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Wayne Greenough


If you read enough of Wayne Greenough’s  stories you might correctly assume he is a collector of comic book memorabilia, radio programs from the ‘40’s  and that he is a little around the bend and should wear a tight fitting white coat.  Yes, he should.

Email : waynegreenough@gmail.com

Website : http://www.waynegreenough.com

Erika

Written By: Wayne Greenough
Published By: Extasy Books
Heat Level:

Hawkins O’ Brien has a problem that must be solved before it possesses him forever.   One could...
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Hawkins O’ Brien has a problem that must be solved before it possesses him forever.
 
One could say that Hawkins O’Brien is a most unusual person. For seven years his dreams have been saturated with his love for Erika. Just who is Erika? Hawk can’t remember. Is she real, or just a dream? What will happen to change Hawk and everything in his life when he finds out?
Price: $4.99
Holiday Spirit

Written By: Wayne Greenough
Series: Thanet Blake Private Detective #3
Published By: Devine Destinies
Heat Level:

Thanet Blake is a hardboiled, no nonsense Private Eye—that is, except when it comes to children and holidays...

I looked beyond the shot glass full of rye, held tantalizingly close to my lips, and didn’t see anybody. When it occurred to me to look downward, I saw a cute, blue-eyed kid with a scared look on his face. He couldn’t have been older than seven, or maybe six months shy from eight. On his head, he sported a faded blue baseball cap that failed to cover his black curly hair. He was wearing a dark-blue heavy jacket, resembling a Navy coat, covering him down to his waist. The coat matched his black jeans and athletic shoes.

I put my rye down on my desk and smiled. “Yeah, I’m Thanet Blake. What’s your name?”

“I’m Jimmy MacWilliams. My dad talks about you lots of times. He told me where to find your office. And he was right.”

I sighed and hoped his father had the sense not to tell him the usual jokes about me. They aren’t the kind a little kid should hear. Why was this kid here to see me, anyway? And more importantly, why was he alone? This might be the season for good will toward others, but that didn’t mean there weren’t unscrupulous people waiting to take advantage of the innocent. Maybe someone was scamming me. Maybe the scammer sent an innocent kid—a kid who couldn’t possibly know the straight skinny of the deal—to set me up. Maybe I’m too cynical. It was time I found out immediately or, if possible, sooner. “Well hi there, Jimmy. Are your parents nearby?”

“Mom’s shopping at the big store about a block away. I told her I was going to see you.”

I concluded that his mother wouldn’t have heard him over the din of bargain hunters. “I’ll tell you what, Jimmy MacWilliams. If your mother doesn’t show up soon, we’ll go looking for her. What do you say to that?” At a brief nod of agreement, I asked the question that burned foremost in my mind. “Now, can you tell me why you left the safety of your mother’s side to come visit me?”

“My dad said you were a real cheap gumshoe. I want to hire you. Are you for hire, Mr. Blake?”

I looked hard at the kid. The expression on his face pleaded for me to say yes as tears welled in his big blue eyes. I’m a lollipop for tears. I wanted to cry myself—in sympathy, mind you. Yeah, this wasn’t a scam. Whatever was going down was on the up and up.

“Jimmy, before I can answer that, I’d like you to tell me what the trouble is.” There was something wrong with my voice. It didn’t sound hardboiled.

Tears streaked his face. His voice cracked with emotion. “Holiday Spirit is missing. He can’t be found by anybody.”

“Holiday Spirit, Jimmy? Is that your cat, a dog, or maybe a horse?”

Between heavy sobs Jimmy said, “No, Holiday Spirit is a man at our church. We love him, and now he’s gone.”

Finally, the name struck me. Holiday Spirit was the guy who always came to visit this city during November and December. Although I never had the pleasure of meeting him, I’d heard great things about him.

I directed Jimmy to sit down in my one and only chair for clients. Once Jimmy sat down, I walked to my mini-refrigerator, grabbed a can of soda pop, opened it, and handed it to him along with a box of tissues. He dried his tears, sipped a little, and slowly explained why Holiday Spirit was a special guy at church.

“He’s Santa Claus. He gives gifts to everybody. He makes everybody happy, and now, he’s disappeared. No one knows where he is, not even the police. I want you to find him, Mr. Blake. Please say you will.”

Thanet Blake is a hardboiled, no nonsense Private Eye—that is, except when it comes to children and holidays. Then, he falls to pieces. Wouldn’t you know it, it is Christmas time and a cute adorable, seven year-old boy enters Thanet’s office and asks for his help. Payment for Thanet’s services? One gumball. Yes, he’s a softy.
It seems a man named Holiday Spirit is missing. Holiday Spirit plays a real life Santa Clause…giving presents to everybody he comes across, both adults and children alike, If he can’t be found, there will be no Christmas celebration for countless people. Our favorite booze laden, cigarette smoking, clueless gumshoe sets out to find the man, all the while hoping he’ll be found alive and well.
Price: $2.99
Jennifer

Written By: Wayne Greenough
Series: Thanet Blake Private Detective #5
Published By: Devine Destinies
Heat Level:

If the police can’t help you, see Thanet Blake, Private Detective.   Jennifer has never phoned...

I ordered six bottles of Guinness Extra Stout and walked to Rumpott’s table. On my last beer, a man sat down across from me. His grin was an obnoxious triumphant smile as he put a Colt .32 automatic on the table. I stared at it. It was pointing in my direction.

