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  One-Twenty-Six Press.

  Ren: The Monster’s Adventure

  Sarah Noffke

  Copyright © 2016 by Sarah Noffke

  All rights reserved

  Copyeditor: Christine LePorte

  Cover Design: Andrei Bat

  All rights reserved. This was self-published by Sarah Noffke under One-Twenty-Six Press. No parts of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews. If you are seeking permission send inquiry at http: www.sarahnoffke.com

  This is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents, and dialogues are products of the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Summary: A bordering psychopath must face the monster inside him before it tears him apart.

  Published in the United States by One-Twenty-Six Press

  ASIN: B01LZJA3EZ

  Praise for Previous Works:

  “There are so many layers, so many twists and turns, betrayals and reveals. Loves and losses. And they are orchestrated beautifully, coming when you least expected and yet in just the right place. Leaving you a little breathless and a lot anxious. There were quite a few moments throughout where I found myself thinking that was not what I was expecting at all. And loving that.”

  -Mike, Amazon

  “The writing in this story was some of the best I've read in a long time because the story was so well-crafted, all the little pieces fitting together perfectly.”

  -The Tale Temptress

  “There are no words. Like literally. NO WORDS.

  This book killed me and then revived me and then killed me some more. But in the end I was born anew, better.”

  -Catalina, Goodreads

  “Love this series! Perfect ending to an incredible series! The author has done this series right.”

  -Kelly at Nerd Girl

  “What has really made these books stand out is how much emotion they evoke from me as a reader, and I love how it comes from a combination of both characters and plot together. Everything is so intricately woven that I have to commend Sarah Noffke on her skills as a writer.”

  -Anna at Enchanted by YA

  To Cheer, Katy and Jennifer for the amazing support.

  Table of Contents

  Reading Guide

  Get your free book here

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgements

  About the Author

  Reading Guide

  Get your free book here

  Reading Guide

  Sarah crafted the Dream Traveler universe and has 5 series that take place there. Characters from different series bounce between the books. The reading guide below offers a suggested order for consumption to decrease spoilers and stay on the timeline. The last three series listed can be read in any order.

  For more information please visit Sarah’s website at www.sarahnoffke.com or email her at [email protected]

  Join the mailing list here for freebies, updates and more! http://www.sarahnoffke.com/connect/

  A Dream Traveler Series: The Lucidites Series

  Awoken, #1:

  Stunned, #2

  Revived, #3

  A Dream Travelers Series: The Reverians

  Defects, #1:

  Rebels, #2

  Warriors, #3

  A Dream Traveler Series: Ren

  Ren: The Man Behind the Monster, #1:

  Ren: God’s Little Monster, #2

  Ren: The Monster Inside the Monster, #3

  Ren: The Monster’s Adventure, #3.5

  Ren: The Monster’s Death, #4

  A Dream Traveler Series: Olento Research

  Alpha Wolf, #1:

  Lone Wolf, #2

  Rabid Wolf, #3

  Bad Wolf, #4

  A Dream Travelers Series: Vagabond Circus

  Suspended, #1:

  Paralyzed, #2

  Released, #3

  Soul Stone Mage Series: An Urban Fantasy Witch Adventure

  House of Enchanted, #1:

  Dark Forest, #2

  Mountain of Truth, #3

  Land of Terran, #4

  New Egypt, #5

  Lancothy, #6

  Ghost Squadron Series: A Military Space Opera Adventure

  Formation, #1

  Exploration, #2

  Evolution, #3

  Degeneration, #4

  Impersonation, #5

  Get your free book here

  Click here to get started:

  http://www.sarahnoffke.com/free-book/

  Prologue

  People with a low IQ, no lives, and a serious misunderstanding of how natural selection works seek out adventures. It’s these dumbasses who elect to bungee jump or parachute or shop in malls. Did the Native Americans jump off cliffs for the sheer thrill? Did English settlers throw down with bears to find out who came out on top? Did aborigines walk on coals? No, and for the simple fact that surviving life was enough of an adventure for them.

  But fat Americans and useless Europeans shell out big bucks to some guy with a soon-to-produce-cancer tan so they can go paragliding and jet boating. These people don’t need a high. They need to get a fucking life. They need to live on an edge, where they are doing something meaningful. Experiencing the real essence of life while in subconscious or conscious form. They need to get off the bloody sofa and do that which scares them, no wires and no parachute. Adventures aren’t something one seeks. If we are living a real life then the adventure is a part of the ride. It doesn’t have to be inserted or discovered. It’s in most moments. It’s a part of the job.

  That’s how I’ve always lived. But then I had to go off and attach permanent people into my life. People with no real lives. People with questionable day jobs. People who poop themselves. People who drag me on their phony adventures.

  I’m Ren Lewis and I’m a prisoner in this life.

