Chadpocalypse 1:9

Here it is, the next chapter of Chadpocalypse. Moving along with this story, and just finished the outline for Whiteout’s sequel, Downpour. Might share a few chapters as I go through the rewrite in the coming months! For those who aren’t caught up on Chadpocalypse, links to previous chapters are below.

Part 1-2Part 3Part 4, Part 5Part 6, Part 7, Part 8

Remember, if you like what you read, share, like, and check out my GoFundMe Page!

1:9 Mega Church of the Universe

To say the building they pulled up in front of was an eyesore, would be to make an understatement of biblical proportions. While most of Midway had moved forward into the modern age, with tall buildings made of steel and glass, the Mega Church was the living, breathing embodiment of a 1980s telethon. The massive structure was constructed almost entirely of marble and adorned with various interpretations of cartoonish religious iconography. Its most prominent feature was a large cross that hung just above its entrance and rose high enough in the sky to inspire the neighboring CEOs in their penthouses to faith.

By the time Chad pulled into the thirty-minute parking spot, the car was well on its last legs. It appeared that the hellhound had done far more than just shatter the back window. Chad had not stopped to find out exactly what it was, but the sound of metal on concrete as they had been driving told him it wasn’t good.

“I thought I told you not to wreck this car.” It was the first time the priest had spoken since the attack.

“Ask God for a new one.” Chad stepped out of the car, feeling the need to run rising within him once more. The shaded downtown streets were noticeably cooler than the suburbs. The tall buildings blocked out the sun at its peak, leaving the streets to be dim and humid. Chad felt changed from the experience of witnessing Hell on earth, not devout mind you, but changed. It was as if he were seeing the world through a realistic lens for the first time in his life.

People passed looking oddly at the car and its passengers. Chad tried to give them a ‘shit happens’ smile, but it was half-hearted at best. His current predicament had gone so far beyond ‘shit happens’. Chad was preoccupied, scanning the skies for signs of more demons and trying not to descend into an all-out panic. Every passing glance made him nervous, and the feeling only intensified as the black-clad priest in the wide-brimmed hat stumbled out of the car, looking like something out of the Exorcist. His palms were still shaking as he struggled to walk steadily from a mixture of fear and drink.

“These people are going to tell me to take you to a shelter.”

“Shut up,” snapped the priest. His breath wafted into the hot summer air, fermented, and putrid.

“Jesus, take a mint or we’ll get directed to an AA meeting.”

The priest ignored him and steadied himself on the edge of his car, examining the damage. From the front of the vehicle, things didn’t look so bad. Chad decided to start moving before the priest was able to walk around the back.

Next to the parking spot was a small meter shaped like an old-fashioned donation tin. It read: Parking here is free, but the lord could always use a helping hand. Not wanting to anger the gods any more than he clearly already had, Chad dropped a few coins into the tin. The metallic bottom slid away, and the coins clanked down a long tube. A small drawing of a saint on thin paper popped out of a slot with: ‘Praise be to parking!’ Emblazoned in bold letters.

Chad had never donated to a church, and instantly felt like he had somehow been duped into it. A long flight of steps led up from street level and under the massive cross. Beneath it was an overhang lit by recessed lights, and beyond that, a set of stained glass doors. Stuck in the middle of the stairs was a tall gold statue of the church’s founder with a dedication plaque beneath it.

Chad didn’t recognize the man, but then again, he didn’t pay attention to much about downtown Midway unless it was a happy hour special. He walked up to the sign and read it.

Welcome to the Mega Church of the Universe, a building of faith and prayer for everyone. Spiritual enlightenment is just a few flights of stairs away, and if that’s too much, there’s an elevator at the 5th street entrance. Praise be, and welcome. There was an engraved signature below the message, a fine cursive reading: Chris Schaefer, Grand Priest.

“Seems pretty blasphemous.” Chad looked the gold statue up and down. “Isn’t there something about false idols in the bible?”

“Yes, there is,” admitted the priest. “But the laypeople don’t care much so long as there’s a quick and simple way to ease their spiritual guilt.”

Chad nodded. “So, there’s a lot of priests in there right?”

The priest looked confused. “It is a church, so yes.”

“It’s going to be a little confusing calling you Father all the time.” Drawing the attention of more priests than they intended felt like a consequence Chad wanted to avoid. “You have a name you go by that’s any less biblical?”

The priest sighed, as if sharing his name with Chad was something he would have rather avoided. “Call me Joe,” he said at last.

