First Dig Two Graves, the second Zoe thriller.
…
The month is up, the hard work is done and the numbers are in.
I finished the first draft, as awful as it might be, with a total of 65,265
And this is the winner’s certificate:
That’s it for another April NaNoWriMo. Now I can rest!
…
Don’t get me wrong, I loved my brothers and sister, but I can now only take them in small doses.
You know how it is growing up, always fighting for your own space, having to live with their idiosyncrasies, getting blamed for stuff you never did.
I never got to have a room of my own, always sharing with the other middle brother, James, whereas the eldest brother had his own room, and by necessity, our youngest sister.
They too got the first-class education where James and I were shuffled off to trade school, which James always said was a hop, step and jump from prison.
Coincidentally, James and I were the first to leave home as soon as it was possible. WE had to earn a living and pay rent, whereas the other two were being nurtured through school, and life.
It was the school of hard knocks for us.
…
Over the years we all drifted in and out of each other’s lives. We also drifted, at one time or another all over the world, and later, all over the country.
Because of this, only seminal events brought us back together, and even then, those moments were few and fleeting, and not looked upon with fondness. We were not the typical family.
When the time came for each to marry, at varying times of our lives, each would be there at the event. Keeping up with each other was a task for social media, and there we learned of children, divorces, affairs, and disasters.
But there was one defining event that finally shook up our collective trees of life; the death of our parents. Whilst none of the children were particularly close, it seemed to fall upon Janine, the daughter, to look after them.
And, when they were killed unexpectedly in a car crash, it was she who delivered the bad news, and issue the invitation to return home for the funerals.
It was sad, yes, but not as much as it should be for a child. For me, I had spent years hating them for perceived wrongs perpetrated, not getting the same treatment as eldest and youngest siblings, not getting the financial support when requested, and not getting a visit, even if it was only once a year.
So, when I read about their deaths, it saddened me, but I hadn’t seen them for a half dozen years, and had almost forgotten they existed. Yes, I should have made more of an effort to go see them, introduce them to their grandchildren, but I didn’t.
…
It was a completely different situation with Sally’s parents. There were a close-knit family who, whilst also had the monetary and space constraints as we had, and with more members of the family to contend with, they seemed to make it work without fear or favouritism.
She had only recently met each of my siblings in person, simply because of the fact we were getting older, and reasons for coming together more urgent, well, for the others, anyway. And that Sally had put her foot down and demanded we make an effort to see them.
“So, you are going to the funeral, all of us this time I hope.” I had just shown her the missive sent by my sister, Janine, proclaiming the sad news, not being surprised yet again at the coldness that ran between the members of my family.
She had been disappointed at my indifference, even when I explained the circumstances, and how that coldness had begun and festered throughout our lives. For one who had never been in that situation, it was hard to explain, or understand. Not when comparing it to her own situation.
“If you want.” I was going to make the excuse that my work would not allow the time off, but that would only be because of me, not them. I had used it before, and Sally had realised eventually what I was doing. It wouldn’t work this time.
“We should. They were, after all, your parents, and like it or not, they did give you your start in life. I’ve no doubt they did the best they could.”
Sally always saw the best in people, though with my parents, they did leave her somewhat perplexed at times. The same went for Jeremy, the eldest brother, and his indifference. He was our father reincarnated, and his wife, Lucy, was very much like our mother, perpetually suffering from disdain.
“You had to be there,” was all I would say in my defence.
It was a statement I used often to explain away their indifference. I wanted to believe they had done the best they could, but they could have done better. I hesitate to use the word selfish, but they had been, putting their needs before us.
Even in death, I could still feel the resentment.
“Do you want me to make the arrangements?” She always did, and if she had not, perhaps she might never meet my parents, or my brothers and sister.
“That might be best. You know what I’m like.”
I didn’t hear her reply, but I knew what it would be. A frown and muttering under her breath. She knew what I was like, and still married me, much to the disdain of my eldest brother, Jeremy, who had said to her, a day before the wedding, she still had time to change her mind.
He hadn’t endeared himself that day, or any of the days since.
…
For Alison and Ben, the two children that were never going to be anything like my siblings, it was an adventure. We rarely travelled far from home for holidays. Preferring to spend it with Sally’s parents at their summer house, big enough to fit everyone, what I would have called a boarding house. It was near a lake and was the closest thing to a summer camp as I would get.
Going over in the plane, Sally had banished me to an aisle seat one row behind them. I suspect that was to give me some mental preparation time, but more likely to consider the lecture she’d given me at the airport about me being more proactive in being nice to my family.
It was time to stop playing the forgotten child routine, and to start behaving like I had a family and simply accept them despite their idiosyncrasies. She was right, of course, as she always was, and todays, of all days, it made me wonder what is was she saw in me.
Off the plane, the first surprise was waiting in arrivals. Sally. Holding a sign much like a chauffeur would. Apparently, she had arranged transport. The second surprise was Sally and Janine together, like they were old friends. I was guessing Sally and Janine had had long conversations over the funeral arrangements.
She also liked Janine, even though she lived in a different world. Janine had never married, had a job that paid squillions of dollars, and lived in a mansion, one my children described as a castle, it had so many rooms.
Then, after the hugs, and the smiles, she saw me, the wet blanket.
“Tom.”
“Janine.”
