My inked mind

My inked mind intellectual property

An extract from my 6th novel and the third in the series The Forgotten Ones; Escape to Eden. I glanced around hurriedly ...
25/05/2022

An extract from my 6th novel and the third in the series The Forgotten Ones; Escape to Eden.
I glanced around hurriedly towards the voice and noticed an elderly couple approaching us. They’d been standing at a window on the farther side of the room where the light didn’t reach, and that was why I hadn’t noticed them before. The odd-looking bald guy, who could’ve been in his late fifties, was wearing a red flannel shirt and a pair of faded blue jeans. He had a wild, rugged look, and in the semi-dark, his thick unibrow was perhaps his most prominent feature. It added to the wildness about him in a not-so-charming way. He had his giant-sized paws outstretched in greeting, and a broad grin was plastered across his round, sweaty face. He took the time to continue with the woman’s earlier statement before the formal introductions. ‘It’s a wonderful thing to see love and romance blossoming in times like these. Like what we’re living in,’ he laughed. ‘Eh Mia?’
‘That is so true,’ the woman who grabbed Lyn’s hands agreed. ‘We’re the Montoyas. I’m Mia, and those two delectable creatures with the boys are our daughters; twins, Sophia and Olivia.’ She lifted her chin toward the girls. The woman who introduced herself as Mia was a delicate creature compared to the giant at her side. Despite her thin hair and haggard cheeks that spoke of her apparent middle age, she was dressed gaily in a youthful fashion that belied her spirit. Her low-cut blouse was buttoned low enough to reveal a hint of cleavage on an almost flat chest. It reminded me of a rocky mesa back in the Sawtooth where I once hunted. And her tight cotton pants hugged her hips in an eye-catching and almost rude manner. Yet, she was pretty enough to make up for what she lacked in stature. I suppose, knowing that beauty lies in the eyes of the beholder.
‘And I’m her husband, Mason,’ the unibrow lifted and a grin spread across his face, his raspy distressed tone filling the room. ‘Mia always forgets to introduce me, and sometimes I think it’s deliberate.’ He stared at us hypnotically, his unibrow furrowed uncomfortably in our direction.
‘Oh, honey, you know that’s not true. It’s just that we’ve met no one… well, anyone from out of the state in what?’ She turned to Mason for an answer.
‘In over two years, love. It’s been so long. Oh, we’re accustomed to seeing those in the city… those we see at least once a week, but out of staters like yourselves… heck no!’ He slammed a broad fist into an open palm for emphasis.
I noticed the girls had finally dragged themselves away from the brothers and were making their way towards us. The brothers followed. ‘Sorry I didn’t introduce the family, Silas, but these girls had me so taken up with our conversation.’
‘It’s okay, lad,’ I told him, smiling that I understood, and I was finally able to introduce myself and Lyn to the Montoyas.
‘There’s some food on the table,’ Lucas said. ‘A gift from Mr Montoya.’
‘Call me Mason, please. It’s fine. We don’t need to be so formal. What we brought there is just a taste of something I caught early this morning,’ he informed us.
‘It’s not much. Only what we had left over after dinner,’ Mia sounded apologetic.
‘What remained after we were through filling our stomachs,’ Lucas said, grinning at the Montoya sisters.
I walked over to the table and lifted the cover of a serving tray and eyeing the dish, I instantly fell in love with Mia. All because of two neat stacks of deep-fried tacos and a serving of something that looked delicious. Small cubes of red fleshy meat were covered in a thick red sauce that filled the air around us with its delectable aroma. ‘It’s Chile venison Carne guisada,’ Mia proffered. ‘I hope it isn’t too spicy for you guys.’
‘Where do you hunt?’ I asked Mason, my voice sounding wary.
‘The 536 cuts through the Sandia hills behind us, and my area is around the old ski runs on the other side of the peak. The hunting isn’t like what it used to be back then, but I get enough to feed my family.’
‘We trade whatever extra we have in the city for things we need. It’s how we survive,’ Mia added.