  Chapter One

  I’ve faced madmen, crazed by a lifetime of abuse and looking to solely punish me for it. I’ve disarmed bombs with less than a handful of seconds on the clock. I’ve swiftly handled hundreds of thousands of deadly situations. But this, this is definitely going to kill me. It will be my undoing. I’m sure of it.

  “Would you kindly stop repositioning yourself?” Dahlia says from beside me.

  “Why? I was under the impression this was still a free country, although I hear rumor that’s subject to change,” I say, taking off my suit jacket and trying yet again to find a suitable position in the SUV passenger seat.

  “Look, I’m trying to concentrate and all your fidgeting is making me nervous,” she says, squinting at the dials on the center console.

  “Eyes on the bloody road, diva,” I say, slamming my foot into the floorboard like I can actually stop the car with the movement. Dahlia looks up in time and mimics my gesture, slamming on the brake, lurching us all forward. “And really, you had to insist on driving. You clearly don’t know how.”

  “Look, it’s our first family vacation,” she says, sweeping her hand at me and the backseat, where Adelaide and Lucien are hopefully double seat-bel
ted in if they want to survive. “I told you, we’re having an adventure. No chauffeurs, maids, cooks, personal assistants, or guards for the next two weeks.”

  I flick my finger at the brim of the oversized black straw hat balanced on her head. It looks like the one Audrey Hepburn wore in Breakfast at Tiffany’s. And if I’m, honest Dahlia looks a bit like the movie star with her slender neck and high cheekbones, which can barely be seen under the ridiculously giant sunglasses. “Yes, no guards and you in constant disguise. Sounds like a stellar vacation.”

  “It’s going to be tons of fun. And I wouldn’t have to be the one driving if you ever learned how,” she says, slowing the car without giving me whiplash for once. We left an hour ago and have cleared less than twenty miles. Oh, the bliss of living in Los-fucking-Angeles. There’s four million people in this godforsaken city. In that population there are a zillion hipsters who don’t know how to drive. There’s also a bunch of sleazy car salesmen who sell the American dream as an SUV on steroids. Then there is a city planning department who makes parking spaces extra small and highways that encourage collisions. And a slew of automobile body repair shops who sit back and laugh at all the repugnant socialites who lose most of their lives sitting in traffic, getting their cars repaired and their terriers groomed. I’m certain no one in this city actually has a life. Hence the reason for all the adventure seekers.

  “What use have I ever had in learning how to drive?” I say, adjusting the vent so more filtered air is blowing on my face, quickly drying out my freckled skin. “I just dream travel wherever I like and use a GAD-C to generate my body. No carbon footprint. No valet fees. No bullshit.”

  “Well, we could have flown if you wouldn’t have been such a baby about it,” she says.

  I lower my chin and regard the pop star through my long red eyelashes. “You weren’t calling me a baby last night, woman.”

  “I will whip open the door and throw myself out of this slow-moving vehicle,” Adelaide says from the middle row, her elbow perched on the car seat where Lucien is thankfully asleep. The little monster is calmer now that he’s entering his toddler years, but now he can crawl. And if I don’t keep kicking his legs out from under him then he will be walking in no time. Then there will be no peace.

  “You actually can’t,” Dahlia sings, looking up at the rearview mirror. “I have the child locks on.”

  “Oh great, now I’m your prisoner,” Adelaide says, crossing her arms like she’s pissed, although I spy the laugh in her voice.

  “Join the bloody club,” I say, drumming my fingers on the armrest.

  “You both need to stop with the bad attitude. This is going to be really fun. Our first family vacation,” Dahlia says, taking the exit for the 101 north. Who knows where the fuck we are headed. Guess I should have been paying more attention when she was babbling on about the plans for this hellish excursion. “I need the sense of normalcy that a family vacation provides,” she says, that familiar stress in her voice, weighing on the word need. She’s been working nonstop for so long. Well, for all her life.

  “How do you know anything about normalcy?” I say.

  “I don’t, but I hear things. And normal people go on vacations and road trips and take pictures and have stories they tell. And they don’t travel thirty weeks out of the year and perform until they make themselves sick,” she says.

  Ever so gently, as to not draw attention to the moment, I slide my fingers into Dahlia’s hand, resting on the shifter thingy in the middle of the car. From behind her dark sunglasses I still see her eyes shift to look at mine. My gaze hopefully helps her to buckle the emotions back down. I know she doesn’t want Adelaide to know, to worry. The two have gotten close. But still there’s things Dahlia doesn’t want anyone to know.

  “Yeah, I’ve never been on a family vacation. Honestly, we hardly had enough money for fare to the shops,” Adelaide says from the back.

  “Sounds rough,” I say. “I still don’t bloody care how bad you had it. You’re rich now.”

