Tribes! Now on Pre-Sale!

There is only twenty days left to order your copy of Tribes while it is in pre-sale and only $.99. When the release date comes, the price goes up to $2.99.

Straight from conspiracy theories on the internet, Tribes explores the premise of an alien invasion of Earth.

Earth’s top-secret Space Force is decimated when the Myrmidons, a race of ant-like creatures commonly known as the Brood, invade the Sol System. The Black Fleet and the Earth Defense Force Fleet, two breakaway societies whose sole mission is to protect the solar system flee and head to the Galactic Federation’s capital world. They address the federation council and bring help to fight the invaders. When the Myrmidons invade Earth and take out the power grid, the fabric of society breaks down. People band together for protection and flee the cities. They hide in the mountains and deserts forming into various tribes for protection.

John Carpenter, a US Army veteran is taken aboard a Brood ship and held as a slave. On Crylon-5, John is sold and forced on board a Myrmidon warship. He is trained to become a Mamluk, a warrior slave. In the process, John leads a slave rebellion and takes the ship with the help of his fellow slaves. The former slaves join forces with the Black Fleet and the Earth Defense Force Fleet and head back to Earth to rid the planet of the Brood. Will they be victorious and help user Earth into a new age of peace and prosperity, or will the Brood slaughter the population, taking humans as slaves and laying the planet to waste?


Click the link above to order your copy. Also, you only have 27 days left to order your copy of Don’t Bust the Piggy Bank: How to publish an eBook.

Don’t Bust the Piggy Bank: How to Publish an eBook is a common sense guide to self-publishing. You can write your novel, edit it, design a cover, and publish it without spending a lot of money. I wrote this book for the beginning author who is on a tight budget. This is not a get-rich-quick book. In this book, I reveal the things that I have learned along the way. I discuss how to write a damned good book, edit it, publish, and market it without busting the piggy bank. I also reveal my writing and editing process. I discuss the pros and cons of traditional publishing versus self-publishing. This is a basic guide for the beginning writer who is on a tight budget and doesn’t want to bust the piggy bank.

Click the link above the picture to order your copy before the price goes up on its release date.

I would also like to let you know that I have several of my books that are in the production phase to be released soon as Audiobooks. Enjoy the short story below, from Tales From the Lost Highway.

The Dark Rider

The Dark Rider rolled down the highway, traveling through the Arizona night. He pulled into the High Noon Saloon at midnight. Overhead, a dark ominous cloud covered the sky and a cold breeze blew across the land. Harley Davidson motorcycles filled the parking lot. Loud music emanated, from the building. The Dark Rider parked his black 2009 Harley Davidson Night Train in the shadows. He was underneath an elm tree at the edge of the gravel parking lot and killed the motor. He put the bike on its side stand and crossed the parking lot. He stepped on the boardwalk, standing in the shadows away from the door.

The front door of the bar opened. The light illuminated the area in front of the door, and the Dark Rider stepped back further into the shadows. Tracy had been up on the bar dancing topless for the last half hour. The bright lights of the barroom caused sweat to glisten off her tight body. She decided to take a break, so she stepped outside to cool off and smoke a cigarette. She stood in the doorway, looking out over the parking lot. Her wife-beater t-shirt clung to her body outlining her ample breasts. The cold night air caused her nipples to push up cotton. She took a pack of cigarettes from the back pocket of her Daisy Duke shorts. Shaking out a smoke, she noticed someone standing in the shadows.

Her hands shook when she put the smoke in her mouth. “Hello,” she said, stepping into the darkness. A lighter flared in her face, she lit her cigarette and said, “Thank you.” A nervous flutter of fear and excitement passed through her. She looked into the dark, feral eyes of the stranger peering out from the hood of his black cloak. A tingling sensation shot through her loins.

“Don’t mention it. Why don’t you step over here next to the building and we’ll talk,” the Dark Rider said.

Feeling lost in a fog, she was powerless to resist. Tracy stepped further into the darkness. She almost tripped when she reached the edge of the boardwalk. The Dark Rider took her arm, steadying her.

“You’re a bit drunk,” the Dark Rider whispered. “Here, let’s lean you up against the wall. I don’t want you falling, down.”

“You got me there,” Tracy said, leaning up against the side of the clubhouse. “I am a bit tipsy.” She took a hit from her cigarette and then dropped her hand holding the smoke to her side. The Dark Rider leaned against her; he gave her a quick kiss, his hand found her left breast and his teeth found her neck. Tray’s eyes shot wide open. The vamp sucked her neck. She felt light-headed. Her hand holding the cigarette shook, the cigarette fell to the ground and she soon followed.

Tracy woke up a half-hour later feeling cold and dizzy. Her stomach felt sick. She remembered the tall, dark stranger. He whispered something in her ear right before she fell. “Go to him,” he whispered. She was sure that he meant Chico. That’s right. Chico will know what to do, she thought. At the front door, she paused for a few seconds. One of the dancers opened the door.

“Can I come in?” she whined.

“Of course, you can come in. Girl, it’s cold outside. You look as white as a sheet. Where you been Tracy?” the dark-headed dancer said.

I passed out. I don’t feel so good.”

“Come on in here. I’ll pour you a shot of Tequila.”

The dark-haired dancer led Tracy back into the bar. All eyes turned to her, noticing her pale complexion, but no one looked at the mirror behind the bar. If they would have, they wouldn’t have seen Tracy’s reflection. Once inside the clubhouse, Tracy made a beeline to the bar where Chico sat drinking with Lead Belly and Tiny. She climbed onto a barstool and snuggled up next to Chico.

“Trace you look like you’re about frozen to death. Are you all right?” Chico said and put his arm around her. Barbra, the dark-headed dancer went behind the bar and poured Tracy her shot.