My attention returned to the delectable goodness on the table. I couldn’t help but think to myself about the slight difference in the meat itself compared to what Mama had prepared. It could’ve been my imagination or how it was presented in silvery stainless steel serving trays, I chided myself, since the brothers had said nothing. Besides the food, I saw a bottle of whiskey and a few hand-rolled ci**rs had been placed in a neat row on the table. Despite the Montoya's generosity, I couldn’t help but wonder why they were laying it out so thick. Lyn must have observed my concerned look and knew what I was thinking. Without further ado, she scooped up one tortilla, heaped it with the chile venison, and pushed it toward me. ‘Let’s not look a gift horse in the mouth,’ she muttered.
Lyn was right. Now wasn’t the time to overthink, and besides, I was stomach twisting hungry. The sauce was sweet and spicy, and it balanced the tart, slightly bitter cubes of meat in the dish that appeared to melt on my tongue. ‘It’s delicious,’ I told Mia, who was looking on and waiting expectantly to hear what we’d say. Lyn agreed with me wholeheartedly. Pouring two shots of whiskey into two of the small glasses on the table, I turned to the brothers and asked, ‘How was the trip to the city?’
‘We didn’t bother to go. A few houses away from here, Mason met us and invited us to his place, so we went there instead,’ Elijah said. I noticed one sister, Olivia, or was it Sophia, clinging to his arm and listening to everything he said. The sisters looked almost identical and could’ve been in their early twenties. The oversized cotton tops and tracks they wore couldn’t conceal their broad-hipped buxom figures, neatly balanced by dangling crops of long straw-coloured wavy hair that framed their angelic Hispanic faces. Large black misty pools of seduction covered by the neatest black brows, and straight narrow nostrils leading down to full sensual lips. It was easy to see why the brothers seemed so mesmerised.
‘It’s my fault,’ Mason said. ‘I saw when you guys pulled in earlier tonight, and we were about to come across and introduce ourselves when I saw those two. Right away, I knew I liked them, and I told Mia. Mia, I said, now, those look like decent blokes. Isn’t it so Mia?’
‘Yes dear, you did. We’re so happy to meet you, folks, you wouldn’t believe it,’ Mia added.
‘I heard of your run-ins with some guys north of the border. You’ve got to be extremely careful out there, but I’m happy it all worked out well for you. Tell me… what do you hope to do if you find the Orion? I mean, you find the ship and get on board. What then?’ Mason asked.
‘I dunno.’
‘He dunno, Mia. Silas said he doesn’t know.’ He had turned to his wife with his arms open wide. ‘Well, let me tell you guys something. I’ve seen thousands like you passing through here, heading south towards the same dream. If you ask me, I think it’s just another of “Big Corp’s” conspiracy.’
He leant toward me and glared, his unibrow quivering as though it had a mind of its own, and taking a step backward, I said, ‘I don’t understand.’
‘He doesn’t understand, Mia. Silas said he doesn’t understand.’ Again, his arms shot out wide in exasperation.
‘Yes dear, I heard.’
‘Lemme put it simply, so you would. Remember the stunning advances in science and technology just before the virus back then? I mean, it was like every week someone was coming up with a cure for something. After decades of research, mankind finally found the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow. Isn’t it so Mia?’
‘Yes dear, that’s exactly how it was.’
‘Well, it was from then onward, as soon as they got mankind to submit to their science, they began terraforming the earth. Think about that. They took out the influencers and replaced them with clones of themselves, and they began to use the information they’d gathered on us, against us. Information collected in data banks that we’d been freely giving them all this while.’
‘Here. Take my name, my age, my med-records, etcetera,’ Mia grinned.
Unibrow continued, the brow sagging its displeasure, conductor-like at being interrupted. ‘Only, the terraforming wasn’t as we thought. Perhaps in a way, yes… as the slow and steady degradation of our environment and the destruction of our climate might suggest. But it was really us that they were terraforming. Our minds, it was our minds they wanted, and technology was what they used to trap us into virtual submission. We were so gullible back then.’
‘But we aren’t anymore,’ Mia chipped in.
I have to say, had I not known what I did, or what I thought I did… there I was, becoming one of the gullible. It would’ve been easy to be swayed by Mason’s convincing logic since most of what he said was true. But I knew there was more; there had to be.
