Dread the Bunnyman

DREAD THE BUNNYMAN

Smashwords Edition

BY

THOMAS ROWE

Copyright 2019

Table of Contents

Dedication

Disclaimer

Before

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Afterward

From the Files

Behind the Mask

A Final Word

About the Author

Other Books

Contact the Author

DEDICATION

This book is dedicated to my father who is a great storyteller and helped introduce me to the fictional heroes of the past.

Disclaimer

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

The following is a work of fiction. Any similarity to places, organizations, or people living or dead is coincidental.

Dread the Bunnyman and all of the characters contained within the Ranger series are the exclusive property of Thomas Rowe. No content from these books can be copied for any reason or in any form without written permission from the author.

BEFORE

The evening air carried with it the sounds of merriment and music that floated out from the clubs that lined Quarter Street in downtown Arlandria. Men and women walked the sidewalks dressed for an evening on the town. Their thoughts were preoccupied with what the score of the game was, visions of whom they might meet, and how to keep the good times going during their brief escape from the daily grind. They did not notice how the world about them altered after 11:30PM. Young socialites and hipsters hustled into bars, clubs, and dives oblivious to anything outside of their small world.

The night brought out those that hid in dark corners: men and women that lived lives filled with foul intent. The alleys and hidden places were where they congregated. From their hiding places they watched honest people live and work. They wished their victims well. After all, their victims made them rich. It was in one of these crowded alleys that an ambulance sat parked. The ambulance was hidden at the far end of the alley and featured Arlandria City livery. The man that leaned against the back door was thin as a rail, balding, and dressed in a hospital orderly’s uniform. The man’s features were plain to the point of being generic. He changed his appearance to match his current job. With every job came a role he was to play; today he was dressed as an orderly. The man went by the street name of Chameleon. He was a conman that stole from hospitals, the elderly, and those that honestly needed the drugs his employers coveted. Chameleon watched the head of the alley nervously. The ambulance behind him was filled with boxes of hospital grade narcotics and opioids. His cargo was worth a small fortune on the street and was spoken for by the Constrictors.

Chameleon breathed a sigh of relief when a motorcycle hummed into the alley. The rider momentarily blinded Chameleon with the high beam headlight and only switched it off when he was convinced they were alone. The rider then parked the bike, dismounted, removed his helmet, and walked toward the faux orderly. The man was dressed in a biker’s jacket and pants. The left pocket on the black and gold leather jacket featured a crown with a snake wrapped around it. The man had Korean features and cold eyes that he used to study Chameleon and his ambulance. Recent attacks on his gang had forced the head of the Constrictors to work on the streets himself.

Wang was not the birth name of the gang leader. It was a title that he had given himself. In the language of his parents and grandparents, Wang was the word for king. That was just what Wang intended to be. Wang was a king to his gang, the opioid trade that he controlled completely, and members of his own community that he kept in line through fear, violence, and very few bribes. Wang hired very few outsiders to work for him. His idea of equal opportunity was hiring Chameleon, a con man that knew nothing about the rest of his operation. If he were caught there was very little he could tell the police. If Chameleon tried to double cross him they would cut him down and leave him lying in the street as a warning to others.

Wang, I got everything you wanted, the con artist called out.

I have your money right here, called Wang as he removed his backpack and held it where Chameleon could see it.

Chameleon opened the back doors of the ambulance revealing boxes filled with pain killers and exotic drugs. The same drugs that fueled the opioid crisis that was ravaging the nation filled the pockets of opportunistic criminals with cash that their victims spent in desperate search of the next high. Wang tossed the bag to his hireling and leaned inside to examine the contents of the ambulance while Chameleon greedily ripped open the backpack and gleefully examined the money that had been stuffed into it.

Wang, we should get outta here. The Ranger might find us. He been crushing us on the street, Chameleon urged after quickly zipping the bag shut and throwing it over his shoulder.

I’m not afraid. No one can push the Constrictors around. Not the Chinese, not the Italians, and especially not some freak in black. The others fell to the Ranger because they were not true soldiers. Do what you want, but my crew won’t hide, Wang called over his shoulder.

The gang leader’s bravado and boasts worked to silence the fears of those that worked for Wang but offered little comfort for himself. He had heard about how the spectral vigilante had hunted down many of his top enforcers. Hunted them was not a strong enough word to use when you described how the Ranger had tracked down the hardened gang members and left them broken men. Now Wang himself was working the street and taking the same chances that had proven to be the undoing of his minions. Wang smoothed back his dark hair and tried to act like there was nothing to worry about, but he desperately wanted to be off of the street.