“You can give me a hug you know.”
I could feel Sally’s eyes burning a hole in me. Hug it was. It was a first, and oddly, rather than consider it was waste of time, it gave me a strange set of emotions.
Then the moment passed.
“You look well.”
“That you can thank Sally for. Left to my own devices, I’d probably be a basket case now.”
“Who’s to say you not, still.” Sally gave me the critical eye, and it was a warning shot across the bows. Behave or else.
We followed Janine out of the terminal building to a parking lot where limousines were parked. She had got us a stretched limousine. Wherever we were going, it was going to be in style.
Sally told me at some point that when she had suggested we stay in a hotel, Janine would not hear of it. She said she lived in what was tantamount to a mausoleum, and there was plenty of room for us. And the rest of the family.
It seemed that she had been very successful in inventing something that everyone needed, and, when she described it, it made sense. Holding the patent and licensing people to manufacture it had made her very wealthy indeed.
Somehow, I’d missed that aspect of her life, though my impression of her, with her education and cleverness, she earned squillions. I was practically right.
What was also explained to me, because I had remarked on how well Sally and Janine got along, and that couldn’t have developed in the last few days while arranging thw funeral visit, it transpired the two had met once of twice when Sally was over this side of the country for seminars, and the two regularly emailed each other.
No sense, Sally said, for her to shun my sister as I had.
Once it might had annoyed me that she would do something like that, but it made sense that Sally would want to know Janine, at the very least, better despite how I painted her. She may have tried with the other two, but I knew Jeremy would strike out the first time she spoke to him, and James was hard enough for anyone to find, let alone his family. I’d tried, and he had disappeared. Not even Janine knew, at that moment in time, where he was.
Jeremy, unfortunately, we would see later.
It was also apparent that once we reached the mausoleum, that I was supposed to go and have a chat with Janine, family stuff she said, and Sally was happy to move into, and unpack, then get the cook to make the children a meal.
…
We went into a room that Janine called her office.
It was a large wood panelled room with a lot of shelving and a huge number of books. My only remark, that she could not have read them all. It was a little churlish and elicited a grimace.
Janine was not going to put up with my nonsense and was well aware of my attitude from discussions with Sally. It led to her first statement, soon after we sat in very comfortable leather chairs, in front of a window that looked out over a rose garden.
I was counting staff by then, a housekeeper, a cook, a young woman who was there as a waitress, a maid who showed Sally and the children to their rooms upstairs, and outside two gardeners. It was no surprise then the limousine was hers, and the man who drove it, ger chauffeur.
She lived a very different lifestyle than I did.
“I can see that look on your face where you are judging me, and you shouldn’t. You might think you were badly done by, but I’ll let you into a secret, you got the better deal. Not that I’ll defend Jeremy, but in my case, I had a hell of a lot of expectation dumped on my shoulders. You got to swan off and live your life without a care in the world, and I can see you have made all the right decisions, and got everything I could only have hoped for. I have no husband, nor boyfriend, and any I did didn’t last long because my focus was on work and success, instead of happiness. So, yes I have a big house and a lot of money, and people running around doing my bidding, but I have no one to share it with, and no one to pass it onto.”
“Yet.” It was a noble speech, and I’m sure she felt the loneliness of it all. I was going to say she had a choice, just as I had, but somehow it didn’t seem appropriate.
Certainly, I didn’t feel the same way about her as I had before I came of this odyssey, and that in itself may for some be something of a revelation. That hug she had given me at the airport, and the feelings it conveys almost confused me, and most likely would have frightened me if I had not had Sally.
For some reason, now, it was going to be impossible to have the same feelings, or feelings of resentment, I once had.
“There are things you need to know, Tom. The first is that I am not long for this earth. I have about a year, two at the most, the news of which I received about an hour after the police called to tell my our parents had been killed in a car crash.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
It was bad news for anyone to learn, but on top of the news of our parents, I couldn’t imagine what that was like.
“The second is that our mother had been diagnosed with the same condition, about two years ago, and didn’t tell anyone. Maybe she thought she was protecting me from the possibility it would happen to me, but we both know she was selfish and inconsiderate at the best of times. Believe me when I tell you we had some incredible rows over the years. And no, I was not a daddy’s girl so I got no support or help in dealing with her truculence.”
I could just imagine our mother giving Janine hell. And in that same thought, how sad it was to have saddled Janine with all of that responsibility. I knew Jeremy hadn’t been any sort of help in regard to both parents, and James was not to be found. I really had no excuse, and I had to admit that some of my father’s selfishness had rubbed off on me too.
“You should have told me, or told Sally to tell me.”
“You would not have been in a receptive frame of mind, not then. But now, I can see you’ve turned a corner, just being here. You could have declined to come, I know now of the hurt our mother and father in particular had inflicted on both you and James, because in their declining years, they eventually turned on both Jeremy and I. Jeremy didn’t cope very well, and did what you did, just went away, leaving me to deal with it. I’m not blaming you, not do I blame you for leaving, I truly understand why. It’s just a pity we didn’t have conversation years ago, because now we’re going to miss on so much in the little time we do have.”
The pity of it was there was nothing I could do now to get that back. But going forward, I was not sure what I could do to make it up to her. And I said as much, and it sounded a lot better in my head than out loud.
