by John Pirillo
Watson reached the rooftop first, his weapon drawn and ready to fire at the creature confronting the Jungle Lord.
He was about to fire when the creature turned to look at him.
Immediately, he relaxed his aim and lowered his weapon.
"Fire Watson!" Sherlock hollered.
Watson turned around and headed back the other way, ignoring Sherlock, almost knocking him down, as if he weren't even standing in his way.
The Jungle Lord warily circled the creature, not rushing him, taking the measure of the unearthly creature before him.
He spoke in Elvish, "Who are you?"
The creature blinked its eyes at him, but did not respond.
Sherlock ran up and leveled his weapon at the creature. Lady Shareen already had it covered from the other side of the roof, from where she had climbed up a fire escape.
"Who are you?" The Jungle Lord asked in French.
The creature remained motionless.
"It seems to not be able to hear you." Sherlock observed.
The Jungle Lord ignored Sherlock.
"I do not want to harm you." The Jungle Lord continued. "But if you continue hurting my people, I will have no other choice. If you are lost, let me help you.? The Jungle Lord pleaded, his voice rich with warmth and sincerity.
Lady Shareen, though, had no such charity, she made sure her pistol remained unwavering on its right eye.
Sherlock glanced around the rooftop, then saw Watson below, standing in the middle of the street. "What!" Sherlock cried out.
Then a huge vehicle came driving up the road. The driver's windshield was thick with snow, and lacked a clear view of the street ahead.
Lady Shareen heard Sherlock's cry and ran to the roof top edge. She spied Watson standing motionless in the street, the truck almost upon him.
"Grayson!" Lady Shareen cried out in her loudest voice.
He immediately leaped to her, prepared to defend her until he saw what was transpiring below. He dove from the ledge, caught a window overhang, then another and then dropped to the pavement as lightly as a cat.
He leaped, just as the truck was about to strike Watson.
Above, the creature turned towards Sherlock. Its eyes grew brighter a moment. Sherlock aimed his weapon at its right eye. "Lady Shareen. Take out the other eye!"
She fired her weapon the same time as he.
The creature recoiled as its eyes burst, erupting with a reddish matter that spattered the rooftop, where it sizzled and burned, causing the snow drifts there to melt rapidly.
It let out a cry so horrible that the hair on the back of Sherlock's head stood straight up, then it rushed him.
On the street below, the Jungle Lord struck Watson around the waist, grasping him with his strong arms, taking them both to safety on the other side of the rushing truck. It barely missed them as they rolled on the snow heaped pavement.
On the rooftop Sherlock swiftly ran to the roof top door he had exited onto the rooftop and slammed it shut in the face of the creature. It slammed into the heavy wooden door, causing it to splinter in several places.
Lady Shareen emptied her pistol into its body, but to no good, as it continued to smash at the door. Finally, she was out of bullets. The creature stopped smashing at the door and slowly turned around. It eyes were beginning to reform and take their original shape.
"Dear God!" She muttered in horror.
She let out the cry of a bull dragon and ran at the edge of the rooftop the same time as the creature charged her. Sherlock came out the door his weapon out, firing at the creature, just in time to see her leap from the rooftop.
Challenger and Conan stood in the storage room of the British Museum, the Museum Director, Hyamus Portashaw blustering in the doorway to Inspector Bloodstone, who had the room staked out with Constables, searching everything they could reach with their hands, and using step ladders brought with them to search the higher shelves.
"I hardly see the need for this." The Museum Director barked angrily. "No one will want to come to my museum if they keep seeing policemen here."
"The Constables will only be here a short while longer." Inspector Bloodstone said.
"I am losing very valuable time overseeing this."
"Patience. It will only be a short while longer."
"Really, Inspector? Your men have been here for over eight hours. They are on their third review of the contents of this room!" He blurted out miserably. "I had to miss my afternoon tea because of you."
The Inspector started to repeat himself again, when Conan saved him from saying something worse.
The Inspector rushed over. Conan and Challenger brought out a piece of metal, embedded in an ancient looking rock. "What is it?"
The Museum Director came over. "What did you find?"
"Is this a part of the original find of your escaped Mummy?"
The Museum Director's face turned bright red, and his voice went gruff and starch. "There is no such thing as an escaped Mummy. They are dead and shall remain so!"
Challenger gave the Director a sneer. "Well, this one appears to disagree with your assessment, Mister Director."
"Now tell me again, who you are, sir?" The Museum Director asked Challenger.
Challenger grabbed him by the throat. "Sir, lesser men have been removed from this world for less! Are you challenging my honor?"
The Inspector relished what Challenger was doing, but the law was the law. "Professor!"
Challenger looked at him, then let go.
The Museum Director began choking on his bile. "You shall pay for this insult!"
"Every moment I look at your pitiful presence is a debit against my soul." Challenger said, then turning his back on the apoplectic man.
The Inspector nodded to Constable Evans and he gently urged the Museum Director from the storage room.
"So what have you, Conan?"
Conan showed the Inspector the rock with the embedded metal. "I have seen this before."
Conan eyed Challenger, who took a deep breath, then said. "Jules and Wells."
The Inspector's eyebrows rose. "You saying they are in on what happened here?"
"Not as you might assume." Conan replied. "But I think it's imperative that we all speak to them at the meeting this evening with Sherlock and the others."
