Havok Publishing

Lincoln Reed

Till Bullets Do Us Part

By Lincoln Reed

Sara centers the crosshairs on the blonde’s skull. The unsuspecting woman wearing a blue sundress drinks from a teacup, her face shadowed by the café table’s umbrella.

A hundred yards away, hunkered atop the roof of an abandoned warehouse, Sara finesses the scope’s elevation and windage with a smooth efficiency earned by months of practice. Below, the city produces an occasional pedestrian and passing vehicle while the empty boulevard remains trapped in the simmering quiet before the morning rush. Within the next five minutes, a train will roar past on a bridge overlooking the café, masking the rifle’s echoing boom. Sara will disassemble her weapon and flee the scene before the train’s ambiance decays across the unsuspecting neighborhood.

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June 11, 2026

Phantom Pain

By Lincoln Reed

She points to my scarred neck. “You’re one of them?”
I turn up my collar and bury my nose in my book. The woman sitting across from me leans forward, waiting for a response.
I don’t look up. Get another seat, lady.
She takes the hint and rifles through her carry-on bag.

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September 5, 2024

The Ties that Bind

By Lincoln Reed

Judy Suarez velcroed her orthopedic sneakers and gripped her SIG Sauer. “Of all the days.”
A shotgun blast thundered. Dust cascaded from the bingo hall’s ceiling as the report rattled through my bones. I scrambled beneath the table, hands over my head, mouth dry, heart pummeling my ribcage like a boxer punching a slab of meat.

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May 16, 2024

Tombstone Terror

By Lincoln Reed

“Don’t be a fool, son.” The saloon’s bartender nodded toward the revolver holstered on my belt. “This town got a history. On the full moon—”
“I ain’t scared of no Wyatt Earp. No killer, frontier, quick-shooting lawmen are going to get me, no sir.” I downed my drink. “Pretty sure Johnny Ringo and his outlaws are six feet below, too.

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April 18, 2024

The Book of Madness

By Lincoln Reed

When I opened the Book of Madness, lightning streaked outside the mansion’s window.
Thunder bellowed.
My flashlight illuminated scribblings on the faded pages as I traced my finger along a paragraph, skimming with eyes squinted, mumbling the Latin translation of ancient text. I flipped a page, propping myself against the reading table.

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March 14, 2024

The Cupid Killer

By Lincoln Reed

Ten minutes to midnight, the arrow sliced through the window. Glass sprayed. An arrowhead thumped, piercing the wall an inch away from my right eye. I dropped to the floor, army crawled toward the shotgun on the coffee table, and pumped a round into the chamber.
With the weapon ready, I slunk toward

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February 22, 2024

Mutoscope Murder

By Lincoln Reed

Inspector Gustav Ackerson removed his bowler hat and knelt next to the corpse. A boy of fourteen years stared at the nickelodeon’s plaster ceiling with glazed eyes. According to the night guardsman, the poor lad had snuck into the theater after hours and had been discovered lying on the floor next to a mutoscope.

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January 16, 2024

The Bronze Serpent

By Lincoln Reed

Dr. Byron Stoneburner inserted the bronze snake into a satchel as German bullets whizzed overhead. He secured the latch on the bag and mumbled a prayer.
Courage. Or Jack’s dead.
A disheveled officer nudged his arm. “You’re serious?”
Byron tightened his helmet chinstrap and placed a muddy boot on the trench ladder.

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October 12, 2023

The Fire Bear

By Lincoln Reed

After they stole my boots, they tied a necklace of dynamite around my throat.
Georgie, an unkempt prospector who stank like a skunk in a manure pile, knelt into the stream and lifted my pan, surveying its sandy contents as dawn glimmered orange in the fuming mist of Yellowstone hot springs.

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September 28, 2023

Ghost of the Badlands

By Lincoln Reed

Theodore Roosevelt clicked the hammers back on his double-barreled shotgun. The mustache atop his upper lip crinkled in a defiant sneer. “Steady, Bill. The hunt’s underway, and we’re the hunted.”
A low moan echoed amongst the ominous hilltops, climbing into an ear-wrenching wail that rattled my bones. I lifted my rifle and

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August 10, 2023

From the Depths

By Lincoln Reed

I found the body at dawn.
The sailor was slumped against the wrecked stern in a bloody pulp. He clung to the humble fishing boat’s planking as the chilled waters of Lake Erie lapped the crumpled hull.
Poor soul.
Bart, my beagle, set his paws on the top rail of our small fishing vessel.

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June 15, 2023

The Mountain of Death

By Lincoln Reed

Liam entered the Mountain of Death at dusk.
He adjusted his headphones, checked the volume unit—or VU—dial on the mixer strapped to his belt, and reasserted his grip on a boom pole carrying a shotgun microphone. With his headlamp’s yellow beam piercing the darkness, he pointed the mic’s windscreen into…

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May 8, 2023