINE KATHRYN RUSCH

We have produced twenty-five volumes of Fiction River so far, even though the number on the cover of this one is 24. The extra comes from Fiction River Special: Crime—our first, and so far, only special. (We have two more specials on the schedule: Fiction River Special: Summer Sizzles and Fiction River Special: Spies!)

When you edit that many volumes of something—even as a series editor—some stories blur together. Sure, you remember them when you look at them, but to remember every detail about the story, including where you were when you first read it? That takes a super extra special story.

As I picked up Pulse Pounders: Adrenaline so that I could write this foreword, I realized that the volume is filled with stories so memorable I can remember how I felt when I first read them. From Travis Heermann’s Redline, which is impossible to put down (hell, it’s impossible to breathe while reading the story) to the absolute charm of Debbie Mumford’s Egg Thief, every single story in this volume falls into the memorable category—at least for me.

Not only are the stories memorable, but they live up to the volume’s subtitle. These stories have adrenaline—or rather, they’ll make your adrenaline spike.

This is a thrill ride. You’ll have deceptive moments of calm before you are forced to jump off a precipice. And, if you’re like me, when you finish the volume, you’ll jump back in line, shouting, Let’s do it again!

Our first Kevin-edited volume, Pulse Pounders, is good. Pulse Pounders: Adrenaline is better.

Brace yourself. Hang on tight, and enjoy the ride.

—Kristine Kathryn Rusch

Lincoln City, OR

April 2, 2017

Introduction

FASTER THAN A SPEEDING…

KEVIN J. ANDERSON

I am not genre monogamous.

Some people like to read only mysteries, or only romance, or only science fiction. I like to read good fiction, good stories with interesting characters who do something interesting. No slice-of-life navel-contemplating snapshots of the human condition that win awards but nothing happens.

I want something exciting.

When I was a young student in a creative writing class at the University of Wisconsin-Madison, I kept submitting my stories about space plagues, dragon-slaying expeditions, or ghost stories with an ironic twist. The stuff I thought people would want to read.

I had grown up in a small town and still lived at home with my parents while I went to college, driving half an hour each day to get to class. My teacher, exasperated with all this genre fiction I kept handing in, finally said, Anderson, why don’t you write about something you know about? Tell us a story about a young man from a small town who commutes to college and wants to be a writer?

I looked at him in disbelief. "Why on earth would anyone want to read that? That’s my boring life. When I read fiction, I want to take part in a great adventure. I want to be thrilled."

That was—and continues to be—my motto. (I did get a decent grade in the course, even though I never delivered what the professor considered a true creative writing class story.)

I hope to deliver thrilling stories to you in this anthology. The only criterion I gave the authors was that the story had to be exciting. I didn’t care what genre: It could be science fiction, fantasy, mainstream—heck, it could even be a romance thriller, so long as it was good.

I read all the stories equally and selected the ones that made my pulse pound the most. In Pulse Pounders: Adrenaline, you’ll find an excellent mix of science fiction, fantasy, mystery, edgy mainstream, urban fantasy, even outright comedy. Some are just plain entertaining; others are highly disturbing; some are thought provoking; some are potboilers.

As editor, I put them in the order that gives the best reading experience with the widest variety. You can read them in any order you like.

My one suggestion is that you not read them in bed before trying to go to sleep. You might have a hard time dozing off.

—Kevin J. Anderson

Monument, CO

June 14, 2015

Introduction to The Wrong Side of the Tracks

This is what I mean, a perfect example to start off the anthology. Visceral suspense and a character in deep trouble, someone you can relate to. When I read the manuscript I was instantly involved in the story, in the character’s peril, and a race all the way to the finish.

Fiction River subscribers should find Kelly Washington’s name familiar. Her work appeared in Recycled Pulp, Hidden in Crime, and in Fiction River Presents: Legacies. Her Hidden in Crime story was chosen for The Best Crime and Mystery Stories 2016. To find out more about her work, go to kellywashington.com

To write this story, Kelly did what all great writers do. She imagined a scenario in which I might find myself in, and how I might ‘save myself’ from it. She might have a few extra tools, since she’s a third-generation soldier, but that only makes her tale even more interesting.

Why are you reading this intro? Get to the story!

The Wrong Side of the Tracks

Kelly Washington

Marlene snubbed the cigarette when a car crept into the pebbled driveway.

Fear and nervous energy trampled on whatever bravado she thought she possessed. She was prepared for his coming—he said he’d find her—but that didn’t stop her from shaking.