“Joe?”

“Yes, just Joe, now stop with the questions. We need to get off the streets. We should be safe in there, blasphemous as it is.”

Chad thought he saw a smile briefly cross Joe’s lips, but in the same instant, it was gone. “Well, if enlightenment is just up these stairs, then maybe this whole hell on earth thing won’t be as hard as we thought.”

“We should be so lucky.” The priest straightened his hat and walked up the steps.

Chad followed him, and while hating the building’s aesthetic, felt none of the usual reservations about entering a church. To some extent, it didn’t feel like a church at all, and more of just a walking advertisement for faith. That at least he could understand the motivations behind. It was the blind devotion that made him uncomfortable.

When they stepped into the building, chills prickled across Chad’s skin, not from holy power, but from an incredibly strong air conditioning system that likely cost a fortune. Midway in the summer was pretty close to Hell as far as heat went, and most buildings couldn’t afford to fight it. The entryway to the Mega Church was practically an icebox. Adding to the opulence, white marble spread out floor to ceiling before Chad. Long lines of black stone were inlayed in the surface forming intricate patterns. Several television screens hung from a vaulted ceiling, detailing various services that were being held throughout the building. They ranged in price from a cheap $10 sermon, all the way to a $10,000 workshop on obtaining the divine peace of mind, taught by a foreign mystic.

“This is where we’re going to find someone who studies the dark arts?”

“There’s more to it than the glitz and the glamour you see here.” Joe turned to lead Chad up a flight of stairs, but they were accosted by a welcoming man in brightly colored robes and a pointed had. He looked like a technicolor pope, and in his right hand, he held a balanced tray dotted with little white pills.

“Welcome, welcome, welcome,” said the buoyant priest. His voice rose and fell like it were a passenger on an uncommonly rough, but pleasant sea. Chad thought he looked fresh from a hippie commune, and had no place in the priesthood.

“Not interested,” muttered Joe, waving a hand at the man.

The buoyant priest recoiled slightly, smelling Joe’s breath, and taking offense at his dismissal. “Welcome to the Mega Church of the Universe,” said the priest, hopefully, as if starting again might change the outcome.

“Sorry, we’re here for the Alternative Teachings of God,” said Joe.

The man in the multi-colored robes looked disappointed. “Ah yes, the Alternative Teachings. They’re a good group…” He didn’t sound entirely convinced of it. “But they can be a bit of a downer.” He trailed off, and then remembered the tray in his hand. “Can I interest you in some mescaline?” His eyes brightened as if he had completely forgotten about the tray’s contents until that very moment.

“I’m sorry?” stumbled Chad, suddenly alert. “Aren’t you supposed to be a priest?” Ordinarily he was not in the position of turning down drugs, but there was something about taking them from a priest that just felt wrong.

“You try being one without it.” The priest grabbed one of the little pills delicately between thumb and forefinger, and popped it into his mouth. He gave Chad a knowing wink and proffered the tray to him. “Come on, they won’t bite.”

Chad looked to Joe who was already beginning to shake his head in disapproval.

Joe shrugged. “Not my church, not my rules.”

“It would be rude not to,” Chad said.

“But I’d advise against it, given your current predicament.”

Chad could not think of a better time to have his mind erased by powerful drugs. Their predicament continued to move from bad to worse, and a drug trip would at least stall it. Chad grabbed a pill from the tray and was about to swallow it when he thought better of it. “We’ll make this one for the road.” He smiled at the priest and pocketed the pill.

“Maybe you can bring it to one of our services later.” The priest grinned. “The high priest will bring out the best trip you’ve ever had.” The technicolor priest turned to Joe and offered him the plate. “And how about you?” It was a feeble attempt, as he already knew the answer.

“No, thank you. I’ll stick to prayer and penitence, thanks.”

“You Catholics and your penitence.” The priest shrugged and walked away. As he did so, Chad thought he heard him mutter ‘square’, but couldn’t be entirely sure.

“I would suggest throwing that pill away,” said Joe.

“A wise man never turns down free drugs.”

“A wise man doesn’t bake his brain with chemicals when he’s being pursued by the minions of Hell…”

Chad shrugged. “Seems like as good a time as any.”

The priest looked at Chad as if considering admonishment, but then slackened. “Let’s go find the Alternative Teachings Church. If I remember correctly, they’re on the top floor.” Joe looked around the lobby, spied a sign pointing to an elevator bank and walked over to it.

