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Jake's Monthly- Thriller Anthology
Jake's Monthly- Thriller Anthology
Jake's Monthly- Thriller Anthology
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Jake's Monthly- Thriller Anthology

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Welcome to Jake's Monthly, a voyage through the best and weirdest of genres which now takes us to Thriller. Suspense, action, chases, and shootouts abound, here, and the writers have made sure that the ride is well worth the price of admission.

This collection has modern and SF thrillers packed with explosions and mystery. There's even a Dark Fantasy thriller and, strangely, a Bizarro one.

Buckle up if you're tall enough, because this is Thriller.

We hope you enjoy the ride.

LanguageEnglish
PublisherJake Johnson
Release dateJun 1, 2012
ISBN9781476354910
Jake's Monthly- Thriller Anthology
Author

Jake Johnson

A seventeen-year-old freelance writer and professional editor, Jake J. Johnson is not using a pseudonym. Starting to read at any early age, he built up college-level reading comprehension on a steady diet of imaginative SF and horror before entering high school. It was around this time that he discovered a talent for writing, and, shortly thereafter, another for editing. He is rather disenchanted by novels which appear in English curricula, and much prefers newer, original stories created using recent media. For example, the interactive stories told through the video games “The Stanley Parable” and “Dear Esther”, the concept of the “light novel”, and the community-told story of “The Fear Mythos”. He much prefers looking to the future to studying the past. His favorite novel is both Neal Stephenson’s “Snow Crash” and Lawrence Miles' "This Town Will Never Let Us Go", and his favorite short story is Isaac Asimov’s “The Last Question”. His ultimate goal is to become an anthology and manuscript editor at ACE, ROC, TOR, or DAW. For now, he's content with gaining a hold on the world of publishing.

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    Book preview

    Jake's Monthly- Thriller Anthology - Jake Johnson

    Jake’s Monthly

    (Part 8)

    Thriller Anthology

    Edited by Jake Johnson

    ***

    Table of Contents

    Copyright Page

    Preface

    Be Prepared by John H. Dromey

    The Birth of Seth-7 by T. Fox Dunham

    Deadly Barrier by Greg Didaleusky

    A Hellish Thing by Michael A. Kechula

    Another Day in Paradise Lost by Ron Koppelberger

    Chasing Charlie by Matthew Wilson

    La Abuela by Don Raymond

    The Backward Planet by John H. Dromey

    In Good Health by Ron Koppelberger

    Infernally Divine by Mike Jansen

    Next Time

    About the Editor

    ***

    Copyright Page

    Published by Jake’s Monthly on Smashwords.

    All featured authors now receive their reprint rights.

    ***

    Preface

    Welcome to Jake's Monthly's eighth collection. This project has looked at all sorts of amazing and odd genres, and we've hit the 75% mark.

    This volume is Thriller, a pretty well-known genre which you'll find in nearly any bookstore. Since there's no need to explain what Thriller is, let's get straight to the briefing.

    If you don't want any general information on these stories, skip this next section.

    Be Prepared is an excellent look at a perfectly-planned crime. Well, maybe. John H. Dromey doesn't disappoint with his malevolent start to this collection.

    The Birth of Seth-7 is T. Fox Dunham's first Seth-7 story, a science-fiction thriller set in the far future with an incredible threat on the horizon. The next story in the series, The First Mission of Seth-7, can be found in the Battlespace Anthology.

    Deadly Barrier is a quick story by Greg Didaleusky. The tension builds and the story moves quickly up to what seems to be an inevitable collision. I mean, conclusion.

    A Hellish Thing is what I can only call Bizarro Thriller. Michael Kechula builds expertly to a great reveal. Don't take this story too seriously.

    Another Day in Paradise Lost is a poetic shootout in under 350 words. Ron Koppelberger, as always, uses his talent for evocative language to great effect.

    Chasing Charlie is, appropiately, a chase story by Matthew Wilson which I can't say much about for fear of spoiling it. Will our hero save the child?

    La Abuela is a Dark Fantasy Thriller in 11 parts written by jack-of-all-genres Don Raymond. Scary, suspenseful, and mysterious to the end, with a multicultural spice to it.

    The Backward Planet is John H. Dromey's second story in this collection, and it is magnificent. This SF Thriller is Jake's Monthly's 75th acceptance and our first accepted novelette.

    In Good Health is also by Ron Koppelberger. It's a short and artistic take on the classic revenge story.

    Infernally Divine is by this collection’s cover artist, the professional Dutch author Mike Jansen. This story was the second story he ever wrote and the original Dutch version won the Rob Vooren Prize for best new author in 1991. This is not a story to be missed.

    Afterwards, check out Next Time to see what our next genre will be!

    ***

    Be Prepared

    By John H. Dromey

    Hank Primrose had thought of everything. Not only that, he’d translated his thoughts into actions. In top physical condition, he was prepared for just about anything Mother Nature might throw his way in the form of winter weather. Before starting out on his nighttime journey, he dressed himself warmly, in layers. At no time did he remove his gloves after leaving the cabin he’d rented for a weekend getaway. He strapped on his carefully-waxed cross-country skis and started out toward the second cabin—the one he’d rented anonymously so he could get away with murder.

    The person he’d chosen to corroborate his alibi was sleeping soundly in the first cabin. He’d made sure of that by stirring a knockout potion in with her bedtime hot chocolate. The strong sedative might give her a headache, but better her than him. Avoiding contradictory stories in the morning meant one less headache for Hank to deal with. He was selfish that way.

    Hank didn’t have far to go to reach the second cabin; just over a quarter of a mile. The ski trail was well-defined and easy to follow with the moonlight reflecting off of the snow.

    He went right to the heated garage. Waiting inside for him was an older-model vehicle that he’d acquired three months earlier by responding to a newspaper ad. He’d conducted the cash transaction in disguise, while using a false name. Since the previous owner planned to relocate to a big city and rely on public transportation, she’d allowed the license plates to go with the car. Later, Hank kept the pink slip in the glove compartment, just in case it was needed to prove ownership while driving the automobile to its secret location, but that precaution had proved unnecessary. Still in disguise, he’d walked a considerable distance from the isolated cabin before hitchhiking back to a city parking lot where he had a rental car waiting for him. Hank had not registered the extra car he bought under his or any other name.

    He could no more be linked to the used car than he could be connected to the illicitly-purchased 9 mm. pistol he had in a Ziploc bag in the pocket of his parka. All systems were go for his lethal plan to eliminate an unwanted business partner.

    Ten minutes later Hank was underway in a toasty-warm car. Between the seats of the car there were three thermal blankets, a dozen bottles of designer water, and enough high-energy candy bars to keep him going for days. The car itself was in great shape. The engine was turning over like a champ. The gas tank was full. The tires showed no sign of wear. The rural blacktop road had been plowed clear of snow.

    The crime itself went off without a hitch. Before approaching his partner’s vacation house, Hank put some oversized galoshes on over his regular shoes.

    As soon as the door swung open in response to his knock, Hank emptied the clip into his archrival. He was surprised by the sharp crack produced by the exploding gunpowder; afterwards he experienced some ringing in his ears, but that was a small temporary price to pay for the millions he stood to gain by his becoming the sole proprietor of the company.

    Before he climbed back into the car to start on the forty-mile return trip to his cabin, Hank tossed the empty pistol into a snow bank. He waited until he was in the driver’s seat before removing his galoshes. The fingertips of his leather-faced driving gloves might get scratched by the metal buckles of the overshoes, but no incriminating thread would be snagged.

    Most of the return trip was uneventful. Since he had plenty of time, Hank drove within the speed limit. He also complied with the state’s seatbelt law. Other than those two concessions to safety, he paid only minimal attention to his driving. He was, after all, in a persistent state of euphoria.

    While he was gloating over his recent accomplishment, Mother Nature threw him a curve. The patch of black ice caught Hank completely off guard. By the time he remembered to turn into the skid, the car had already left the blacktop and was careening down a steep bank. The cracking of ice-laden, broom-handle-sized shrubs giving way to the car’s sturdy front bumper reminded him of another sound he’d heard less than an hour earlier that evening. Passing through the thick brush slowed down the car considerably. The vehicle suffered negligible damage and came to rest a short distance from the road.

    Hank was unharmed. There was no way, however, that he could get the car back onto the blacktop without assistance. After giving the matter some thought, he decided that didn’t really matter.

    His skis were in the backseat. He could go cross-country for the remaining five miles, or so, to his destination. First, he’d need to jog down the road a ways to keep from leaving a clear trail from the abandoned car to his cabin. He switched off the lights and shut off the engine.

    Before he could take any decisive action, there was a tap on the driver’s side window. Hank looked up. A bright light shone in his face.

    Are you all right, Mister?

    Hank rolled down the window partway. I’m okay. Could y’all get that light out of my eyes, please? He spoke with what he considered to be a passable good-ole-boy’s accent. The same one he’d used when paying

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