The Inspector blew a whistle and his men scampered from the room. He smiled at Challenger and Conan. "They were getting bored with the charade anyway."
"Thank you for your help, Inspector. That dreadful man would have made it impossible for us to do the necessary research otherwise." Challenger responded. with a smile.
Chapter Thirty -Two
The Jungle Lord was just disentangling himself from Watson when he heard Lady Shareen's bull dragon cry. He knew exactly what that meant, and looked up just as she flew from the rooftop. He and she had practiced this many times in Fairie at their home in the treetops there.
He smiled confidently and stepped forward several paces, holding his arms out.
Then something heavy struck him from behind, making it impossible for him to catch her.
Her scream tore the night open with terror as she plummeted towards her doom!
by John Pirillo
The evening sun was stippling the English clouds with gold and orange flecks and doves swept across the skies, then a huge flock of pigeons shot upwards at a peculiar sound nearby.
The Jungle Lord, Lord Grayson Graystone, stood atop the tallest chimney near the Baker Street flat and cupped his hands to his mouth, then let loose once more the call of the bull dragons he had learned in his homeland in Fairie. It was the most terrifying sound ever heard by most mortals, and he would use it to announce his presence to those unwary enough to believe they could easily disturb his peace and tranquility or trespass on him physically or otherwise. It was his way of telling the world that he was there and the was the master of all he surveyed.
And yet, that was not the case in the London of the Greater Britains. In his home world attributed to him, it might have been. That world, the one that Moriarity came from, in that world there was an Africa where bull apes might have raised him to be the Master of the Jungle, the one and true Jungle Lord, but where he lived in this world and the next, such was not the case. The bull apes had been, sadly, destroyed by those of a lesser intelligence, men who believed that the bull ape when bled could supply an endless drove of supplies that could be made into a sexual elixir to give men longer life and sexual endurance.
He scorned such ignorance, and he understood from his brief conversations with Moriarity that the men of that world used whales for much the same thing and other beasts of ivory. How decadent and depraved such creatures were to his mind.
His mission to the warehouse had failed. The creature he was about to kill was not the one that had killed the actor and the Midnight Angels and the shop keeper, but a poor Sailor, drunk out of his mind, that had happened to stumble into the lair of whatever the creature was that he sought. But the lair was no longer viable and he could tell, once he calmed the poor soul he had frightened out of his mind, he could tell by the spoors left from the creature that it had been gone from this place for days.
As for the horrible scream it was just the poor sailor remembering when he had lost his leg to a shark on his last voyage.
The less savage portion of the Jungle Lord, Lord Grayson Graystone, took the poor soul to the local Constable in charge of the docks, introduced himself. All knew him and of him. And then he had asked the man to send him to the home for lost souls like him. He and the Lady Shareen had founded it originally for abused women, but they had soon learned there were many men who had been abused as well, not necessarily by a spouse, but by their very own parents, something that triggered a sense of pathos and loss in him that he could only overcome by expanding the premise of the home to also include homeless men like this sailor.
The sailor had wept with great joy when Lord Grayson Graystone, still clad in his brief, had given him a hug of compassion and care, then smiled into his face. "We are all one." He had told him. "And we must care for each other. It is the right thing to do."
The sailor, he was sure, did not truly understand the depth of his statement, but he understood its intent and weeping even more, had gladly gotten into the Constable's wagon and been driven off to a new life of hope and redemption.
He had told the Constable to tell Alfred, his and the Lady's manager, to make sure the man had three squares, fresh clothing and training so that he could survive the maiming his body had taken. No man should be abandoned because of a loss of limb. The home would provide him with a shelter and food, and then the training he needed to secure himself a good position in life once more.
He leaped from the chimney, then ran for the roof-top edge and dove like a swimmer, landed on the window of Baker Street 221B and knocked on it.
Sherlock opened it from the inside, and he dropped to the floor, and casually, as if nothing had ever happened, went to the rack where his clothing had been kept by Mrs. Hudson and slowly began climbing into them, assuming his more noble aspect of a proper gentleman once more.
Lady Shareen came running up the stairs. She had heard his scream from the kitchen, but didn't want to burn the food she had been helping Mrs. Hudson make. She threw herself against him so hard, that at first he thought he was being attacked, then when he smelled her fragrance, he swung around and clasped her tightly to his bosom, enfolding her in his strong arms and deep love.
"I've missed you." She told him in his right ear.
He smiled. "We have much to discuss."
She gently pulled back and smiled up into his face. "That we do."
Neither had to spell out what they would discuss, their eyes said it all.
Even Watson and Sherlock had to look away at the intensity of their stares. For those two loved each other so powerfully, that it was like an electric charge in the air.
Mrs. Hudson came upstairs next, carrying a huge tray of fresh sandwiches, which she and Lady Shareen had been contriving to put together. She smiled at the two, then set the tray down on the table. "I've more." She said as she went for the stairs. "I'm sure I'll need it too." She said to herself.
Watson got up from his usual chair and helped himself to a small sandwich and took a bite ."Oh dear Lord! Perfection!"
Lord Graystone turned about and eyed the tray of sandwiches. At that moment his stomach mounted an attack of the loudest proportions, causing both Lady Shareen and Holmes to smile. "I haven't eaten for hours."