She held her breath and watched through a parted curtain. Even though it was well after midnight, her eyes followed the tall man who deftly exited the police cruiser.

A tall man she knew well.

Julian wasn’t wearing his uniform. With stealth-like movements, he circled the small hunting cabin and then he climbed the steps.

His fists pounded on the door.

Marlene, open the door, he yelled. I know you’re in there.

She knew those fists well, too. Julian certainly wasn’t quiet. He must have sensed that he was safe from prying eyes and ears.

It was the dead of winter, the township was deserted, and the cabin hadn’t been used in the five years since her parents’ death.

Her boyfriend wasn’t a quiet guy. In the beginning she liked his gruff, in-your-face personality, but that was before he turned that sour charm on her.

The door was solid, but, in time, Julian would break it down. Two days ago, when she arrived, she slid a kitchen chair under the doorknob.

She knew it wasn’t the most effective defense tactic, but there was something reassuring about it.

She had sat in a matching chair for hours, looking through curtains, waiting for… death? Salvation?

Marlene wasn’t sure anymore. When she fled Julian, she drove to the one place she felt safe: her grandfather’s cabin.

There were two ways inside Grandpa’s three-room cabin in the Pocono Mountains: the front door and a roof hatch built in case heavy snowfall disabled the front door.

Marlene slipped on gloves, a beanie, and zipped up an old thick Aleut-made parka.

The door wouldn’t hold forever. Five minutes or less. For the last few weeks, Marlene’s life had been measured in minutes, not days.

A box cutter lay on the dinette. Anything bigger and Julian would wrestle it away from her. So she needed something small—something he couldn’t see.

With trembling fingers, she pocketed the small blade and her car keys, and climbed atop the stepstool under the freshly oiled roof hatch.

She’d come too far—run too far—to let a squeaky hinge sing her failure.

It was then that Julian stopped pounding on the door.

Her deafening heartbeat picked up where his fists left off.

She imagined hearing his footsteps going back to his cruiser. And returning.

Then, Crack! Crack! Splinter! Something other than his fist connected with the door, shaking the entire wall as if it were nothing more than a cardboard cutout.

An ax?

He was cutting the door.

Adrenaline ignited her blood. She extended herself to her full height, and lifted the roof hatch.

The bitter cold didn’t steal her breath. It was just as cold inside the cabin as outside of it, and early on she had decided against the risk of using the oven to heat the small space.

Playing hard to get, I see, Julian said through the door in a honeyed tone, as if he were talking to a prospective lover. He wasn’t inside the cabin yet. I like that in a woman.

He was a master in changing his personality to suit the environment.

Psychos normally were.

She kept herself low as she crawled on top.

Right hand.

Left hand.

Then her right knee.

Suddenly, something on the roof cracked. To Marlene’s ears, it sounded like a gunshot.

Her would-be attacker abandoned the door.

She stopped breathing…thinking…existing.

Through her thick winter gear, beads of sweat popped on her lower back, and her gloved hands felt clammy, wet.

That’s when she realized there was a nail embedded through her glove, piercing the meaty flesh of her palm.

In any other situation, Marlene would have freaked out, screamed. But not tonight. Not now.

Fear and adrenaline masked pain as she pulled the nail out.

Nothing hurt.

Not physically, at least. Mentally and emotionally were wildly different stories. She shoved the bloody nail in a coat pocket.

Julian’s zeal for the door started up again.

She looked out over her escape, waiting. There wasn’t much to see in this part of the Pocono Mountains. Bald, sinewy trees butted against lush evergreens. Frozen-over streams. Slippery trails blanketed with icy, dead leaves.

And, off in the distance, about two miles, train tracks. She left her car on the other side of them.

That was her destination. If she made it that far.

When the door shattered inward, Marlene jumped off the roof.

For a millisecond, it felt like she was suspended in air before her feet collided with the cold, hard ground.

Fucking bitch, where are you? By now he would have seen the stepstool and, even though she closed it, the hatch.

She rolled onto her back but couldn’t get up. The cold ground stole whatever warmth the coat held. Her teeth chattered.

He would be on her in a matter of seconds.

Move, Marlene!

Pain shot through her left ankle. She hobbled at first, then, bolted into a full run as she entered the woods and found the trail she knew by heart as a kid.

It was dark, cold, and the freezing rain ricocheted off her parka.

Then, something abruptly stopped her dead in her tracks.