“Beautiful weapon, isn’t it, a real collector’s item,” the guy whispered. “I took it from a lady who doesn’t have a need for it anymore. Thanet Blake, I’ve been looking for you. Finish your beer and then we’ll take a little walk in the alley behind this joint.”

His voice became Hollywood gangster deadly. It matched the deadliness of the weapon that was now in his right hand. I finished my beer.

In the alley, I sweated weight from my body while trying to keep from pissing my pants. I was scared, like I’d been scared only one other time in my life. I came out of that one with a whole skin. I doubted that I could this time.

In the shadows, his voice came to me. It was still deadly. “Before I make you into a morgue study, I want you to know that I’m the web guy responsible for your internet publicity. Did you like it?”

How do you talk when fear has made your mouth into a desert? You manage to croak. “Am I really worth ten thousand dollars, dead?”

“No! Your value is the cost of a bullet in your head. I cancelled The Thanet Arthur Blake contest. However, as I will not delete it, it will always be on the web. Think of all the dumb asses that will still come looking for you. How many do you think will visit your gravestone? I’ll do that you know, one time only. I’ll pour rye on your grave after I’ve strained it through my kidneys.”

I couldn’t control my bladder. It cut loose, forever wrecking my slacks. I thanked the wetness flowing down my legs for the anger that made me ask, “Why are you doing this?”

“For the memory of my brother, that’s why. You helped end his life.”

Who was his brother? Before I could ask, he began mumbling.

“Yes, my brother. Never mind that we always hated each other. He was my brother. He was family, and when family is murdered, you do something about it. This is my second time at gunning you. My old Forty-Five just sort of fell apart. Very sorry about botching the job, but this time you’re dead meat for certain. I’m using my new gun on you.”

In the dim light coming from the alley doorway of the watering hole, I caught the glint of the automatic as he moved it to where it was now pointing at my head. This was it. I said goodbye to the world.

If the police can’t help you, see Thanet Blake, Private Detective.
 
Jennifer has never phoned me until now. She said come at once and be careful about being followed. I broke the speed limit through the city’s usual traffic problem. The sound of her voice over my Ameche said she was in trouble. God, what was going to happen to her next? Her parents were murdered, and she was brutally raped. How could I protect her from further harm? How?
At Jennifer’s I found out things about her I didn’t know how to correct. She wished for revenge against men who raped and murdered women and I feared she meant to carry out that revenge in a deadly way. As for me, I’m plastered all over the Internet. Ten-thousand dollar reward for Thanet Blake, dead!
Price: $3.99
Knight Madigan

Written By: Wayne Greenough
Published By: Devine Destinies
Heat Level:

A time travel adventure from modern day Earth to a medieval Earth.   My name is Alexander Madigan. I...

My name is Alexander Madigan. I inherited a mansion that’s so old it might have been built before the thirteen colonies existed. I live all alone so I talk to myself and the twelve suits of armor standing in the mansion’s upstairs great hallway. In fact I had just said goodnight to them when right in front of me, so close it touched my toes, popped a thirteenth one. I swallowed down fear before I talked to it.

“I’m not really seeing you, am I? You’re nothing, only a case of loneliness tremors, or something akin to that. So do me a favor, just go away and right now.”

Of course it didn’t. It stayed and began changing colors, slowly at first, until it became a dark violet that radiated heat. Its helmet visor moved upward and two fiery eyes did things to my mind while staring through my skull and out its back end. A knife edge voice electrified the mansion’s air and raked my spine.

“At last we meet face to face.”

That was the beginning of my adventure that took me from modern day Earth and sent me through a dimension door to a medieval Earth.

An eye wink later, everything changed. I went sailing over the cliff and started falling through the air. Two miles below was the boulder-strewn ground. I twisted and turned in midair. Thoughts exploded in my head. How could this be? I was in the castle…In the castle!

The wind whistled around my falling body. It cooled my armor and hissed through my helmet. Below was my death.

Princess Rowena’s ship rested on clear, smooth water in the lagoon. I hoped she didn’t see me falling, or dying.

I fell so rapidly, my stomach felt like it was lodged in my mouth. I felt no fear, only sadness. I had failed to avenge Kadzal and Zerk’s deaths. This Earth would not be avenged, and Princess Rowena and her people would remain enslaved.

“Goodbye, my love. If it’s possible to come back, I will. I love you.”

A time travel adventure from modern day Earth to a medieval Earth.
 
My name is Alexander Madigan. I inherited a mansion that’s so old it might have been built before the thirteen colonies existed. I live all alone so I talk to myself and the twelve suits of armor standing in the mansion’s upstairs great hallway.
Price: $3.99
Marty Fisk

Written By: Wayne Greenough
Published By: Devine Destinies

It was the usual day in school until Marty saw something that put him in terrible danger.   Marty Fis...

Lack of money caused the school district to close down two schools. The one I am now in has no lunchroom which means we eat in the classroom. So when lunch period arrived we all left the room to wash our hands before we opened our lunches.

Everybody was talking like mad except me. I hunched over and chewed on my peanut butter sandwich. Time stood still until I saw something that made me doubt my senses.

