Hell Town RV Park
Where one man’s trash is another man.
Episode 14, Chapter 1
(for Episode 1 click here and for Episode 2 here)
(Rated Mature for Adult content)
( Previously on Hell Town: Spooky guessed her army was hiding until dark. Or maybe, some of them could only come out at night. Which brought up numerous questions. Could they only fight at night? Would the battle take place on Earth or one of the other worlds? Did her army have abilities? She knew Guy was a mind bender and Chick, a time keeper. But did her army have real weapons? And, most importantly, did they know about her? That she was part of their mission and not a spring chicken. Not even a spry old bird.
Which brought up the question that haunted her the most. How in the hell was she going to do this? She’d get devoured by a Vrag and never get to see her grandson. But if she didn’t accept the mission, her grandson might not get a chance to live.)
Spooky spent most of the day in thought, unaware minutes became hours and those hours became evening. She and Brodie shared a Fajita dinner in silence. Later they watched reruns of “Law and Order.” Brodie nodded off twice and finally stumbled into bed at the onset of his third snooze.
Spooky clicked off the television. It was night. She should go outside, but she was frightened to face what might await her. So she sat perfectly still, hoping the couch would absorb her, and she could just not be.
She couldn’t do what the Avenir was asking her to do. As much as she searched her past, nothing there gave her hope she could lead an army and defeat the Vrag. Maybe if she got drunk enough to not feel anything, she could. But, at this moment, the thought of pain squelched her desire for adventure. She reasoned most people her age would feel the same.
On the other hand, everything dies, and her time approached like stampeding elephants. So what difference did it make if she died now or when all her brain cells dried up?
She placed her hand on the door handle. Something howled, beckoning her to come. She stepped into the night praying her lame bravery spoof didn’t fold like a palm tree in a hurricane.
Aron leaned against her RV. “Hey, Sis.”
“Hey, like hell. Why didn’t you give me a heads up?”
“And what would’ve you had me say? I had a hard enough time convincing you to meet me.” He thumped his cigar butt to the ground and gutted it with his boot toe.
She knew he was right. She’d been so convinced he was a stalker, or serial killer, she’d closed her mind to other possibilities. And having a brother she never knew existed—little lone a brother who was a shapeshifting wolfman—was not a thought on even her bizarre radar. In her defense, how could it be? As unconventional as she was, the notion of having a brother who was a skinwalker, was far greater than even her imagination. “Still. A heads up would have been nice.” She scooted dirt over the dying embers of the cigar with her shoe. “Those things will kill yah, you know.”
Aron laughed. “Nice to know you care. But I don’t want to live forever.”
“Can you?” Shock registered in her voice. “Live forever?”
“Don’t know. But it seems reasonable enough.”
She studied him. He didn’t have the wrinkles and sagging typical of persons their age. His body appeared toned and fit—tough as nails, as the saying goes. His face–ageless, yet, riddled with signatures only time can write. He was a young old. An oxymoron. Incongruous in appearance. “What do you mean, ‘reasonable?’”
“Since becoming a skinwalker, I seem to possess a regenerative ability.”
“Since? You mean you haven’t always been a—”
“Skinwalker. No, I wasn’t born one. Like you, I found out the hard way there is more to this world than anyone ever imagined.”
“How did you become one?” Spooky asked.
“I betrayed the wrong the person. He killed me. I died. The people I was trying to help brought me back to life as a skinwalker.”
“So your shady line of work—?”
“Hitman for some very powerful people in New Mexico.”
“Were they the ones who provided you with shit-kicker boots? The roof over your head? The food?”
“Yeah, I had the misfortune of being taken in by a prominent family in the drug industry. And I’m not talking big pharma. No one ever suspected the one-armed delivery kid. My family…” he snickered. “If you can call them that, graduated me from delivery boy to bodyguard on my twentieth birthday. And then later, in my thirties, I became number one hitman for the organization.”
