Dark Music: Excerpt

 

The rain swept through Hollywood Boulevard in a cold drizzle that sent a chill right through you no matter how well you had dressed. This was the coldest and wettest spell of weather that anybody could ever recall having experienced. Since just after Christmas, all through January and February, the whole of North America had been going through the coldest spell of weather since records began to be kept. And the City of Angels hadn't been spared. For the past two months or so the sun had rarely made an appearance, spending most of the days hidden behind layers of dark clouds. It seemed to either be raining or on the verge of raining all the time. A north-westerly constantly blew cold air from the North Pacific. The daytime temperature hovered between thirty-five to fifty degrees Fahrenheit, and at nights had actually dropped below freezing on several occasions.

As the rain eased, a thick fog descended over central Hollywood. Visibility was twenty-five feet at best. This was the red light district; Hollywood at its sleaziest and most depraved. This was where urban decay had reached its apex; a sensual cacophony of flashing neon, sleazy hotels, strip bars, greasy diners, cheap hotels, dirty sidewalks, and cruising cars filled with assorted thrill seekers.

Sunset Boulevard, Fairfax Avenue, Santa Monica Boulevard, La Brea Avenue: this was where the sleazy street hookers loitered looking for johns, whose vehicles constantly cruised the streets like tin-plated trolleys loitering down the aisles of some giant supermarket of filth. Sleazy hookers of all ages, boys, men, young girls, transvestites, amputees, dwarfs, bondage, sado-masochists -- no matter what the particular kink, where there was a demand someone was always willing to supply. And here they would congregate in this modern-day Sodom or Gomorrah, along with the pimps, drug dealers, beggars, bums, junkies, crazed doomsday preachers and prophets, psychos, thrill-seekers out for a night of slumming, and other assorted hangers on.

A dark figure emerged from the fog, which seemed to envelop him like a shroud of living ectoplasm. His long black overcoat flapped behind him as he walked down Sunset approaching the corner of Fairfax. This was the red light district. He felt at home here. The bag he carried contained the tools of his trade. His trade was death. The press called him the Hollywood Hacker. He saw himself more as the avatar of a new era.

He stopped as if listening to some far away tune that only he could hear.

This way! Follow the songs of the Mad Piper.

The Voice had first spoken to him a few months ago. At first he refused to listen, but the whisperings continued, always insistent, always promising. Eventually he had no choice but to listen. And it was good. The first killing was a revelation, an epiphany. He had discovered his calling, his purpose. Up to that point his life was meaningless; he had been nothing but another nobody, another one of those mediocre hoards that make up the huge bulk of humanity. Through killing he had become reborn, he was given a mission. He had been chosen as the prototype for the Coming.

The dark music of the Mad Piper now sung to him. His discordant melodies whispered to him as he walked into La Brea.

A tall transvestite approached him. "Hi there sweetie." The voice was husky, neither feminine nor masculine.

He ignored the she-he as he tried to look through the fog down La Brea. He could just make out two pairs of legs leaning against the front stone wall next to the entrance of the La Brea Hotel.

Promising.

There! Those are the ones. They are yours.

The transvestite wasn't giving up. "Oh come on sweetie, I can make you feel real good."

She-he backed him into a small entranceway of a closed pawn shop. He dropped his bag and grabbed the she-he by the throat and the crotch and spun her-him around then pushed her-him against the steel security grille in front of the pawn shop. He gave her-his balls a playful squeeze. "You know what; I never liked a woman with balls."

He cocked his wrist triggering the release mechanism of the long-bladed knife he had strapped onto his forearm. There was a slight clicking sound as the blade extracted. He sliced into his-her flesh, the blade severing arteries. He wiped the blade on the transvestite's clothing before retracting it back under his sleeve.

He turned around leaving the transvestite to bleed to death and approached two hookers standing outside of the La Brea Hotel.

"Looking for a good time honey?" one of them said, a tall blonde with big tits. She pushed her chest forward. "I'm Molly."

"Well Molly," he said. "Do you have a place where we can be alone?"

"Certainly honey," she said.

He looked at the hooker standing next to her, a luscious redhead, with lips just made for sucking cock.

"You too," he said, his cock already beginning to stir.