Mason Dugan was slowly trying to peel a hardboiled egg and still have some left to eat. His face was all wrinkled up, and his eyes, in those thick bottle glass lenses he is forced to wear because of his poor eyesight, were really determined. After a minute a satisfied look crossed his face telling me the egg had been conquered. He reached for salt and pepper and began sprinkling the egg with a thick layer. At the same time Mr. Blu walked by his desk, sneezed and turned completely blue in the face. It was the brightest blue I have ever seen. I shook my head. I couldn’t have seen what I saw. Maybe my science fiction imagination was beginning to do strange things to me

It was the usual day in school until Marty saw something that put him in terrible danger.
 
Marty Fisk doesn’t like school. In the schoolroom he sits in the back row of desks and either falls asleep or writes about his heroes on his Smartphone. Who are his heroes? Well, there’s Captain Dan Dazzle of the Planet Patrol and Rik Reddi, the super secret agent from D.A.S.H.I.N.G. and possibly more.
Nothing seems to run smoothly for Marty. There’s his schoolteacher, Mr. Blu. Something is very strange about him, and it’s not the extra long sentences he enjoys giving to Marty. No it’s something else, and it’s up to Marty to discover everything there is to know about the mysterious Mr. Blu.
Price: $3.99
Mask

Written By: Wayne Greenough
Published By: Devine Destinies
Heat Level:

The new Marshal was sent to investigate the Dugay Mining Company and arrest the lady outlaw known as Mask. This wo...

The six dismounted.  In unison they separated until they stood four feet apart, became a straight line and took several steps forward.

Blake watched as Mask sized up the six.  She whispered.  “We’re in for a fight, Lawman.”

He whispered back, “Six to one aren’t good odds.  You don’t have a spare gun under your hat do you?”

“No, just the two .44s you see on my hips.  Besides, the odds are just great.”

“You can’t be serious.”

“Just you watch, lawman.”

The new Marshal was sent to investigate the Dugay Mining Company and arrest the lady outlaw known as Mask. This would be his toughest assignment seeing as how somebody drygulched him. A bullet in his back just might slow things up a bit. It might even change his mind.

Price: $1.99
Memorial Day

Written By: Wayne Greenough
Series: Thanet Blake Private Detective #4
Published By: Devine Destinies
Heat Level:

In trouble you can’t solve? See Thanet Blake, Private Detective.   All graveyards are sad. Moth...

It has been written many times, and verbalized a lot more often, that hardboiled detectives are cynical and old fashioned. They will take no live prisoners because they enjoy the sound of gunfire and the viewing of corpses. They believe in nothing because they have seen it all. In addition, what’s happening in the world around them makes them bone tired, weary, and stone-faced to where they never smile. A cloud of cigarette smoke is always surrounding them. They constantly booze on cheap liquor, are rough in speech and manner, and only by luck do they ever manage to solve their cases.

Every word in the above paragraph is true. I ought to know. I’m Private Detective Thanet Blake, and I’m sure as hell hardboiled in my attitude on life. My voice has a deep growl. Every word I say is slow, to the point, and reeks with danger. My face is overly rugged and has the appearance of a logging truck running over it.

In trouble you can’t solve? See Thanet Blake, Private Detective.
 
All graveyards are sad. Mother and I visit three of them to pay our respect to those who have gone on. But this graveyard is different. I keep hearing a male voice. No matter where I look I can’t see him. I’m cold sober.  I haven’t had a drink since last night. There’s the voice again. Who is it?  Why can’t I see the guy?
Price: $2.99
Morty's World

Written By: Wayne Greenough
Published By: Devine Destinies
Heat Level:

Who is the Watch Tower Kid at Nugent’s Corner?   Morty is a World War II kid living at Nugent&r...

“B-17,” exclaimed Edna.

“P-39,” shouted Morty.

Every boy in the audience roared with laughter. In front of a room crowded with schoolmates, Morty had just made an embarrassing mistake about identifying an airplane silhouette.

To increase his embarrassment, Wilson and David threw spitballs at him. Those obnoxiously wet projectiles struck his right ear and head, going unnoticed by Master Sergeant Crosman, who at the moment was rolling his eyes upward to the ceiling in an apparent attempt to remain calm and patient with the group of unruly children he had been ordered to train.

“Remember, Morty, a B-17 is a four engine bomber, while a P-39 is a single engine fighter plane. Now, look closely at the airplane silhouette and tell me how many engines you see.”

Morty squinted and tried to concentrate. All eyes were upon him. He looked at the sea of snickering faces and knew the boys were mocking him, hoping he would fail. His cousin Wilson and the bully David were usually mean to him. They thought he was a failure to start with—a hopeless case, as Wilson called him.

Not for Edna though. Brown-skinned and brown-eyed, she was the most beautiful girl in the whole world. Oh, how he loved her, so much so that when he had to talk to her at school, he didn’t know what to say. He always blushed and looked at his shoes.

“Count the engines, Morty. How many are there?” coaxed Master Sergeant Crosman.

Morty was so frightened he was certain he was going to have a bowel movement. He started to count aloud, which was another mistake.

“Uh, one, two, three…I see three, Sir,” he whispered, just loud enough for everybody to hear.

This time, the whole audience laughed and Morty tried to crawl under his chair, but there wasn’t enough room so he had to remain where he was at and take the taunts, the barbs, the unkind remarks from his fellow humans. Or were they human? Maybe they were the monstrous enemy to be stamped out like some disease. He felt tears coming to his eyes and he wished he was home listening to his beloved Atwater Kent Radio.