“Well, there is something you can do. It’s a funny story, though I believe you will not get a laugh out of it. The third thing is that I am the executor of their wills. Against my advice, and probably something our mother was not fully cognisant of, was a desire for my father to take her on one last road trip. The doctors had decreed due to her worsening condition she would have to go into managed care. He took her to Las Vegas, of all places. The thing is the day they left, mother decided to play this jackpot poker machine, and won the jackpot. I didn’t discover this until the Casino rang me, though how they got my phone number is still a mystery, to tell they hadn’t cashed the check. They were on the road out of Vegas when a truck hit them head on. It wasn’t really an accident, according to the police. They said the truck driver said our father had driven straight at him. I have no reason to disbelieve him.
“He deliberately wanted them both to die?”
“Yes. He had said more than once that he didn’t want to live without her, so I think it was his plan to spend a few days together while she was still cognizant, and then end it. I have no doubt she knew what he was planning to do, and had agreed it was the best way to end the pain and suffering.”
It certainly sounded something he would do. They never regarded the feelings of anyone else in any of the decisions they made. I was going to make a comment, but it seemed moot. They were dead now, and they had gone out on their own terms.
“The truck driver?” I had to spare a thought for him, because they would not have.
“Relatively unharmed, just shaken. And the shock that someone would do that. I met him and apologised, but it seemed not enough recompense for the suffering they caused him. Anyway, I asked the police if they had found a check in the remnants of the car, but given the state of it, it was not surprising they didn’t so I asked the casino to cancel it and write a new one.”
She reached out and picked up a folder on the table between he chairs, and took out a slip of paper and handed it to me.
A check made out to our parents.
For eighty-seven million dollars, and change.
I looked at her, quite literally astonished. “This is ridiculous.”
“What it is, is a sign from the heavens that will give me an opportunity I might not have been granted otherwise. I want you to come home, and spend the last months of my life here with me, and make up for the time we have lost. I know both you and Sally have jobs back home, but that check, your share of it, will make the decision a little easier to make.”
“Does Sally know about this?”
“Only that I’m going to die sooner rather than later, and that she was waiting until you came here before talking to you about what to do. She said it would be better coming from me, not her, because of how things are in the family. I’ll be honest with you, Tom, I was prepared to come to you to plead my case before our parents did what they did because there’s no one else I would want to spend what precious little time I have left.”
I knew now why I’d felt such intense feelings earlier at the airport. It had been a sixth sense, that something was terribly wrong. And she was right, what time she had should be spent with family, those values I had come to terms with being with Sally. It was the right thing to do, but it was not wholly my decision. There were ramifications of uprooting our lives back home, including the sacrifices Sally would have to make.
“Have you told Jeremy?”
“God, no. He’d be a total ass about it, saying I was trying to steal the limelight and making it all about me. We can tell him when it’s too late for him to make any comment at all.”
“And James?”
“We’ll find him. I have resources available that you can only imagine exist.”
I believed her.
“Then I guess I should go and find Sally and see what she has to say about it. And I guess I should apologise for being such an ass all these years.”
“No need. In a way I envy you, always have.”
“You have no reason to. I never made anything of myself, not like you have.”
“You’re wrong if you think that. You have an amazing partner, two beautiful children, and you have provided for them, and look after them in a manner in which I can only dream about. It’s not about money, or possessions, or anything like what you see I have, because when it comes down to it, all that matters is the people around you. That, unfortunately, was the legacy our parents gave us and it was wrong.”
She stood, “Let us not dwell on the past, but brace ourselves for the impending crash landing of the one and only Jeremy. I have some very good champagne chilling at the bar, and we’re going to need fortification, if not Dutch courage before the monster arrives.”
…
© Charles Heath 2021
For a story that was conceived during those long boring hours flying in a steel cocoon, striving to keep away the thoughts that the plane and everyone in it could just simply disappear as planes have in the past, it has come a long way.
Whilst I have always had a fascination with what happened during the second world war, not the battles or fighting, but in the more obscure events that took place, I decided to pen my own little sidebar to what was a long and bitter war.
And, so, it continues…
It was about a mile by foot to the old church. Carlo was waiting for us, and then led the way because I wasn’t sure where it was, even though I’d been there once, and hadn’t really been taking any notice.
It was enough time to ask Blinky a few questions about how things were going because he would have a better overall view of the war being involved in the operational side of things. Thompson’s group of which I was a part, only had our part in a much larger war effort involving a number of covert operations.
It wasn’t going well, not that he put it in so many words, and it looked like it was going to drag on a while longer. Beyond that, he was not saying anything more. Perhaps he didn’t know, or perhaps he thought the trees had ears.
I know, loose lips sink ships.
Carlo was indifferent, though I could see he was not happy about Leonardo not turning up so we could kill him and his men. For me, I had an awfully bad feeling we had missed something, and the end result of it was not going to be good.
And that feeling of foreboding only increased the closer we got to the church ruins.
Blinky was shocked to learn that the Germans would destroy a church and kill the priest. I guess a lot of people would be if they knew.
When we were about 50 yards from the entrance, I saw one of Blinky’s men show his face, behind a gun raised just in case we were not friends. When he saw Blinky with us, he lowered the gun and stepped out of the shadows so we could see him.
Closer again, I could see the soldier was looking quite distraught.