The front door of the La Brea Hotel burst open to reveal the dark silhouette of the man the press had dubbed the Hollywood Hacker. He wore a long black trenchcoat, and a black woollen beanie to protect his head from the cold. His dark eyes flashed, burning right through Ernie, the hotel attendant. The Hacker carried a black canvas bag in his left hand. He took a few steps forward towards Ernie, who was seated behind the reception desk. Behind the Hacker two hookers entered the lobby, both glad to get inside and away from the cold fog and drizzle.

"A room," said the Hacker.

"How long do you want it for?" said Ernie. Although Ernie's official job designation was hotel attendant, in reality Ernie was a pimp. His girls worked the street outside the hotel. When one would snare a john, she would bring him into the lobby of the hotel where Ernie would rent him a room at seventy-five bucks per half hour. More, if the john wanted anything kinky or special.

"Two hours," said the Hacker.

"Two girls, two hours," Ernie thought it over, considering how much he could take this bozo for. He looked at the bag the man was carrying. "What's in the bag? Anything kinky will cost you extra."

"Nothing, err, kinky," said the Hacker. "I want a room for two hours."

"That'll be five hundred," said Ernie. "That's one hundred off the going rate."

The Hacker pulled a wad of hundred dollar notes from his pocket and handed Ernie five of them. Ernie grinned as he pocketed the cash, then reached behind him and took one of the keys hanging there. He quickly glanced at the room number on the tag attached to the key then handed it to the Hacker.

"Room nine, up the stairs, first floor, on the left. The clock starts in five minutes." Ernie pointed to a clock behind him, which read ten fifteen.

The Hacker took the key and led the two giggling hookers up the stairs.

The room was no different than the thousands of other rooms in cheap sleazy hotels. There was an old double bed, a lamp, and a couple of old armchairs. An old television set sat on top of a small table. Bright blue and orange neon flashed through the window from the street outside.

To the Hacker the room was a blank canvas where he was about to paint a death portrait in blood.

Molly went to the window and stood there, hands on hips, silhouetted in the neon glow. She removed her top revealing a pair of silicone-enhanced breasts hanging like small bowling balls in the blue-orange twilight.

Fire, the redhead, went to the bed and lay down expectantly, her long red hair falling around the pillow like a halo around her head.

The Hacker smiled and closed the door.

No one heard the screams.

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Meatworks: Excerpt

 

The full moon lay partially hidden behind a cloud, providing the only lighting on the dark Ansansport Highway. There were no streetlights in this area of bushland. A large flying fox flapped its great bat wings as it circled overhead.

Anna McMichaels watched the great bat in awe at its grace as it circled fifty feet above her. She wasn't too far out of Ansansport. When she got there she should be able to find a motel where she could shower and spend the night. Then tomorrow she could catch the bus to Launceston, from where she would be able to organize transport back to Melbourne.

That bastard Mike. How dare he leave her stranded in the middle of nowhere? They had planned on a driving tour of Tasmania and were to spend the weekend in Ansansport, from where they could do some bushwalking and visit the old lighthouse and Ansans National Park. They had met another group of tourists in St Helens and had been partying pretty heavily. Anna was completely blotto by the time the party was breaking up. Mike helped her to the car where Anna had fallen asleep. She awakened to find herself half naked with Mike on top of her about to pull her panties off and rape her while she slept. She managed to fight him off, but he dismissed the whole thing laughing like it was nothing. He told her she was over-reacting and that she should have just lay back and enjoyed it instead of getting all uptight.

Anna's reaction had been to tell Mike exactly where to go and to drop her off the next town or Motel. There was an argument, the result of which was Mike stopping the car in the middle of nowhere and in the middle of the night, throwing her bag out on the road, and ordering her to get out. So there she was, hung-over and stranded on a dark and deserted road in the wee hours of the morning. Some holiday.

Anna put her bag down and sat down on a large rock. The great trees loomed like tall pillars around her. She heard something scuffling around in the branches above her. She looked up but could not see anything where the sound was coming from. She figured that it was probably a possum. She undid her coat and took her mobile phone out of the inside pocket. The signal was at full power, but she had no-one to ring. She wondered if there was a taxi service out here. Even if there was she didn't know the number, and she didn't know where she was. All she had was a rough idea of her location, figuring she was somewhere between ten and twenty kilometres on the road away from Ansansport, which was probably the nearest town.