Chad followed. The elevator bank was made up of a series of gold doors recessed into the marble walls. Above each door was a small, clocklike mechanism showing which floor the elevator was currently on. While Chad thought they were on the first floor, the mechanism clearly showed ten levels below them, as well as an extra thirty above them. “Just how big is this place?”

“Forty stories in total, each hosting its own form of religious expression. It’d be a paragon of tolerance if it wasn’t so focused on making a buck.” Joe pressed the elevator call button and a calming voice said, “While you wait for your carriage, consider making a donation in the box below.” On cue, a donation tin like the one that had been on the parking meter popped out from the wall. “Remember the generosity of god and take it into yourself.”

“Is everything an upsell?” asked Chad, feeling idiotic for putting coins into the machine earlier.

“Like I said, anything to ease the guilt of the masses.”

The donation tin remained extended even as the elevator door began to open. Chad walked into the carriage, trying to ignore it, but feeling its silent judgment.

Joe followed him in, and the doors slid shut behind him.

“Hi there,” beamed an annoyingly pious voice. “Where does your spiritual journey take you today?”

“The Alternative Teachings of God.”

“Super choice!” said the voice. “Going up!”

“Good lord, that’s annoying,” said Chad, feeling the return of his lost headache.

“The lord has nothing to do with it.” Joe straightened his overcoat nervously.

“How well do you know this friend?”

“It’s been a few years…” The priest inhaled deeply. “We haven’t talked much recently.” He said it quickly, as if it held no meaning.

Chad grew suspicious. Joe, like most priests was very clearly hiding something. “Old boyfriend?” he tried. He didn’t think it was true, but if it was, he was going to look like a genius.

Joe stared at Chad in annoyance. “Have you forgotten that I’m a priest?”

“Oh, don’t tell me you’re against homosexuality. So cliché.”

“And you’re the spitting image of tolerance. Priests can’t have relationships you nitwit. Regardless of gender.”

The elevator continued its languid pace upward.

“Alright,” said Chad, a little ashamed. “What is it then?”

The priest took another long breath. “They’ve been a little upset with me ever since…” Joe wrung his hands together.

“Oh, just spit it out.”

“Alright, fine. I excommunicated them for studying the dark arts.”

Chad’s mouth twisted into a sarcastic smile. “Great, he’s definitely going to help us then.”

“It’s certainly a gamble,” admitted Joe. “But let’s hope she will.”

As he said it, the elevator doors sprung open, revealing a massive arcane library, black shelves, and black-clad men and women moving between them. Skulls adorned the walls and torches burned in braziers at odd intervals, bathing the room in alternating firelight and pitch darkness.

“Well, this is welcoming.” Chad felt a sense of unease growing, and was thankful he hadn’t taken the pill. “But, seems like the right place to learn about the apocalypse…”

Chadpocalypse 1:8

Alright, logo is very much so still a work in progress, but I found a cool font online and wanted to use it (props to Woodcutter) For those who want to catch up, here’s links to previous chapters:

Part 1-2Part 3Part 4, Part 5Part 6, Part 7

Remember, if you like what you read, share, like, and check out my GoFundMe Page!

chadpocalypse

1:8 Hound on the Highway

As it turned out, the small library the priest kept behind his desk contained nothing more than lavishly printed bible verses and devout ramblings about faith. “There’s nothing here that’s going to help you,” he had said. “We’re going to need to visit an old friend of mine.” The priest prized the bottle from Chad’s hands sooner than he would have liked and took another mighty gulp.

“That friend wouldn’t happen to be Nick Ventner would it?”

The priest’s face went white as a sheet and he drank again. His eyes were beginning to look watery and far away. “I wouldn’t try to find Nick Ventner even if judgment were standing on the doorstep of my church and demanding his presence.” The priest spat on the floor and quickly made a corrective cross on his chest.

Chad wondered if it was a requirement for all priests to be closet drunks.

“No, we have no business with his kind.” The priest walked over to a coat closet concealed between two bookshelves and put on a long black coat, finding an equally black hat to match.

“Little somber, don’t you think, Father?” Chad stood, preparing to leave, noticing with a pang of sadness that the bottle they had been sharing was being safely concealed inside the desk once more.

“We’re going to speak to a man about the end of times.” The priest stiffened and straightened his coat. “If ever there was a time to wear black, it’s now.” With that, he hastily scribbled a note that said he was going out to visit a local church in need and would likely be back by the end of the day. The priest walked out of the room, pinned the note to a board that hung outside his office and walked away.