“What’s the matter?” Blinky asked him.
“When we got here, we went inside the church. God, it was awful. There’s a woman in there, and…”
A woman?
I almost ran, and at the end, lying on the ground was a woman, with the Sergeant trying to do what he could.
Carlo bustled past and was first to her side.
“Chiara,” he said hoarsely.
Chiara? What was she doing here? How did she get here? What had happened?
I joined Carlo on the other side. She was awake but in a terrible state. Whoever inflicted punishment on her had been very brutal. The sergeant had managed to cover her broken body with the remnants of her clothes and had tried to clean away some of the blood.
She had been beaten severely and she had the sort of wounds I’d seen before, a result of both fists and weapons. Torture used to extract information, and, with a sinking feeling, I knew exactly what information Leonardo would be after.
And equally, I knew there would be no point getting to the underground hideout. All I could hope for was that some, if not all who had been taken there for their safety, had escaped. But, without forewarning…
She looked from Carlo to me.
“What happened,” I asked.
“Leonardo. I went out to collect one of the family members and ran into Leonardo and his men.
They brought me here, and…” It was spoken haltingly, as each breath, each word, brought on new and sharp pain. She was having trouble breathing, and the blood coming out her mouth told me it was possible she had broken ribs and a punctured lung.
I hoped not, but it was a forlorn hope. There was little we would be able to do for her, and moving her, and finding proper medical help was going to be almost impossible.
At the end of that first speech, I saw her shudder, and then moan as waves of pain passed through her.
The Sargent had a field medical kit and had taken out a syringe which I assumed had morphine. She was going to need it.
“This should take away the pain,” he said to no one in particular, then administered it.
For a moment I thought it had rendered her unconscious, but a minute or so later she opened her eyes again. Glassy, but there was a shred of relief in them.
“You’re going to have to move her to somewhere better than this. There’s a lot of damage, and it’s going to be difficult.” The Sargent knew he was fighting a losing battle.
I got the impression it wasn’t the worst he’d seen.
I felt her hand touch mine, and she said, softly, “Tell Martina I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
“I’m not the brave person she thinks I am. I couldn’t withstand the torture. I tried, I tried very hard, but I couldn’t stop myself…” Again, it was in dispersed with wheezing, breathlessness, and bouts of pain when she tried to breathe in. I almost couldn’t quite understand her, because her English was not as good as Martina’s.
It confirmed my worst fear, that Leonardo knew where Martina and the others were hiding.
I jumped up. “Blinky, stay here, do what you can for her. Carlo…”
He was up and heading for the exit. He heard, and he knew what it meant.
Blinky took my place, and said, “Go. We’ll be here when you get back.”
For a big man, Carlo was fast, and it took until we’d almost reached the underground entrance before I caught up with him.
© Charles Heath 2020
The Henan Museum is one of the oldest museums in China. In June 1927, General Feng Yuxiang proposed that a museum be built, and it was completed the next year. n 1961, along with the move of the provincial capital, Henan Museum moved from Kaifeng to Zhengzhou.
It currently holds about 130,000 individual pieces, more of which are mostly cultural relics, bronze vessels of the Shang and Zhou Dynasties, and pottery and porcelain wares of the various dynasties.
Eventually, we arrive at the museum and get off the bus adjacent to a scooter track and despite the efforts of the guide, there’s no stopping them from nearly running us over.
We arrive to find the museum has been moved to a different and somewhat smaller building nearby as the existing, and rather distinctively designed, building is being renovated.
While we are waiting for the tickets to enter, we are given another view of industrial life in that there is nothing that resembles proper health and safety on worksites in this country, and the workers are basically standing on what looks to be a flimsy bamboo ladder with nothing to stop them from falling off.
The museum itself has exhibits dating back a few thousand years and consist of bronze and ceramic items. One of the highlights was a tortoiseshell with reportedly the oldest know writing ever found.
Other than that it was a series of cooking utensils, a table, and ceramic pots, some in very good condition considering their age.
There were also small sculptures
an array of small figures
and a model of a settlement
20 minutes was long enough.
First Dig Two Graves, the second Zoe thriller.
…
In a day of going over old ground and making it new again, I have revisited Zoe’s residence in Paris at the time John called, and found it empty, except for some kid who was all ‘get lost or suffer the consequences.’
Who is he? We flesh that story out, and how it relates to Zoe and those early days in the story.
Similarly, I’m not happy still with how Worthington discovers Zoe, and this is going to need some more work, and definitely a rewrite.
In fact, I might have to revisit his whole appearance in the story and make it a little less bombastic and a little more subdued seething anger.
The whole Marseilles episode is good, it’s just the end and this discovery of who is behind Zoe’s abduction that needs a little work. This is where we sow the enigmatic sees of Romanov and his purpose for wanting Zoe if it is not revenge like it is assumed.
Similarly, that whole thing with the Russian Minister and Anton needs a lot more work because there appears to be a connection between him and Romanov, but there’s not. This is just Olga leaning on her connections to get a result.
Then Zoe takes off to find Romanov, or is it those seeking revenge, it’s not quite clear, and leaves John to contemplate his future. Perhaps a piece here between them that sets the tone for the relationship over the coming months would be good, and the trigger that sets John off on a quest to find her.
His excuses at the moment are wishy-washy at best.
Phew!!! Never knew self-criticism could be so harsh!
…
Today’s writing, with Zoe languishing in a dungeon waiting for a white knight, 0 words, for a total of 8,871.
And that is, you don’t have to read any of the books on it.
Who really cares if you do or if you don’t?
It’s just a list of books that a particular writer, journalist, or editor puts together simply because they liked them and think you might also.
And sometimes weight of sales numbers will dictate popularity, and therefore some basis to any particular list.
Of course, this doesn’t work if all you read is comics or romance books like Mills and Boon. Hey, that’s fine. You’re reading and this is one of the most important aspects of life, to read, and sometimes, to learn.
I know that my life changed dramatically when I read books, lots of different sorts of books. I’ve never recommended anyone read the dry, dusty tomes about neurosis for psychiatry, or a history of the Roman Empire simply because of it something I was interested in after I saw the film, Ben Hur.
In a similar manner when we go to school, the curriculum sometimes dictates we read certain books, whether this is to give us an understanding of life centuries before, or that there is some deeper, more sinister, meaning to it all, but some of those books I had to read, back then, the meaning was lost on me.
But should I not read them? I know most of the kids in the class didn’t because they considered reading a waste of time. There were more important things to do like chase girls and play a sport. And torment the teachers. From what I hear, little has changed.
But the point here is, in my case, I’m just giving you the drum on what I read to improve my literary understanding, of life, and of the world, and perhaps in a small way, help with my writing. After all, writers must read, particularly in their genre so they have some idea of what readers want.
But again that two-word phrase ‘Must read’ is an unfortunate and often misused heading. We do it all the time. Ten films you ‘must-see’, ten things you ‘must-have’, ten places you ‘must go’ usually before you die.
It amuses me to see books with a 1000 somethings you must do before you die. I will no doubt be well and truly dead before I get halfway through even one of those lists, that is, if I actually took any notice of them.
But, what’s more interesting is that I like to see how many I haven’t done, which is probably the reason why we buy the book, usually off the sale table.
Here’s the thing…
Every time I close my eyes, I see something different.
I’d like to think the cinema of my dreams is playing a double feature but it’s a bit like a comedy cartoon night on Fox.
But these dreams are nothing to laugh about.
Once again there’s a new installment of an old feature, and we’re back on the treasure hunt.
The passage heading towards the marina was littered with fallen rocks, timber beams, and roofing material. Much of the damage was in this wing, where the marina had started falling apart.
It was a problem with the foundations. A long and costly investigation had found that the marinas foundations had been inadequately built on a shifting base, made worse by the seasonal water flow.
It was interesting to learn that the event that caused the start of the problems had not occurred in a hundred years, but had been noted in an early newspaper report, and only that it was a phenomenon,
No one at the time had any interest in building there, and it was understood when the navy built its marina, there was no mention of anything untoward happening that would preclude the construction.
And, over the life of the project, nothing had happened. It was why, when the mall was being touted, no one really knew anything about flooding because it hadn’t happened in living memory. That only came later, after the damage was done.
We reached the end of the passageway and found the stairs leading up to the walkway around the marina was closed off. Someone had pulled a board away and we could peer through the crack.
There was daylight beyond, and we could see the large cracks in the staircase, and along the walls either side. There were two sets of stairs up both at the end of a mall passageway, and, in between, there were steps down into the carpark. To one side of that was an elevator lobby, but the elevators would not be working.
But, just out of curiosity, I pressed the button. The light came on, but nothing happened, and, a second later, it went out again.
I looked up, but Boggs had not moved from the top of the stairs.
These steps were not blocked by a barricade, but there would be some difficulty stepping over masonry that had fallen from the roof, which now had a gaping crack and a few pieces of concrete missing. I could see the steel reinforcing and it was rusting.
A few years, all of it would eventually come down.
“You sure this is safe,” I asked.
“Been here a few times. I reckon it hasn’t changed much in years.”
He was looking at the map again, and I peered over his shoulder. The stairs were there but looking down we could only see as far as the landing. There were cracked and broken tiles everywhere, and the handrail had been bent severely out of shape by a boulder now wedged in the rail.
Boggs put the map in his back pocket and said, “Follow me.” He started walking slowly down the stairs, flashing his cell phone light ahead so we could see if there were any hazards.
At the landing, we looked further down the stairs, and these were cleaner. Also, the wall which kept the marina out had a crack in it, and it was damp which meant water was seeping in. The smell was of mold, and I wondered if that could be good for our health.
I followed him down to the first level of the carpark. In the distance, looking back towards the front entrance of the mall, way in the distance was the slatted entrance gates, light seeping in through the cracks.
Between us and those gates were several cars, crushed by a huge concrete beam that had fallen on them. I remembered, then, that there had been a husband and wife in one of the cars at the time and they’d been killed. Their children had been luckier, the youngest had to go to the restroom, and that minute delay had saved them.
Still, it would not be good seeing your parents killed in front of your eyes.
“This place is giving me the creeps,” I said and shuddered.
They said there were ghosts, and I now believed them.
“What are we looking for?: I asked.
“Evidence of the underground river.”
“That would be long gone by now, since they built this lot over it, and some of it falling into it.”
“We shall see.”
He then went down the next flight of steps to the bottom carpark, and I followed. There was less debris on this level, but it was much darker down here, and with only Boggs’ cell phone light, we couldn’t see much else.
“That’s strange,” Boggs said, having taken a dozen or so steps to the right.
“What is?” I wondered what his definition of the word strange was.
“There’s supposed to be an open section here where the wall fell away, pushed by the water flow last time it flooded. The report said that a section here wasn’t anchored properly with formwork, hence the ease in which it was moved.”
I looked at the wall. It seemed to be still intact to me.
Boggs pulled out a pocketknife and tapped it against the surface.
The false concrete chipped and fell away, and a closer inspection showed stippled plaster over plywood, very damp plywood. Boggs extracted a knife and worked on the wall, clearing a foot square, the damp plaster easily peeling away.
A false wall, one that no one would think twice about if they were not looking for it.
Boggs then scraped sideways until the blade hit metal, then he scraped around it until a gate-type bolt was exposed. It didn’t have a lock. It was rusted shut, so Boggs found a rock and hit it a few times, shaking it loose. He opened it, then tugged on it.
Was he expecting a door to open?
“Give us some help here.”
We both pulled on it, and it gave way, showering us in plaster pieces. At least we weren’t smothered in dust.
As it opened, light flooded in, almost blinding me.
I let Boggs open it the rest of the way while my eyes adjusted.
Then I tentatively looked out.
From where we were standing, we could see the two levels of the marina walkway, broken away at this end above the doorway, and a big hole in the side wall of what was the marina pool. We could see, and smell the seawater, and beyond, the ocean.
Looking down, there was a sheer drop of about 30 feet, and under us, there was an opening. At that 30 feet was flowing water, and through the water, I thought I could see clothes.
“Is that a body down there?”
It looked like one.
“No. Don’t think so. Someone probably threw a clothed dummy down there for fun, once when this was open. I’d say it was closed up to make the place safer. Anyway, we’ll soon find out. We’re going down to have a look.”
© Charles Heath 2020
We all make mistakes, errors of judgment, stupidly or otherwise.
I’ve made a few, just like in the words of a song that rattled around in my head for a long time after.
Regrets, I’ve had a few, but there was one that, in the end, I didn’t.
But I guess it took a while to get to that point.
Sometimes it’s hard to work out why, sometimes because it’s simply time, others, well when you look back you realise that it should have happened for so many reasons, but at the time you couldn’t see the wood for the trees.
We were in a bad place.
I’d been spending too much time travelling in a job that I had begun to hate, and I could see our relationship slipping away. It was not that neither of us cared for the other, or even stopped loving each other, it was simply the stresses of everyday life.
And it was not as if Chloe didn’t have a high pressure job, the one she had always wanted, and the one, we agreed, nothing would get in the way if she was given the opportunity.
I was happy with that, and for her. She was as entitled to have her dream job, as I was. I thought, I think we both thought, and believed, that would be the foundation of a good relationship.
And it was, to begin with.
There’s a point where there is a catalyst, that action, or statement, or person, or moment in time that comes along like a wrecking ball, and sets a series of events in motion, and no one really knows where it’s going to land or it’s effect.
That event?
I came home early and saw an old friend of mine, Roger, leaving our house. OK, not so much a big deal, except for the send-off. Still, even then it might not be such a big deal, because I knew Chloe was a very affectionate, touchy feely sort of person.
It used to faze me, way back in the beginning, but she had said, and proved, that I was the love of her life, and that others, well, she made them feel special.
I thought no more about it, of course, and I didn’t even mention it, though at the time, when I did walk in the door, she seemed distracted.
And I would not have thought about it again until Roger’s wife, Melissa, called one morning, though why she would call me was a mystery, to say that she was planning to surprise Roger in Las Vegas.
OK, I was suitably surprised, thinking that she was suggesting that Chloe and I should both go and make a weekend of it. We had done it before, because Melissa was a travel agent, and sometimes got airline and hotel deals that made it affordable.
I remember saying that as far as I was aware Chloe was in Pasadena doe the week on a conference.
No, she said, Chloe was co-incidentally in Las Vegas and Roger had accidentally run into her.
Should alarm bells be going off, I wondered, when that sliver of memory of him leaving popped back into my mind? No, it was just me, running around like a headless chook, failing to read her diary correctly.
I simply said, fine, and told her to make the arrangements.
It was going to be a surprise, because I hadn’t seen Chloe for two or three weeks, time seemed to pass too quickly these days, and it would be good for the both of us to spend some time together, away from home and the stresses of our respective jobs.
…
I met Melissa at the airport. Unlike Chloe, she was travelling light with only a carry on bag. I was used to moving fast and light with a bag that fitted in the overhead locker.
Sher had secured business class which was a treat because in this day and age of economics, that perk had disappeared a while back and was only available to the senior staff.
Onto the fourth glass of champagne, she dropped her bombshell, whether deliberate or otherwise I was never sure.
“It was very nice of Chloe to find Roger a job in her company.”
Did she, I thought. It was the first time I’d heard about it, and my expression must have given me away.
“You didn’t know.”
“Chloe never mentioned it, no. But it is like her.” She had also employed members of her family that, in my opinion, wouldn’t get a job anywhere else.
“Odd, don’t you think? It’s been about a year now. His company went broke, and all the employees were tossed out onto the street with nothing.”
