“Sure thing,” said Ma McDougal. “Make dang sure it’s clean, this time or I’ll have to charge you extra again, Frank. You left me one hell of a mess to clean up last week. I don’t like cleaning up after nobody, see?”
I turned the key. The room was small, but all I needed for an overnight stay or a little fun with some lush picked up along the way. There were plenty in the taverns around here. I knew most of them.
“So, where’s the money?” said the dirtball.
“For chrisake! Give me a damn chance, will you?” I snapped back. “You think I’d leave it laying out in the open for Eddie to nab?
He shut the door. The motel room was dingy, dark, depressing. A bed, a dresser with a mirror, a four-by-four bathroom with a sink, a stool, but no shower. If you needed a bath, the river was just outside.
“I got no time for this,” he said, waving the pistol in my face. “You hand over that money right now or I break both your legs.”
I believe he could have and would have. He was as big as he was dumb. And he was plenty dumb. “It’s behind the heat register. I’ll get it. It’ll be worth it just to get you out’a the country and out’a my life. For good this time, right?”
“Git it,” he said, thrusting the revolver into my ribs again.
“Relax, Dirtball. There’s no call to get pushy. I’m givin’ you the loot, ain’t I? I pulled my jackknife out, flipped it open, using the blade to pull the two screws that held the grill in place. I tossed the grill onto the bed.
“Hand it over,” he said, as I pulled the shoebox out of the heat vent. “Come on!”
I flipped open the box. His eyes widened when he saw the stacks of C-notes. He reached for the box. I grabbed the twenty-five auto from under the pile of bills, thrust it into his face and pulled the trigger seven times just as fast as I could.
Now, a Sterling twenty-five auto is not the pistol of choice when time comes to defending yourself. Still, it is a good pal to have on your side in a back ally fight. Today was the first time I had used it. I pulled that trigger seven times, knowing that a twenty-five auto might not stop a big fella like this dirtball with just one shot.
But seven rounds in the face from even a small caliber would be more than anyone could take. Even this big goon. He dropped to the floor, squealing from the pain, his hands covering his face. I wiped the gun clean and tossed it behind the bed as he lay, wiggling and squirming and flopping like some carp out of water.
I didn’t care. This was his doing. He had it coming. I grabbed the shoebox and stepped into the bright, early afternoon sunlight. Before I reached my car, I heard the shot. There was little pain, the bullet quickly passing through my chest. I slumped, knelt, then dropped. The shoe box hit the ground, Ben Franklins scattering across the ally like leaves in the breeze.
From the ground, I watched Ma pick up my money, her deer rifle still smoking. When she had them all stuffed back into the shoe box, she stood over me, pointed the muzzle at my head and said, “Looks like you left me another goddarn mess to clean up, Frank. I told you not to, you know. I don’t like cleanin’ up after nobody.”
Copyright2012 James A. Brakken, author of THE TREASURE OF NAMAKAGON. BadgerValley.com
# # #
# # #
Death by Ecstasy
“A cup of tea?” She smiled just so.
How could I resist
Her gentle voice and tender eyes?
How was I to know?
Her milky skin, that flowing dress,
How she’d captured me!
Stunned so by her radiance,
How could I ever guess?
Mesmerized, I lost my will.
How did I miss the sign
When the wolf cried in the night,
A howl from distant hill?
Quite tasty was that tea and cream.
How I savored it
And the next she offered me.
How so like a dream.
And dream I did until the end,
An end that came too soon.
Now you, young man, say to me,
How will you defend
Yourself from death by ecstasy?
How might you decline
When a maiden inquires of you,
“Good sir, a cup of tea?”
Copyright2012 James A. Brakken, author of THE TREASURE OF NAMAKAGON. BadgerValley.com
# # #
Heavy Burden
A sorcerer’s most evil curse
Made life for all women much worse.
’Twas really a crime
When he said, “For all time,
You’re bound to lug ’round a big purse.”
# # #
The Zombie Apocalypse
Part II: One Month Later
I was in a San Francisco Police Department interrogation room facing a heavy-set cop in a suit that looked like it came straight from the Salvation Army Thrift Store. I had to convince him he had the wrong guy and I had to do it soon.
“Look, Detective,” I said, “I am doing post-grad research on what might be the greatest medical discovery of the century. I am close to perfecting a self-replicating, protein-based nano-biotic solution that, when injected into a human vein, will replace normal human function with something far, far better. Instead of living via our bodies’ old-fashioned chemical reactions, whereby blood corpuscles carry oxygen and food to the cells, my nano-bot-laced solution will do that. A person on his death bed will instantly have a new life support system—a system we will be able to monitor, adjust, and manipulate with ease. Detective, I am talking about super-high technology coursing through your bloodstream, extending your life for decades—who knows—maybe centuries! I am not the bad guy, here! I am the hero. Get it? I don’t know why you’re harassing me. You should be out there looking for those damn druggies who broke in and stole my solution!”