“Everybody makes mistakes,” Sergeant Crosman commented loudly above the teasing and laughing. “We made a terrible one at Pearl Harbor when we failed to identify the Japanese planes until they were bombing us.”

He squinted menacingly at the mess of kids in front of him before calmly saying, “Now, if any of you are perfect you may continue teasing Morty. If you are not perfect, then remain quiet.”

Silence reigned immediately, and for a full minute.

“Thank you. How many engines do you see, Morty?”

“Four,” Morty whispered.

“Great. Now, what is a war plane with four engines?”

“A bomber,” Morty shouted triumphantly.

“Right, Morty. Class is dismissed for the night. I will see you all in three days. In the meantime, memorize the airplane silhouettes you’re taking home.”

Who is the Watch Tower Kid at Nugent’s Corner?

 

Morty is a World War II kid living at Nugent’s Corner. He loves candy, soda pop, and ice cream. He can be sad, happy, afraid, and brave. During summer vacation he picks strawberries, raspberries and beans to earn money. All year he collects old scrap metal, rubber inner tubes, and tinfoil from cigarette packages and chewing gum to help the war effort. He knows how to identify airplanes and stands duty in a watchtower. That’s Morty, a typical kid that things happen to, and decisions have to be made.

Price: $3.99
My Angelina Mine

Written By: Wayne Greenough
Published By: Devine Destinies
Heat Level:

A science fiction romance through time and space. Dreyfus Shayne Templar is five centuries away from his true love...

 “Why do you keep repeating the same questions?”

The physician’s reply was calm, clinical, irritating. “Because it’s quite apparent something is bothering you. My ego isn’t so huge that I feel you’re just here to visit me.

Dreyfus forced a brief smile. “You wouldn’t understand what’s bothering me, Doctor Madison.”

“Try me and see whether I understand or not. I might end up giving you a surprise we would both enjoy.”

Dreyfus Templar eyed Doctor Madison for several seconds. Just what was the meaning of her last sentence? She was absolutely the loveliest woman he had ever had the pleasure of raking from head to toe with his eyes.

“All right, I feel like I have nothing to live for. I’ve always felt that way. I usually have a yearly physical from Doctor Bones, whom you said retired six months ago. You’re quite an improvement over that old geezer. Maybe you’ll discover I have a boredom virus. Actually, I can’t remember a time when I wasn’t bored. What do you think?”

Doctor Madison suppressed a smile. ”A boredom virus? There’s no such thing. I’m sure you know that. You of all people could find something or somebody that could stop the boredom you chronically suffering from. Who knows? Maybe all you need is a closer look to discover that right in front of you is the very person who would gladly give you the excitement you have been looking for, and possibly put an end to your so called boredom virus on a permanent basis.”

She moved within inches of Drey, so close he inhaled the scent of her mint-flavored lips. Her eyes were green pools of loveliness. They bored into his, became soul stealers, grabbers of secret information.

“Are you still working out in your gym, Dreyfus?”

“Yes, at least four times a week with a martial arts trainer, and for three hours each time. I’m also a member of Green’s Exercise Emporium. I work out there Saturday and Sunday.”

“So do I,” she said, “and on those very days in the evenings. I’m sorry we haven’t met before.”

“I’ve always gone there in the morning. However, I could switch to the evening.” Just to be with you.

“That would be very nice. Your physical workouts have given you a perfect body in perfect condition.” She smiled as if thinking about a private joke. “Tell me, Dreyfus, what more could you want?”

Drey sighed. “What more could I want? Well, how about everything? Or, maybe I want nothing more.”

I do want you, Angelina. I want you from now on, unto eternity and beyond.

Now the doctor sighed. Her lovely eyes grabbed more soul as her words became more serious. “Have you ever thought about suicide? I certainly hope you haven’t.”

A science fiction romance through time and space. Dreyfus Shayne Templar is five centuries away from his true love
Dreyfus Shayne Templar from 2013 is shanghaied to 2513 by a time crook named Merlin Krump. Drey’s mind is altered by Krump so that he knows he has a true love named Angelina. But where is she? How and when did he know her?
As time passes, Drey slowly begins to remember a few things about Angelina. But problems for him seem impossible to solve. He must escape from Krump and he must fight off space pirates. But his biggest challenge is meeting face to face Commander Alan Jharka of the Galaxy Patrol who is a fiction character created by Drey when he writes. So is Jharka real, or what?
Price: $4.99
Other Worlds, Other Universes

Written By: Wayne Greenough
Published By: Devine Destinies
Heat Level:

Eleven stories that will take you to Other Worlds and Other Universes.    In Decision Adam Cav...

The starship descended Earthward. She had seen many worlds, traveled the star-ways, a lonely piece of beautiful metal, sophisticated computers, electronic equipment and countless miles of wiring. She had kissed the universe and been generously pelted with stardust.

With a mighty roar that threatened to rent a jagged hole in the sky, her retro rockets vomited flame and thunder. Inside her impervious skin, Star Pilot Carter Rogers was coming home to the sweet smells of the seasons, the planet of his birth, a hero's welcome and the smiles of his fellow human beings.

The star ship landed. Her flame and thunder died. Minutes passed before and outer hatch opened. An elevator descended the star pilot to the cemented ground. Carter Rogers, handsome, tall in stature, deep tanned from the unfiltered rays of many stars, a man who had seen and experienced more than any other man in the history of Earth was home.

