Memoirs of a Monster Killer: Killing Forever Book 1
Page 1
Contents
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
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
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Author Notes
About the Author
MEMOIRS
OF A
MONSTER
KILLER
Killing Forever
Book 1
By David J. Phifer
Memoirs of a Monster Killer is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, events, incidents, and businesses are products of the author’s messed-up imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, event, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Memoirs of a Monster Killer
Killing Forever Series Book 1
The Forever People Paradox™ Saga
By David J. Phifer
Copyright© 2021 by David J. Phifer/Mod City Media, LLC
Published in the United States by Mod City Media, LLC.
All rights reserved. This book contains material protected under International and Federal Copyright and Trademark Laws and Treaties. An unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system (including teleportational or cloning technology from the future, alien worlds, or parallel dimensions) without express written permission from the author or publisher.
For behind-the-scenes art, videos, and cool other stuff, please check out davidjphifermedia.com where you can join the reader team and be part of the supernatural awesomeness.
I dedicate this book to all of you
who have big dreams and take the action to achieve them,
no matter how many failures, doubts, twists, or turns;
no matter how long it takes or how many people call you
a fool for not conforming to the world’s standard.
To all of you daring enough to live
by your own north star who have decided to create
something spectacular in your life…or die trying.
No matter what.
Thank you for being outstanding.
Chapter 1
Before the Big Game
They were all going to die.
These abominations. These mistakes of mother nature. Call them what you will, I was going to kill every last one.
Demons, ghouls, werewolves, even the dozen hideous variations of the undead. Every kind of monster you ever heard of, nothing compares to the savagery of Forever People. Most evil beings kill without mercy. Often, for fun. But Forevers? Their very existence requires the suffering of innocent men, women, and children just to survive.
Even after all these years, these evil sons of bitches still made my skin crawl.
These supernatural dickheads can literally tear their victim’s souls from Heaven. Some things in this forsaken world should be sacred. But these creatures are God’s great mistake. His dirty little secret. A paradox of this world. A cosmic fluke of chaos and destruction. There’s a reason they aren’t mentioned in the Bible.
God didn’t allow it.
He probably thought they would simply fade away if He forgot about them. Disappear into the wilderness of the forgotten. I wish they would. Then maybe I could stop tripping over the hallowed-out bodies of their victims every two seconds.
The Almighty is a child with omnipotent power and here I am cleaning up after Him. No matter which way I looked at at, I always came to the same conclusion—
God is a cosmic dick hole.
Standing outside the cabin, preparing for the raid, I had to remind myself not to give these asshats the chance to breathe. That is, if they did breathe, which they don’t. A word of warning? Don’t be fooled. They may look human, but they’re monsters to the bone.
The moon was full and bright. It lit up the woods like a flashlight. The chill of the air tensed my muscles. I was ready for a fight.
I inhaled. The scent of wintergreen filled my lungs. Pine trees surrounded the area. A raven stared at me from a tree branch. In my line of work, when animals fixated on you, it was often a witch or Seer spying on you through the eyes of its pet. Maybe it was just my nerves, but it made me twitch and want to punch a baby in the face.
It could have been my paranoia, but paranoia has kept me alive long enough to still be kicking. Still be killing. And still be ornery.
I checked the ammo in my Smith & Wesson .500 Magnum. I loaded it only ten minutes ago. But paranoia has saved me more than once in my life. You never know when a pesky poltergeist will show up and move things around on you for the hell of it. It wouldn’t be the first time.
The gun’s a powerhouse. Good for hunting a T-Rex. Better if you need to explode a head or two. Hard to fire with one hand while running. It takes practice and muscle. Lucky for me, I have plenty of both.
I pulled out the Glock and put in a fresh clip. This beauty is better for accuracy and speed.
I holstered both guns. They weren’t the only hardware I had on me. I was an arsenal on two legs. I should have felt weighed down, but it’s become second nature. Some people feel naked without their cell phone. I feel naked without 30 lbs. of steel.
Forever People have a nasty habit of leaving the scene in the blink of an eye. That’s right, the fuckers could teleport. But I had a sneaky way of keeping them at the party.
I crouched to one knee and stuck the Nullifier in the ground behind the bushes. The Nullifier looks like a black garden LED light. You know, the row of landscape lights people put in their yard to light it up at night? It’s like that, except this thing doesn’t light up. Instead of a bulb inside, it has a piece of Ore, a rare mineral that keeps these creatures from teleporting away.
You could say it was their kryptonite.
The Ore in the device was large, but its reach didn’t go far. This contraption amplifies the Ore’s frequency twenty times its normal reach. In this case, it covered the entire cabin and kept them all inside. Trapped like the vermin they are.