Shit, she forgot about the wooden fence, and the gate wouldn’t budge.

Behind her, Julian was laughing, his husky notes easily traveled the thirty, forty feet between them.

He was slowly stalking her.

She tried to step over the fence, but an icy spot swept her off her feet.

***

Two months ago, Julian McCallum had swept her off her feet.

At twenty-three, Marlene Watson didn’t believe in love at first sight. But that’s exactly what happened when she went into the library and walked in on the Alexandria Police Department’s annual Rent A Cop For A Night charity.

She had just moved to Alexandria, Virginia, after landing a new job. However, her apartment didn’t have internet access yet, so she had been using the library’s wifi router.

Our next officer is Deputy Sheriff Julian McCallum, the announcer said. Bidding starts at one hundred.

Marlene couldn’t take her eyes off the six-two, broad shouldered, sandy-blond, handsome man standing at the edge of a makeshift stage. He looked to be in his early thirties.

Immediately, she offered one hundred dollars.

And when he smiled at the crowd, it started a bidding war.

Marlene should have stopped when it reached five hundred—as a mathematics textbook editor, she didn’t have that kind of money—but the thrill got to her.

Bidding on him became addictive. She won him at six hundred and fifty dollars.

He sauntered up to his winner. His devilish smile captivated her.

Looks like you caught me.

***

He’s going to catch me.

Instead of going over, she crawled between the X of the crossbuck style wooden fence.

She got to her feet as fast as she could.

And ran.

Stick to the trail and hide.

You know that won’t be enough, Marlene…

She fell so many goddamn times that if Julian didn’t get to her first, the mountains might do the job for him.

Get up.

Run.

Hide.

But she wasn’t fast enough. That wasn’t her only problem, just the most pressing.

Marlene could smell Julian’s excitement, his arousal. It made her nauseous. She imagined his hot breath on her neck, breathing down upon her like a deranged god hell-bent on teaching her a lesson.

Where you going, Marlene? I just want to talk to you, baby, Julian called out, his tone hurtful, as if she was the one hurting him.

He was no longer behind her, but somewhere to her left.

That voice did things to her. His sensitive tone confused her. It unstrung taut emotions.

You can’t go back. He won’t change.

She stopped against a tree and listened. Something metallic jangled as he walked.

Handcuffs?

She remembered when those restrictive bracelets delighted her when they once role-played cops and robbers. She was the cop, Julian the robber, and the only way he could get out of his prison sentence was with a good, long fuck.

He was only too happy to serve his sentence.

Even then she didn’t notice the tides turning as he took over, choking her slightly, calling her one offensive word after another, before bringing her to an earth-shattering climax.

It made her feel bad…in that good way.

What the hell are you standing still for?

The memory snapped when she fell again, this time slipping face first into a pile of rocks covered by wet leaves. Tears burned her eyes. The jagged edge of a rock cut deep into her brow bone.

Goddammit.

Blood trickled into her eye, but she wiped it away. She wanted to scream. Why was this happening to her? In that moment she felt so alone, and so scared.

And defeated.

Julian enjoyed the chase, but she wasn’t interested in being the final prize. Not this time.

Get up, girl. Get your ass to the other side of the train tracks.

Suddenly, between the trees, something flickered up ahead...

A flashlight?

Marlene ran straight for it, screaming, Help! Help! Somebody help me!

But she didn’t get far.

A low hanging tree branch struck her jaw and she spiraled down a narrow ravine.

***

The first time he hit her, Julian punched her in the jaw. Marlene’s eyes rolled back in her head, her body spiraled, and she collapsed on the kitchen floor.

It was the morning she moved in with him. After an inseparable two weeks, it felt right.

Love at first sight.

Marlene wasn’t expecting his sudden violent outburst and had enough reflexes to move, but he still got the side of her face.

In her hands, she held a hot skillet filled with scrambled eggs. That went down with her, and it seared the side of her bicep.

For a brief moment, all she could think about was how she ruined breakfast.

She was sitting in breakfast.

Julian immediately crouched down.

Marlene, baby… I didn’t… I thought… He rambled, talking about nightmares, his mother, and the cast iron skillet she beat him with. Julian cleaned up the eggs and cradled her head in his large hands. Seeing you standing there, I thought you were… God, you must think I’m a monster.

His blue eyes swam in tears.

Men who looked like him, who were cops like him, did not cry.

She gave him a watery smile. You’re not a monster, otherwise I wouldn’t be in love with you, Julian Michael McCallum.