Something was wrong. The rocket launching and landing area was a nightmarish view of twisted, rusting piles of metal and crumbling buildings. Grass was growing up through the reinforced concrete runway. The spaceport was deserted, by its appearance unused by humans for countless years.

 

Eleven stories that will take you to Other Worlds and Other Universes.   

In Decision Adam Cavanaugh wants to become a published writer and a spaceman. Who is the man who tells him otherwise?
In The Door, Tyler Jones Grant is determined to open it. When he manages to do so the unexpected happens to him.
Forever Love tells the story of Willy’s love for Janice and Janice’s love for Willy. But when Willy becomes an Android what does Janice do?
Number Twelve and the Glorious Bastards have an ultimate battle that the Glorious Bastards must win.
Homecoming is about Star Pilot Carter Rogers landing back on Earth after being gone for many years.
In All that Glitters, Spider and McIntyre were certain they would become rich when they landed on the asteroid of pure gold.  
The Visitors. A Trainie and a Superior landed on their food supply world for a discussion.
Where Is That Asteroid? Gar Ragan and Sam Jockowich search for an uncharted asteroid named Sexsema.
Opus One Thousand Outwits the Devil. When Opus dies he doesn’t go up, he goes down to outwit the devil.
In Looky Loos on the Moon, Earth has had the ultimate war. What is left of the human race migrates to the domes on the Moon. Suicide is rampant among the survivors.
Who Or What is Abby? There isn’t anything Abby cannot do. She is called upon to meet with frog-like aliens from outer space who want to buy Earth’s junk. The question arises as to what the aliens consider to be junk.  It’s up to Abby to find out.
Price: $4.99
Quest

Written By: Wayne Greenough
Published By: Devine Destinies
Heat Level:

Six squires are sent forth to find a magical golden helmet. Among them is a squire named Justin who will have his...

“Gwendolyn, get behind me,” I commanded.

She did so. The soldiers began to slowly circle us until we were surrounded. They stopped and leered at us.

“Last chance, lass,” said the man facing me. “Come with us now, or after we’re through with you you’ll end up in the same shape as this swaddling pup of a squire.”

“I will end my life with my Justin,” Gwendolyn said using my name.

My desire to defend Gwendolyn, who I now realized, due to our dire situation, that I loved her with all my heart, did wonders to me. Anger gushed through my veins. I threw my normal caution aside and used words a brave knight would. “Six of you combined appear to be brave. Is there one of you that will come forth to taste the flavor of my sword?”

The talkative one charged forward.

Six squires are sent forth to find a magical golden helmet. Among them is a squire named Justin who will have his mettle tested.

Ah-h…King Arthur, Lancelot, Sir Percival, Sir Gawain, Sir Galahad, and dozens others. They are the names of legendary heroes, Knights of the Round Table.
Price: $3.99
Science Fiction From Out There

Written By: Wayne Greenough
Published By: Devine Destinies
Heat Level:

Here for your pleasure are six adventure stories shipped to you from a post office box somewhere in a remote corne...

An airbus thundered its noise to the night sky.

It landed and disgorged a passenger. Seconds later it lifted off to head for its next passenger drop off.

Silence returned to permeate the night with its unearthly sound and taste, until someone knocked on John Elwood’s door. He unlocked the door with an electronic key. When it swung open, shock electrified his body as the tall muscular man standing less than four feet from him came into view from the night’s darkness. He was Douglas. But it wasn’t possible for his son to be on the porch. Yet he was, with a pack on his back and holding a large leather bag in each hand.

The man spoke. “Oh God, dad, it’s been ten years. How are you and Mother?”

The leather bags dropped. Through a fog of disbelief John Elwood felt himself being grabbed and hugged. The man’s arms were herculean in strength.

He didn’t return the hug. Who was this man that looked and sounded like Douglas?

He broke loose from the stranger’s bear hug and shoved him away. “Who are you?” His voice was a knife-sharp demand that went unanswered.

John Elwood itched and sweated. The man looked puzzled and deeply hurt. “I said who are you? Tell me, or get off my porch.”

“I’m your son, Douglas. Dad, do you feel all right?”

Pressure throbbed in John Elwood’s head. Another of his frequent lightheaded spells. Thunder bolted through him. His mind raced. Struggle against it. Don’t be overcome.

“You can’t be my son. You can’t be.”

He saw the hurt on the man’s face deepen. It was the same boyish hurt Douglas used to show when he was in pain. How was that possible? It wasn’t. Unless…

Through a shock induced haze, John Elwood stumbled back a few steps. He turned to where he could glimpse the living room. His son sat on the davenport with Martha. And his son stood on the porch staring at him.

How? In the name of God, how?

“You can’t be Douglas. My son is sitting with his mother. He arrived two hours ago.”

The man who said he was Douglas turned white as he stepped around John Elwood to walk into the living room.

Martha was shocked into silence. Douglas wasn’t. He saw the other Douglas and said, “Good God. They’ve made a mistake.”

John Elwood joined the trio. The stranger who said he was Douglas took hold of his arm. “Dad, sit next to Mom. We have something to tell you.”

Douglas stood as John Elwood sat. “Somehow they made a mistake and processed two of us. We hoped you would never know. Now you have to. Shortly after the ship left the Orion System there was a reactor explosion. All seventy-five crew people perished. Your Douglas was among them.”

Martha sobbed and collapsed in John Elwood’s arms. Somehow, he used his voice. It sounded hollow. Not really his.

“You’re Synths.”

They nodded. “Yes, every deep Spacer has a copy of himself. We have an extremely high mortality rate that is usually kept from the public. Most of us prefer not to let our relatives know we’re dead.”

“Why aren’t you clones?”

“That was thought of. But you would have had a baby on your hands. When I left ten years ago, it was decided Mom and you were too old.”

“You would have been real. You know how I feel about Synths. One of them killed your aunt and uncle. Have you forgotten their brutal murder for the money in their pockets? Their lives were snuffed out for five credits.”

“He was caught, tried, and executed like a real person. We are real. We’re your son, an exact copy of him. We have all his thoughts and emotions. There isn’t anything he could accomplish that we can’t.”

Rage slashed John Elwood. Questions he already knew answers to roared from his mouth.

“Can you bleed? If so, is your blood red?”

“Yes, to both questions.”

“Can you feel pain like a real human?”

“Yes.”

“Can you grow old and die?”

“Yes.”

“Do you have a soul?”

“Yes.”

“How can you know that for certain?”

“The same way you know you have a soul.”

“Can you reproduce?”

“We have a cell bank enabling us to have children.”

“You have a sham. You’re as shoddy and artificial as modern day society. You’re liars. I don’t believe you can feel anything. You’re nothing but puppets without strings.”

Here for your pleasure are six adventure stories shipped to you from a post office box somewhere in a remote corner of the universe.
 
A word of caution about the stories written by someone who is using the name Wayne Greenough. You might wish to live them, which he might have done. It is up to you to decide whether he did or didn’t. If he did, then you can do the same thing for adventure is everywhere in the universe.
Price: $2.99
Stormy

Written By: Wayne Greenough
Published By: Devine Destinies
Heat Level:

A legend of space seeks Stormy. Stormy knows the Phantom of Space always rescues people in need of help. W...
A legend of space seeks Stormy.


Stormy knows the Phantom of Space always rescues people in need of help. Well, she can certainly pretend to have an emergency by fiddling with the marble-sized atomic pile in her scoutship. But things happen. The faked emergency becomes a real emergency. Her little ship is about to blow up. Where is the Phantom, the man she now knows she loves? Will he arrive in time to save her, or will she become nothing but star particles?

 
Price: $3.99
Thanet Blake

Written By: Wayne Greenough
Series: Thanet Blake Private Detective #7
Published By: Devine Destinies
Heat Level:

I avoid murder cases like I would avoid the plague. Unfortunately murder finds me and I have to deal with it. ...

Police Captain Sebastian Holt called me into headquarters. He put me on the payroll and ordered me to find out who offed the serial killer, barber, Stanley Sudowsky.

“Milk your squeals for info, find the bastard.”

“Okay, Holt, I’ll see what I can do. Fill me in on your suspects.”

“We have none, Blake. To be frank we know Jack shit nothing.  That’s why I called you in.”

Oh boy.

I avoid murder cases like I would avoid the plague. Unfortunately murder finds me and I have to deal with it.
 
Price: $1.99
The Aviary

Written By: Wayne Greenough
Published By: Devine Destinies
Heat Level:

Stacey Ryan and Jim Turner thought their latest scam was a lead pipe cinch for them. The Aviary proved otherwise.&...

“All right, Turner,” Stacey said as Turner poured him a third scotch. “Give me the skinny on your latest scam.”

“Okay. Six months ago and elderly man walked into my office. His name was Matthew Hamilton. He wanted to make out a will leaving all his money and worldly possessions to his niece, a one Doris Meadows, age twenty-seven, who was living with him at the time. Hamilton was a retired oil man, and Doris was his only next of kin.”

“Turner, you keep saying Hamilton was. What is he, a stiff?”

The lawyer laughed. “As usual, Stacey, you’re racing ahead of me. I didn’t think too much about that money at the time, as there was no possible way for me to latch on to it. Now there is a way. Hamilton has checked out, killed in a car wreck, two months ago. Doris Meadows has inherited everything.”

“Okay,” Stacey said before sipping his whiskey and grabbing a second cigar. “So how do we get Doris Meadows’ money?”

“That’s simple, Stacey. You’re going to marry the gal.”

Startled, Ryan swore and coughed. “I’ll be damned if I’ll marry the Meadows dame. Has your brain gone around the bend? That won’t get us her money until she dies.”

“That’s right, my boy, until she dies,” repeated Turner.

“Now wait a minute. You’re surely not thinking of murder, are you?”

Stacey Ryan and Jim Turner thought their latest scam was a lead pipe cinch for them. The Aviary proved otherwise.      
Doris Meadows had twelve million dollars, a mansion, a bird aviary, and a very bad heart. All Stacey Ryan had to do was to marry her and wait for her heart to give out. It was all very simple. Or was it?
Price: $1.59
The Boa Murders

Written By: Wayne Greenough
Series: Thanet Blake Private Detective #6
Published By: Devine Destinies
Heat Level:

I’m Thanet Blake, Private Detective. Ladies, if your husband is sniffing somebody else’s panties besid...

I heard the shots, three of them, far back in the alley. I stopped at its entrance and did some thinking. My body did not need a new hole. Whoever was doing the shooting surely had more bullets. I’m a big target. But maybe it’s the serial killer. He used a gun on Malone. Come on, Blake, act like a bullet, go once more into the gun barrel.

