Sample Sunday: Excerpt: First Contact in Santa Rage: A Killer Claus Compendium

Normally, I would have been on top of this, but I’m not doing too well. Earlier this month, the anthology, Santa Rage: A Killer Claus Compendium. Edited by Jay Hartman, published by White City Press, it includes my short story, First Contact. It is available at the publisher in both digital and paperback versions and at other platforms.

 

 

First Contact

 

It was 2 A.M. and the blood was still warm because the old AC in the Waffle House was barely working. It had been 112 just hours ago for the official high at the big airport and it was still 97 there this hour. My little part of NE Dallas always ran hotter year-round than DFW Airport, so I was pretty sure we might still be over 100. Summer in Texas, record heat and drought, sucks, and it was doing nothing to help my ever-present insomnia.

 

I’d always had it. But, after the kids moved out, and then a few months later my wife passed, it got way worse. I didn’t want pills as they did not work and made things worse. Years earlier, I had an intense love affair with alcohol and it had helped some, but it also damn near destroyed my marriage. I was not a happy drunk. An ultimatum was laid down and thank god I had the good sense to stop. I also had the good sense that without her, if I started drinking again, I might never to stop.

 

So, on the nights it was really bad when I could not sleep and felt like I was coming out of my own skin, I got in my car and drove around a little while before going to the nearby Waffle House. I’d hang out awhile, eat, and surf on the iPad or bring a print book. This was one of those bad nights. I was a semi regular late-night denizen so my presence did not stir up the regulars or the two employees. Being the middle of the week meant it was also far safer than the Friday and Saturday night crowd, dominated by drunks, and folks who want to fight for no reason at all.

 

Jesse was on the grill, as usual, and had brought me a burger with everything on it and fries earlier which has vanished pretty fast. He was back trying to pick up Shelly, despite the fact that I was pretty sure she played for the other team. It wasn’t ever going to happen. He was in the friend zone and would never get out.

 

The two regulars finished their meals and headed out into the night. A DPD car rolled through the nearby intersection with its flashers going and then they went dark. Anything to not stop for the red light that went far longer than it should. A typical Texas summertime night.

 

I shifted a little more in my usual back booth as the paltry AC wheezed above me spewing what it could to ease the temp downwards. I’d had enough of social media and got off in order to read the latest Terry Shames book. Texas author Bill Crider had Sheriff Dan Rhodes. Shames had Sheriff Samuel Craddock. Both had gotten me through many a dark period. Craddock was out talking a case over with his cows. As usual, they seemed far more interested in eating than helping. It came to mind that maybe I needed some cows to talk to when things were working me over. I doubted that my northeast Dallas neighbors would be too happy with that idea.

 

As I always did, I was sitting facing the door when he walked into the place. Dressed all in black, the man had black sunglasses on over his eyes too. Dressed in a black t-shirt, black pants, and black boots was one thing, but the accompanying black jacket seemed totally ridiculous in this heat. I could barely stand the heat and humidity and I was in a t-shirt and jeans.  

 

Not that I had much time to think about any of it as this guy, who looked like something out of Hollywood casting for a tough guy in a direct to digital release movie, came straight at me. At a little after 2 A.M. in the morning, with the searing drought in full effect and that had meant 70 something plus days in a row with no rain at all, he looked like he was here to rob the place.

 

Or kill me.

 

Amazon Associate Purchase Link: https://amzn.to/3ZEZjzV

 

 

Kevin R. Tipple ©2024 

Multiple term past President of the Short Mystery Fiction Society, Kevin R. Tipple reviews books and short stories, watches way too much television, and offers unsolicited opinions on anything. His short fiction has appeared in magazines such as Lynx Eye, Starblade, Show and Tell, and The Writer’s Post Journal, among others. Mystery Weekly Magazine published his story, The Damn Rodents Are Everywhere, in May of 2021 and soon had to change their name to Mystery Magazine. His short story, The Beetle’s Last Fifty Grand, appears in the 2022 anthology, Back Road Bobby and His Friends, and everyone involved seems to have survived the experience unscathed. His short story, Visions of Reality, appears in Crimeucopia-Say It Again. Earlier this year, the Notorious in North Texas: Metroplex Mysteries Volume III anthology was released and includes his short story, Whatever Happened To…? Also released earlier this year is the anthology, Larceny & Last Chances: 22 Stories of Mystery & Suspense, which includes his crime fiction short story, The Hospital Boomerang. Fully trained before marriage, Kevin can work all major appliances and, despite a love of nearly all sports, is able to clean up after himself.