"Actually, Lord Graystone." Sherlock broke in. "It's been two days you've been gone."
"In that case I'd better eat." Lord Graystone remarked, then taking the hand of his beloved, led her to the sofa, sat her down, then went to retrieve sandwiches for the both of them on plates of China.
Mrs. Hudson came back up with a second tray mounded with slices of beef and turkey and small tureens of sauces, forks and knives, as well as extra plates.
"Lady Shareen made this for you." She proudly stated, her eyes smiling at the Lady, who couldn't take her eyes off her beloved.
"Thank you." Lady Shareen said with a dimple of a smile, still looking at her man.
"Sherlock." Watson spoke up. "Are you going to skip dinner as well?"
Sherlock had been looking out the window, then shut the glass, pulled the curtains and turned to look at his best friend. "I've already eaten."
Mrs. Hudson shook a finger at him. "You may be the greatest detective, but I still know a lie when I hear one. Now you sit down and have some meat at least. You need your strength for your outing tonight."
Lord Graystone perked up at those words. "Outing?"
Sherlock made a small plate of food for himself, then sat opposite Watson. "Yes. The good Inspector has raised some more clues for us."
"How so?" Lord Graystone replied in between gulps of meat, which he ate with his hands, an act that caused both Watson and Mrs. Hudson to raise eyebrows, but say nothing, as he was their guest and a good friend. They both knew that when he was in his emotionally super charged state that he oftentimes lapsed back into his more primal habits.
Lady Shareen caught their looks and gently guided his hands back to the fork and knife beside his plate. He caught her look and smiled, then began using his fork and knife, but very, very quickly.
"It seems that whoever our thief and murderer is he or she, as it may be, is compiling quite a hoard of materials."
"What kind of materials?"
Watson spoke up. "Very peculiar stuff. Besides the large radio antenna it stole in the beginning, it has also stolen Tesla batteries, manganese and copper wires and now..."
"Chemicals." Sherlock completed the sentence, as if the word would say it all.
Lord Graystone gave him an odd look.
Sherlock considered his words carefully between a bite of turkey and a sip of tea. "It is my guess that the thing requires the chemicals to fuel its process. Whatever that might be?"
"And what do these things have to do with the plans stolen from Tesla and Edison?"
"We are going to the plant tonight." Watson jumped in, his mouth stuffed with parts of a sandwich as he spoke. He too hadn't eaten in awhile and he felt ravenous, though he couldn't understand why it should be so, as he had eaten only a few hours ago. He shrugged the thought off. "Tesla and Edison have some theories. Also, Jules and Wells will be there."
Sherlock looked at Watson. "I never told you about them."
Watson shrugged it off. "I don't always tell you everything, you know. Neither do you me."
Sherlock raised an eyebrow, but let it slide.
Mrs. Hudson, however, seemed a bit perturbed at how Watson was acting, almost as if he were a different person. But how could that be?
Lord Graystone suddenly jumped up and leaped to the window. Everyone jumped up as well and followed, him as he flung the window open and sniffed the air. His nostrils flared wider and wider, and he made a deep growling sound in his throat, then ripped off his clothing and leaped from the flat to the ledge of the window, and leaped to the opposing rooftop. Landing there he cupped his hands to his lips and let out his hideous dragon roar.
"Quick, Watson!" Sherlock cried out. "We must help the man. He can not stand alone against what is up there!"
Lady Shareen was already running down the stairs, pulling a pistol from her handbag as she flung open the front door to the flat.
Watson and Sherlock came next, their weapons drawn as well.
On the opposing rooftop, barely visible in the thickening darkness something stood opposite the Jungle Lord, something tall and hideous with glowing red eyes.
The Shasta Caper
by John Pirillo
The spot where Samuel and his friends had been taken from bore the signs of massive footprints left by the weight of the mechas, for even though they flew as they moved, they did touch down when still and their weight was massive.
Noting the prints was a tall man, wearing a cape, strange colored pants and a sash like belt, with a quiver over his right shoulder. Alongside him stood another man, much taller. A giant.
"Robin. It would seem someone we had expected didn't make it." The giant said.
Robin swept his cape over his left shoulder, his eyes, a deep purple and blue color, sparkled with amusement. "It would also seem you are right. I gauge these prints to be less than an hour old."
"We should have been swifter to meet them."
"I know, but Methusaleh always has his reasons for staying his hand. And I won't go against his advice now after all these years."
The Giant laughed, his belly, which was bare, jiggled with his amusement.
Robin looked at his giant friend. "You really should learn to wear something over that torso of yours. I think it would appear unseemly to the maiden we are about to rescue."
The Giant laughed again. " A few hairs never hurt anyone."
"A few!" Robin said with a smirk on his lips. "You have enough for a herd of elephants to nest in."
"Pigmy elephants, maybe." The giant conceded.
"My point is taken."
Smarn, the Giant's name, lifted his heavy weapon, a long spear with a wicked barbed shaft and a grip in the center made of some kind of leather with semi-precious stones, hefted his spear and slung it over his left shoulder. It swished over Robin's hair, causing its golden cascade to flutter from the breeze of it.
"Shall we go a hunting?"
Robin stood to his feet and brushed his pants off. He wore colors that would stand out in the open, but in the forest, they blended quite well. "I think we can guess where they are headed."