Spooky couldn’t find the words to say how much she hurt for him. Though her parents weren’t affectionate, they weren’t criminals. She remained quiet until the silence between them grew from an awkward pause to an uncomfortable lapse of time, which seemed unending to her. She glanced at the sky. Starless. There are never stars in Hell Town, she thought. And knew why. It was an unearthly place. Shunned by even the gods.
Ransome nudged his nose into Aron’s palm. Aron cleared his throat and fished for another cigar. Spooky put her hand on his to stop his action. “Not proud of any of this. And I dreaded having to tell you, but you needed to know. In my defense, I killed only bad guys. Women and children murderers. Rapists. Until I was asked to kill some not bad guys,” he said and disengaged his hand from his pocket, empty.
“Who killed you?” she asked.
“The guy who took me in. I ran away from the people who originally adopted me when they told me about you.”
“Why? Did they abuse you?”
“No. Actually, they were good people. But I was restless. I sensed you. Had always known there was a part of me missing, and I set out to find you. Couple months in the back alleys of Española, and I was ready to go home. But Blackie found me before I did and took me in.
“At first, the life was exciting. I mean I was a teenager—a kid given up by his real parents. This was my way of rebelling against society. I got in deeper. Too deep. Gained Blackie’s trust. Learned things I wish to hell I didn’t know. But it was too late.
“When I found out what he wanted me to do to outspoken tribesmen and their plans for a new casino, I told the authorities. For my disloyalty, Blackie—himself—shot me and dumped my body in the desert miles from anywhere.
“I died. I found you when I died, and wanted to stay dead and by your side like Chetan and Singer, but they insisted you needed me alive. I woke to find myself being cared for by Shash, an old Navajo man. He lived in a tiny trailer in the desert, completely isolated from everyone. He said he preferred this lifestyle after his pregnant wife died from an overdose of heroin. I felt guilty for her death. And ashamed I’d been apart of the drug trafficking in New Mexico.” Aron paused, then chuckled. “Shash always said, ‘I choose the spirits of the desert over the cities of men. They are better company. And more honest.’
“Sometimes I think I imagined him, but of the three men in my life, I consider him my true father. He taught me things no one had ever taught me. Things most humans wouldn’t believe. I knew, if I found you, you’d understand. Since leaving the old man, I’ve tried to be a better person. Reuniting with you has been my driving motivation.”
“So what do you do for a living now?”
“I don’t know how you’ll feel about what I do now. So I’m not sure I should tell you. But here goes.” He eyed Spooky. “I raise the finest marijuana in Colorado.”
Spooky did an all-out belly laugh, startling the crickets into silence. “You’re kidding, right?”
“It’s all legit and legal.” Aron emphasized.
Spooky couldn’t quit laughing.
“Why are you laughing at me. Stop. I don’t like this side of you,” he said.
“Sorry. I’m just relieved. When you said you were trying to be a better person, I thought you were going to tell me you became a preacher or something, and you were here to save my soul. And if that’s the case, you’re too late.”
Aron laughed. “No. Definitely no preacher man. No soul saving for me. Or you. Just a pot greenhouse. Or rather several.”
“How do you manage to be a successful pot grower and be here with me?”
“I have many capable employees and a good manager. Once Colorado legalized marijuana, and I got the business going, the endeavor paid off big. All I’m needed for anymore is to sign checks.”
She scrutnized Aron. “Seems odd we live in the same state. Or is it?”
“Maybe not so much. Maybe I picked Colorado to be close to you. And maybe I picked it because they legalized something I had a lot of knowledge about. I never graduated high school, so I didn’t really have any skills other than the ones I picked up from Blackie’s organization.”
“Humm. You’re full of surprises and rich too. A deadly combo.”
“Can you forget my past? Forgive me and allow me to be the brother I’m determined to be,” he asked.
“Do I have a choice? I mean the Avenir showed me a vision of you last night and said they sent you to help me with this mission to save worlds and The Shimmer.” She put her head between her hands and shook it as if to free herself from such thoughts. “God, hearing myself say this stuff makes even me think I’m crazy.”
“You’re not crazy. And if you are, I am too. The Avenir sent the Rooi to get me when I was forty. I’ve been dealing with this for ten years, always questioning whether what I saw was real. When I started to get Hell Town visions from you, I knew you’d need me soon.”