‘But why?’ I asked.
‘Wasn’t you listening?’ Mason ruffed. ‘A.I. wanted our minds, they wanted slaves… they were farming us and they had been doing so for a few decades.’
So compelling. ‘We still need to go and see for ourselves,’ I said.
‘When you do, don’t forget my words. But how do you intend to get there?’
‘The highway?’ I asked, deliberately toning up the doubt in my voice. We were almost eighteen miles away from where the Pan American Freeway crossed the Rio Grande, and that was my point of silent consternation tonight. I’d once heard Mateo tell Frank he had heard from a good source that the river had risen in this area and that the freeway had partly collapsed. That was last year, early in March of ’31, and I was worried it may have deteriorated more since. Mason was able to confirm my suspicions.
‘The river has grown and widened in size to almost a quarter-mile across. It's dragging the banks and the roads down into her watery bowels. Maybe it’s because of the meteor strikes higher up north on the plains, but now the riverbed has dipped or has risen in some places. The entire foundation and strip of the freeway on the Pan American that crosses it has dropped by a few yards. It’s like a hammock, and I don’t think it’ll last long. Eventually, she’s bound to drop into the river.’
I paid close attention to all that Mason said. ‘If that’s the case, then we’d have to travel east along US 84 into Texas. From there, we’ll cross Hidalgo into Reynosa. It’s undoubtedly our safest bet to get into Guatemala.’
‘You wouldn’t be able to do that, I’m sorry,’ the unibrow jiggled a bit at Mia, and I half expected his usual utterance to her. Ain’t it so Mia? ‘That stretch of road along the Mexican Gulf Coast, especially the five hundred plus miles from Moron in Tamaulipas to Coatzacoalcos in Veracruz, is no more. It washed into the ocean some time ago. The sea is slowly fighting its way inland and has swallowed hundreds of miles of the coastline. She’s giving us a fight, boys.’
‘What do you suggest we do?’ Lyn asked.
‘Well, buttercup, tomorrow you should look at the condition of the I-25. That would take you over the Chihuahuan desert that covers the Mexican Plateau in the north. And over the Cordillera Neovolcanica Range in the central and southern parts of the country. That’ll get you to Guatemala,’ Mason grinned at Lyn, and I felt her draw closer to me.
It could’ve been around three-thirty that morning when Mason and his family decided it was time to leave us and head back to their home. ‘You boys could join us for the night,’ Mia invited Lucas and Elijah. ‘Let’s allow those two to finish what we may have interrupted earlier tonight.’
‘Seeing how you put it like that, I agree,’ Elijah slurred his words.
‘I, too, Mia,’ Lucas said, eyeing Sophia, and we all could tell what was on the minds of those two when she smiled at him.
‘We’ll leave here around twelve tomorrow,’ I reminded the boys as they left with the Montoyas.
‘I like them,’ Lyn said. ‘They’re scary, but I like them a lot since they brought food. You don’t see many people doing that these days, you know… being so hospitable and sharing the little they have. We’ve become so selfish.’
I knew that Lyn’s geniality and her benign utterances were in proportion to the few drinks she had and that it would soon wear off and she’d come to her senses again. For me, the Montoyas were hospitable, yes.
Scary… definitely!
But it wasn’t enough to trust them outright. I’d fought against the Nightwalkers with Lucas and Elijah from the Nine Mile Falls near Spokane, Washington, to Bismarck, North Dakota. I’d seen firsthand while fighting for my life, the worst in humanity… and what we’ve become. It’d take a hell of a lot more to earn my trust than being hospitable. Humans aren’t generally the nicest creatures on Earth, especially in the times in which we now live. It was with these thoughts on my mind that I hustled Lyn away from the food on the table, back into the bedroom on the second floor.

An extract from my 5th novel and the second in the series The Forgotten Ones; The Rainmaker.Meanwhile, at the Ricci’s, ‘...
25/05/2022

An extract from my 5th novel and the second in the series The Forgotten Ones; The Rainmaker.
Meanwhile, at the Ricci’s, ‘I saw the women, love… two of them, anyway.’ Sophia was saying.