I crept into the alley with my bowels roaring, feeling the icy clamminess of its right wall with my right hand for stability. Stygian darkness surrounded me, invaded my body, my soul, my nerve. A little man inside me hollered, “Don’t be stupid. Run the hell out of here.” I told the sonofabitch to shut up. Seconds dragged into minutes before I stumbled over something that groaned. I knelt and felt a human body.

Knowing I would become the impossible target to miss, I snapped on my pen flashlight. I needed to know who was down. I didn’t count on there being three bodies. Seconds later I knew that Jiggers Davis was dead, Pack Rat Louie was dead, and Jokester Jones was dying.

“Blake, is that you…?”

“Yeah, Jokester, it’s me.”

“Good…I’m buying the farm…aren’t I…?”

“Yeah…”

“My brothers…?”

“They’ve gone on ahead of you…Jokester…Can you tell me who did this to you…”

“No. The bastard never gave us a chance…Never thought you’d know the answer to my joke…”

“Gum, Jokester, gum…”

I don’t think he heard me. I put him down next to his brothers. As I stood I heard a voice. The killer was still in the alley.

“You’re next, Blake.”

I’m Thanet Blake, Private Detective. Ladies, if your husband is sniffing somebody else’s panties besides yours, come and see me. Men, if you discover briefs in the laundry and you wear boxers, come and see me. I deal in sleaze.
 
One look at the two teenagers told me they were scared as much as humans can be and with good reason. They were wearing scarlet Boas, a symbol for a certain group of streetwalkers who were being murdered by a maniac the police hadn’t been able to nab. They introduced themselves as Doris and Maisie and asked me for help. I said I would. But how? The police had zero information on the killer. That meant I was on my own.
Price: $2.99
The Children Chronicles

Written By: Wayne Greenough
Published By: Devine Destinies

Here are stories about eight young people with problems that must be solved.  Do they succeed or fail?

 “Petey, I’ve got to find a wild animal,” he said. “The guys might not let me stay in the club if I don’t.”

Tears began showing in Joey’s eyes. I really felt sorry for the little guy. I sighed and said the first dumb thing that came to my mind. “A spider is a wild animal. The next one Elf catches in our backroom we’ll just put it in a jar.”

Joey frowned. “No. Elf smashes them up too badly.”

I nodded. “Yeah, you’re right. How about an ant? Ants come into the house and Elf just stares at them. They would be easy to catch.”

Joey shook his head. “No. Mike and Murray don’t like ants. Neither does David.”

“Worms? How about flies, Joey?”

“No!”

I sighed. “Look, Joey, let me think about this until tomorrow. Okay?”

“Okay.”

 

* * * *

 

That was it, until real early in the next morning.

It started as a soft noise coming from the kitchen. I rolled over in bed and pretended I didn’t hear anything. “Go away,” I mumbled. “Let me sleep.”

Of course, it didn’t happen that way.

More noise. Somebody was running.

A cat meowed.

Elf!

“What have you got there?” asked a voice.

Joey!

I turned on a light and looked at my watch…three in the morning.

I put on my jeans and headed for the kitchen. Joey was standing in the dark holding a shining flashlight in his right hand.

“Joey, what are you doing?” I asked in between a big yawn.

He whispered, “I couldn’t sleep. So, I decided to play with Elf. I caught him staring at a mouse. It ran behind the stove when it saw me. Petey, I’ve got to catch him.”

For a second, I wondered why Elf hadn’t caught the mouse. Then I remembered Elf was a house cat that had never seen a mouse until this morning. He wouldn’t know about catching them.

I looked at the stove. “Are you sure this is where the mouse is hiding?” I whispered to Joey.

Joey nodded.

“Okay. Wait here.”

I quietly zoomed back to my room. A year ago, I had goldfish. Now, all I had was their plastic bowl. It would be a nice home for a mouse.

Back in the kitchen, I handed the bowl to Joey and took his flashlight. “Now, listen carefully,” I said. “Grab Elf and hang on to him. When I pull the stove away from the wall, you move fast. Maybe you and Elf will scare the mouse so badly it can’t move. If that happens, catch him in the goldfish bowl.

I moved the stove and pointed the flashlight.

Joey ran.

“I got him! I got the mouse!

Here are stories about eight young people with problems that must be solved.  Do they succeed or fail?
Price: $3.99
The Equus Mars Mission

Written By: Wayne Greenough
Published By: Devine Destinies

The Ferguson Murder

Written By: Wayne Greenough
Series: Thanet Blake Private Detective #1
Published By: Devine Destinies
Heat Level:

If you’re deep in sleaze, see Thanet Blake, Private Detective.     The standard privat...

The sign is right. It’s a mean world full of mean mindless people. Okay, so I don’t understand the human race, we do seem to be a commodity of no value. Everywhere, people are killing people and nobody seems to care enough to stop the continuous slaughter. A year ago, the world situation became too much for me. I unhooked the cable from my television and told the cable company to cancel my subscription. I stopped reading newspapers. I do my damndest to hide from reality. However, because my body demands food, drink, and cigarettes, I have an occupation.

I’m Thanet Blake, Private Detective, and like every shamus, dick, peeper, whatever you might want to call me, I have memories, some good, some not so good, and some damned scary.