"Fuck you Mike!" Anna yelled up at the sky. When she got back to Melbourne she planned to make him pay big-time. Her father was a Policeman, and when she got back to Melbourne she planned to have Mike charged with attempted rape.

She thought about calling her father in Melbourne, but there was nothing he could do for her at that moment. She stood up and picked up her bag, resigning herself to the task that she a long walk ahead of her.

The high beams from a car that had just turned around the bend behind her lit the road up. The car slowed down as it approached, then stopped about twenty metres in front of her. It was a late 1970s black or very dark Holden Panel Van, its V-eight engine slowing to a deep purr as it idled.

The driver's door opened and a thin man in dark overalls got out.

"Hey, are you all right?" he said.

Anna slowly backed away. "I'm fine," she said. "Just fine."

"Do you need a lift," the man said. "This is no place for a young girl alone to be wondering."

Anna continued to back away, ready to run.

"Look, I didn't mean to alarm you. My name's Frank. I'm on my way home from work. My wife and two young daughters are waiting for me at home. I don't live far from here. You could call someone from there. Or perhaps my wife and I can drive you into town."

He was slowly approaching her as he spoke.

Anna found herself feeling more at ease at the mention of a wife and children. She found herself relaxing, but after what had happened to her earlier that night, she planned on keeping her guard up from now on.

"Look, stay back," she said.

The man stopped. He was now only a few feet away from her.

"Hey, I'm quite harmless. I only wanted to help. You looked like you were stranded out here."

He sounded genuine. He took another couple of tentative steps towards her. Anna noticed that he was holding something in his hand. Some sort of electronic gizmo.

"What's that?" She backed away a few steps.

The man looked at his hand. "Oh, that's just my mobile phone. Would you like to call someone?" He took a couple of steps towards her his arm extended.

Perhaps he was trying to help. Third time lucky, right.

"It's okay," she said. "I have my own phone. They don't have taxis out here do they?"

"Not at this hour," said Frank. "Not unless you book in advance. Look, I'd be happy to drive you into town. I'm heading that way."

Anna thought it over. He seemed like he genuinely wanted to help, but after what she had just been through, she was reluctant to give him the benefit of the doubt. "I might just call the Police."

"Sure," Frank said. "The local Senior Sergeant is a good friend of mine."

He took a few more steps towards her, and then touched her with the phone gizmo.

Frank Butcher put the stun-gun back in his overall pocket and looked down at his unconscious pretty young prize. He grabbed the girl by the arms and hoisted her over his shoulder in a fireman's carry and then walked around to the back of the panel van and put her down. After a brief moment of fiddling with keys he had the tailgates at the back of the van open. Butcher then picked up the girl's bag and put it in the front of the van on the floor in front of the passenger seat. He then went back to the girl and began to go through her pockets taking everything he found. While he had his hands on her Butcher took the opportunity to have a good grope and ran his hands all over her as he gloated over his pretty young new prize. She began to move the effect of the stun-gun beginning to sear off, so Butcher reached into his pocket and zapped her again with the stun-gun. He then reached inside the back of the van and took out a pair of hand-cuffs and a large canvas postal sack. After hand-cuffing her arms behind her back, Butcher put her legs into the sack, pulled it up to her waist and then lifted the sides covering her completely inside the sack, tied the open end closed and then lifted the sack and put it into the back of the panel van. After taking a few moments to examine the inside of the van to make sure she was secure, Butcher closed the back tailgates, got back into the driver's seat and drove the van off into the darkness.

It was well after four am and the town might as well have been deserted. Butcher had little fear of anyone noticing or seeing him. He headed into Ansansport driving right down the centre of town right past the Town Hall and the Police Station next door. As he passed through the northern end of town Butcher turned right into a dark unlit road which headed north-east towards Ansans National Park. Butcher's three acre property was situated on the border of Ansans National Park. The parklands were heavily forested as was eighty percent of Butcher's property. His house was almost hidden amongst the great trees surrounding it as he drove the van into the driveway, past the house and into the back of the property and stopped beside a large shed or barn.

There was no one around to see him take the large sack out of the back of his van and carry it into the large barn.

Once inside the barn Anna began to come to. Butcher could feel her starting to move as he carried the sack over to the far side of the barn where he put it down on the ground by a large cabinet.

Inside the sack Anna was now fully conscious, although extremely disoriented from the effects of the stun-gun and waking up inside a sack. She began to struggle, desperate to free herself.

Butcher watched the sack move with amusement as his prize tried to get loose.

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... about Meatworks

Length: Approx. 60,000 words
This is the second of the Nick Black series. I have just completed the second draft and have begun work on the third in the series to be titled Snuff Alliance.

Here is a quick synopsis:

After his adventures in Dark Music, Nick Black heads back to his home city of Melbourne, Australia, where he is working as a taxi driver while writing a book about Edward de Soto, better known as the Hollywood Hacker. Nick soon finds himself in the middle of things again; when he finds out that his ex-wife and her new husband are missing.
Nick goes to the Tasmanian town of Ansansport in search of his ex-wife who has gone missing with her new husband. In Ansansport Nick meets Melbourne Homicide detective Andrew McMichaels who has come there in search of his missing young daughter. They soon discover that the missing women they are looking for are just the tip of one dark and grisly iceberg -- not only is it likely that a serial killer is operating in the area but there are strange rumors of cannibalistic bogeymen and satanic rituals.

Endless Diary: Excerpt

 

... Thursday, June 8, 1978

Hyena dropped by the shop around Ten-Thirty. He had an address and name for the mysterious phone caller. The name was Mr Jonathan Robert Smith and the address was in the same street as Allison's block of flats. Somehow I knew that the number would coincide with that of the old Mansion at the end of Allison's street.

The phone rang again around Twelve-Forty. Hyena and I were jamming on guitar.

"Hello," I said.

It was Allison. I told her that we had a name and address and to drop by the shop on her way home.

By this time Hyena knew that Allison was one of my teachers.

We drove to the street where Allison lived and Hyena parked the Monaro across the road from the old mansion. Next to the driveway was a side-walkway that led to the beach. This gave us a good spot to look over the old house.

"Looks deserted," I said.

"A couple of the upstairs windows are broken," said Hyena.

"They're boarded up from the inside," I said. "I got an idea."

We went back to the Monaro and I grabbed my bag of goodies. I took out the 35mm camera and hung it around my neck by the strap.

"Just play along," I said to Hyena. "Follow me."

I made my way through the front yard, taking my time to look around. I noticed that there was no mail in the letter box.

"Pretend you're helping me size up camera angles."

"What the fuck are you on about?" Hyena said.

"In case anyone hassles us, we're film school students looking for locations for a film project."

"Whatever." I could tell Hyena didn't care much about a cover story.

The front wooden steps let out a loud creak as we made our way up to the front entrance. I knocked on the door. We waited a while. There was no answer. I knocked again, this time more loudly. We continued knocking for another five minutes.

"Let's go round the back," I said.

I walked down the driveway. This was really puzzling.

I told Hyena about the black LTD last night, and about how it had driven down this driveway and apparently vanished into thin air.

"Are you sure it was this driveway?" Hyena said. "There's no sign of fresh or even recent tyre tracks." Even he looked spooked.

"This is the driveway. I'm certain."

The back yard was overgrown with grass and weeds. There were no signs of any disturbance. It looked like nobody had been back there for months at least.

"Well they couldn't have turned off," said Hyena.

I took a few photos.

We found an ancient narrow stone walkway that led to the back entrance of the house or so I assumed.

I took a photo of the narrow track.

We found what appeared to be a back door. I knocked.

"Anybody home!" I yelled.

No answer.

I took a couple of photos of the back of the house.

"This window's open," said Hyena. He had prized open one of the ground floor windows. "Shall we?"

I looked inside. The room was empty and looked like it had been for years.

"Why not?" I said and crawled through the window. Hyena followed.

"Whatta we say if there's someone here?"

"I'll do the talking," I replied.

"No problem with me."

We slowly went through the ground floor. All of the rooms were empty and looked much the same.

"Let's go upstairs," I said.