‘You spoke to them? What did they say?’ Marcello asked. He was at the table eating, and getting up from his chair, he joined her in the kitchen because he didn’t want her to speak aloud. ‘Well, what did they say?’ He asked again.
‘They weren’t near the river on any of the nights you were there. When they came ashore, they started to walk in the opposite direction, away from the river and away from where you’d have been.’
‘Yeah, I know that area well. I’ve been there a few times myself. That there’s a bloody rough country, is what I’d say. It’s filled with long stretches of rock and sand and a few caves here and there along the way as well.’
‘That must be where they stayed those nights, in one of the caves. They said they only realised they must have gone in the wrong direction when they didn’t see anyone after two days.’
‘But how did they sound… I mean, think they were telling the truth?’
‘Yes, I do. I believe their story.’
‘How did they look? What were they like?’
‘Oh, they’re gorgeous, love. They’re your type of women, so I invited them over after the movies tonight. Now, I’ll expect you to be on your best behaviour when they come and don’t try any of your nonsense. I know how you get excited sometimes.’
‘That only happened a few times, dear, and I’ve said I’m sorry for the last decade. It was so long ago that I can barely remember it happening.’
‘Really, love?’
‘Hmm, except for the few other times it happened here. But that was different, baby.’
‘How so? You know that if you tell a lie to yourself repeatedly, eventually you’re going to believe it’s the truth.’
‘It was different because here I did it for us, so that we could have some fun and relive a few moments from our past life. There’s nothing so wrong with that, is there?’
‘No, baby, there isn’t. I’ll be going to the movies at the fortress later. Don’t you want to come with me?’
‘No, thank you. You know I can’t stand to be around those fools. Especially now, knowing they took away our foodstuff, I don’t think I should risk being amongst them tonight lest I run amok. Did the girls say anything about what’s on the drive that got everyone so bloody hyped up? Seeing that it came on the boat with them, they might know what’s on it.’
‘I didn’t ask… I was about to, but I saw they looked as if they wanted to be alone, so I didn’t bother. Besides, I don’t think they know anything about it, because when I mentioned Dimitri’s name and showed them where he lived, I got no reaction from them. Those girls are either really dumb, or they’re damn good. But I think I’ll grill them a little when I see them in the fortress tonight.’
Sophia and Marcello Ricci. Born, Stella Porzio and Giovanni Scavo in a dilapidated, earthquake-damaged apartment complex in the Vele de Scampia, in northern Naples. Born around the time Paolo Di Lauro was ascending the first rungs of the Camorristi ladder. A crime-ridden and drug-infested ghetto area, that was often referred to as the heart of Gomorrah. The killing fields and the feeding grounds of the Camorra, the Neapolitan mafia. They had to be tough and learn fast to survive, which they did with reckless ease.
After five years of running guns and pushing drugs, they wanted more; they felt they deserved more than grunt status. More than the broad empty sidewalks, the fenced-off parks and fortified stairwells they called home could give. They had seen enough of the long lines of empty, soulless eyes and blank faces shuffling past like zombies for the dirt-cheap he**in, morphine, and co***ne they dealt in.
Taking the R5 bus out of that parallel world one morning, they kissed the apartment complex and the dark, filthy alleys of Secondigliano goodbye. Riding out to the train station in Naples, crushed between layers of bastards and sons of wh**es. From there, they made their way to the Porto di Mergellina with twenty keys of the Camorra’s high-grade co***ne in two duffel bags slung over their shoulders. They were on their way to visit Giovanni’s Capo, who’d docked in from Milan and who’d been observing their hard work and loyalty for a while. Being trustworthy meant the transaction was a simple one, like taking the luxury yacht and heading out to sea, where they dumped the bodies of Capo and his three-man crew.