Smarn began striding to the East, which rimmed the lake, and gradually swept towards distant peaks. "One day we are going to have to do something about those people, they are beginning to get on my nerves."
Robin caught up with his Giant friend, and easily kept pace. His own long, muscular legs making stride for stride with his larger friend, quite effortlessly, even though Smarn stood a good five heads taller.
"I think that day might be sooner than they realize. I found two of our friends castrated by their weapons from the sky. The One Light only knows how many more are dead or missing."
Smarn glanced at his friend. "You think they are preparing to break out?"
Mysteriously. "Or in." Robin said, his eyes hardening.
With those words both men picked up their speed.
Behind them came the shuffling of padded feet and trumpeting. They didn't hear it, they were too far away, but where they had left a much larger Mother Elephant came up, leading a herd of minature elephants, all standing about a foot high. She was massive compared to them. She stood almost two feet tall.
She stopped where one of the backpacks had lain and snuffled at the dirt, then raised her trunk and called out loudly. No answer.
Her eyes grew narrow with anger and trumpeting angrily led her small army of pachyderms towards the east, the east where Robin and Smarn had traveled.
Samuel gazed out his narrow view at the changing scenery around them. They had traveled the distance of about ten miles, all of it uphill, but towards the East. Al materialized next to him and made himself comfortable on a piece of machinery to Samuel's right.
Samuel glanced at Al uncertainly. "What's so nice about it?"
"Things are moving along nicely."
"For who?" Samuel asked, definitely starting to get mad at Al.
Al looked at him with a solemn look. "The straight path to freedom is not always the best one, Sam. You know that."
Samuel sighed, took a deep breath and looked away. "I understand most men, but not gods, not angels, and definitely not God!"
Al chuckled. "I'm still learning too. Why should you be surprised that you are also on a path of discovery?"
Samuel looked over at Al. He was serious.
"I thought it all ended when you died. You got the Big Bang in the head and knew everything."
"Samuel, oh Samuel." Al laughed lightly. "How can anything infinite ever be grasped all at once. It's a process, not an explosion."
Al winked at Samuel, then vanished, leaving Samuel to his thoughts.
Several moments later the Mecha stopped, his door swung outwards automatically and two Soldiers urged him out with weapons drawn on him. He obliged them and was allowed to tumble to the ground roughly.
He wouldn't give them the pleasure of knowing it hurt, but instead got up and stretched as if it were no big thing. At least until a third soldier he hadn't seen planted his rifle in his back and stretched him back out on the ground again.
He heard footsteps, then Saron stood over him.
"Trying to teach my men something?"
"They seemed educatable."
"Then you are a fool. They are as dedicated to the Truth as I." Saron blasted.
Samuel dared to sit up. He wasn't struck. He saw Nanny and Jimbo being herded towards a flying ship, where a ramp opened from it.
"Which truth is that?" Samuel asked honestly.
Saron smiled. "I like a man with an open mind."
Then he slammed a fist into Samuel's right cheek. "But I am not one of them."
Samuel fell to the ground again.
Saron turned to his men. "See to it that he is chained inside our craft. If he escapes, I will feed you to the Tubes!"
The Soldiers hustled Samuel to his feet, and he allowed himself to be half dragged, half carried to the ramp, his head reeling with pain.
The interior of the ship was all made of some finely crafted metal that more resembled a combination of glass and fibre. Some kind of marriage of unique materials found only in the interior of the earth no doubt. He pretended to still be half out of his mind, so he could pay more attention to the surroundings. It worked. The Soldiers were satisfied he would offer no more resistance and led him along a corridor with a maze of entrances and exits, soldiers and people dressed in pure white uniforms coming and going.
Once a very tall woman of extreme beauty exited a room he was passing. She was going to ignore him, but when he looked at her, her eyes widened as if in recognition, then she hurried a different direction, looking back at him again and again as she did.
In a minute he was thrown into a cell along with Jimbo and Nanny. They were all chained to the back wall with plastic cuffs for their hands and iron of some kind for their legs. The chains and cuffs could slide up and down, so they could sit on the floor, but awkwardly and not with any degree of comfort.
"I hope this is a short flight." Jimbo announced after their captors had given them a quick once over, then exited, slamming home a sliding door from the ceiling, which threw the room into semi-darkness.
"No such luck." Samuel groaned, his jaw aching where Saron had struck him.
Nanny saw the bruise purpling there and gasped. "Those bastards!"
"Bastard." Samuel corrected her. "Saron."
"I stand corrected." She growled. "He's just the biggest one!"
Jimbo tested his cuffs behind his back, then smiled. "I thought so!"
"Thought so what?" Samuel asked.
"My kid sister used to tie these kind of knots back when we were kids playing lawman."
They heard the plastic cuffs make clicking sounds, then Jimbo stretched his arms out in front of him and began rubbing his wrists. He then looked at his leg chains, an amused look on his face.
"What's so funny?" Samuel and Nanny both asked at the same time.
"Piece of cake." Was all that Jimbo uttered, then he easily unlocked those cuffs as well. He stood up, and then began working on Nanny's.
Outside the door of the cell Saron watched Jimbo from a screen. An amused look grew on his face. He turned to his adjutant, who stood to his right, face looking straight ahead.