“Don’t give me that mad scientist crap, kid. I wasn’t born last week. You got yourself a meth lab and you and I both know it. You’re in trouble, kid. Meth is bad stuff and you’re in deep trouble. Deep, deep trouble.”
“No! You don’t understand! I am a scientist. I’m not some druggy. I don’t know who stole my solution. All I know is my formula is a perfectly legal, uncontrolled substance and I want it back. All of it. It is mine and it is worth millions to me, billions to the University of California, and possibly trillions to the US economy. You, Detective, need to recover it. You have to get the whole SFPD out there to find it now.”
“So, kid, if what you say is right, if you are doing real research and this stuff is legit—and I’m not saying it is, mind you—then why did those druggies bother stealing it? Makes no sense, kid. What does make sense is that you’re handing me a line of bull, that’s what. You’re working a meth lab and trying to squirm your way out of it, that’s what I think.”
“No. You’re wrong. Now listen closely, Detective. I will speak slowly so you can understand. My lab was broken into last night. I did not do anything wrong. I repeat, Detective, I-am-the-victim, here. Some thieves stole my solution. Just like you, those morons probably thought it was meth. It’s not. You need to find them before ... well …”
“Before what, kid?”
“Before they start injecting themselves and others. Before they have a chance to sell it. I had four liters—four different liters of solution. They were all very similar in formula, but each flask was slightly different from the others. I was experimenting with some minor variations. Detective, I have run the computer models on these variations and I am certain, upon intravenous injection, these solutions will immediately alter the subject’s basic life systems including the nervous system. My earlier formula worked only on expired subjects. This one’s improved. It works on live subjects as well as exanimate specimens.”
“Layman’s terms, kid.”
“Sure. Once injected, the subject will see a temperature drop of nineteen degrees. Metabolism will become far more efficient, triggering increased appet
ite. My nano-bots will bring more food and oxygen to the muscle tissue than normal blood cells ever could, making the subject far stronger. I also know, based on previous experiments, the subject will crave meat protein. Nerve tolerance will escalate, making the subject almost impervious to pain. You might say my solution will turn the subject into sort-of a super being. What the computer models don’t show is how my formula variations will affect higher brain function, you know—rational thought.”
“You mean ...”
“I mean I don’t know, Detective. My research has not reached that stage. The subject may have irregular brain function. No ability to understand basic concepts such as good and bad, right and wrong. Combine that with an excessive craving for meat protein and, well ...”
“Well, what!”
“Detective, there’s been a problem or two in the past. Some of the lab animals have turned cannibalistic.”
“I don’t care about lab animals.”
“Maybe you should, Detective. You remember that case where the two longshoremen were dismembered down by Pier 7 last month?”
“What of it?”
“Well, was there anything about that case that ... that didn’t get reported to the press?”
“Like what?”
“Like ... was all the flesh there? Were there teeth marks on the bones? Did some of the flesh appear to be … eaten, maybe?”
“Okay, kid. Just how do you know about that? What are you are hiding? You have something to do with that case?”
“Me? No. Nothing. Nothing. I was just going to say ...”
“What were you going to say, kid?”
“Look, Detective. You’re wasting time. There is enough for over a thousand doses of my solution floating around out there somewhere. You have to find it—all of it—before you have every meth head in the Bay Area turned into ...”
“What, kid? Turned into what?”
“I’m not saying any more.”
“Turned into what? What!”
“I want a lawyer.”
“Turned into what, kid? Turned into what!”
Copyright2012 James A. Brakken, author of THE TREASURE OF NAMAKAGON. BadgerValley.com
# # #
# # #
Thief of Dreams III
Nevermore
Like Magic
Thief of Dreams IV
The Ballad of the Ne’er Do Well Boys
The Great Makwaa
Oh, Shanty Boy
That’s One
Beneath the Clay
The Widowmaker
Beastly Feastings
The Zombie Apocalypse Part III
Gramma’s Noggin
Three Dragons Part II: The Second Dragon
Death’s Dreadful Schedule
# # #
Thief of Dreams V
Them
Something in the Shadows
Three Dragons Part III: The Third Dragon
Dare not Swim in Devil’s Lake
I—Have—You—Now
The Zombie Apocalypse Part IV
Our Lovely Lucy Brown
A Pinery Tale
The Kinabalu Affliction
In Gloomy Wood
Thief of Dreams VI
Death Deceived
Beyond the Laterals
The Zombie Apocalypse Part V (Not in present softcover edition)
Move Not Cold Stones by Midnight’s Mist
The Zombie Apocalypse Part VI (Not in present softcover edition)
Thief of Dreams VII
The following information appears in the back pages of the DARK softcover:
About the author
James A. Brakken likes a good scary story now and then. He enjoys writing them, too. Every poem and short story within these pages is original, created in one summer’s time, between two of the author’s Tor Loken series novels. The graphics, however took longer. They are the work of great masters of art—etchings and engravings that date back centuries.
Bar the door, secure the windows, close the blinds, and experience DARK, a delightfully frightful journey through the bizarre recesses of fear.
Thank you for reporting to the author any errors you may find in DARK and THE TREASURE OF NAMAKAGON so future editions of these books may be improved.
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Looking for Treasure?
Get sneak peeks of THE TREASURE OF NAMAKAGON, the accompanying study and discussion guide, plus maps, new engraved illustrations, and much more. Visit our website TheTreasureofNamakagon.com or BadgerValley.com for more information about the great 19th century timber ha rvest in northern Wisconsin and the ongoing search for Chief Namakagon’s lost treasure.
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Visit BadgerValley.com to learn how easy and inexpensive publishing can be. Cookbooks, family histories, how-to books, novels and everything in between can be published in softcover or ebooks or both. You provide the manuscript in standard digital format, we do the rest.
The DARK Illustratons are etchings and engravings from master artists of long ago. They are in public domain and available for public use, free from copyright. A list of the artists whose work appears in DARK is available at BadgerValley.com
DARK Readings & Bulk Orders
Contact the author to arrange for interviews, book signings, and readings of DARK and TREASURE in your community, school, or organization. Bulk copies of the print versions are available at discounted prices through BadgerValley.com.
No-risk fund raising opportunity for non-profit organizations:
Order a case of 50 or more books at a substantial discount. Sell the books at list price and keep the profits. Following your sales event, return any unsold books* to Badger Valley Publishing for a full refund, making this a NO-RISK opportunity. For more information, visit BadgerValley.com today. *Returned books must be in like-new condition.
Watch for the next book in the Tor Loken series . . . . .
Tor Loken and the Death of Namakagon
According to mid-1880s articles found in the Ashland Daily Press, Chief Namakagon traded unrefined silver for supplies and services in Ashland. Several area businessmen tried to convince the chief to disclose the source of his silver. None did, although one, it’s been said, came very close. However, when a large bear blocked the trail, Namakagon took this for a bad omen, refusing to continue. Following a fierce 1886 blizzard, Namakagon’s frozen remains were found along a trail many believe was very near his silver cache. Suspicions remain today regarding his demise and of the whereabouts of the lost silver cache.
In the next adventure, Tor Loken loses his mentor during this fierce snowstorm. The authorities refuse to investigate and Tor is challenged to solve the mystery of Chief Namakagon’s death. Meanwhile, new developments, both man-made and nature-made, again place the Loken camp in peril.
Learn more about the rich history of the lumberjack days, gather more clues about the likely location of the legendary silver mine, and help Tor Loken solve the mystery surrounding the death of Chief Namakagon.
Available now at the finest indy bookstores, many historical museums and at BadgerValley.com . . . .
The Treasure of Namakagon
A young lumberjack, his Ojibwe mentor, and the treasure, yet to be rediscovered.
Based on 19th century “lumberjack” histories from northwestern Wisconsin, this action-adventure will place the reader in the midst of the great lumber camps or on the spring log drive down the Namekagon River or in town for a Saturday night of revelry and brawling with rival camps. The references to lumberjack life, fraudulent timber sales, and big woods violence resulting in gunplay are all founded on true events, as are the accounts of silver and gold found in the northwestern Wisconsin and Chief Namakagon’s treasure. Although many still search for the secret silver mine, it
has yet to be rediscovered. Perhaps, though, the real treasure was the vast white pine forest that, until the 1880s, gave Wisconsin its character, its life.
TREASURE will plunge you into Wisconsin’s single, greatest economic event—the post-Civil War harvest of the largest stand of white pine in the world. Estimates said that timber would take a thousand years to cut. It was gone in just fifty. Tens upon tens of thousands of lumberjacks descended on the lawless north country to harvest the “green gold” and cash in on the wealth. Many northern Wisconsin towns sprang up in the middle of nowhere and boomed into bustling cities full of life, fast money, fortune seekers, loose women, and lumberjacks. Rowdy wilderness towns quickly gained popularity—and notoriety. Most are now gone, along with the great men who came to Wisconsin’s pinery with only a dream.
This action-packed adventure is based on those great men and the hard but colorful lives they lived. This story is also based on the history of Mikwam-migwan, better known as Chief Namakagon, and his legendary lost treasure.
Step back in time. Share in the rich history of life in the great Wisconsin pinery during the lumberjack days of the 1880s. Share, too, in a great, twisting, turning, spellbinding north woods adventure.
It’s all within these 247 pages, 43 chapters with 63 illustrations related to James A. Brakken’s THE TREASURE OF NAMAKAGON.
Reader’s comments regarding THE TREASURE OF NAMAKAGON:
"Weaving mystery into history, "The Treasure of Namakagon" vivifies the tumultuous nature of 19th-century life in the legendary north woods."
Michael Perry, bestselling Wisconsin author
“I liked it a whole lot!” Larry Meiller, Wisconsin Public Radio host and UW Professor