Tracy tossed it back and said, “I’m fine now.” She nuzzled Chico’s neck and put her hand on his thigh. A deep hunger filled her belly and for a minute, she thought that she was going to be sick. “Why don’t we go into the back room and have our, own little party?” She glanced up at Barbra; Barbra nodded and then arched her eyebrows at another one of the dancers.

“Sure, why not?” Chico said and rose to his feet. He looked at Lead Belly and Tiny. “What about you guys? You feel like having a private party in the back?”

Lead Belly laughed. “You must be trying to get me killed. Janet would skin me alive.”

“What about you Tiny?” Chico asked.

The massive biker shook his head. “No way bro. Those young things like that will kill you.”

Chico nodded at two prospects, and they followed him, along with the women into the back room. Chico plopped down on a couch; Tracy crawled onto his lap and took off her shirt while Barbra turned on the music. Tracy brushed her breasts against Chico’s face and then moved her mouth to his neck. The other girls joined them on the couch. Their clothes came off, and their bodies became entwined as Tracy lured them into a hot sweaty orgy of sex and pain. Before the party was over they all passed out on the couch. Tracy had bitten them all, including the other dancers from the bar.


Chico woke up, three hours later, and stumbled out of the back room. The dancers and the prospects were gone. Sweat covered Chico’s brow, chills ran up and down his spine, his head throbbed and his stomach lurched. For a few seconds, he leaned on the doorjamb, thinking that he might pass out.

“The dead have arisen. We were gonna go in there and check on you,” Lead Belly said.

“Where’d everyone go?” Chico asked.

“Everyone’s gone home, but us,” Tiny said.

Chico glanced over at Tiny, Dirty Dan, and Lead Belly. His vision was fuzzy. “What time is it anyway?”

“Almost two-thirty,” Lead Belly said.

“God, I feel like a warm bag of shit. I think I’m coming down with something.”

“You don’t look so good. I better give you a ride home,” Dirty Dan said.

“No, no, I’ll take my bike. You guys close up the bar.” Chico stumbled across the room. He pushed through the batwing doors of the bar, and almost tripped off the edge of the boardwalk. He staggered across the parking lot. He climbed onto his scooter and pulled out onto the highway, and headed to town. Weaving around on the road, he was barely able to control the motorcycle. He glanced in the rearview mirror, and his eyes widened in horror. He couldn’t see his, own reflection.

“Oh God, oh God, what happened in that back room?” Chico said to himself. Pulling up to a stoplight, Chico glanced over to the curb and saw a redheaded prostitute.

“Hey, lover. Let’s party,” the woman said.

Feeling a hunger so deep that his whole body quaked, Chico parked his scooter. He staggered over to the prostitute and grabbed her.

“Hey! You have to pay first!” the red-headed hooker yelled and then screamed.

Chico jerked her to him by the shoulders, his teeth found her neck and he began to feed.

Across town, the Dark Rider parked his motorcycle in the shadows next to a Seven-Eleven. He waited, sitting on his scooter, for the right person to come along. Finally, he saw a young housewife pull up. She went inside the store and came out with a bag of groceries. Halfway to her car, she dropped a two-liter of Pepsi.

“Shit,” the woman said, and bent down to pick up the bottle of soda. The Dark Rider knelt, down and offered his hand to help her to her feet.

“Don’t worry about that,” the Dark Rider said. The two-liter bottle fell back to the ground. “Let’s step over by my motorcycle and talk,” he said leading her into the darkness. Unable to resist, she followed. After he bit her, the Dark Rider whispered in her ear and said, “Go home. Make love to your husband. Make him one of us.” Dazed and reeling, the young woman sat behind the wheel of her car and headed home.


Three days later

Tiny, Dirty Dan, and Lead Belly sat at the bar inside the High Noon Saloon. Fifteen patched members and four prospects sat at the bar in the clubhouse. Their wives and girlfriends were there too. Bikers guarded the doors and windows and a sense of tension filled the air. Janet sat at the bar, next to Lead Belly holding his hand in fear.

“What are we going to do when it gets dark?” Janet asked.

“We’ve got about a gallon of holy water. We’ve got several crucifixes plus some garlic. We won’t let them get in,” Lead Belly said.

“Yeah, but we can’t stay here forever. I’d be safer out at the cabin,” Tiny said.

“I know. We’ll head out there in the morning. It’d be too dangerous at night,” Dirty Dan said.

During the past three days, the virus had spread. Not only through the Road Dogs members, but also throughout the town as well. As the sun went down, vampires filled the streets. They felt a hunger that only human blood would satisfy.

“I can’t get over Chico becoming one of those things,” Lead Belly said.

“Where are these Halo Riders? You’d think they would show up at a time like this?” Dirty Dan said.

“I don’t know man. You never know about that crew,” Tiny said.

The sound of moaning filled the parking lot. “Here they come!” a prospect guarding the front door said. Vampires filled the gravel parking lot and staggered up onto the boardwalk. Chico stumbled up to the front door and knocked.

“Let me in, man it’s me, Chico.”

“I can’t bro. You’re sick,” the prospect said.

“Open the door. I’m not sick. I feel fine bro.”

The prospect opened the door a crack

“No!” Dirty Dan yelled, jumping to his feet.

“Don’t look in his eyes!” Lead Belly yelled, but it was too late. The prospect opened the door a crack, and his eyes locked onto Chico’s.

“Hey bro. Aren’t you gonna invite me inside?” Chico asked.

The prospect seemed to fall into a trance. “Sure bro. Come on in,” the prospect said.

Chico pushed through the door, and took the prospect to the floor, sinking his teeth into his neck. The horde of bloodsuckers in the parking lot followed him inside. Dirty Dan, Tiny and Lead Belly opened up on the undead vampires with their guns and ran out the back. Half of the people inside the club didn’t make it out. Lead Belly jumped on his scooter, Janet jumped on behind him and he gunned the throttle. A rooster tail of dirt and gravel flew into the air. Dirty Dan, Tiny, and eight other patched members, along with two prospects followed.