"The Tubes will have a glorious battle tonight. Especially when these fools realize they have excaped the pan, only to leap into the fire!"
"Let the Magistrate know we have fighters for the Tubes tonight!"
"At once, Lord Saron!" The soldier snapped, saluting him, then rushing off down the corridor.
Chapter Twenty-Two of "Samuel Light, Spiritual Detective: The Shasta Caper," is now posted on www.johnpirillo.com
Samuel Light, Spiritual Detective: The Shasta Caper
by John Pirillo
Nanny and Jimbo met Samuel at the truck. Jimbo had a backpack slung over his right shoulder and a rifle on the other.
"Rifle?" Samuel asked.
"Since when has anything we've done ever turned out exactly like we thought it would?"
Samuel winced. "How was I to know that that saucer would use machine guns to fire at us?"
Nanny gave them shocked looks. "You've fought a flying saucer?"
"Yes." Samuel and Jimbo said at the same time.
"Sort of." Jimbo added.
"Not really totally saucer shaped." Samuel added next.
Nanny threw her hands up in the air. "Nothing about you two surprises me anymore, why should this. Come on. Let's get rolling we got miles to get between us and this place before we can do any serious hiking."
Jimbo slung her backpack into the back and strapped it down. "Hiking. As in how much hiking? Did I bring enough snacks along?"
Samuel eyed the huge box squeezed behind the front seat loaded with food. "Maybe."
"Okay." Jimbo said, and hopped in next to Nanny who sat in the middle. He slung his rifle behind the seat, making sure it was safed, then turned back around. "How far now?"
"We haven't started yet." She told him.
"Wait until we've been on the road awhile, you'll get used to it." Samuel sighed with resignation.
"Hey!" Jimbo growled.
Al and M sat on the hood of the vehicle and waved.
"The whole family's going, it looks like." Samuel said, waving back.
Nanny looked at him. "I thought I was going crazy when I saw them hanging around you and acting like they knew you."
Jimbo smirked. "Oh, you'll get used to it after awhile."
"Touche!" Samuel replied with a grin.
"You betcha bottom bippy it is." Jimbo grumbled, but not without a smile.
Samuel put the truck into gear and they shot off down the road to the main strip, then turned onto it. They shot past the Ranger quarters on both sides, then past the firestation and the police station.
"Police station?" Jimbo sqwaked. "Out here?"
"Oh, you'd be surprised what happens up here." Nanny explained.
"Don't tell me." Jimbo replied. "Let me live with my fantasies of a peaceful place on the mountain for awhile."
"Sammie, this is a woman after my heart."
"And your soul if you're not careful." Samuel added.
Nanny gave him a grin. "You read me so well."
Samuel smiled, then as they approached a sudden branch to the right, Nanny gestured and he swung the truck hard onto a dirt road. It began kind of smooth, with the occasional rough patch, but as the miles drifted past, and the dirt flying behind them, it began to get more rough and have deeper ruts and holes.
"We haven't upgraded this in a few weeks." Nanny explained.
"Weeks!" Jimbo exclaimed. "This is just a few weeks corrosion. Looks like years."
"Gets rough up here this time of year. Lots of flooding."
"Flooding." Jimbo shrieked. "I can't swim."
"Learn." She advised seriously.
He gave her a nervous glance, then looked to Samuel. "Been telling you that for years, Jimbo."
"Not my fault if I have the swimming abilities of a hundred ton boulder."
"You sure splash like one, right enough." Samuel answered flippantly.
"Easy for you to say, Mister Olympia."
Nanny looked at Samuel.
"I was Swimming champion in high school and college. Almost got into the Olympics, but then two people talked me out of it. He gestured to the front hood, where Al winked at him.
Nanny laughed. "He's funny. Wait! I recognize him. He's..."
"Yeah. And she's her too."
"But why are they hanging around you so much. They're dead."
Al made a face, sticking his tongue out at Nanny.
"Death is badly maligned, I'm afraid." Samuel said with a grin.
Al held a thumbs up.
"Oh, I get it, they're guardian angels."
"Not really. Not a chance in hell of them ever earning wings. Not angelic enough."
Al made another face and he and M, who blew Samuel a kiss, vanished.
"Where'd they go?" Nanny demanded.
"To the beyond the beyond." Samuel answered mysteriously.
Jimbo sighed. "Samuel, would you quit pulling her leg."
"Why so you can instead?"
"Point taken." Jimbo said, relapsing back into his thoughtful mode. All the forests sweeping by were taking him back to his childhood when he spent a lot of time with his father traveling through the woods to their favorite fishing hole. Back before.
He felt his eyes beginning to wet.
Without being asked, Samuel tossed him a kleenex box. Jimbo blew his nose. "Thanks."
Nanny laughed. "Like I said earlier. You two are like a married couple."
That got both Samuel and Jimbo to fall into a moody sulk.
Neither one spoke for the next three hours.
Finally, Nanny shoved her foot past Samuel's and slammed on the brakes. The truck slid to a halt almost running off the road, except for Samuel's swift recovery.
"What are the hell did you do that for?"
She gave Samuel a dark look, then Jimbo. "I can't go another mile with two babies. Either grow up, or get out."
"It's our truck." Jimbo pointed out.
Nanny didn't budge with her look.
Finally, both Samuel and Jimbo raised their hands.