Chad had to hurry to catch up, surprised by the priest’s alacrity. He had expected some long-winded speech about how the end times were more of a metaphor than anything else. The fact that the priest was willing to help him was a shock, and unfortunately gave credence to the strange events that had befallen Chad over the past day. “Where exactly are we going?” he called to the priest. His voice echoed uncomfortably in the church halls as if being magnified for all the spirits to hear.

“There’s a church downtown that makes a point of cataloguing everything related to the faith, good or evil. I know a priest there who specializes in the works most churches would rather burn than shelve. He thinks it’s important to examine all sides of the coin.”

They walked out into sunlight which had become blazing. Heat shimmered off the cracked black pavement, and Chad began to sweat immediately. Jesus, what I wouldn’t give for some rain. It didn’t rain in Midway often, but when it did, the storms were sudden and severe. In the distance, he could see the scaffolding of the new high rises downtown. Their adverts had boasted they would be so high, it would feel like touching the sun. Chad had never understood the appeal.

The priest walked up to a battered sedan that looked like it had seen one too many fender benders and tossed Chad the keys. “You’re driving, I need to think.”

“Too drunk more like,” muttered Chad, wishing that he could have been the one sleeping it off in the passenger’s seat.

“What was that?” The priest’s words slurred slightly but conveyed an attempt at divine anger.

“Praise God and all that.” Chad made a mock prayer bow and walked around the front of the car, unlocking the doors as he went. Staring another drunk in the face took the persistence out of his want for drink. Pot maybe, but not a drink.

“That’s more like it.” The priest swung open the passenger door and slumped into the faded cloth seat.

Chad turned the keys in the ignition, listening to the car whine as he did so. It seemed like it wasn’t going to start, but after a few feeble attempts, the engine guttered to life. Chad pulled onto the road and drove toward the city, away from the steadily rising sun. “So where exactly are we going?”

The priest was resting his lined face on the hot glass of the car window and groaning slightly. “Mega Church of the Universe.” He grunted. “Terrible name, but they’ve got pretty much all the donations in the universe, so I suppose it’s appropriate.” He swallowed hard and let out a loud sigh. “Are you sure it was Hell you saw through the horseman’s portal?”

Chad thought back to the previous night trying his best to cut through the haze. It had been a particularly vicious bender. “Unless there’s another land of fire and brimstone lying just a portal away from ours.”

The priest nodded as if considering the possibility. “It’s divine providence that you stumbled into my church.”

“Divine coincidence more like. You just happen to be close to B’s diner.”

“The Lord does not make mistakes.” The priest reached for the glove compartment and pulled out a bottle of aspirin. “That right is only reserved for we mortals.”

Chad scoffed. “So, I suppose you think judgment day is some reckoning we’ve all come to deserve then? You religious types are all the same.”

“And you atheists are all so unique.” He laughed and gazed out the window at gas stations and broken-down buildings of South Midway. “We’re all a bunch of fuck ups kid, doesn’t matter what we believe in, but you’d be a fool to deny what your own eyes have seen.”

Chad pulled up to a stoplight. Waves of heat rose from the pavement, giving the city the appearance that it was already burning. He had to admit, if anywhere was due for judgment, it was probably Midway.

The priest followed Chad’s gaze. “The cities that reach the tallest have the most sin to hide. But, they look pretty while they do it.” He laughed, and slumped back against the window.

“Even if this hasn’t all been some wacky hallucination…” Chad hadn’t ruled the possibility out. Drugs were cheap in Midway, and anything could have been mixed in with the previous evening’s blackout. This was just another strange experience to the pile. “I’m still not sure if I fully believe it.”

As he said it, a red convertible blew through the red light next to him, careening into the intersection just as a semi-truck came barreling through it. The convertible exploded in an incredible fireball, spinning away like a child’s top and tossing the driver headlong into the pole supporting the traffic light. Chad saw a splash of red before he involuntarily closed his eyes. When he opened them, the man was gone, replaced by a red pulp coating the pole and the pavement beyond in two wide streaks. The semi-truck continued to barrel along its path, predestined and unhampered by the accident it had been in.

Chad was about to say something to the priest when a dark black shadow swooped down from the sky. Its form was impossible to make out as it seemed to be nothing more than an absence of light, sucking the image out of the world before them. A clawed hand reached out of the shape, plucking at the ground where a man had once been. A silvery wisp emerged from the concrete, kicking and clawing, trying to hold on. It was halfway to the form of a man, but faded in and out like the creature that held it.

Chad’s jaw dropped open as the shade let out a mighty cry and with a heavy beat of what sounded like leathery wings, it tore into the sky, clutching silvery light in its talons.

The priest shook in the passenger seat, eyes wide, mouth hung open. “I,” the priest started and then stopped. “I take back what I said earlier.”

“About what?”

“It would appear the divine have taken a day off from their work… You need to drive, quickly.”

Chad did not have to be told twice, he floored the car’s failing engine and chugged across the intersection at the highest speed it could muster. Sirens began to sound in the distance, no doubt paramedics coming to deal with the crash site. Chad’s mind was numb, still reeling, unable to comprehend what exactly it was that he had just seen.

The priest, after his momentary paralysis, had become paranoid, looking over the back edge of his seat in quick jagged motions. He continued this for several minutes, and then they were on the highway. “Shit,” he seethed. “I thought I told you to drive fast.

Chad had been practically flooring the car the whole time, but it struggled to climb above sixty. “It’s your car, man.” He stomped on the pedal for good measure, causing the car to give a sickening lurch forward, but eventually return to its original speed.

“Then we’re both dead men.”

Chad stole a glance behind them in the rear-view mirror. A black dot was silhouetted against the sun, and it was steadily growing larger. “Oh, come on. What does it want with us?”

The priest pulled a bible from his breast pocket and began to thumb through it rapidly. “Oh I don’t know,” he slapped the book as if it might give him more answers, “maybe it’s the fact that you’re a herald of the apocalypse and it’s a hell hound.”

“What about fair play and all that?” The priest’s matter-of-fact nature about the life-threatening situation they found themselves in was pissing Chad off. “Shouldn’t that mean immunity or some shit?” He pressed his foot into the floor, willing the gas pedal to go deeper, but it did not. The car continued at its lumbering pace.

An old woman in a mini-van passed them on the left, making obscene hand gestures as she went. Chad thought he saw a hint of malice in her eyes, but it might just have been a remnant of the pants-shitting fear from the hellhound behind him.

The priest pulled out a small Bible from his breast pocket and began to read. “Satan knows how to blockade our coasts with the iron warships of sorrow, but, blessed be God, the port of all prayer is still open.”

“Are you reading the fucking Bible?!”

The black dot grew in size and Chad could almost see its beating wings.

“I am a priest. It’s my job to read from the bible in times like this.” He continued to read.

“Don’t you have holy water or stakes or something?” Chad didn’t know much about the priesthood, but assumed that most clergy were at least semi-capable of disposing of run-of-the-mill demons.

“I am not a monster hunter,” spat the priest, slamming the bible shut. “I don’t consort with their type!”
“Yeah?” said Chad, checking the mirror once more. He could almost make out the form of the creature, but the pure darkness of its figure made it impossible. “Well maybe you should, because it looks like we’ve got a monster, and it’s gaining on us.”

“Just get us to the church, we’ll be safe there.”
“Bet they’ve got some holy water.”

The priest was about to argue with him, but stopped. “Actually, holy water wouldn’t have been a bad idea.”

“Great, a drunk, and unprepared.”

“There’s a saying about pots and kettles,” started the priest, but Chad interrupted him.

“Shut up, Father!” He knew damn well that he was in no place to criticize, but the creature slowly gaining on them changed the situation. “Start thinking of a way to slow it down, because there’s no way we’re getting to downtown before it reaches us.” Midway’s skyscrapers were much closer than they had been, but they were at least fifteen minutes from the center of downtown.

The creature swooped low, digging its claws into the concrete behind them, leaving mighty ruts wherever it touched. Momentarily, bright red eyes glowed out from the black pit of its being, and Chad almost thought he saw one of them wink at him. There was a sound, halfway between a throaty laugh and a growl from behind them.

A station wagon passed Chad on his right. Inside was a family, singing along to the radio together, happy as could be. “Why aren’t they more worried?” he asked.

“Probably because they can’t see it. They haven’t been exposed to Hell.” The priest’s hands shook, and he began thumbing through the bible once more.

“Again, I’m not sure that’s going to help—”

There was an earth-shattering screech like the sound of a thousand souls crying out at once, and the hot stink of brimstone. The back window of the car shattered, and Chad almost saw the face of the creature out of the corner of his eye, but just as quickly as the image formed, it disappeared into darkness. The car filled with hot wind.

The priest jumped, accidentally ripping a page from the bible as he did so. It fluttered aimlessly through the back window and into the shapeless void beyond. There was a quick burst of fire and the creature recoiled with a painful yelp.

Chad looked at the priest knowingly.

“Oh, this is so sacrilegious,” he moaned, and then tore another page from The Bible, chucking it out the back window.

A black tendril lashed out, searing the cloth of the back seats, but the ball of paper burst into flames and the creature recoiled once more.

“It’s working!” shouted Chad.

“But at what cost?” The priest ripped another page out and threw it behind them.

“I’m pretty sure God’s going to let this one slide.”

The creature took off into the sky, flying directly into the sun.

“Praise god, it’s gone.”

“Sure, whatever.” Chad breathed a sigh of relief.

“Still you blaspheme?”

There was no time for them to argue. Ahead, the black creature plummeted to the ground cracking the pavement beneath it. “Uh, father?”

“I see it,” breathed the priest. He began to pray quietly.

“Cut that out and hand me the book.” Chad could not help it, a piece of him was enjoying the chaos.

The priest obliged, handing Chad the book remorsefully. “Better you than me I suppose.”

“Real paragon of good you are.”

The creature waited on the road, clearly expecting them to stop. Chad kept the car floored and dropped the Bible in his lap. With his right hand he gripped the wheel, and with his left, he rolled down the driver side window. Then, like a knight preparing for a joust, he held the bible out in front of him. “Hold on, Father, this is going to be rough.”

“If you wreck this car.”

“Pretty sure the hell hound already did that.” They were only a hundred feet away. The black mass sat on what Chad imagined to be haunches. He couldn’t be sure, but the term seemed to fit in his mind.

One hundred feet, he thought, miscalculating the distance horribly. He cocked his arm back, readying the book.

Fifty feet. They were twenty feet away.

Twenty feet. “The power of Christ compels ye!” he yelled and threw the Bible at the beast with all his might. There was a sickening moment when he thought it was all going to be over. The car was a mere five feet from the black mass before them, but just before they struck it, the creature erupted into a pillar of flame, evaporating into the summer sky.

NanoWriMo – Day 29

Alright, here it is, the epilogue. With this chapter Maelstrom comes to a close. Thanks to everyone who has been reading this month, can’t wait to get back to my other projects!

If you can, please donate to my campaign for the first book in the Nick Ventner series which is due out early next year. Can’t wait to share it with you all!!

GofundMe.com/WhiteoutNovel

–Ashton

Just a reminder, this is unedited, a rough draft, is the product of too much caffeine and CONTAINS SPOILERS FOR WHITEOUT AND DOWNPOUR. You have been warned!

Continue reading

NanoWriMo – Day 28

This is it everyone! Book III – Chapter 9, the final chapter of Maelstrom. There’s an epilogue coming tomorrow, but this is the big fight. Thanks for those of you who have stuck through this rewrite, I know it’s been rough, but it’s on paper now and that’s what matters. Looking forward to getting back to my other projects as well. More Chadpocalypse is coming soon 🙂

If you can, please donate to my campaign for the first book in the Nick Ventner series which is due out early next year. Can’t wait to share it with you all!!

GofundMe.com/WhiteoutNovel

–Ashton

Just a reminder, this is unedited, a rough draft, is the product of too much caffeine and CONTAINS SPOILERS FOR WHITEOUT AND DOWNPOUR. You have been warned!

Continue reading

NanoWriMo – Day 27

As of last night I have finished Maelstrom! The final word count ended up being around 65,000 words, making it the longest first draft of the trilogy by around 30%. The story is definitely going to need some TLC and rewrites when I get to it, but it’s ended up being one of my favorites. Thanks for reading. I’ll post the last few chapters here over the next three days and then it’s Chadpocalypse, other new short stories, and working on the treatment for Downpour (Book 2 of the Nick Ventner series).

If you can, please donate to my campaign for the first book in the Nick Ventner series which is due out early next year. Can’t wait to share it with you all!!

GofundMe.com/WhiteoutNovel

–Ashton

Just a reminder, this is unedited, a rough draft, is the product of too much caffeine and CONTAINS SPOILERS FOR WHITEOUT AND DOWNPOUR. You have been warned!

Continue reading