The staircase was old and wooden. Each stepped creaked as if protesting our sudden intrusion. The rooms were much the same upstairs. I climbed the narrow stairway that led up to the lookout. The lookout was a small room about twelve by twelve feet with two long floor-to-ceiling windows on each wall. From the north window we could clearly see the window of Allison's bedroom. Again, the small room looked like nobody had been in there years.

I took more photos and came back down.

Hyena looked real spooked.

"What?"

"Can't you feel it?" he said.

It was that same sense of unease I'd felt last night.

I nodded. "I felt the same thing last night."

"Let's go," Hyena wasn't one to panic, but he actually looked scared.

"In a minute," I said. "We've still got a couple more rooms to check out."

"Some other time, let's go." He looked really anxious to get out of there.

I went down the corridor. Three of the rooms were the same. In the last room were a wooden chair and a small table. There was a black telephone and a black box about the size of a briefcase on the table. I took a photo. I then went over and picked up the phone receiver. There was a dialtone.

"It's working," I said.

We then turned our attention to the black box. It was made out of some smooth plastic-like material I couldn't identify. I reached over to pick it up.

We both jumped as there was a sudden great crashing noise outside. We both froze.

"Told ya we shouldda scrammed," said Hyena in a hoarse whisper.

There was a sudden screeching of tyres coming from the driveway below. We both looked out of the window just in time to see a shiny, black new LTD come tearing out of the driveway at high speed, come to an impossible stop in the middle of the road, and then turn and speed off down the street. I managed to snap a photo of the car through the upstairs window just as it took off.

"Jesus!" said Hyena. "That's some driving. Now can we get outta here?"

"In a minute," I said. I went back to the box on the small table. I picked it up. It was a lot heavier than it looked. Its surface had a cold clammy feel to it, almost as if it was living skin on the outside. "It weighs a ton. Feel it."

Hyena put his hand on the black surface. A look of disgust came over his face. "Jesus. It feels like some sort of skin."

I turned the box around. "I wonder what's inside?"

"Probably their lunch," said Hyena. "Just grab it and let's go. We can open it up later ... away from here." He was already in the doorway.

I found what looked like a catch and pressed it. The top half of the box opened up. Inside was what looked like a computer screen, a bunch of dials and smaller screens. A couple of the smaller screens lit up.

"What is it?" Hyena was peering over my shoulder.

"I'm not sure," I said.

The technology was way beyond anything in 1978, maybe even beyond 2012. There was text scrolling on one of the small screens. Some of the words were in English, but they were interspersed with other unknown characters or symbols. "I'd guess that it's some sort of computer or communication device. It's very sophisticated whatever it is."

"You mean like CIA government spook shit," said Hyena.

Suddenly all three screens began to flash red and the box began to emit a series of loud high-pitched beeps. Hyena and I both took a few steps back. The whole room seemed to be charged with electricity. Then the box just vanished. It seemed to fold in on itself like it was sucked through a small hole.

"Wha' da fuck!" said Hyena. "Tell me you saw that!"

"I saw it," I said.

"Now can we get the fuck outta here!"

"Yeah, let's go," I said.

There was another crashing sound, this time downstairs, right below us. There were more noises of movement from below.

Hyena and I carefully stepped into the hallway looking for another escape route.

"This way," Hyena said in a hoarse whisper. I grabbed the chair and followed him into one of the other rooms. Whoever was downstairs was now making their way up the stairs. It sounded like two or three people. I closed the door and braced the chair under the door handle. Hyena kicked the nailed boards out from a broken window. There was a loud thump as the boards landed on the balcony outside the window. There were footsteps outside the room, and then someone was attempting to open the door. Luckily, the chair held long enough for us to climb through the window onto the upstairs balcony. From there we found an easy spot where we could both climb down. There was a crashing sound of splintering wood upstairs as we climbed down onto the tall grass outside. We hid in the dense bushes at the front and slowly made our way onto the street. There was a black LTD parked in the driveway.

"There's the black LTD," I said pointing to the driveway.

Hyena pulled me down behind some dense bushes at the front of the house. As we looked up through the scrub I could make out the silhouette of a man dressed in a black suit, black hat and dark sunglasses peering out of the broken window that we had climbed out moments earlier. He looked around for a few moments then went back inside out of sight.