It was Wednesday, my birthday. I had become officially thirty-five years old when my wall clock chimed three times. I was very busy sucking on a rye bottle, smoking my favorite brand and singing, If the ocean were whiskey and I was a duck, I would dive to the bottom and never come up. I couldn’t remember the rest of the song so I sang happy-birthday-to-me and mumbled, “To hell with the murderous human race. Give me the isolation of an asteroid miner.”

She didn’t walk into my office. She appeared right after the air became electrified. In the movies, all blondes are goddess-lovely and have green eyes that hypnotize your soul. The vision smiling in my direction had both of those highly desirable qualities. I eyeballed the designer jeans molded to a figure that would cause a century old man to shed eight decades, a T-shirt that hid nothing, and athletic shoes. In addition, I did wonder about my soul.

“Are you Thanet Arthur Blake, the Private Investigator?”

Her voice was husky and sensuous, one you could listen to all day, and hardly wait to hear her say spend the night with me. It could launch ships, melt steel, and talk me into anything. I remember thinking that my friend, Police Officer Lieutenant Gilhoolie, usually pulled a gag on my birthday and this one was a real ripsnorter, a blonde and a private detective. The blonde would, of course, ask the detective to solve a desperate problem as her eyes batted seductively and her breasts bounced like two dribbling basketballs. I managed not to laugh. I couldn’t stop a wise-ass smile as I decided to play along with Gilhoolie’s birthday gag.

“Yeah, I’m Blake,” I said and accidentally belched a rye. “The sign on the door should say so unless my landlord changed it. He does that when I haven’t paid the rent, which is this month. Then I become Lousy Deadbeat Private Dickhead.”

She gave me a bewildered look, brushed the dust from the chair in front of my desk, and sat down. “I want to hire you,” she said.

This time, I couldn’t stop my laughter before saying, “You’re good, lady. Where did Lieutenant Gilhoolie rent you?” She opened her mouth to speak. I raised my right hand and said, “Say no more. I’m a year closer to old age today and in no mood for gags.”

She closed her mouth and I dialed police headquarters. The chain of command, starting at the bottom and working upward, stalled for about two minutes before I finally got whom I wanted.

“Happy Birthday, Thanet.”

“Yeah,” I said. “I’m sitting at my desk and staring at the birthday present you sent me. How come she didn’t pop out of a cake? And where are the chains, the whips and leather outfit? It’s an old Hollywood formula, Gilhoolie, a gorgeous blonde hiring a downbeat dick to handle a desperate problem that only he can solve. Anyway, she is quite a present and I thank you.”

Gilhoolie began laughing loud enough to vibrate down a brick building. It took him a full minute before he could talk.

“She’s a client, Thanet. However, if you want to make her into a present, go ahead. This year, I’m just sending you a birthday card.”

If you’re deep in sleaze, see Thanet Blake, Private Detective.
 
 
The standard private eye gimmick in Hollywood is to have a gorgeous blonde breathing minted mouth perfume at a downbeat detective as she asks him to handle a problem only he can solve.
Real detectives are never lucky enough to get that type of client. That is until now. And she’s standing in front of my desk. I’m Thanet Blake, Private Detective.
Price: $4.99
The Lorelei Murder

Written By: Wayne Greenough
Published By: Devine Destinies
Heat Level:

Shawn Michael MacTavish knows who killed his wife. However, the killer has a Titanium strong alibi in that he was...

“Well, Shawn Michael MacTavish, saw you blast off from the Academy and followed you here,” said Gatano, as he jerked Shawn Michael’s blaster from its holster. “And now we have you in our gun sights.”

“Who are you, mister? What do you want?”

“Names aren’t important. As to what we want, why your life, what else? Now march into the dunes. You, Shawn Michael are going to walk into the desert a short distance, take your blaster pistol from its holster and commit suicide.”

The situation was desperate. He had to keep the assassin talking. “Who hired you to kill me?”

“Nobody is going to kill you. I said you were committing suicide. Besides, what makes you think somebody hired me? Maybe I thought of this myself.”

Shawn Michael saw an opportunity to make a break for it, or at least go down fighting. If he could just get the thug to gun prod his back maybe he could whirl around, jerk the blaster from his hand, and fight his way out of the trap. It was a big if. What about the prodder’s four silent partners? Would his sudden move catch them off guard? Well, here goes nothing, time for an insulting comment.

“You had a thought? Don’t make me laugh. By your appearance you’re nothing but a brainless Neanderthal. Hell, a filthy space rat like you wouldn’t have brains enough to dodge oncoming asteroids unless you were told to do so by somebody who had more than an odd lump on his shoulders.”

Gatano yelled and jabbed him in the back. Shawn Michael twisted around, grabbed for Gatano’s blaster…

 

Shawn Michael MacTavish knows who killed his wife. However, the killer has a Titanium strong alibi in that he was on another planet when the murder occurred.
 
After spending seventeen months on Space Station Pluto, Ensign Shawn Michael MacTavish returned home to discover his wife, Lorelei Lunar, had been murdered. The guilty person was none other than Basil T. Huntington, who was a power unto himself. The people of one of his twelve planets stated he was on their world when Shawn Michael’s wife was being murdered. Facing an airtight alibi like that, how can MacTavish prove Huntington is guilty? Also, how can MacTavish stay alive when someone keeps trying to kill him? His problem is twofold, how to solve his wife’s murder and how to keep from being murdered.
Price: $3.99