Doors Jack Novels & Stories

Both Jake and the police officer stand up to look at the car in the driveway. "I don't understand, he doesn't have another one." Jack frowns, still looking at the car outside. "Does he have access to any others at all? Your parents' cars maybe?" The police officer finally starts to look worried, speaking into the radio and asking for someone who can head straight over to begin the search. "No, I mean, he works at the garage with my dad, so he's got access to other cars, but dad wouldn't let him drive a customer's car." Jack shakes his head, but there's clearly doubt there because he mentioned it.

Dust swirled around the tires of Jack’s silver Porsche as it rolled into the open bay of a country garage. The midday sun beat down on corrugated iron and grease-stained concrete. A battered sign above the roller door read: BRUNO’S AUTO & REPAIR. Jack killed the engine and stepped out, giving the place a once-over—an organized chaos of tools, oil drums, and half-rebuilt engines. The air smelled of petrol, rust, and the kind of sweat that came from honest work.

They raised their machine guns. "We're pinned!" Harper fired her rifle, but the bullets bounced off their chassis. "Jack! Where are you?!" VROOOOM. A massive yellow shape roared out of the fog. A Forklift. Driven by Jack, with a lit cigar in his mouth. "Coming through!" Jack yelled. He rammed the forks into the first two droids, pinning them against the wall. CRUNCH. He lifted them up and threw them off the side of the rig, into the churning ocean below.

Jodi said as she slowed the jeep down. “Maybe it’s Nick,” Jackie said. “In a car? Why would he be in a car when he has a perfectly good truck?” “I don’t know,” Jackie said. “Just take the turn. Maybe his truck broke down.” Jodi shrugged and continued to drive. The dirt road opened up to the docks of the sawmill. Jesse was there sitting on his motorcycle and looking confused. He had a small flatbed trailer attached to the back his bike. He usually carried a load of moonshine in the trailer. Why would he have it out here?

The brutalist concrete structure was overgrown with ivy, and the massive steel doors of the main garage were rusted at the hinges. Dax killed the engine, and the silence of the mountains rushed in to fill the void. He dismounted, his boots crunching on the dry needles of the pines that had reclaimed the driveway. "Home sweet home," he muttered, though his hand remained near the heavy iron wrench tucked into his belt. The instinct for danger didn't vanish just because the network did. I walked to the keypad beside the door. It was an ancient, mechanical unit no biometrics, no neural links. I punched in the code from the trust documents. With a heavy, metallic thunk, the deadbolts retracted, a

Jackson brought his men forward as he rushed and cursed, while Javier held the jack that was close to 20 pounds in his hand and closed the trunk. Did Javier need to wield a weapon to go up against vermin? Of course not! Javier brought out the mechanical jack because he would feel a bigger kick out of the fight with it! “You dare bring your men right up to my doorstep, eh? I’m going to beat the living lights out of you all!” ‘I-Is he a monster!?’ Jackson had always thought he was the descendant of a monster, the kind that would wander around with its bloodied mouth wide open.

Everything that happened last night actually happened. Jack stood up from the old chair he had slept in. He glanced over at Jill and confirmed she was still asleep. He quickly dressed in a t-shirt and jeans. He quickly brushed his teeth and ran his hand through his hair. Once he put his shoes on, he checked on Jill one more time before stepping out of the small room. Jack left the bar and hailed a taxi. "Omene Bank, please."

"A Maybach? Gosh, it will be challenging, but I can try. You'll have to wait over there, so we won't draw too much attention." People crowded the area, but no one noticed the two breaking into Lewis' car since a hedge blocked the view. Jack grabbed his toolkit, circled to the other side, and knelt to tinker with the lock. Meanwhile, Quintin stood guard on the more visible side of the car. He smoked a few cigarettes for nearly half an hour. By then, he impatiently asked, "Can you do it?" "I almost got it," replied Jack, who wiped off the sweat on his forehead. He twisted his tool sideways, then heard a soft click, making him sigh in relief. "It's open!"

Alex was leaning against the doorway, half-listening to what Johnny was saying, while everyone else paid direct attention. "Jack, you wanna grab some sodas on the way there?" "What is with you two and always drinking soda while we're working?" "Stuff, and things, also fuck you," Jack said and grabbed the keys to our truck, "Meet us at the intersection across from the bank, let's go, Jake, I'm driving!"