The two of us slowly made our way to the street and headed for where the Monaro was parked.

We both examined the black car quickly as we passed the driveway.

"Look," I said.

"Yeah, I know," said Hyena.

There were no tyre marks anywhere. The grass on the driveway was also undisturbed. We had both heard the tyres screech and the wheels spin. I looked at the rear for a number plate. The number was "ABC 123".

"A B C One Two Three," I said. "That can't be right."

"This is too fucking weird Aries."

"No argument here."

I paused for a closer look at the LTD. All of its windows were tinted black so I couldn't see inside. Hyena went up to the car and leant over trying to look through the driver's window.

Suddenly the LTD started up and the front door of the house opened.

Hyena and I jumped back in surprise, and then we were both running out of the driveway and down the street. Hyena quickly unlocked the Monaro got in and started the engine at the same time unlocking the passenger door for me to get in. He gunned the V-Eight just as two black-suited men in hats and sunglasses emerged from the driveway of the mansion and began to walk towards us at a fast pace.

"Jeezuz!" Hyena said. There was a screech of spinning wheels and we were off.

"Men In Black!" I said.

"No shit!" said Hyena. He turned left heading towards Beach Road. "How the fuck did that box-gizmo disappear like that?" He changed gear and looked in the rear-view mirror. "I don't think they're following us."

I looked behind. No car had come out of Allison's street and there was no sign of a black LTD behind us.

"Relax," I said. "I think we lost them." I tried to appear calm but I wasn't doing a very good job. I'd read about the Men In Black in numerous books dealing with the unexplained and UFOs. I was in a near state of panic. "Get us back to the shop as fast as you can."

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Bloodline: Excerpt

 

Mason was too restless to sleep. A digital clock next to his bed said it was ten past four. He got up and took a shower, the hot water running down his face and body relaxing him. He dried himself, dressed, and was just finishing tying his shoes, when there was a sudden crashing noise in the front room. This was followed by sounds of a struggle, then bodies falling to the ground.

Mason cautiously made his way to where the noise was coming from. He stopped in the passageway, just outside of the door, which opened into the main room of the suite. The door was ajar. The noise had stopped, but Mason could see several shadows moving about in the main room.

Mason silently stepped back into the darkness of the passage and considered his options. Through the gap in the open door Mason caught a glimpse of two men dragging North's limp form across the room. Mason stepped closer to see what they were doing. One of the men took North's cuffs from his pocket and cuffed his hands.

If they're cuffing him, then North must still be alive, Mason figured. Another man waving a gun with a silencer attached seemed to be in command. So far Mason had counted four men for certain. There could possibly be more. A gold ring on his right hand briefly flashed in the light. More Guardiani di Serpenti. Didn't these guys ever quit!

Mason wished he was armed.

The door suddenly opened, a stream of light illuminating the darkened passage. Two men came through the door.

Mason didn't wait. He struck immediately at the man closest to him who was the one carrying the gun with the silencer, hitting him with a karate blow to the throat, then another to a pressure point below the ear. The man went down, dead before he hit the ground. Before the other man had a chance to react Mason grabbed him by the hair and spun him around applying a neck-breaking hold. The leverage and a quick snapping movement from Mason broke the man's neck instantly and cleanly. He went limp and Mason gently lowered him to the floor, careful not to make any noise. He could feel that the man was dead.

Mason didn't have time to consider the fact that he'd just killed two men. In fact he felt quite calm. He always had the ability to control his emotions and to remain calm when in a time of crisis. This definitely qualified as a time of crisis. Mason bent down and took the gun with the silencer attached from the other dead man.

In the other room North was beginning to stir. One of the men pistol-whipped him, knocking him out again.

Mason carefully stepped into the room, the gun at his side aimed at the two men. He aimed at the man with the pistol. "Drop the gun!" Mason said.

The two men froze. The man with the gun turned towards Mason. There was fear in his eyes and he began to lift his gun aiming it toward Mason.

"Don't do even think about it," Mason said.

As if that was a cue to try something, the man with the pistol quickly brought up his weapon to fire at Mason.

Mason fired first.

The gun made a slight popping noise, the bullet striking the man in the shoulder. Mason fired again. This time the bullet struck in the centre of his chest. The man fell back onto North.

The second man reached into his jacket and managed to get the gun out, firing a wild shot, before Mason fired three times into his chest, the man collapsing onto the floor.

Mason heard a noise behind him. There was a popping noise and a sharp pain in his shoulder, he saw a hole appear below his right collarbone as the bullet went through his shoulder. Next thing he knew he was on the ground looking up at a silenced handgun pointing in his face.

"Demoni! Nephelim! You now die!"

Mason prepared for the man to fire.

At that moment, there was a loud crackling sound behind where the man was standing over Mason, much like an electrical sound. The wall behind the man seemed to contort and then out of the wall stepped a lizard-like humanoid. The man turned around and stood motionless staring at the creature, his eyes wide. At the same time North began to stir and threw the dead man Mason had shot off him. Mason and North just stared at the strange creature as it grabbed the man and ripped his throat open with one of its taloned hands. The creature then looked down at Mason, winked, turned around and walked into the wall and vanished.

Mason looked towards North.

"Tell me you saw that. Please tell me you just saw that." Mason said, and then passed out.

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Sleeping City: Excerpt

 

The block of flats where I lived was on Sydney Road, and only a few meters away from the tram stop. Across the road was the Coburg Inn Motel, next to which was a brothel called The Harem. I watched two men come out of the brothel and make their way to a car parked on the small carpark that serviced the brothel.

I made my way to the block of flats where I rented a two bedroom apartment on the first floor. I walked into the dark driveway and stopped to check my letterbox. Just enough streetlight filtered through to allow me to quickly sort through the pile of envelopes and brochures that were stuffed into my letterbox. After sorting out the rubbish and junk mail, I put the real mail in my bag, and headed for the row of rubbish bins to dump the junk into.

The row of dark grey plastic bins sat like silent sentinels on the grass by the driveway, dimly illuminated by the streetlights on Sydney Road, the flashing neon of the Motel across the road, as well as the headlights of the frequently passing cars. The bins each had the number of the apartment they were assigned to spray-painted in white paint on their sides. Numbers seven, three, eight, and thirteen, were all missing their flip tops. Mine was number nine. Between my bin and bin thirteen was another bright yellow bin, this one a lot larger, which was for paper recycling. I dropped the pile of junk mail I had in my hand into it.

"Hi Zakk."

I turned to see Mandii walking toward me. Mandy was one of the prostitutes who worked at the brothel across the road. She also rented the apartment under mine. She was carrying a bag of rubbish, which she dropped into bin number three.

"Oh, hi Mandii," I said.

She was wearing a bath robe and apparently nothing else. I caught a good glimpse of her naked breasts and body as a gust of wind blew her robe open for a split second. I noticed that she was a true blonde. She smiled at me as she covered herself, then her face changed to an expression of disgust, as she stepped away from the row of bins in horror.

"Oh my god!"

"What?" I said, stepping closer to her. I could smell her perfume and scented soap.

She grabbed my arm and drew herself closer to me. "There!" She pointed to bin number eight. "Eeeww! It's horrible."

I took a few steps over to the bin as she followed, clinging to my arm. A canine shape seemed to be peering at me from inside the bin. As I got closer I soon realized that someone had put a dead dog in the bin.

"Is it dead?" she asked, still clinging to me.

I reached into my pocket and took out my keys. I kept a mini AAA-cell Maglight on the key-ring. I switched on the small flashlight which, for its tiny size, produced quite a strong beam of light. I aimed the beam of light into the bin.

"I'd say so," I replied. What was staring at us with dead eyes was the severed head of a fully grown Alsatian. I leaned forward to examine it closer, shining the light right on its snout. I then touched it with my index finger. "Shit, it's frozen solid."

"Frozen?" she repeated.

"Frozen solid."

"Who would freeze a dog's head?"

"Good question," I said. I could see that her curiosity was beginning to overcome her fear and revulsion. Still clinging to my arm she took a step closer to the bin, and then tentatively touched the top of its head with her finger.

"Eewwww!" she quickly drew back with a shiver and clung closer to me. "It feels cold and slimy ... and ... I dunno ... yucky!"

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