Trapped with me.
When the device was in the ground, I switched it on and covered it with leaves. Luckily, night was on my side. No one would see it in the dark.
I pushed my duffel bag into the bushes. If this goddamn cabin wasn’t miles in the middle of Bum Fucking Egypt surrounded by miles of trees, I’d
have left it in the truck. But I’d need it later. It was full of goodies.
As often as I did this, I realized that any moment could be my last. You can’t be overconfident in this business. The day you get cocky is the day you get dead.
I drew my weapons. With a gun in each hand, it felt like the wild, wild west. At any moment, I’d be face up in a pine box on display to the world as photographers took photos of my corpse for the morning newspaper.
I pushed my ruby glasses up the bridge of my nose. They looked like John Lennon’s glasses in his heyday. But these weren’t reading glasses, mind you. The lenses were made out of a special glass that could see energy signatures. Specifically, those belonging to Forevers.
I can usually tell a monster when I see one, even if it’s disguised as a human. A million little things give it away, that is, if you know what to look for. But, allegedly, there may have been a time or two in my distant past when I put a bullet though a man’s heart that I mistook for a monster.
Allegedly.
And allegedly, it wasn’t too bad a loss. He was still an evil asshole.
With the glasses on, I peeked through the window. Their auras shined wild and bright.
They were monsters alright.
The aura didn’t actually belong to them though. It belonged to the dozens of human souls they’ve absorbed.
See? I told you they were evil fuckers.
I surveyed the room through the window. There were seven of them. Three sitting at the table on the right playing cards. Two on the left, one crouched counting money in a bag. The standing one looked like Lurch From The Addams Family. The other one was short with dark slicked back hair. Reminded me of Napoleon.
The card players were a motley crew. One had long blond hair. Looked like a rocker. His name would be Axl.
Another one was a meathead. Huge power-lifter type. Had mountains for muscles. Let’s call him Arnold.
The other one was a hick. Billy Bob.
On the far right on the couch, with their eyes glued to the boob tube watching old Bugs Bunny cartoons, were two more. Tom and Jerry.
Their minds were numbed by the television. They were downing whiskey like it was 1999. That would make them slow and sluggish. They’d be the first to go.
Easy targets.
As I pulled from the window, my reflection stared back at me. When did the pepper drain from my salt & pepper hair?
Damn, I was old.
I dropped the glasses in my duffel bag and rehearsed the scenario in my head. I reviewed it so much in my mind’s eye that by the time I did it for real, it was practically muscle memory. Pure instinct. Automatic.
It was time to crash the party.
My stomach churned. After all this time, I still got butterflies.
If you have a weak stomach, you might want to close your eyes. It was about to get bloody.
I pulled back the hammers.
Took a deep breath.
And kicked open the door.
Chapter 2
Miracles and Monsters
The cabin door splintered as it burst open, sounding like a civil war canon. It got the monsters’ attention. Seven pairs of glowing red eyes all turned on me. My racing heartbeat dropped to a steady rhythm that matched the scene. As automatically as breathing, my body hit all the beats.
My hands gripped the pistols like instruments. They practically shot themselves.
Since two of the jokers were watching television and smoking cigars, taking out Tom and Jerry were easy. A bullet in the head for each of ‘em. My ammo was laced with toxin that kept these supernatural pricks immobilized. Otherwise, the bullets wouldn’t do shit but piss them off.
Even a shot to the head.
These asshats take a lot for granted. They’ve probably killed more monster hunters than I can count. Most hunters don’t even know about these creatures. And when they find out, it’s too late. Lights out for the hunter.
Forever People are the mystery monsters in the hunter’s closet. Many have heard of them in whispers. In campfire stories. About creatures that may look human, but can eat your soul and disappear in a blink. They are the things that go bump in the night, that make children disappear in a moment. They’ve become the modern-day boogeyman to even the most dangerous of hunters.
People in this profession have a short shelf life. If you don’t know what you’re dealing with, you might as well put a bullet in your own thick skull. If you don’t, something much worse will come your way.
When it comes to Forevers, even the most seasoned hunter is a newly-trained recruit. But I’m no rookie. I’m a specialist. A serial killer of the supernatural. They’ve heard of me in their circles.
In whispers.
Around campfires.
Tonight, I’m the monster in their closet. Tonight—
I’m the goddamn boogeyman.
With the Glock, I took the two on the left. I hit Lurch first. Before he crashed, Napoleon was already down. Less than two seconds. Both shots to the heart. It wouldn’t kill them, but it would keep them down long enough for me to finish this.