Later on she would realize that he actually never apologized.

At the time, however, she knew he didn’t mean to hurt her. It was just a terrible mistake.

He pulled her in. I love you, Marlene. Everyday I worry that you will leave me.

I’ll never leave you, she whispered into his lips.

Breakfast forgotten, he made sweet, tender love to her.

In her mind, life couldn’t get any better.

***

In her mind, life couldn’t get any worse.

He meant to give her the illusion that she was successfully evading him. When, in fact, he was probably already in front of her in the woods.

She climbed out of the narrow couloir and joined a southeasterly trail that paralleled the ravine. The light she saw was now long gone.

Had it been Julian all along?

Marlene rubbed her jaw, tasted blood. A loose molar.

Everything hurt. Her back. Her feet. Her palm. Her brow.

Ever since meeting Julian, she’d felt every emotion humanly possible.

Extremely in love.

Extremely scared of losing him.

And extremely scared of him.

With him, there were no halves. It was all or nothing. Either he loved you completely, or he wanted to kill you.

Or both.

His voice stopped her dead in her tracks.

Let’s be rational, Marlene. Come out so we can talk like adults. Just so you know, I’m ready to forgive and forget everything. I’ll fix the cabin door and we’ll get a cozy fire going. What do you think?

She shivered. Marlene turned, trying to locate where his voice had come from.

Forgive her?

For what? Marlene’s only crime was falling in love with a monster.

And the only forgetting he was good at doing was not remembering his abusive nature.

Fuck you, Julian! she yelled. Her words echoed back in the night sky.

She shouldn’t have said anything. He’d just accuse her of being emotionally unstable.

She should have quietly backed away and walked silently deeper into the woods.

But it felt good to say it.

There’s no need to yell, he said in a loud, but calm voice that wound up every nerve in her body. I don’t know why you persist in running away from me. You know I’d never hurt you. In all seriousness, I believe you need professional counseling. I love you and I only want what’s best for you.

Oh, such pretty, caring words. All constructed to make her unravel like a bomb.

Words like that used to work. Used to make her think that she was the one with the problem.

It was her fault that he hit her.

And shoved her.

And bit her.

And forced himself on her.

Go to hell, Julian, she said.

Then she ran.

***

She had no one to run to, to discuss her happiness…and her suspicions.

No friends, no family. No one except Julian.

Marlene had many wonderful qualities, but she didn’t think she was attractive enough or smart enough to win over and keep the likes of Julian McCallum.

So she needed to keep him happy.

A week after Julian hit her, her boss called her at home. Julian watched her like a hawk when she took the phone into the kitchen.

Things going well, Marlene? Settling in okay with the job and new apartment? her boss asked.

Until the bruise faded, she covered it with makeup, and since it was wintertime, it was easy to conceal the bandage over her bicep.

Yes, sir. Nothing could be better, she said, her tone enthusiastic. If she acted like everything was okay, then everything would be okay.

I’m glad to hear it. I wanted to tell you that I’m putting you in charge of the ninth edition of the Henry-Paulson Algebra One textbook.

Really? When she noticed Julian’s frown, she quickly wiped the smile off her face. Thank you. I look forward to the challenge. Good night.

Later on, when Julian questioned her at dinner, her mind was on her upcoming project.

What did your boss call about?

Marlene looked up in surprise. He’s put me in charge of a new algebra textbook. Why?

He shrugged, but his eyes were hard.

I don’t like it when you talk to other men.

The possessiveness in his voice pleased her.

Jealous? she asked playfully.

Are you disrespecting me?

His fists hit the table. Marlene jumped, suddenly afraid. Afraid that she’d done something wrong.

What? Her question was barely audible.

It’s discourteous if you talk to another man without me there.

You were sitting right there. I can’t ignore my boss, Julian. I’d get fired, she said, standing, backing away from the table. When he stood up, she trembled. He towered over her petite frame. She laughed weakly. You must be playing a little joke on me. You can’t control who I talk to.

He smiled cruelly, which took her breath away.

Watch me, he said very seriously.

Get out, Marlene!

I need to get a textbook from my apartment. Her voice was shaking as she picked up her phone and her keys. She couldn’t meet his eyes. I’ll be back in a minute.

The hell you are.

It was a small apartment. He reached her in three steps and shoved her into the wall.

Marlene crumpled. It felt like she was living in a fractured dream: her vision, thoughts, and hearing were all fuzzy.

When she