  Adelaide likes to continuously remind me how hard her childhood was because of my absence. I continuously have to remind her that it doesn’t bloody bother me.

  A swift jolt knocks into my back. “Ouch,” I say, pulling forward and twisting about. “What the bloody hell?”

  “Oops, my foot twitched,” she says, guilt written on her freckled face, her green eyes mischievous but also reminiscent of my mum’s, which were conversely always honest and full of good.

  I turn back around after a few seconds, certain I’ll be carsick if I’m not focused forward with Dahlia’s bad driving.

  “Yeah, I get that you two are bent on some defunct family experience. However, I don’t see why I couldn’t just meet you at the Alamo or Disneyland or whatever cursed place you have us scheduled to see,” I say.

  Dahlia laughs but it sounds forced. “Those places are both south of LA,” she says. “And Lucien and I can’t dream travel like you and Adelaide. We are doing this together because travel is part of the experience. It’s a part of the adventure.”

  “Yeah, yeah, but will you stop using the word ‘adventure’ in place of the word ‘punishment.’ You can sell this ten different ways but when you force people to travel together and pay for canned experiences then that’s classified plainly as torture,” I say.

  Chapter Two

  Three hours into this phony affair we’re labeling as a “relaxing endeavor” and I’m about to take an axe to the glove compartment. I turn toward the window, my legs stretching but finding roadblocks.

  “Oh really, Ren, it’s an Audi SUV. How do you not have enough leg space?” Dahlia says, her high-heeled foot coming off the gas as she talks. Apparently the glamour queen can’t multitask.

  “Did I complain?” I snap back.

  “You didn’t have to. You’re turning this way and that way every few seconds. Maybe if you would have worn something more comfortable this wouldn’t be an issue,” she says, indicating my suit.

  “You’re wearing bloody high heels,” I say.

  “And do you hear me shifting all the time?” she says. “Besides, I’m more comfortable in high heels. Commoners wear flats. People like me need to be elevated.”

  “Wait, wait, wait,” I say with a growl. “You’re the one who said you were striving for normalcy with this whole vacation.”

  “There’s normalcy and then there’s slumming it. Don’t think for a minute that I’ve lost my will to live,” she says and winks, but there’s a new defiance to her voice.

  “No, I’m clear on the fact that you’re intent on making me lose my will to live with this repugnant trip. And don’t worry, my remaining spirit is waning.”

  “Oh good,” Dahlia chirps. Then she lifts her chin up and looks in the rearview mirror. “When your father passes then you’ll have the front seat.”

  Adelaide, who has been rummaging around like a bloody squirrel, pops her head up. “I can’t wait,” she says. “By the way, where did you put the snacks? I’m starving. And Lucien will be awake soon and will wail without a biscuit.”

  Dahlia looks at me, real confusion on her smooth face. “Snacks?”

  “They’re things people eat when they don’t want a meal but need a little something. I mean, mostly just weak people,” I say.

  “Yes, I know what snacks are,” she says to me. Then she looks to the rearview mirror where she can see Adelaide in the back. “Chef said he left them on the kitchen counter. I figured you grabbed them.”

  And just then the monster starts the telltale signs of stirring. If like usual, it will be a fast awakening. Full of a torture from arriving back in a world where fellow redheads and selfish divas mock him.

  “Oh, you did,” Adelaide says, her voice oozing with condescension. “Because grabbing Lucien and the trillion outfits he will mess over the next few days wasn’t enough for me to remember?”

  Dahlia looks at me, a little bit of worry in her stare. “You grabbed the bag, right, Ren? Is it in the far bac
k?”

  I huff, readjust again. “I don’t grab things, dear Dahlia. I save lives. I tolerate people who should be dead already. But I don’t grab things, or do chores or run errands. I am a man, you do remember that, right?”

  “Barely,” she says, thankfully refocusing on the bloody road.

  “Well, we will just have to stop,” Adelaide says, juggling some plastic keys in front of the monster’s face. Yeah, let’s substitute overstimulation using plastic for real nourishment. We are in America and such is the way. “There’s a petrol station up ahead. Will you pull over there?”

  “No can do. We can’t afford to stop. I want to make it to the alpaca farm before sunset,” Dahlia says.

  “The what?” I say.

  “Alpacas,” Dahlia says, sounding lame and cheery. “You know, they’re like llamas and have that nice wool that makes those sweaters of mine that I love.”

  “I didn’t understand half of what you just said,” I say.

  “So you’re not going to stop,” Adelaide says, sounding pissed. She’s always that way though. Can’t figure out where she gets her sour disposition.

  “No, we don’t have the time to stop,” Dahlia says, her voice casual.

  “This is unfair,” Adelaide says, about to throw a tantrum to match one of Lucien’s.