“Let’s head out to the cabin!” Lead Belly yelled.

They cranked the throttle heading west, but when they came around the curve, Lead Belly hit his brakes. A bottleneck of crashed and burned-out cars and trucks blocked the highway. A gaggle of vampires milled about among the wreckage.

“We’ll never make it past that!” Dirty Dan yelled.

“Where else can we go?” Tiny asked.

“Let’s turn around. We’ll go to that little Baptist church on the edge of town. It’s holy ground. We’ll be safe there,” Lead Belly said.

They spun around, cranking their throttles, and headed back toward Harlem Springs. A few minutes later, they pulled up to the church. A crowd of vamps blocked the entranceway to the parking lot. The Road dogs gunned their throttles. They fought their way through and rolled into the parking lot. Parking their scooters, they hurried up to the front door and entered their place of refuge.


Hey bro, this is Cave Man again. It seems like the bros down on Earth can’t keep out of trouble these days. We were in the middle of a party up in Biker Heaven. Elvis and Roy Orbison were rocking out and we were having a good time. The folks in charge up here called out the Halo Riders. They mentioned something about some blood-sucking vampire that folks called the Dark Rider. They said that the Road Dogs were in trouble. I tucked my bottle of Jack into my vest pocket we climbed onto our spirit bikes and headed back.

Our bikes changed into older Harley Davidson motorcycles as we touched down. We were on the outskirts of Harlem Springs Arizona. We motored toward town but had to pull up short at the town limits. We saw a gaggle of the undead SOBs blocking the road. It was well after dark, and they were hungry for blood. Vampires think they own the night, but they’ve never come up against a group of bikers from the great beyond. When one of my bros in the Road Dogs is in trouble, there’s no stopping me. I took a vow, a long time ago. Road Dogs in life, Road Dogs in death. Damned if I’ll let some blood-sucking vampire, drag a bro’s soul down to hell if I can help it.

The bloodsuckers had us surrounded. I laughed when one smelly vampire raised her hands and lunged forward trying to give me a big hickey on my neck. She wore a dirty red dress that sported a lot of undead cleavage. Already you could smell the decay rolling off her unwashed body. I reached into my vest, grabbed some garlic from my vest pocket, took a chaw, and breathed in her face. She let out a hiss, jumping back and the skin on her face began to boil. Little Danny Boy slapped a crucifix against the forehead of a vamp wearing a policeman’s uniform. The skin on the vamp’s forehead began to sizzle; he let out an evil screech and jumped back.

Old School pulled a Super Soaker from underneath his vest. Three vamps approached him. “You undead bastards ain’t never seen holy water like this. I filled this up from the stream behind the clubhouse in Biker Heaven. That stream is a runoff from the spring of living water inside the emerald city. It doesn’t get any more holy than that,” he said and opened up on the vamps with the Super Soaker. The vampires burst into flames and ran around like a flock of chickens with their heads chopped off. We motored on through the undead crowd and pulled into the parking lot of the Baptist church.

We parked our scooters next to the ones already in the parking lot and headed up to the front door. I rapped on the door and the door squeaked open. I looked into the eyes of a bear of a man with massive biceps, and a black woolly beard, wearing a black suit. I grinned, recognizing a warrior with a pure heart. Dirty Dan stepped around the preacher and said, “It’s about time you guys got here. We lost Chico.”

We did some hugging and back-slapping. “We came as soon as we got the word,” I said and then looked at the preacher. “Introduce me to the sky pilot.”

“This is Reverend Blackwood. William Blackwood. His wife and kids are here, plus a few people from his church. We have a few of the bros here plus a few of the old ladies. The rest of the club, shit. Sorry reverend, the rest of the town got themselves infected.”

“Call me Pastor Bill. It’s good to meet you. I’m sorry it can’t be under better circumstances,” the preacher said. We shook hands.

“It’s okay Pastor Bill, you look like one of us,” I said taking in his stocky features and his long black beard. He looked like a refrigerator with a big head. “Are you ready for war?” I asked.

“I can do all things, through the power of the Lord God who strengthens me,” he said.

I nodded, pulled him to me, and gave him a big hug. “I like that. You’ve got spunk and a pure heart. Those smelly vamps don’t stand a chance.”

“We’ve set up living quarters in the fellowship hall. We have food and coffee if you people are hungry,” the reverend said.

The Halo Riders grinned. “Let’s go put on the feed bag,” I said and we followed the preacher into the fellowship hall. After we finished eating, I glanced about at the people in the fellowship hall. My eyes locked onto the preacher. “Say, preacher man. You wouldn’t happen to have any wooden stakes and a few wooden mallets lying around anywhere, would you?” I asked.

The preacher nodded. “I have some in the basement, but they’re not too sharp. We used them when we built the new parking lot.”

“How about holy water? Do you have any holy water?” I asked.

The preacher shook his head. “No. We’re not Catholic. We don’t do holy water.”

“What about regular water? You could bless it and say a prayer over it.”

“That I could do,” Pastor Bill said.

“We’ll need several gallons.”

“We have a couple of fifty-five-gallon drums in the basement and a hand pump. We could fill up some gallon jugs. At this church, we believe in being prepared.”

“That’s a good thing,” I said and glanced at Dirty Dan.

Dirty Dan nodded and then looked at the two prospects. “You guys go with the reverend and get those stakes and help him fill up those jugs of water.”

The preacher led the prospects down into the basement. I finished my supper and poured myself a cup of coffee. I sat down next to Little Danny Boy and said, “What do you think?”

“About the preacher? He’s a fighter. He’ll stand and be true.”

I nodded. “I guess you want to get an early start?” I asked.

“As soon as the sun comes up and they head back to their nest. We’ll fan out across the town and start putting the stake to them old boys.”

“What about Chico?” I asked.

Little Danny Boy let go with a long sigh. “That depends on if we can find this one they call, the Dark Rider. If we take him out, then Chico has a chance, but if not, you know what we have to do.”

“Yeah, yeah I do. When it’s time, I’ll take care of it. You don’t think the boys in charge upstairs might bend the rules and give us a hand?”

“You mean like a miracle? I doubt it.”

I glanced about the fellowship hall at the people from the church. They looked scared, but they also looked determined. These are good folks, I thought. If it comes down to it, they’ll stand and fight.

The prospects came back with the wooden stakes and several gallon jugs filled with water. The Road Dogs pulled out their knives and we spent the rest of the evening sharpening the wooden stakes.

We knocked off at about three AM and crashed for two hours. A half-hour before sunrise, we rolled out. The reverend made coffee and insisted that we say a prayer before we went to war. We gathered in the sanctuary, linked hands and the preacher led us in prayer. I felt a powerful force of goodness and light pass through us.

“Lord as we set out to do battle against the forces of evil we ask that you protect us. Send your archangel Michael to help us and watch over us. We will send these evil ones back to hell where they belong,” the preacher said.

“A man, reverend. Now if you’ll say a blessing over these water jugs, we’ll get to work.” The reverend nodded and said a prayer over the water. We divided the wooden stakes, putting them in canvas duffle bags. We put a wooden mallet in each bag along with a super soaker squirt gun and a jug of water. When we stepped to the front door of the church, the reverend joined us.

We headed out the front door and tied our gear onto the back of our bikes, and then climbed on. We fired up the scooters. The preacher climbed into his little pickup truck and followed us out of the parking lot and onto the street. We cruised the town taking in the empty, litter-filled streets. Dirty Dan pulled over in front of a shopping center and we pulled in behind him.

“What’s the plan?” Dirty Dan asked.

“Let’s split up, and canvas the street. We’ll check every building on the street and then move to the next block,” I said.

“What do we do if we find Chico?” Tiny asked.

“Mark the outside of the building. Use a can of red spray paint. We’ll come back to him after we finish with the rest of the town,” I said.

“What about this Dark Rider?”

“If you find him, come and get me. The Halo Riders will deal with him. I have a feeling that that old boy is going to be hard to kill,” I said.

We moved into the buildings of the shopping center. Pastor Bill and I stepped through the glass doors of a Basher’s grocery store. Cans of food, bags of potato chips, and other trash littered the floor. The smell of rotten meat and produce filled the air. We found five vamps sleeping in the back room. I knelt and placed a crucifix on the forehead of the former store manager. The vamp’s skin sizzled, his eyes shot open and he let out a blood-curdling screech. The putrid smell of burning flesh filled the air. Pastor Bill put the point on a stake against the vamp’s chest and drove it home with a wooden mallet. Blood splattered against his face. The rest of the vamps woke up and shot up to the ceiling, flying around like a barrel of monkeys on crack. I pulled a Super Soaker out of the duffle bag, handed it to Pastor Bill, and took one for myself. We opened up on the smelly vampires with the Super Soakers. When the holy water touched their skin, they burst into flames. Finished inside Bashers, I glanced at the preacher and grinned.

“How you makin’ out preach?”

The reverend shrugged. A resolute look crossed his face. “No one said that going about the Lord’s business would be easy,” he said.

I grinned and slapped the preacher on the back. “That’s the spirit, Pastor Bill. I knew you were a fighter when I first laid eyes on you. You’re known, over on the other side as a hard charger. Let’s check out this record store,” I said motioning to the music store next to the market.

The preacher laughed. “They’re called CDs now,” he said.

We headed into the music store. I stopped, checking out the debris covering the floor and the broken windows. A cold breeze whispered through the store.

“This place looks empty,” the preacher said.

A rotten smell wafted across the room. “I don’t think so. Let’s check in the back,” I said. We went behind the counter and stepped into a dark musty storage room. A bare light bulb hung from the ceiling with a twine cord that you pulled to turn on the light. I saw a smelly vamp sleeping underneath a threadbare, moldy Army blanket. It was the chubby, former music store clerk. His white shirt was in tatters and blood-soaked his black slacks. “I’ll take care of this one, Preach,” I said and stepped forward. The preacher grabbed my arm.

“No, I’ll do this one. I knew this young boy.” The reverend stepped forward. He removed the tattered Army blanket and stuck the tip of a stake against the young man’s chest. “I’m sorry, Timothy.”

When the preacher touched the young man’s chest with the tip of the stake, the chubby vampire’s eyes shot open. He let out a hiss and spit in the preacher’s face. Pastor Bill drove the point home. Blood spewed into the preacher’s face, the vamp’s legs kicked and he died, this time for good. I felt a presence brush past me.

Finished inside the music store, we headed down the street, searching each building. We left the business district behind. We searched several houses and rendezvoused at the motorcycles two hours later.

“Did anyone find Chico or The Dark Rider?” Tiny asked.

No one replied. “We’ve still got most of the town to search, but we may not find that dude they call the Dark Rider here in town. He might be hiding in some abandoned building or house on the outskirts somewhere,” I said.

“Did anyone find some live people?” Lead Belly asked.

Old school nodded. “Tiny and I found a family hidin’ out in their basement. We gave them some holy water and painted a cross on their front door.”

“I’d say that less than half of the people that lived here are still alive,” I said, “but they’ll rebuild.”

“We’d best get back to work. We’ve got lots of work to do, and miles to go before we sleep,” Pastor Bill said. “Sundown comes early this time of year.”

I chuckled. “I told you this bible slinger was a fighter, and he likes poetry too. After this is over, he’ll probably go and buy himself a motor scooter.”

“I bet he’d love a spirit, bike,” Little Danny Boy said.

“A spirit bike? What’s that?” Pastor Bill asked.

“I know you don’t ride reverend, but try to think of your dream bike, and then multiply that by one hundred,” I said.

“I used to ride. I used to have a Triumph Bonneville. It was a sweet machine, now let’s roll up our sleeves and go to work.”

We searched the rest of the town, street by street. We dispatched the blood-sucking vampires, wherever we found them. We had one major dust-up in the high school gymnasium with a squad of undead cheerleaders. When we stepped into the gym, they were all over us like a cyclone. They waved their pompoms in the air, while they dived down at us from up near the ceiling. Their cheerleader uniforms were in tatters. They showed off a lot of pasty white flesh. That didn’t stop them from trying to latch on to our necks with their fangs to bleed us dry. We opened up, on them with our super soakers and they went down in flames, lighting up the gym. Sundown found us on the edge of town and we took refuge at a small Catholic church. We motored into the parking lot, parked our scooters and the preacher parked his pickup. We stepped up to the front door. I banged on the door.

“If you demons think you’re coming in here, you got another thing comin’. You’d a better chance at kicking the leprechaun’s ass and takin’ his gold. This here’s holy ground.”

I let out a chuckle. “Another one of God’s warriors.”

“Father Murphy. It’s me, Pastor Bill. We’re not infected. Let us in,” Pastor Bill said.

A short stocky, redheaded Irish priest opened the door and we stepped inside the church.

A group of ten to twelve of the priest’s parishioners had gathered inside the church. They looked tired and scared. Outside, storm clouds gathered over the land.

“It looks as if we’ve got a storm blowing in,” the priest said. A large gust of wind rattled the stained glass windows of the church.

An eerie feeling shot down my spine. “This storm doesn’t feel right. It seems like something right from the pits of hell,” I said.

“The dark forces at work in this town are, upset about the work we did today,” Pastor Bill said.

“Maybe so,” I said. “Father, the bros and I are about as hungry as an anorexic polar bear. You wouldn’t happen to have anything to eat?” I asked.

The redheaded Irish priest laughed. “The ladies fried up some chicken in the fellowship hall. If you’ll follow me,” the priest said. We followed Father Murphy into the fellowship hall and the ladies from the church set out a fine spread. They had folding tables set up along with folding chairs. We sat down at the end of the building near a blazing fireplace. The church ladies brought us food. They brought plates filled with fried chicken, potato salad, rolls, and fresh vegetables. After we finished eating, I leaned back in my chair and stifled a belch.

“What’s the plan now?” Little Danny Boy asked.

“We stay put until daylight and then search the outlying areas outside of town,” I said.

“Do you think there will be any vamps out roaming tonight?” Old School asked.

A thunderclap shook the church and outside, rain hammered the landscape.

I paused. “I don’t think so. We took care of most of them. We may have to deal with a few of the Devil’s imps,” I said.

“What about Chico and the Dark Rider?” Tiny asked.

I paused, for a moment, thinking. “They’ll be out on the prowl, but they won’t step foot on the church property. It’s holy ground.”

Pastor Bill stuck his head in the doorway of the fellowship hall. “Father Murphy and I are going to hold a prayer meeting in the sanctuary. You could join us if you like,” he said.

“Thank you reverend, but the bros and I will get comfortable around this fireplace and try to get some rest. I have a feeling that it’s going to be a long night,” I said.

Once Pastor Bill and Father Murphy left the fellowship hall, I pulled out a bottle of Jack. The good kind from Biker Heaven, not that stuff they sell on Earth, took a shot and passed the bottle around. “I thought those sky pilots were never going to leave us alone. An old boy could die of thirst,” Fat Bob said.

“They don’t know any better. It’s not about what you put in your gut that counts, it’s what’s inside your heart,” I said.

Outside, the storm continued to shake the windows and rattle the walls. We huddled planning our search of the outlying areas. We had been in the fellowship hall for about three hours. Father Murphy and Pastor Bill poked their heads in the door.

“You lads might want to come and see this,” Father Murphy said.

“What’s happenin’?” I asked.

“We got visitors,” Pastor Bill said.

I climbed to my feet and followed the sky pilots to the front door of the church. The Halo Riders and the rest of the Road Dogs followed along behind us. A little girl who looked to be no more than nine years old sat on the front pew holding her mother’s hand. A scared look crossed her face. I give her a grin. “Don’t worry little sister. Things are gonna get better,” I said.

The priest opened the front door of the church and gale force winds almost blew the door out of his hand. I stepped out onto the front porch and glanced out at the street. Chico and the Dark Rider sat on their scooters at the entrance to the parking lot.

“Cave Man. It’s me, Chico. Bring the bros out here to the street. We need to talk. Road Dogs in life and Road dogs in death, remember?” Chico said. He glanced at the Dark Rider. “Come serve the master.”

Glancing up, I noticed a demonic host hovering in the air, above their heads.

“I serve a master, but it ain’t that blood suckin’ SOB. My master sits on the throne in the emerald city west of Biker Heaven.”

“I’m still the president of this chapter! Get the bros out here!” Chico demanded.

“I don’t take orders from blood-sucking vampires. You don’t know what you’re saying. It’s not your fault that he talked that little bitch into biting you on the neck but don’t worry. We’ll deal with you and your blood-sucking master tomorrow morning,” I said.

The Dark Rider let out a screech launching himself through the air. Chico launched himself through the air behind him. Father Murphy pushed me out of the way and slammed a crucifix against the Dark Rider’s chest. The vamp’s clothes caught on fire and his skin sizzled. The smell of burning decayed flesh filled the air. The Dark Rider fell back onto his back and let out a blood-curdling scream when his back touched the holy ground. He leaped to his feet, hopping around like a frog on a hotbed of coals, and flew back through the air toward the street. His back looked burned and smoke billowed from his feet. I lifted my hand and a bolt of blue light hit Chico in his upper chest. He tumbled through the air and landed on the street. The demonic host attacked.

Both Father Murphy and Pastor Bill Stood their ground. They held their crucifixes in the air. Light radiated from the crosses. The Halo Riders stepped up, flinging balls of light and firing bolts of lightning with their gats. I fired my 357 at an ugly two-headed demon with a face full of scaly warts. Bluish-green lightning shot from the barrel of my pistol. When it hit the evil SOB, he exploded in a flash of white light. An ugly little demon stabbed Fat Bob with his sword. Old School slammed his knife into the top of the demon’s head and it exploded. Fat Bob stumbled to his knees, while I mixed it up with two hooded demons in black robes. I stood my ground slashing with my knife and shooting my 357.

I was about to get overrun by the evil shits, but my pops and Teddy bear joined the fight. The rest of the Road Dogs looked on in shock. The attack broke off.

“This ain’t over!” Chico yelled and climbed onto his scooter.

The Dark Rider stood next to his chopper for a second. “You road scum will be my minions for eternity. I’ll dine on your blood while your bodies rot,” the Dark Rider said. His voice was barely above a whisper, but the sound floated on the dissipating wind.

“We’ll see about that come daylight, asshole,” I said.

The Dark Rider climbed onto his chopper and he burned rubber. Chico smoked his tires and peeled out after him. The skies cleared and the demonic host hovering over the land disappeared.

I glanced over at the two sky pilots. “You two need to start ridin’ motorcycles and prospect into the club. The Road Dogs could use a couple of Chaplains,” I said. “Especially a couple of hard chargers like you two.” Old School helped Fat Bob to his feet, and we went back inside the church.


The night passed slowly, the storm passed and there were no more attacks on the church. We heard Chico and The Dark Rider cruising up and down the street, trying to feed the hunger. We tried to get some sleep but most of the bros seemed too keyed up to rest. The sun poked its warm fingers across the landscape at five-thirty AM. We gathered our gear and prepared to go on the hunt. After tanking up on coffee and doughnuts, we gathered in the sanctuary. Pastor Bill and Father Murphy insisted on saying a quick prayer. We gathered in a circle and took each other’s hands.

“Good Lord we ask for your protection as we go into battle. We know that these evil creatures think that they are immortal and untouchable. Greater is he that is within me than he that is in the world.”

I glanced around the circle and had to laugh. There stood several hairy, tattooed bikers holding hands. Their eyes closed listening to every word of the prayer. Once the sky pilots finished praying, I slapped Pastor Bill on the back and said, “Time to go to work. Why don’t you stay here with Father Murphy and his flock?”

“I’m going with you,” Pastor Bill said.

“Me too,” Father Murphy added.

“Are you sure? This is going to be bloody,” I said.

Both the priest and the reverend nodded. “I know where they might be hiding. There’s that old house out on Sidewinder Road,” Pastor Bill said. “An old couple and their teen-aged son live there, but it’s the perfect place.”

“I wouldn’t put it past the Dark Rider to turn the old couple if he wanted their house,” I said.

“Then there’s the Beckett house. It’s out by the highway, about ten miles east of town. That house has been abandoned for years,” Father Murphy said.

“We’ll check the places closer in first then we’ll head further out,” I said.

We packed our gear. The Road Dogs fired up their scooters and headed out. Father Murphy and Pastor Bill followed along behind in Pastor Bill’s pickup truck. We searched every abandoned, building, and empty house near the outskirts of town. We found nothing.

“Where to now?” Dirty Dan asked.

I shrugged. “Why don’t we take a ride out to Sidewinder Road?”

We rolled out of town heading east on a two-lane pothole-riddled highway. The road snaked its way south through the surrounding hillside. Socorro cactus lined both sides of the road. We cranked the throttle getting lost in the wind. Pastor Bill and Father Murphy followed the motorcycles in the pastor’s pickup truck. About ten miles outside of town, we pulled off onto a dirt road that led to an old farmhouse. We slowed down on the dirt and then pulled up in front of the rickety old house. To the left of the house set an old rustic barn that looked as if you leaned on it, that it might fall, down. I climbed off the scooter, pulled a bottle of Jack from my vest pocket, and took a shot. The two sky pilots gave me a dirty look.

“Let’s search the house first. Then we’ll have a look inside the barn,” I said to my bros.

I stepped up onto the porch and almost fell through. Much of the wood underneath my feet was rotten.

“Whoa there, bro. Watch out,” Old School said. He stepped up onto the porch behind me and took my arm.

We entered the house and I stood for a second gazing around the living room. Someone had overturned the furniture. They broke out windows and trash along with tiny pieces of glass littered the hardwood floor.

“The place looks disserted,” Pastor Bill said.

“No, there’s someone here. I can feel a presence. Can’t you?” I asked.

Pastor Bill paused for a second. “Now that you mention it, I do.”

“It smells like something crawled in here and died,” Father Murphy added.”

“Let’s see if this place has a basement or a cellar,” I said.

We fanned out, searching the house, and inside the kitchen; I found a small wooden door leading down to a damp cellar.

“I don’t know if I want to go down there,” Tiny said, gazing down the ramshackle wooden staircase into the dark vault below.

“Yeah, but we’ve got it to do. If these damned bloodsuckers are still here, they’d be down there,” I said and stepped down the first step. Tiny stepped down behind me, followed by Pastor Bill, Father Murphy, and the rest of the Road Dogs. The smell wafting up from below hit me like a freight train.

“God. That smells like ten pounds of shit in a five-pound bag,” Tiny said.

“Yeah, these vamps are some stinky boys,” I said and let out a chuckle. At the bottom of the staircase, I sat my duffle bag down on the floor and retrieved a flashlight. I panned it around the interior of the dark underground chamber. I pointed the light into a dark corner and then moved it to the other side of the room.

“Stop. Go back. Shine your light back into that corner, lad,” Father Murphy said. I shined the flashlight back in the corner and saw what looked like an old comforter. “There’s something under that old blanket.”

“It looks like, someone’s foot,” I said. We crossed the underground room and I knelt, down, and pulled the comforter away.

What had once been an old farmer in tattered bib overalls, lurched up from the floor letting out a feral growl. His blood-red eyes glowed in the dark basement, and beside him, what had once been his wife, jumped to her feet. They had both joined the ranks of the undead. The farmer, now a full-fledged vampire, knocked me over backward bringing his mouth down to my neck. His undead wife jumped on Tiny knocking him backward.

“You smelly bitch,” Tiny said and punched her in the nose, knocking her to the floor.

I rolled from underneath her undead husband and gave him the toe of my boot. He squealed jumping back when the silver tip on the toe of my boot touched his side. The place where my toe touched his side burst into flames. Father Murphy and Pastor Bill stepped forward holding their crucifixes in the air. Light emanated from the crucifixes filling the room. The vamps retreated into their corner. I pulled a Super Soaker from my duffle bag and hosed them down with holy water. The vamps let out a screech and flew up to the ceiling flying around like a couple of cats with their tails on fire.

“It’s easier when we catch these SOBs napping,” Dirty Dan said. He opened up on the vamps with his Super Soaker. The farmer and his wife burst into flames and fell to the floor. We waited for a few minutes for the fire to die down and then I stepped up to the chard corpse that had once been a farmer.

“In the end, it all comes down to the basics,” I said and drove a stake through his heart. Father Murphy took care of the farmer’s wife.

“What now?” Little Danny Boy, who stood watching the show with Old School on the staircase said.

“Now, let’s go check the barn,” I said.

We found a pack of the undead bastards in the hayloft above the barn. What must have once been the farmer’s son lay sleeping with five of his girlfriends. They looked to be in their late teens or early twenties when they joined the ranks of the undead. We found them underneath the hay. They must have just finished with an orgy of sorts. All the undead females were either naked or half-naked. They jumped up out of the hay like a pack of she-wolves and were on us like stink on a dead skunk. With their titties flappin’, and their hair flying, they flew up into the air. They let out a collective shriek. They dropped down upon us slashing with their long nails and biting with their teeth. Their undead boyfriend stepped back, a cocky grin crossing his face, and watched the show. A blonde-headed vamp clamped her legs around my chest. Her breasts brushed the side of my face and leaned back trying to gouge my eyes out. Pushing her away, I grabbed my Super Soaker and hosed her down with holy water. She let out a screech and burst into flames. Two of the she-devils had a hold of Old School and they were pulling his hair, while another tried to bite his neck. Old School fell back, and one of the vixens landed on top of him with her crotch in his face. She grabbed him by the hair and slammed his head against the wooden floor of the hayloft. I let out a chuckle and hosed her down.

Being a biker, all though one from the other side of the grave, I like a wet t-shirt contest. This wasn’t exactly what I had in mind. The female vamp burst into flames, the barn caught fire and we beat a hasty retreat. The vamps had nowhere to go. They would either die in the flames or leave the barn. Then the sunlight would turn them into crispy critters. We stood watching the barn burn and listened to their screams. We stood there until the barn was nothing more than a pile of smoldering ashes.

“We’re burning daylight,” Pastor Bill said.

I nodded. “Yeah, let’s go check out this Beckett House. Let’s ride,” I said to the Road Dogs. We hit the highway, heading back toward town. Pastor Bill and Father Murphy followed along in the pickup truck. When we reached Harlem Springs, we took the main highway and headed east. Ten miles outside of town, we pulled up to an old Victorian-style mansion. It looked abandoned for at least a century. I stepped up onto the front porch and a warm summer breeze caused the screen door to bag open. The old oak front door squeaked on its hinges when I opened it. We stepped into a dusty old parlor. Little Danny Boy and Old School stepped up beside me. Little Danny boy sighed.

“They’re here. I can feel it,” Little Danny Boy said.

“I know. I can feel it too. There’s three of them,” I said.

“Who’s the third?” Old School asked.

“One’s Chico, the other’s this Dark Rider. I can feel that evil SOB’s presence the most, but I can’t tell too much about the third, only that it’s female,” I said.

Dirty Dan stepped up overhearing the last of our conversation. “It’s probably that bitch that bit Chico. When we find her, I’ll do the bitch.”

“What about when we find Chico? You know what we have to do,” Old School said.

“I’ll take care of it. I don’t want that on one of the bro’s conscious. The hard part will come after. You know what they told us to do. It’s gonna take all the strength we have,” I said.

Pastor Bill and Father Murphy stepped up. “Lads we best get with it. We’re losing daylight,” Father Murphy said.

I nodded. “Let’s split up. Father, why don’t you two sky pilots take the second floor? The bros and I’ll search down here.”

The priest and the preacher headed upstairs.

“You sendin’ them on a wild goose chase?” Old School said.

“They’ve done good so far, but when it comes to Chico, he’s our business. As for the Dark Rider, I don’t know if they’ll be able to handle him. That old boy’s gonna be hard to kill.”

Pastor Bill and Father Murphy led half the crew. The Halo Riders and most of the Road Dogs searched the bottom floor.

“Keep your eyes out for a basement or cellar,” I said while we searched the first floor.

We searched the bottom floor room by room. The creepy old house made the hair on the back of my neck stand up. I kept hearing doors slam and the sound of whispering voices. Now and then we would pass through a cold spot where the temperature would drop several degrees. We found nothing on the bottom floor. When we entered the kitchen, I found a door leading down into a dark musty basement. Little Danny Boy’s eyes widened and his nostrils flared when I opened the door. “They’re down there. Can’t you smell the evil?” he said.

“That be the Dark Rider,” I said.

We descended into the dark underground basement. I brought a flashlight out of my duffle bag and turned it on. The basement was huge and encompassed several rooms. We searched the place room by room. I kept hearing strange noises. The hair on the back of my neck stood up and I kept seeing shadows move out of the corner of my eye. We found Chico and Tracy asleep in an old moldy feather bed. Feathers covered the floor and I noticed mice droppings. The moldy old quilt that covered them had, a mouse dropping on it and the corners looked chewed on by rats. I pulled the cover off of them. Chico lay in his jeans with his shirt off and Tracy lay in the nude.

“I’ll take care of this bitch,” Dirty Dan said. He took a stake, out of his duffle bag, and put the point between Tracy’s breasts. Tracy’s eyes shot open, she let out an evil hiss and scratched his face trying to gouge out his eyes.

“Fuck off and die, bitch!” Dirty Dan said and drove the point home. Black, stinky blood shot out of her chest, she let out a screech and died. Chico’s eyes fluttered and opened wide. A tear tracked down Dirty Dan’s face. “I’m sorry, bro,’ he said and grabbed another stake. He moved the stake toward Chico’s chest, but I grabbed his hand.

“Please bro,” Chico said.

“I’ll handle this,” I said to Dirty Dan and took the stake and mallet. I looked down at Chico and said, “Sorry bro,” and drove the point home. Bloodshot out of his chest, his body shuttered and he died. The Road Dogs gathered around their former chapter president. Tears streamed down their faces. “We’ll have to grieve later,” I said. “Right now we need to find the Dark Rider.”

We searched the rest of the basement but found nothing more.

“He’s got to be here,” Little Danny Boy said.

“He’s got to be deeper. There must be some kind of sub-basement or something. We need to look for the entrance,” I said. “We’re running out of time.” We searched for another half hour as the sun sank over the Arizona desert. I finally found a trap door, covered by an old throw rug. It led down to what once must have been some type of underground storage area for coal. I opened the trap door and we descended a slimy set of stone steps into the underground vault. We found the Dark Rider sleeping in what appeared to be some type of coal bin. When we approached the coal bin, he shot up into the air and slammed into me knocking me back against the wall. Coal dust covered his face and clothes. He let out an evil hiss, I jumped to my feet and he grabbed me by the neck and flung me across the room. Old School jumped on him with his knife and the Dark Rider, flung him into the coal bin. Little Danny Boys charged forward and stopped looking the Dark Rider dead in the eyes.

“Stop you evil Son of a bitch! I command you in the name of all that’s holy! Go back to hell where you came from!”

The Dark Rider let out a hiss and shot up to the ceiling. I pulled myself from the floor, grabbed my Super Soaker and we opened up on him using the last of the holy water. He burst into flames, went shooting back and forth around the room up near the ceiling, and then dropped down on me. I grabbed a stake from my duffle back and held it up. “In the King’s name!” I yelled holding up the stake.

The Dark Rider tried to stop his momentum, but it was too late. He impaled himself on the stake, blood shot out of his chest his eyes widened in pain and he died. I dropped his body to the floor, pulled my sheath knife, and cut off his head. Finished with that grizzly deed, I took a bag of garlic from my duffle bag and stuffed his mouth full of garlic. “We’ll need to take that head somewhere and throw it in the water.”

In shock, Dirty Dan said, “There’s Lost Lake north of town.”

“We’ll need to put the head in a gunny sack along with some rocks, and then toss it into the lake. Now let’s go see about Chico,” I said.

We climbed the stone staircase back up to the basement to where we left Chico’s body. By this time, Father Murphy and Pastor Bill had finished searching the upper story and joined us. The Road Dogs, silenced by grief stepped up to Chico’s body. Tiny reached down to remove the stake.

“Stop,” I said. “Dude, you guys need to step back. We’ll handle this.” The Road Dogs stepped away and the Halo Riders formed a circle around the body. I looked over to where Father Murphy and Pastor Bill stood to the side. “You two sky pilots need to join us. We need your strength.”

Pastor Bill and Father Murphy joined our circle and we knelt, down next to the body. I grabbed the stake, yanked it from his chest, and then we laid hands on the body. My arms started to tingle. I felt numb and electricity crackled. A bluish-green light formed flowing down our arms to our hands and into Chico’s body. My head throbbed, my legs went weak and I felt like I was going to pass out. The air around Chico’s body crackled. A gale-force wind filled the basement. A black vapor that looked like a swarm of locusts rose, up from the body disappearing in the wind. The wind stopped. Chico’s chalky white face, turned pink, the hole in his chest closed before our eyes and his heart began to beat.

Chico’s eyes opened. “I’m sorry bro,” he said.

“Forget about it. It wasn’t your fault,” I said and tried to stand, but I staggered to my knees. Bringing Chico back from the dead took everything we had.

The bros helped us to our feet, we did some hugging and there wasn’t a dry eye in that old basement.

After taking a ride out to Lost Lake and tossing the Dark Rider’s head, we rode back to the High Noon Saloon. We arrived around midnight and crashed, in the back room. The next morning Chico and I sat down at the bar.

“I don’t know how to thank you, guys. It seems like you always show up when we need you,” Chico said.

I took a pull from my bottle of Jack and handed it to Chico. “That’s why we wear the halo patch,” I said.

“I hope you don’t have to rush off too soon,” Chico said and handed me back the bottle.

“No, we’ll stick around for a few days. Bringing you back from the great beyond took a lot out of us. We need to recharge our batteries. For the next few days, we’ll do what bikers do best. We’ll party,” I said and took another shot.


If you enjoyed the Dark Rider click the link above to download the entire series, Tales From the Lost Highway.

I hope you enjoyed reading the Dark Rider. Click on the links above to check out any of my other books at Sign up for my email list to get a free eBook. I look forward to hearing from you so feel free to leave any questions or comments below. Until next time peace out!

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About Dave the Miracle Maker

Hi. I work and live in the high desert of Southern California with my wife and family. I have three passions in life: reading, writing, and riding my motorcycle. I am now branching out into affiliate marketing and enjoy practicing martial arts. I believe in Miracles, but sometimes you must make your-own miracles by keeping a positive mindset. In this blog, I will promote my writing, and the products I sponsor plus I will try to send out positive messages to you and the universe. Feel free to like and subscribe. Much Love, Let's Go!
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