A year was a long time to forget to tell someone. “Has it. Perhaps it just slipped her mind. She doesn’t tell me everything that goes on, nor do I want to know unless she thinks it’s important.”
Except employing my best friend was important, and it surprised me that he hadn’t told me himself. He was never backward in bragging about his achievements. Odd, yes, that he hadn’t told me he’d lost his other job.
…
Melissa had found out the hotel they were staying in, how I had no idea and didn’t ask, and it was simply a matter of telling the front desk clerk their spouses had arrived, and without question he handed over the keys.
They were staying on different floors which to me made sense. I wasn’t expecting they would be staying together, but I had an awful feeling Melissa had.
On the floor I went to the room and knocked on the door.
A minute later the door opened. Chloe, still in her nightgown, and an expression which lasted a fraction of a second before it registered surprise.
“Tom!”
Any other time, I might have thought she was expecting someone else.
Then my phone buzzed, an incoming message and I looked at it.
From Melissa. “Lobby, now.”
I looked up, thought how beautiful she still looked, and said, “Hold that thought. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”
Then I closed the door and headed for the elevators.
Once inside and going down, my brain finally registered what it had just seen. A woman prime for sex with that lustful look she used to have when we were first married. Yes, she had been expecting someone, only not me.
Yet, in that moment of realization I wasn’t mad at her or angry. She was exactly where she was because of me, and my lack of consideration. I had several opportunities to toss in the job that was clearly causing us issues, and I didn’t. It was inevitable we were going to end up here.
When I stepped out of the elevator, I looked for Melissa, but she was not immediately noticeable. Then, a further scan showed she was outside, and not in a good state. When I reached her, it was evident she had been crying, and she was angry.
“Is it what I think you’re going to say?”
She nodded. “When he opened the door, his first words were, “Chloe you sly fox, back for seconds? And then nearly had a heart attack when he saw me.
“I’m sorry. But did you have an idea this might happen?”
She nodded.
It explained everything, the hints, the sadness, the trip. Obviously, she had known about it for some time.
I gave her a hug, and she melted into my arms, and we stayed that way until I saw Roger coming out of the elevator, looking around.
“Roger’s coming,” I said.
“I don’t want to see him, much less talk to him.”
“Then I’ll head him off. Do you want to go home?”
Again she nodded. “Then get a taxi to the airport and I’ll be along in a short time. I’ll text you when I’m leaving.”
A quick look in Roger’s direction, she headed to the taxi rank, and just as Roger came out the door, her taxi departed, leaving him standing there.
He saw me coming towards him, and to give him credit, he didn’t run. IT would be difficult for him to know exactly how I might react.
“Tom.”
“My best friend, Roger. I might have been able to cope if it was some random guy, but not you.”
“Look…”
If he was going to try and justify himself, or make excuses, I didn’t want to hear it. “Now is not the time. I’m going to take Melissa home, and I suggest you take the time to figure out how you are going to deal with her, because I’m not the problem.”
He was going to reply, but possibly thought twice about it. Instead, he shrugged. “Later then.”
I watched him go back inside. What I should have done, then, was go back to see Chloe. The thing is, I didn’t know what to say, and I didn’t want the conversation to descend into blame, or worse. Better I just head for the airport, and come to grips with what I was going to do next.
…
As expected, about five minutes after the taxi had left for the airport, Chloe called.
“I’ve been expecting you,” she said. Her tone was not confident, but a little bit hesitant.
“Sorry. Roger came looking for Melissa, and seeing him, well, that just threw me.”
“I’m sorry I lied to you?”
“About?”
“Going to Pasadena. I came here to end it, because it made me realize what was missing between us, and I wanted it back.”
“And if Melissa hadn’t played out her worst fears that would have worked. The world, it seems, works in mysterious ways.
If I thought about it, I might have had suspicions, but I was not the sort of person to let them get the better of me. And had it not been for Melissa, my ignorance would have been bliss.
“What is it telling us, then, Tom?”
“That we need to take a step back. I know that I’m to blame as much as anything else, and although you might find it hard to believe, I don’t hate you, nor am I angry with you. For what it’s worth, I’m sorry. I saw the signs and I didn’t do anything about it. WE’ll talk when you come home.”
I disconnected the call. My voice had broken, and I hadn’t realised just how much it had affected me, suddenly overcome with a great sadness.
…
I didn’t go home.
On the plane back, I realised that where I lived was just a house. It wasn’t mine, Chloe’s success had contributed most towards it, and everything else. If I was to be objective, there really wasn’t anything of me there.
It was easy to walk away.
When Chloe came home and found me missing, she called, three times before I answered. I had thought long and hard about what we had together, and whether or not we could get over what had happened. Perhaps, if she hadn’t lied about where she was, perhaps if it had not been Roger, my best friend, who, by the way, was no longer my best friend, I might have considered we had a chance.
But the trust was broken, and I’d always be wondering. She was successful, she had everything she ever wanted, and she was a grown woman who had to take responsibility for her actions.
She would always be the love of my life; it’s just I couldn’t live with her. We spoke about divorce, but it never seemed to happen. I think she always had the notion that we would eventually get back together.
We parted friends, but never seemed to travel in the same circles. On our twentieth wedding anniversary, she sent me a letter, perhaps thinking it was the only way she could speak to me, I had long since traded my old phone in for a new one, in another country.
