blood.”
Howie stripped the gag away. Slade drew in a breath.
“Who the—hell are you?” Slade said angrily. “Damn it, I’ll have your—“
Howie touched Slade’s cheek with his knife. Slade went silent at once.
“What happened at Silver Island?” Howie said. “I want to know about that. I don’t want to hear nothing else.”
Slade looked surprised. “Everybody knows about that.”
“Well, you pretend I ain’t heard.”
Slade let out a breath. “Them Rebels landed guerrillas somehow. It all happened real fast. They killed all the younguns they could catch, and took off in the ‘glades. That’s all I know—“
Howie grabbed him by the shirt, slammed him hard against the floor.
“You listen, and listen hard. There isn’t any Rebels down there. The gov’ment itself done the killing. Mister, I know what Silver Island was for, and I know what you was doin’ down there. One of those girls was my sister. Her name was Carolee. You think about her. Carolee Ryder. You just keep thinking on her.”
Howie picked up Slade, carried him over his shoulder and lead him outside into the deep stands of oak. Even with the gag thrust deeply into Anson Slade’s mouth, Howie could hear him screaming inside all the way into the woods…
“There it is,” Captain Finley said. “Bout four miles off the starboard bow. New Los Angeles and port.”
Howie stood by the railing, watching the sea. Late on the afternoon before, Finley had pointed far to starboard at the hundreds of small islands off the shore. The gray points of land looked peculiar; most were no more than stubs, ragged mounds of stone that seldom rose more than twenty feet above the sea.
“Don’t appear real natural, do they?” the Captain had said. “That’s because they aren’t. What you’re looking at now is Old Los Angeles town. There’s a whole city there on the bottom. Right about there is where the shore used to be.” He waved his hand vaguely to the right.
“The war did that?” Howie couldn’t imagine such devastation, or what might have caused it.
“Partly the War. Folks say it was more than that, though. That unholy weapons of the time loosed something in the earth. The land just heaved up and cracked in two, and drowned the whole coast in the sea. Forty, fifty miles inland, and a hundred miles wide. No one can say it happened that way——but the city’s down there, that’s a fact.”
Howie could think of nothing to say. Long after the Captain left, he stood and watched the dreary islands until they vanished far astern…
The caravan had been traveling through heavy stands of pine, spruce and fir for some time. On the morning after the sixth day out from New Los Angeles, Ritcher Jones called a halt. Brother Jonas and the others in Howie’s carriage scrambled eagerly to the ground. Howie joined them, wondering what the fuss was all about.
“What are we doing?” he asked. “We ain’t been riding for three hours.”
Jonas looked surprised. “Why, we’re here, boy. This is High Sequoia.”
Howie didn’t like to seem a fool, but he couldn’t see anything but trees.
“Look, over there,” Jonas said.
At first, Howie saw nothing but dense woods. Then, his eye caught something, but rejected it at once. It was clearly a trick of the light; there werent’ any trees that big, not anywhere. There were six or eight together, and he couldn’t sort them out. Then he saw another, and another after that, great, enormous shapes nearly lost in the dusty green light that filtered down from above.
“Great God A’mighty,” Howie cried. “They’re real, ain’t they?”
“Oh, they are, for certain,” Jonas said. “Giant Sequoias, the Lord’s finest creation. This is hallowed ground you’re standing on now. Don’t forget that. There’s nowhere like this in the world. Nowhere but here.”
“I reckon I’ll agree on that,” Howie said…
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After The Fall…
America’s Great Dream is over. Centuries ago it was devastated by the ultimate war. The effects still linger. Food is scarce, water even scarcer and human compassion nowhere to be found. Even so, society is slowly rebuilding itself. But is it a society whose thirst for success is built on an enormous, barbaric lie:
…an almost legendary place to most Americans.
The citadel where the government is building a new and better nation from the ashes of the war-ravaged land. Everyone envies the few children who are chosen to be sent to Silver Island to help realize that dream. At least, that’s what Howie Ryder was told when his little sister became one of the Chosen. And that’s what he believed before the soldiers slaughtered his parents. Six years on, Howie has discovered the horrifying truth about Silver Island. And will do anything —
Off to the south you could see ’em—two big Portugees floatin’ high and slow, flat-looking bodies all pearly blue in the sun. They weren’t real hungry, or looking for anything special, just drifting along, trailing their stingers like long rags of rain ’gainst the ground.
In the urban No Man’ Land known as Deadtown two equally matched vampires bosses are locked in a cold war for dominance: the foppish drug kingpin Lord Sinjon, and the brutal Lord Esher, who traffics in black magic as well as firearms. Things heat up when the punk vampire/vampire-slayer Sonja Blue arrives, and she begins to play the rival factions against each other in order to cleanse Deadtown of its undead inhabitants once and for all.
Knuckles and Tales is a collection of atmospheric, disturbing, spooky, and downright weird Southern Gothic short stories by award-winning author Nancy A Collins, best known for her edgy novels featuring the punk vampire/vampire slayer Sonja Blue. The original hardback edition of Knuckles and Tales was nominated by both the Horror Writers Association and the International Horror Guild for Best Collection of 2002. The stories on display in Knuckles and Tales range from suspense and psychological horror to dark fantasy and black comedy, with the occasional weird love story thrown in for good measure. Knuckles and Tales features two never before published novelettes in the Seven Devils Cycle: “Junior Teeter And The Bad Shine” and “the Pumpkin Child”, as well as the previously unpublished short story “Big Easy”.
Here’s something from the delightfully warped mind of Jack Ketchum! The Transformed Mouse: A Fable That’s right folks, a fable! One for adults though, adapted from the 2nd century Panchatantra. And unless you’re afraid of the elements, or of mice, there’s nary a scare in it. Just good wacky fun!
In Heaven’s City of Angels before the fall, the first crime has been committed: an Angel has been murdered. While the Angelic Hosts labor to create the universe, one of their number is mysteriously slain by one of their own.