With the Smith & Wesson in my right hand, I nailed Big Arnold in the chest, blowing him over the oak table. As Axl jumped to his feet, I fired. His head exploded in an orgy of blood and brains.
When their heads explode, you can be rest assured these dickweasels ain’t coming back.
A brilliant array of lights surrounded Billy Bob as he tried to teleport away. For some reason, he no longer liked the party. But thanks to the Ore I placed outside, he wasn’t going anywhere.
When the lights disappeared, he was still in the cabin. And scared as hell. He tripped on his own feet and went face first into the floor. As he got up, the 50 caliber bullet ripped through his neck, severing his head.
Did you think this wasn’t going to get bloody? I’m killing monsters here. If you want that censored G-rated shit, go watch Muppets on Ice. This is my life. You either get used to it or take a dirt nap. There’s no in-between.
I have to admit, I had the advantage here. Forevers usually don’t use guns. They prefer knives. Since they’re all psychopaths, they like to carve things up. Watch them bleed. The rest of them rely too much on their powers. Which makes my job easier.
Six down. One to go.
Already healed from the chest wound, Arnold got to his feet and charged me. I blew out his kneecap. He crashed into the floor at top speed.
CRACK!
His neck snapped.
His head twisted around, but he kept the momentum, tumbling past me until he hit the wall.
Remember Billy Bob, the one I hit in the neck? He was in the corner, holding his throat, trying to keep his esophagus from falling out.
His neck was healing fast, stitching itself back together.
THWIPP. THWIIP. THWIIIP.
His neck was almost healed. Damn, I could have sworn it was severed.
You’re getting sloppy, Ivy.
A teenager walked from around the corner holding a dinner tray. A pretty redheaded girl with a face much too fresh to be living in a house full of monsters. When I saw the look in her eye, I knew she was human. She was either their prisoner or —
She helped them track and feed on humans.
When she saw me, her eyes got wide. She wore earbuds playing ACDC so loud I could hear Big Guns play like it was on surround sound. That’s why she didn’t hear the commotion.
From the floor, Billy Bob touched her leg. Her life force drained away. She dropped the tray. The dishes shattered. She turned bleach white as black veins pulsed under her skin. Her empty husk of a body crumpled to the floor.
She was dead.
I holstered the Glock and pulled out the machete, severing Billy Bob’s head for good.
Arnold was already back on his feet. He was relentless. Came at me when my back was turned. I spun around, put two bullets in his chest, but he kept coming.
He knocked the gun from my hand, grabbed my neck, and threw all 250 lbs of me across the
cabin like I was a lightweight. That’s 250 lbs. of muscle by the way, in case you were thinking I needed to lay off the Cheeto's.
I collided with the wall and rolled down a pile of cement blocks. As I landed, he was already on me.
He grabbed my throat and lifted me to the air. I was about to sever his arm with the machete, but he squeezed my hand. The bones cracked. I dropped the blade.
His eyes glowed amber. The asshole was trying to drain my life force. A few seconds passed before he realized I couldn’t be drained. That was all the time I needed.
With my good hand, I whipped out my twelve-inch hunting knife and spiked it up through his jaw. The tip poked from the top of his skull. He crashed. Hard.
I fell to my knees, trying to catch my breath. There was a time I could do this without breaking a sweat.
I was definitely feeling my age.
All the monsters were down. Not dead. Just passed out from the pain, waiting for their bodies to heal. Which would take awhile thanks to the toxin. I also blessed the ammo with an ancient prayer just to be safe.
My bullets pack a punch.
I found the Magnum and holstered it. Grabbed my machete and picked up a chair, setting it upright. I plopped down, leaning on the machete handle like a cane.
I looked over the bodies at my feet. The room was decorated in red. What a fucking mess. It wasn’t pleasant, but sure was satisfying.
If the cops saw this, they’d think it was a homicide scene. But you can’t kill what was never alive to begin with.
I leaned back, closed my eyes, and inhaled. I could smell the blood. Forever Blood had a slightly different odor than humans. It had a bitter scent, compared to human blood, which was on the sweeter side. I’ve been at this game for over thirty years. It’s taken me that long to tell the difference.
BAM!
A bullet grazed my shoulder. I opened my eyes, somersaulting forward, aiming the Glock as I turned around.
Lurch was awake and held a Sig Sauer semi-automatic pistol. Army issue. Probably killed someone to get it.
I fired three bullets into his chest. He tried to run. I put another one in his calf. He spun around and fell, the Sig flying from his hand. I leapt on him and stuffed my Glock between his eyes.