I toyed with the idea of reading it, but in the end scrawled on it black capital letters, “Not known at this address, return to sender”. It was time to move on.
…
I’ve been investigating, another word, perhaps, for research!
On how to become an overnight success.
It’s a mistake, I know, because everyone is different, everyone has their own way of doing things, and success comes for different people in different ways, quite often not able to be replicated by others.
What’s the expression, you had to be there.
I read success stories, I read what these people did to get 1,000 extra Twitter followers in a day, a week, or five minutes, sold thousands of copies of their books in a month, from absolutely nothing, and/or have the formula for success.
All you have to do is part with, hang on, yesterday it was $495.00, but today only, just for you, it’s $69.95.
Read the fine print, this might not work for you. And, generally, who reads the fine print.
I read about other authors using book promotion services, yes we had 250,000 twitter followers just aching to buy you book.
Read the fine print, it depends on a whole lot of factors whether it sells or not. You could be ‘lucky’. Most authors are not.
What’s the answer?
I think it’s at the bottom of the abyss, where I’m in free-fall heading rapidly towards.
If I happen to find the answer and become ultra successful, I’ll be happy to share it for nothing. It’s not going to affect my sales, not once I’m established.
It’s just taking that first step.
Perhaps I need to believe that hard word and perseverance will work.
I’m also sure there are 101 ways to taking that first step, and someone out there knows one, or two, and someone else, knows another. It’s just finding those people who do know, and who are willing to share, not for $495, not for $69.95, but because they want to do it to help others.
And maybe, just maybe, all those who gain the benefit their wisdom will buy their books.
Hang on, perhaps that’s number one on the list of 101 ….
For a story that was conceived during those long boring hours flying in a steel cocoon, striving to keep away the thoughts that the plane and everyone in it could just simply disappear as planes have in the past, it has come a long way.
Whilst I have always had a fascination with what happened during the second world war, not the battles or fighting, but in the more obscure events that took place, I decided to pen my own little sidebar to what was a long and bitter war.
And, so, it continues…
I woke to the sound of a cracking sound behind me, and, when I rolled over, I found myself staring up the barrel of a gun.
The number one rule broken, don’t fall asleep in enemy territory.
But something else bothered me in those few seconds as I struggle to wake up and comprehend what was happening. Where was Jack? If he’d been here this would not have happened.
But still bleary-eyed from just waking up and in that initial confused state of not knowing where and when, all I could see was a uniformed shape holding the gun standing over me, and feel, in those few seconds that I was not going to survive this.
I braced myself for a bullet, wondering if death was going to be instantaneous. I had hoped I might die in a less inglorious manner.
“Sam? Is that you?”
It was a rather dumb question to be asking an enemy soldier because my mind hadn’t adjusted to the fact the soldier was not in a German uniform, nor in work clothes, but quite possibly the uniform of a soldier from the castle, and if it was, why be asking the question and not just shooting me?
Then, finally, my eyes focussed and I could see clearly who it was, and breathed a sigh of relief. Whoever it was, knew me but that wasn’t necessarily a good thing. But in the next second, I saw the gun retract and the man behind it come closer and crouch down beside me.
He was not a soldier from the castle, but a soldier in the familiar British uniform. From somewhere else entirely. An Army Captain if I was not mistaken, which, for another second, I also thought was odd.
And then recognition of a face I hadn’t seen in years.
“Blinky?”
OK, so it was a strange nickname, but it was apt, William O’Reilly blinked a lot, hence the nickname. And Will had been on the same training course as I had three years before, only he had ended up in administration. Bad eyesight.
“It is you, Sam.”
“What the hell are you doing here?”
I dragged myself up from the ground to sit up. I did a quick scan around me, but Jack was nowhere to be found. It was not like him to desert me when trouble arrived.
“Apparently rescuing your sorry ass. Now that I’m here, I can see why the Colonel said you needed help.” He held out his hand and pulled me up.
“Forster? You work for him?”
“No, but he asked for someone who knew you by sight, and I was the only one available. Besides, I was getting sick of sitting behind a desk while the rest of you were out in the field doing heroic shit.”
I brushed the undergrowth off my uniform and straightened my clothes. It didn’t make me feel any more comfortable.
“I don’t think falling asleep is very heroic. When did the orders come through?”
“Yesterday. A message was sent and received, a rendezvous at an old church. I came with three others, including a very serious sergeant major who had absolutely no sense of humor. I saw this farm; thought I’d check it out.”
“You’re lucky you didn’t get your head shot off.”
“By the man-mountain. Nearly, yes, until I told him who I was. Said you were up here. Waiting for something?”
“Then enemy. We were hoping they turn up so we could deal with them.”
“That would be the traitors up at the castle, or the turncoat resistance members working with them? Carlo, he told me his name, he reckons it’s not happening. Said once I found you to come down and we’ll catch up with the others at this church.”
I picked up the weapon and then we headed towards Carlo’s position.
I could see the Colonel’s reasoning. Send someone I knew who couldn’t be working for the other side. It worried me that the message from Thompson hadn’t been received, because if it had, Martina would have got someone to tell us.
That she hadn’t concerned me.
© Charles Heath 2020
Thrills, Spills, and just a dash of Romance 