"Give." Samuel said.
"Sorry." Jimbo added. "Won't happen again."
Nanny gave them both quick hugs. "I like you both, but where we're going we can't be sulking or fighting with each other. Our lives depend on us all being right here and now, and ready to act."
"You make it sound like we're going into a war." Jimbo quipped.
"Maybe we are." Nanny said, without explaining, then she stepped on the gas, sending the truck spilling back onto the road again and weaving until Samuel regained control.
"Anyone ever tell you you're a bit pushy."
"Yes, my last boyfriend."
"What happened to him?" Jimbo asked.
"I shot him."
The Case of the Guardian Angel, a new Baker Street Adventure is now available on Amazon and Smashwords for 99cents.
Available for purchase at Amazon. Com and Smashwords.com for 99cents.
Sherlock Holmes and Watson are hot on the trail of a serial murderer who calls himself "The Guardian Angel." He is a criminal that has followed Sherlock from his own world to the new one where he is now helping Watson to find Moriarity, who disappeared after he was abducted and a rescue attempt was made.
Meanwhile, Moriarity shows up in London again, but he has no memories of what he was before.
Soon, he falls into the hands of a shady sailor whose motivations could be very dark.
Will Sherlock and Watson find Moriarity in time to save him and will they be able to stop the Guardian Angel Serial killer?
Samuel Light, Spiritual Detective: The Shasta Caper, Chapter Seven is now posted. www.johnpirillo.com
Samuel Light, Spiritual Detective: The Shasta Caper
by John Pirillo
Well, things didn't actually happen quite so fast as either of them expected. Jimbo got an unexpected call in the middle of that night from his brother Jacob, who claimed that someone had broken into the ranch and raided all the horses. When asked what happened next, Jacob had said, "I shot the bastard!"
Jimbo looked over at Samuel, who had fallen asleep on his sofa. Samuel rubbed his eyes. He had heard everything, but wasn't clear enough yet to make sense of it. "Is he in trouble?"
"In jail." Jimbo answered.
"I have to fly there immediately to get him out."
"What about the rest of your family?"
Jimbo blushed a deep red. "They all shot the bastard."
Samuel laughed, then he realized what that meant and grew sober. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to laugh, but it's so damned absurd and utterly ridiculous..."
"I know." Jimbo said. "I should have known better than to leave my machine guns unlocked."
"They shot the raider with machine guns?"
Jimbo sighed. "Emotions can do strange things. My family comes from a long line of horse breeders and there's always been someone trying to take away what they rightly brought up. Guess the tradition wasn't lost on this generation either."
"Every generation has been in jail for shooting rustlers."
"It isn't against the law to shoot someone for breaking into your property." Samuel insisted.
"No. But is against the law to shoot their horses too."
Samuel groaned. "They machine gunned the Raider's horse too?"
Samuel laughed again. "You Texans!"
"Hey! I'm not the one who did it, besides if I had no one would have found out about it."
Samuel considered that sobering thought.
Jimbo waved his hands. "Whoa, pardner, I have never done that though. Not in this life."
"Okay!" Samuel said, sitting up and putting his feet into his shoes. He stretched, then climbed to his feet. "I'm going with you then."
"Way...pardner!" Samuel insisted. "Someone's gotta protect all those airline hostesses from the love mangler."
Jimbo laughed at the stupid words. "Lover mangler." Then he stopped. "You don't really think I mangle the women I love, do you?"
"Jimbo, how many of those heinies did you do?"
Jimbo gestured to the kitchenette where four empty six packs were on their sides with empty bottles all about them.
They almost ran out the door. The earliest flight left in thirty minutes. They were only twenty minutes away, but if they weren't fast, they wouldn't be able to run up the double flight of stairs in time to catch their flight, which Jimbo reserved by phone in the Taxi they took.
They both tipped the Driver, who gave them surprised looks, then ran for the escalators as they dashed into the terminal. They hit the stairs running and didn't stop, even with others ahead of them, somehow managing to get around them without tumbling them down or hurting anyone.
They finally had to slow down on the main floor, because Home Security Guards were everywhere. There had been a recent scare from some kind of political terrorist in the Middle East. There were always one or another going on. Had never stopped. Samuel knew why, but he didn't talk about it. No one really wanted to know, so he kept it to himself.
They reached the Southwest Lines ticket taker at the door as the last passenger was boarding. She was a knockout. Even Samuel, who was usually quite sedate when it came to lookers, had to admit she was stunning.
Jimbo, of course, immediately tried to get her phone number. She stonewalled him and he shrugged it off to win one lose one and stomped after Samuel, trying to hide his frustration with failing in front of his best friend.
They were greeted by an even more stunning hostess at the jet cabin door and Jimbo lit up like a Christmas Tree. "Christmas really does come twice a year in Vegas." He said to the Hostess, who had no idea what he was talking about as she took his ticket and motioned towards the back.
Samuel nodded to her, then looked back. Something about those eyes. What was it. He shook it off and carried on after Jimbo, who helped an old lady stack her baggage in the rack overhead and beneath her chair, before sliding into his own seat on the opposite side of the asile. Samuel slid past him next to the window. They were right over the wing section.
The old lady looked over at Jimbo and smiled. "You going to Texas, young man?"
"I am." He answered politely.
She gave him a card which she hastily scribbled a number on and offered to him. Politely, he took it and grinned at her. She winked, then slid a pair of blinders over her eyes and ear muffs over her ears and went to sleep.
Samuel elbowed Jimbo. "Christmas happens three times in Vegas."
"I hate you." Jimbo replied.
The flight was a bumpy one on take off. It always is over the Nevada range of mountains. The air currents play hell with the jets, shaking them like a milkshake for a good five minutes before settling down.
It didn't bother Jimbo any, but it always brought back memories to Samuel, because he had been involved in a plane crash once in Arizona near Sedona. It had been a special flight. A tourist flight and not a passenger jet like this one, but flying is flying and it took him a couple of years to get over his fears of flying after that. Even to this day he got a bit anxious if the plane suddenly jerked or veered, but when he shut his eyes he could always see the smiling face of a beautiful woman glowing with white light about her telling him "Everything is going to be fine, Sammie."
It was his mother. He was the only one who saw her. She was his Whisperer. Everyone had one or more. They were people who had gone on into the Light and had chosen to help from the other side by being Jiminy Crickets to the humans still caught up in nonsense of Earth living.
He closed his eyes. They had a good length of flight ahead of them. Normally, they could take a non-stop and get there in about three hours, but this flight was going to be stopping at least twice and they had to transfer once as well. So eight hours. He groaned inwardly, but such is the vagaries of life, when you try to help others you can't put boundaries on the time it takes.
A tall man climbed into the chair behind him and arranged himself. His knees pressed into the back of Samuel's chair and he groaned inwardly again. He wouldn't be able to lean back in the chair because of the man, and so he would have to sleep sitting up straight. They should have gone business class, but then again, those had been sold out.
He started to shut his eyes and the man behind him groaned and reached a hand onto his chair to adjust himself. Samuel thought nothing of it. Movement and disturbance were par for a flight in the air.
He no sooner shut his eyes than a blinding white light shone in his face the same time as he felt a hand clasp his right arm from between the chairs.
He opened his eyes.
His vision was blurred by a mist of red and anger. He had never felt so much anger in his life. So much that the man who was standing opposite him in the bar was not much more than a blur.
"Look, Carl, I can come up with the money. I just need a little more time."
"I've given you all the time I promised already." He told Carl, a small mousey man with a potbelly and a bald head. A nondescript man with no future. Nothing more than a loser and would never be anything but a loser.
"I swear to you. This time it will be different."
They stood in an alley, outside the Monte Carlo Casino. It was inset somewhat. Cars parked up and down it. Traffic nonstop on the strip, lots of noise and distractions. They were just two drunks hollering as far as the crowd surging past knew, and were ignored as such.
He grabbed Carl by his left arm and squeezed hard. "I have to be paid now!"
"I don't have the money. I've already told you!"
He felt so much anger that he exploded. He struck Carl in the face. Carl fell back between two parked cars and slammed to the pavement. He hit his head hard against a curb and lay there.
He moved between the cars. "Come on, Carl, get up. I didn't hit you that hard!"
He kicked Carl in the side. Carl didn't move. "Get up you stupid little fat!"
Carl lay there and then he saw the pool of blood building near Carl's temple where he had struck the curb.
"Oh crap!" He said.
He began backing up. He struck something.
"Sir. You have a problem?"
Carl turned around it. It was one of the biggest Policemen he had ever seen. He was smiling. He didn't know about the body yet. Carl tried to stop sweating. He was sweating profusely, but then it was that time of year when sweating was easy, especially when you were as overweight as he was. He was tall and appeared somewhat thin, but he was a hundred pounds overweight.
"Nah. Just got lost for a moment. Drinking."
"Ah. Happens." The Officer replied. "Like me to call you a Taxi?"
"I'd appreciate it."
The Officer took out his cell and called a Taxi. A few minutes later, after some nervous chit chat a Taxi came up and a passenger door flipped open.
He looked at the door, then the Officer. He reached out a hand to shake his hand, then he noticed the blood on the knuckles and the tears there. He rapidly withdrew the hand, but not before the Officer saw it. The Officer's face hardened for a moment.
He saw the threat and said quickly. "I hit a wall accidentally."
"Right. A wall. Have a safe night, sir." The Officer said as he climbed rapidly into the Taxi and told it to go straight to the airport.
He looked back and the Officer was still staring at the cab, then he looked at the alley. He started into the alley.
Some of my fondest memories as a teenager was beings scrunched up in the corner of my father's office, reading the lastest pulp magazine while my father concentrated on selling insurance.
While some kids remember their fathers for baseball or football, mine revolve around fantasy and science fiction magazines with heroes such as Doc Savage, the Shadow, Flash Gordon, Buck Rogers and other greats of those times.
Enjoy this short trip through nostalgia and some great artwork.
Chapter Thirty-Three of "Things that go bump in the Night" a new Baker Street Adventure novel with Sherlock Holmes is now posted on www.johnpirillo.com.
"Things that go bump in the NIght"
by John Pirillo
His biceps rippled like bronzed metal as he swung from one tree to the other. Home. Not the one he used to have on Earth, but the one in Fairie, where man had not yet despoiled the wilderness. As he swung from one vine to the next, admiring the sky-high trees with their thick trunks that looked like they could hold a city within them, the gigantic leaves that could hold up a small army without crumbling and the ever blossoming flowers that gigantic bees and birds of every color and nature buzzed, pecked, and consumed for themselves, he felt at peace.