A sudden crashing sound made Wang slam the doors and dive behind the ambulance. Glancing around the corner he discovered that his BMW motorcycle had fallen against the brick wall of the building he had parked closest to. He immediately assumed that Chameleon had bumped into his bike. With a look of annoyance he searched for Chameleon. He was gone. Wang climbed to his feet and stepped out into the open. He planned on finding Chameleon and teaching him what happened when you disrespect his bike. Seconds after stepping away from the ambulance Wang found Chameleon. With a look of terror Chameleon fell into Wang with enough force to send both men crashing to the ground. Wang attempted to draw his gun. An unknown attacker’s foot slammed into the gangster’s hand and ripped the automatic pistol out of his hand and then kicked it away from him. Wang flailed desperately as he watched his gun skid across the asphalt sending sparks flying.

Wang shoved Chameleon off of him and then froze in terror. A man clad in a broad black hat and long black coat towered over him. Wang strained desperately to see the stranger’s face. All he could find were two eyes that glared down at him. The man had no face. His face was hidden in the shadows and behind a black full face mask. Only the man’s eyes were visible. The eyes were cold blue and glared down on him. The man held a large black revolver and it was aimed at him.

No! You ain’t real! Wang muttered.

Am I a dream? Can a dream knock a gun from your hand? the stranger asked in a harsh and grim voice that sounded like death.

What do you want here? Wang sputtered as he cleared his throat.

I want the disease that you are spreading to stop. Tonight I will start with you and everything you hoped to sell, the voice hissed.

This is the property of the Constrictors, Wang protested.

No. It is the property of the city and the Great Falls nursing home. You cannot keep what is not yours. It will be returned and I will have both you and the puppet that you employed to dupe the hospital staff, the man in black continued.

Chameleon has a bag with thousands in it. Take the dough, take Cam too, and let me go. Wang motioned towards the backpack.

I don’t want money. A price has been set on both of you. A price that cannot be paid in cash. The cries of those that you have deprived and those that you have addicted have tipped the scales of justice and they must be balanced. Your very freedom will be the offering.

Without warning Chameleon sprang to his feet and attempted to run past the man in black. The man reached out and touched Chameleon. With a violent jerk Chameleon crumpled to the ground with a yelp. The man in black spun around and found Wang running to the head of the alley. The gang leader stopped and motioned toward a large black luxury SUV that sat parked at the curb.

Anacondas! Get over here! The Ranger thinks he’s gonna knock us over! he shouted.

Four ski mask clad men filed out of the SUV and raced into the alley. They followed Wang with guns drawn. They stood next to the motorcycle searching for the masked man in black. Chameleon lay on the street unconscious and the ambulance sat undisturbed. There was no sign of the Ranger.

Wang. Man, did you get spooked or something? one of the men spat.

Zip it! He’s here! He put the hex on Cam. Look at him.

Without warning the man in black appeared in front of the motorcycle. The masked man seemed to glow as he stood and glared at the gang. The thugs leveled their pistols on the masked man and fired. They continued to fire until they had emptied their magazines. The bullets passed through the Ranger and dug into the brick wall. Wang’s motorcycle was riddled with bullets as well. The bullets that did not stop in the wall or bike ricocheted off the wall and forced the goons to hit the ground. All the while, the Ranger stood unfazed by Wang’s underworld vanguard. After reloading, the thugs fired again until their pistols clicked harmlessly. Without warning, the Ranger vanished.

The Ranger had watched the motorcycle massacre from a nearby fire escape. When the thugs were out of bullets he switched off his decoy and jumped down onto the roof of the ambulance. His movements were cloaked by the gun smoke that lingered in the alley and the temporary deafness of the gunmen. The ambulance bounced slightly when he landed and it was not until he had taken a few steps before one of the gang spun around, spotted the vigilante, shrieked, and drew the attention of the others. The thugs quickly turned toward the ambulance and stood gawking.

Fools… Ranger hissed.

Take him! Wang shouted to the others.

We ain't got no more bullets! one of the goons replied.

We won't have no more 'til we knock over the delivery truck at Ace's Sporting Goods.

Cut him then. I don't care! Just stop him! I order you! Wang screeched frantically.

The thugs drew switch blades and approached the ambulance. When the Ranger did not join them on the ground they began to climb the metal box that made up the back of the vehicle. The Ranger glanced down at his steel gauntleted right hand, flicked his wrist, and sparks bounced between his fingers. The masked man then crouched and placed his right hand palm down on the roof of the ambulance. Electricity surged through the body of the vehicle. Protected by shielding, Ranger listened as the thugs cried out and fell to the ground stunned. He then climbed to his feet and looked down at the dazed criminals. Wang was not among them.

Wang streaked down the alley desperate to escape. He could rebuild his gang if he was free. The gang leader stumbled to a stop and doubled back when the Ranger appeared in front of him. His fear multiplied when he found himself face to face with the Ranger again. It was as if the Ranger was a spirit that could appear wherever he wanted. In a panic Wang attempted to hide in a stairwell that lead to a delivery entrance that was below street level.

So kind of you to join me! the Ranger’s voice boomed in a mocking laugh from the darkest part of the stairwell. With a shriek Wang raced up the stairs and hid behind several trash cans.

The sound of approaching sirens cut through the evening air. Wang wanted to flee but he was too terrified to move. Wang was the head of the Constrictors. He was the most feared man in the Korean community, and he was scared out of his mind. He watched as the Ranger slid down the side of the ambulance and walked toward him with his revolver drawn. How could you counter a force with so much power at his command? Wang threw a talisman made by a temple priest at the Ranger, but he did not stop. He crossed himself and faked prayer. Wang had nothing left. He simply sat and stared up at the Ranger dumbfounded.

You have finally found a place that you belong, Ranger mocked as he towered over Wang. Then with terrific speed the vigilante bound Wang hand and foot.

Paid in full, Ranger rasped after tying Wang to the rear bumper of the ambulance.

Without another word the Ranger turned and began to walk away. He leisurely reached into his pocket, retrieved a large silver coin, and flipped it into the air. The coin flashed as it flipped through the air end over end. It emitted a high pitched bell-like tone as it bounced off of the asphalt.

Minutes later police cars screeched to a halt at the head of the alley. Police officers jumped out of their cars with guns drawn and quickly secured the area. A woman with dark brunette hair emerged from an old Caprice and walked through the crime scene ignored by her fellow officers. The woman was in her 30’s and dressed in jacket, t-shirt, jeans, and tennis shoes. Her detectives badge was clipped to her belt and her hair betrayed the fact that she had hurriedly brushed it and bound it into a loose pony tail before answering the call. The woman’s dress and stride were carefully calculated to minimize the fact that she was a woman. The detective took in the crime scene as she walked. The Constrictors were one of the tougher gangs in the city. They controlled 80% of the drug trade in Northern Virginia, and all of it in Arlandria. There was only one man that could rip apart the Constrictors. It was her job to find that man and make sure that he did not meddle in police business.

The Detective found the Constrictors' ruthless leader tied to the bumper of an ambulance. The notorious drug lord appeared to actually be glad to see the police. In fact Wang was confessing to the drug robberies and begging for the police to return what had been stolen.

Officer, where are the EMT's that go with this ambulance? Britt asked the nearest policeman.

According to records this ambulance was stolen a month ago, he replied.

Something this big was missing for a month? she sniffed.

It got lost in paperwork before they noticed it missing, the officer shrugged.

Take the junk away! The Ranger won’t curse me then! Wang pleaded.

Must have suffered a nervous breakdown or be injecting some of his product, a sergeant commented as he watched Wang be freed from the bumper and then handcuffed.

Are you new to this beat? the lady detective inquired.

I just transferred here from Dumfries, the sergeant answered.

I’m Detective Brittani Grant with the Ranger crimes unit. The Ranger is no drug induced illusion, Britt replied.

You mean he is for real? The look of surprise on the sergeant's face matched the tone of his voice.

Britt was about to answer when the beam of her flashlight fell upon a silver object. It was a large coin. Britt put on a pair of gloves and then picked the coin up. The coin had the scales of justice engraved on it on both sides. Above the scales the phrase Paid in full was engraved. Britt stood up and dropped the coin into a plastic baggie and sealed it shut.

What is that? the sergeant inquired

The Ranger’s calling card, she answered.

That could have prints and all sorts of forensic evidence. That should make things easier, he interjected.

It’s a nice thought. Won’t happen though, Britt replied knowingly and then turned and walked away.

CHAPTER 1

The return of the Bunnyman was not proclaimed in the papers or heralded by the evening news. In fact, not many knew that he was real at all. The excited reports of children who claimed to have seen a giant rabbit wandering around with an axe were mostly ignored. Those that did pay attention to what the children said were seldom able to catch sight of the elusive axe rabbit themselves. It was not until a week later that there was any proof that the urban legend existed. Police had responded to a 911 call from a retirement community and were confronted with obliterated mailboxes, broken car windows, and elderly witnesses who were scared stiff. To the chagrin of the investigators on the scene the witnesses described a man in a rabbit costume with an axe. The man had moved quickly and used the fading evening light to his advantage.

A week later the Bunnyman struck again. He had invaded a house party, beheaded an ice sculpture, and then fled. This had been the axe rabbit’s boldest crime yet. However, investigators quickly learned that everyone at the party was under the influence of drugs or drink. None would make a reliable witness. They arrested five people for possession of narcotics, but the Bunnyman escaped.

<>

The Thatch Cider Works was the first orchard that motorists passed after entering Hawksbill County. The orchard had been owned by the Thatch family since the late 1800s. Thatch Cider was well known for its quality and taste. The family had expertly cared for the orchard and the cider works for many generations. During prohibition the cider had gone from being a hard drink to a soft drink. When prohibition had been repealed hard cider returned and the orchard continued selling soft cider as well. The family orchard and cider works had survived through hard times and prosperity. When the family received threatening letters, they laughed and then posted guards.

Aaron Thatch sat in the cab of his old GMC pick-up drinking coffee from a thermos decorated with a green and brown camouflage pattern. Aaron had drawn the shortest straw and had received the unwanted honor of patrolling the orchard and farm overnight. The digital clock on the dashboard reminded the solitary man that the time was only 1AM. Through the open windows the sounds of crickets and an occasional coyote howl invaded the cab. In an effort to conserve both fuel and the truck battery, Aaron had been turning the engine both on and off. This routine had been the only thing that had kept Aaron awake. With a sigh he leaned forward and reached for the key. In an instant Aaron heard something outside and then felt something slam into the side of his head and the world faded into darkness as he slumped forward and hit the steering wheel.

Outside of the driver's side door of the truck stood a man dressed in a bunny costume. The intruder was tall and had all of his features hidden by his furry guise. The costume itself was what you would expect to see in an Easter parade or at an amusement park. It was covered in white fur, crowned with two floppy ears, and was adorned with a colorful bowtie. The rabbit would have appeared harmless if the observer had not witnessed it ram its fist into the side of Aaron Thatch's head. The truck horn belched when its driver had fallen into the wheel. The rabbit froze, glanced around, flung the driver's side door open, yanked the unconscious man from behind the wheel, and then dropped him onto the ground. Aaron did not wake; he simply lay on the ground unconscious. The bunny then stepped over his victim, retrieved an axe from the bushes, and climbed behind the wheel of the truck.

<>

Moses Thatch was the head of the Thatch family and the owner of the Thatch Orchard. To most of his family he was simply known as Pap. Years of work on the orchard had kept Moses thin, and the trees had partly shielded him from the sun. Moses walked through the Cider Works dressed in jeans and a polo shirt. When he passed under one of the hanging lights his brown hair, thin face, and full beard were highlighted momentarily and then he plunged back into darkness.

The family patriarch climbed up a set of stairs to a catwalk that allowed workers to maintain the large machinery that turned apples into cider. Moses paused, rested his arms on the railing, and looked out over the silver kettles that made the hard cider. Another set of kettles took a portion of the cider and slow boiled the alcohol out of it. This was the brew that had carried the orchard through the age of prohibition. A series of hoppers and conveyor belts fed pressing machines that separated the juice that would be poured into the kettles. The orchard and cider works had come a long way and Pap knew it. Each generation of the family had left its mark on the orchard and had enriched the legacy that the next generation would inherit. The Thatch Orchard had survived Reconstruction, the Depression, and two World Wars. It would take more than an anonymous letter to undo the blood sweat and tears that the Thatch family had invested over the years.

The sound of a vehicle approaching caught Moses' attention. The sound was familiar. It was the sound of Aaron's pick-up. There was something wrong though. The truck sounded like it was running at highway speed.

Seconds later the red GMC crashed through the barn doors and slammed into the tank that held the finished cider. The truck ricocheted off of machinery and fishtailed on the cider that was gushing out of the ruptured tank. It finally sputtered to a stop when it struck one of the machines, flipped, and slid under one of the massive cider tanks that the collision had ruptured. Hundreds of gallons of cider gushed out and began to