“I wonder why they didn’t just beam you over to me then,” she said.
“I’ve often wondered that too. I think time is irrelevant to them. Our years are like seconds to them. Yet, the human in me needed time to come to terms with what they were asking me to do. And as any red- blooded American male would do, I kinda blew them off. But then the visions of you in Hell Town with all these unearthly beings surrounding you bombarded my dreams, waking and sleeping. I was scared for you to face them alone.”
“So was that you in the mesquite grove last night?”
“Yep, been here every night after your first encounter with Kappa and the mind bender—or mind booner as the Avenir call them.”
The moon burst over the pitch black horizon like an unruly child. “There wasn’t supposed to be a full moon tonight. The Starlings must be playing with time,” she said.
“Yes, and no one, but us, will even remember tonight wasn’t charted to have a moon.”
Spooky felt a small, delicate hand entwine hers. It was River. Kappa took the other. “It is time,” the boy said and led her toward the moon.
To catch-up on the Hell Town Web Serial, click on the links below.
- episode 1
- episode 2
- episode 3
- episode 4
- episode 5
- episode 6
- episode 7
- episode 8
- episode 9
- episode 10
- episode 11
- episode 12
- episode 13
The WEB SERIAL, or WTH is it?
With the onset of the technology boom, authors are discovering innovative ways to get their works in front of readers. However, though the web serial relies on the internet for distribution, it is not a new idea. It’s much like how writers became known before the days of mass-produced, full-length novels. Earlier writers, such as Mark Twain, released a chapter at a time, on a regular basis, in newspapers or magazines. This is the same concept as the Web Serial. Writers publish their works in bite-sized, one-sitting reads to facilitate the hurried reader. The web helps to make it easily accessible to their fan base.
Hell Town offers episodes of 1,000 to 2,000 words in length and is considered a tightly cohesive style of web serial. This type intertwines episodes with each other and depends on the reader being familiar with the story. It is meant to be read as one might read a book.
About the Artist
Lara resides in the Texas hill country with her two adorable but exhausting little boys, her husband, and two male dogs. She confesses her life is dominated by male influence.
She graduated from Trinity University in 2009 with her Bachelor’s degree in art and with an art history minor. During her life, she has worn many hats—bartender, barista, massage therapist, newspaper circulation manager, wine shop manager, and the list continues. These life experiences have added a richness and depth to her artwork.
Through it all, she has quietly honed her passions for art. “The starving artist is only a half joke,” she says. “When I had my first son, I surprised myself by finding my niche as a preschool teacher.” A career choice she has embraced for the past five years. “My experience as a bartender—dealing with the drinkers—was a great prerequisite for teaching small children,” she says and giggles.
For several years, Lara put her artwork aside to teach and delve headfirst into the chaotic life of caring for a houseful of boys. “Before children, my artwork had always been calm. Abstracts and nature were relaxing,” she says. “But my older son’s love of monsters and all things grotesque, along with my muse of a husband, have led me to a new path. I now begin a different journey, creating monsters and other worlds for writers. I’m excited to bring to life some of the creepy characters and creatures of Hell Town. Please, let me know what you think by leaving a comment.”
(Note: Lara is a new addition to the Hell Town RV Park Web Serial family. She is a former drama and English student of mine, and is on her way to accomplishing her dream of becoming a freelance artist. The illustrations are the original artwork of Lara and are created specifically for Hell Town.
She graciously drew several covers for Hell Town. Let us know which is your favorite by posting a comment. We both would love your feedback. And if you are looking for an artist, Lara is available.)
The RV Files is fiction. Any characters and events depicted in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, extraterrestrials, demons, werewolves, or ghosts—living or dead—is coincidental and not intended by the author.
Copyright ©: 2017 by Clara Bush
All rights reserved. Published by TURTLE TOP COVE LP.
No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without written permission of the publisher.
For information regarding permission, write to:
TURTLE TOP COVE LP.
P.O. Box 158
South Fork, Colorado 81154
All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any mean, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher.