“Both of you, hands on the roof! You have any guns on you?” Hampton said as he patted the driver down. Quimby frisked the other man.
“Guns? Of course we don’t have guns! We were in the city for the day and are headed back to Marin County where we live.”
“Any guns in the car?”
“No. No guns, no knives, no bazookas, no army tanks. What the hell is this? We’re businessmen headed home.”
“Any guns in the trunk?”
“Sure, officer. The trunk is full of guns. Stole them from the SFPD armory while you jerks were sleeping! Filled the trunk to the top! Could hardly get the trunk lid closed. What do you take us for, anyway?”
“Hear that, Detective Quimby? I distinctly heard the driver claim to have stolen guns. That’s all we needed to hear,” he said as he popped the trunk lid.
“Officer, there’s nothing in there but a couple of empty boxes. Why don’t you give me my damn ticket and let me get home. I’ll mail a check to your boss tomorrow morning—along with my complaint.”
A second unmarked car pulled in, lights flashing and parking ahead of the BMW. Two black and whites parked behind. Quimby looked in the trunk. “Just the two boxes. Both empty. Looks like that’s it, Terry.”
“What was in those boxes?” Hampton said sternly.
“Just some stuff we dropped off at ... at Goodwill. Or was it St. Vinnies? I don’t remember.”
“What was in the boxes?”
“None of your business.”
“Officer Quimby, call dispatch. Order out a tow truck. Looks like we will have to impound this vehicle, take it apart piece by piece till we find those stolen guns this criminal confessed to.”
“Officer, wait. Okay. I picked up a few flasks of some chemical downtown and delivered it to a guy in the Fillmore. I don’t know what it was. I was just doing a favor for a friend.”
“How many? How many flasks?”
“Four.”
“Liters? Four liters?”
“Yes. Liters.”
“What was in the flasks?” said Quimby. The other officers now stepped close enough to hear the conversation.
“I’m not sure. Some medicine or something.”
“Who’d you deliver them to?”
“Some guy called Dancer. I don’t know his real name.”
“Must be Willie Dancier. Should’ve known,” said Quimby. “Officers, cuff these guys, read ’em their rights. Get them downtown. Impound the car and have the lab check it out for chemical residue—especially the trunk. Mention nano-bots. That’s what the kid called ’em. Nano-bots. We’re headed back down to the Fillmore to chase this stuff down.”
“Need us there?” asked one of the other officers.
“No. Too many cops will scare Willie off. Quimby and I will handle it. You see what you can learn from these two. Get what you can out of ’em before they wise up and bring in a lawyer. Oh, I think you’ll find a pile of cash in their pockets. Impound it as evidence and get it to the lab.”
Around eleven-thirty, as Hampton and Quimby watched from their car, a man left Moxie’s Club by the back door. As he walked slowly into the light, Quimby saw, on his face, what appeared to be blood. Flashlight in hand, he stepped out to offer help. The man, eyes glazed and seemingly oblivious to Quimby’s offer of assistance, turned to walk away.
“Stop. SFPD.” said Quimby. The man did not acknowledge the order.
“Stop! Police!” Quimby ordered. There was no reaction from the man. Quimby waved to his partner to pull the car forward.
Hampton started the engine, put the car in drive, and pulled past the man, then turned sharply into his path, cutting him off. The man, having no place to go turned to face the beam of Quimby’s flashlight. Confused, he started to climb over the car, then slipped, falling to the ground. He slowly stood, squinted into the flashlight beam, shielding his eyes with his arm. Reaching down, he grabbed the rocker panel of the unmarked squad car and lifted, rolling the car onto its side and pushing it over out of his way. He continued down the alley, ignoring Quimby’s repeated orders to stop.
Quimby fired a round into the brick wall ahead of the man. There was no reaction. He leveled his pistol, lowered his aim and fired a round into the man’s thigh, hitting the femur, causing him to collapse. Quimby raced the few yards to his partner who was now scrambling out of the open passenger window. As he helped Hampton from the squad car, they heard gasping. They both turned to see the man approaching, leg dragging, with a menacing stare. Quimby raised his weapon and fired two rounds into the man’s chest. He reeled from the impact but quickly recovered and continued toward the officers. Quimby fired twice more. The man fell to the pavement, then stood, again approaching the officers when Hampton fired a final round into the assailant’s head, dropping him to the ground where he lay motionless.
“My God, Terry! What the hell just happened here?” said Quimby.
“You’re askin’ me? Logan you call it in. Have ’em send a meat wagon and the county coroner. Tell dispatch to get the chief out of bed, too. He needs to know. Tell them the kid was right. Extreme strength. Impervious to pain. No normal brain function. I’m going in to find Willie Dancier and get that stuff out of his hands before we have more of these brain-dead meth heads to deal with. Call it in, Logan.”
Copyright2012 James A. Brakken, author of THE TREASURE OF NAMAKAGON. BadgerValley.com
Gramma’s Noggin
Gramma bumped her noggin
Up on the Namekagon
While floatin’ down the river in a boat.
She noticed not the tree
The beaver cut, you see
It rang her bell with quite an awful note.
A thousand trees or more,
She passed along the shore.
Who knew this one would bean her on the head?
Just before it fell,
A beaver gnawed it well.
An evil twist of fate it must be said.
Or was it Grampa’s little shove
That brought the tree from up above?
No one will know what caused the final curtain.
’Cept Grampa and the beaver
And the judge. He’s a believer
Less in fate and more in facts he finds quite certain.
Gramma bumped her noggin
On the River Namekagon.
Now Grampa’s in the jailhouse feelin’ sad.
The judge went with the facts
When the sheriff found Grampa’s ax.
As for the beaver, he had nothing more to add.
That beaver’s out there yet.
Chewing briskly, you can bet.
Soon a falling tree will splash again.
So, when on the Namekagon,
Be sure to guard your noggin
And think of dear old Grampa in the pen.
Copyright2012 James A. Brakken, author of THE TREASURE OF NAMAKAGON. BadgerValley.com
Three Dragons
The Second Dragon
Lit torch in my left hand and sword in the right, I ventured deeper into the dragon’s damp, dark cave. An abrupt crunch of bone underfoot told me I had found one of the missing brave suitors of the Princess of Fairland by the Sea. Lowering my torch, I discovered the bones picked clean. The larger of the teeth marks were distinctly those of a dragon, the smaller those of rats. Mingled there with the bony evidence were greenish-brown scales—dragon scales shed as a shepherd’s dog sheds hair. Scale and bone crunched under my weight as I crept deeper into the darkness.
“Who dares trespass?” said a second gravelly voice. “Who!”
“’Tis I, a messenger with sad news I so regret to announce.”
“And what is this sad news you bring?” said the beast.
“I fear your dear fellow dragon no longer inhabits these quarters, sir.”
“What say ye? No longer here? And what, pray tell, is the reason for his absence?”
“He is dead, Sir Dragon.”
“Dead?”
&n
bsp; “Dead as dead can be.”
“Bah! How do I know you speak the truth, messenger?”
“Look here,” I said, tossing the severed dragon head high in the air.
As the second beast stretched out his neck to catch in his teeth the head of the first, my sword flashed through the air and two severed dragon heads plopped onto the filthy floor of the cave. The creature’s great body collapsed, wriggling, twisting, and, from its decapitated carcass, discharging gore before me until, ankle-deep in blood, bile and spew, I stared down at a motionless mass of malodorous, dead dragon. The rotten stench emanated by the vile creature was nearly more than I could endure. I hurriedly lashed both dragon heads to my now-sagging belt, confident now that dragons were, indeed, not invincible. In fact, they almost seemed easy prey for man with sword intent on winning the hand of a princess and the lands of her majestic father. Two dragons dead, one dragon left to kill, I pressed deeper into the musty cave.
Copyright2012 James A. Brakken, author of THE TREASURE OF NAMAKAGON. BadgerValley.com
Death’s Dreadful Schedule
Death has such a dreadful schedule.
Scouring ’cross the land,
Hourglass in hand,
Waiting ’neath dark willow,
No pillow soft on which his skull might lie.
Death’s blade must weigh so heavily.
Quite a load to bear,
Night and day it’s there.
Rarely do we see him
Freed from that gruesome, grisly scythe.
Still, Death grins his evil grin.
Though cold wind might blow,
Though the whirling snow
Slows him from his reaping,
Postponing him from sweeping up your soul.
Still, Death keeps on treading,
Adding to his score,
Padding even more
His sad’ning spirit tallies,
Those souls he doth keep adding to his scroll.
Copyright2012 James A. Brakken, author of THE TREASURE OF NAMAKAGON. BadgerValley.com
Welcome, Theif of Dreams, to the DARKEST End Pages
If you enjoyed this collection, please SHARE it on Facebook®. See https://www.facebook.com/DARK.DARKER.DARKEST. Tell your friends they can order it through SmashWords.com before the discounted rate expires.
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Also, consider previewing THE TREASURE OF NAMAKAGON.
Awaiting you in DARKEST:
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
The Ghost of the Apostles (Not in present softcover edition)
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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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.
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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.
Autographed copies available now at the finest indy bookstores, many historical museums and at BadgerValley.com . . . .
About 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
"Open with caution. You won't want to put this one down."
LaMoine MacLaughlin, President, Wisconsin Writers Association
"A twisting, thrilling mix of mystery, adventure and legendary treasure. ...a great fund raising idea for our lake associations. Wisconsin history buffs will find this book a treasure in itself. An exciting adventure for all ages.”