The only emptiness he felt was for his beloved Lady Shareen. She had elected to do her research back on Earth, in London where the first sightings had been discovered. She wasn't sure what she would be looking for yet, but he knew she would find something. She was a remarkable woman and well trained in the discovery of details that only someone as talented and genius as Sherlock Holmes could match or even surpass. For a woman in this age she stood head and shoulders above the masses, which is why she led so many women's liberation movements about the planet, shouldering the responsibility of creating equal opportunties for the opposite sex.
He supported her entirely in her pursuit. His upbringing in the colony of apes had taught him a lot about human nature through the lovingness of his ape mother, who stood up to the males, even when it was not by their nature something easily done or fostered. She had protected him through his stages of maturation and she had helped him discover the land of Fairie where he had partaken of the magical waters of Dis, where men could lengthen their lives and their strength and mental agilities. The only downside was that he had to return there at least once a year to renew the ingesting of the waters, or he would gradually decline.
He was more than two hundred years old by modern British times, but he hid it well because of his newness to that society. Only Holmes and Watson knew how old he really was, though he suspected both Harry and Challenger knew as well. They were all brilliant men and not ones he'd ever want to have against him for any reason whatsoever.
He swung in a high arc that thrust his vision skywards, where he could see the two suns dancing across the sky, the larger one the brightest, but the smaller one would remain for longer in the skies, thus lengthening the day once the larger was below the horizon. He let go of his vine and alighted on top a branch that overlooked a great lagoon below.
He sat down on the branches edge, his feet dangling over the precipice which fell sharply for almost a thousand feet. These trees were not only the tallest on this world, but they were also the most ancient. Some were said to be intelligent like a man. He had scoffed at such Elven talk at first, but once he had become involved in the nourishing of these realms, he had learned of many strange things that had been rumored, were in actuality the truth.
As he sat there basking in the midday suns, he felt a presence grow behind him.
"I'm glad you could come, Femer." He said without turning around.
The presence strode forth and sat down next to him in a yoga like position, his long graceful fingers holding his kneecaps as he gazed over the beloved lands below with great golden eyes bright with hope and intelligence.
"I got your message a bit late.."
"But your magic got you here early." Lord Graystone, the Jungle Lord, answered.
"Yes. Magic and..."
He gestured upwards and the Jungle Lord spotted a Peagasus winging towards the horizon.
"Ah, I see you are still helping that next." Graystone said.
"Yes. Ever since you found it, I've not lost a day without being there to help them recover from the losses they suffered during the brief war we had."
Jungle Lord sighed. "Must there always be wars?"
"You're asking me?" Femor asked back.
"Your life is much longer than mine."
"But no less touched by the rigors of life and living, and of man's fall from grace and into greed and stupidity."
Graystone looked at him. "Which is why I am a Lord Graystone in my home world, and a Jungle Lord here. The two are not mutually co-operative. Here or there."
Femor sighed this time. "Such is again, the nature of our lives. When you live to serve, the service is often times interrupted by acts of nature."
"Or in this case...a beast." Graystone added.
Femor looked into Graystone's eyes. "Is this the statement of the Jungle Lord, or the Lord Graystone?"
"Both. I have found traces of the monster in both worlds. And in both worlds I am at a loss as to explain its true nature, even though I suspect whom it might be behind this."
Femor shook his head. "I thought he was destroyed."
"We've always thought that and he returns yet again."
"Wasn't it your Einstein who said..."
"Energy can neither be created or destroyed." Graystone nodded. "Yes. In this case the energy is consciousness with the ability to manifest much evil."
"How do you intend to pursue this evil?"
Graystone's eyes went distant for a moment, then he spoke. "There is a rumor of an ancient city on the fringes of Repa...the City of the Gods."
"The fallen gods you mean." Femor cut in.
"Fallen or not. That is where I intend to go. Will you help me?"
"You are quite capable on your own."
"Not with magic. My strength can not stand against that force, any more than any other mortal's can."
"Not all mortals."
"True, but most. Only those of evil intent can wield magic of such power."
"What of your good friend, Harry Houdini?"
"Sometimes I fear for him, because when you play with fire, sometimes..."
"It burns you. Yes. So it has been said. But he has a pure heart and a child's soul."
"Even children can be quite cruel sometimes."
"Yes. But in innocence, not in nature."
Lord Graystone, the Jungle Lord pondered that. "Maybe that is why I suspect whom I do. He was once very childlike, and such ambitions as children nurture was never allowed to ripen into a positive nature, but was ripped from the heart of his essence."
"And you think..."
He went on to speak the name of the suspect. When he did the entire forest for miles around them went deathly still.
They both looked at each other.
Just click on CARTOON to go straight to the free story. It should give you a few hours of good reading time. It's the first of a series I've written.
I am not writing full time yet, because I have to pay my bills. I've had more time to do the blog and this site this summer, because I am off for the summer from my job.
So once the school year comes again I probably won't be posting quite so much, but I will try to post at least once a week and probably on Fridays.
Best to all!
If you don't want to see me cutting back on my time writing, help me by purchasing my stories. Thanks a million!