One week later, with the drugs and cash, they were hiding out in plain sight on an oceanfront property along S Flagler Drive in West Palm Beach, South Florida. Life was so good for a few years then. Fruit salads and fresh fruit juice replaced their bread or pasta-filled breakfasts. Lobster, veal, and goulash dinners with the finest bottles of wine replaced the usual watered-down acquacotta they had for lunch or in the evenings. But like all good things, it had to end when two families of the Camorra moved into the neighbourhood and set up shop. Then the virus came, and one morning, they walked out to the pier in front of their home as Sophia and Marcello Ricci. Taking what they could with them on the yacht and leaving everything else behind, they set sail for the South American continent. But fate had other plans for them, and here they were, with Sophia getting dressed to leave for the fortress. Her long, silky black hair glistened, and she had brushed it back to expose her slender, creamy throat. The fine-linked gold chain and pendant Marcello had given her dangled provocatively between her huge breasts.

An extract from my fourth novel and the first in the series The Forgotten Ones; The Virus. That morning, Dorian was sitt...
25/05/2022

An extract from my fourth novel and the first in the series The Forgotten Ones; The Virus.
That morning, Dorian was sitting flat out on the verandah in his corner. Mama said she was going into town today and would buy a hammock, especially for him. After she had finished putting it up, she’d nail a sign to the wall saying it was Dorian’s corner. That way, the blackbirds that kept hopping onto the railings on the verandah as they were doing this very minute would know to keep away. “They’d see the sign and know this is your place. Your little corner of the world where you come to think things through.”
“Things like what?” he asked. “I have nothing important to think about, Mama. Sometimes I let my brain rest and think about nothing at all.”
“I don’t know, anything that’s ailing you, I suppose,” she smiled at his comments but said nothing more. She preferred him out here in the open, fresh air, instead of in his stuffy room behind his game console. She wouldn’t mind if he played his games out here. But he had to get some fresh air and do some exercise, as his doctor had mentioned to her.
“Walking… he has to do lots of it. Gradually at first, but then you’ll have to increase the distance every so often. Find some activity to do along the way and try to make fun of it,” he said. So far, she hadn’t figured out anything fun yet.
Looking down at his hands and the slice of sweetbread he was clutching tightly, Dorian pinched off a small piece and threw it for the blackbirds. He watched them hop off the railing onto the floorboards, cocking their heads to one side, then the other inquisitively. They stared at him with their round yellow eyes as they hopped warily closer towards the crumbs. He lifted his head and glanced up to make sure that Mama wasn’t around because she didn’t like him to feed the birds.
“Look at the mess they’re making,” she’d complain. But he suspected she didn’t mind as much as she made out to be since he’d often hear her mutter, “Oh well, they’re all part of God’s green earth.” Now she was shouting out loudly from the kitchen, ‘Where’re you, Dorian?’
‘I’m out here, Mama,’ he shouted back.
‘C’mon and go bathe, you’ll have to go with me into town today.’
He didn’t mind going because Mama was sure to get him something nice. Even an ice cream cone or two if she was in a good mood, but it was the icy cold water in the shower that bothered him. The water heater broke a few months ago, and Raymond left for England without even bothering to have it repaired. As he watched the colourful fruit birds on the orange and banana trees, he weighed the ice cream cone against the cold water. The sight of Mama coming out of the front door and peering down the verandah in his direction decided the outcome of this silent debate.
‘Step it up, lad, we’ve got lots to do today.’
‘Why can’t you take Em instead.’
‘Em has to help Grandma prepare lunch for Jenny and her friends. Hey, if you hustle up, maybe we’ll be back in time to go with grandma.’
‘Where to?’
‘To the swamplands, of course. We may take in a bike race or two, who knows?’ Maybe getting him a small BMX bicycle wouldn’t be such a bad idea once he saw the fun the other kids had with it.
‘Okay, Mama.’ He gave in easily, but Mama’s supercilious assumption that he had nothing better to do with his Saturday bothered him.
Almost an hour later, they were at the bustling post office in the town where Mama said she had some urgent business to take care of. He himself had conducted a few urgent matters here. Why, just last Christmas, he personally mailed Santa at the North Pole from right here. Wherever that North Pole was. Em was with him that day, and she had to lift him to place his letter in the Santa box. The smiling faces he was seeing behind the counters today knew exactly what they were about. He could vouch for that because he awoke the following morning to find everything that he’d asked for in his letter neatly wrapped in lots of paper. It was too much paper for his liking, though, wrapped and placed neatly under the Christmas tree in the living room.
Mama was talking to Ms Beatrice, whose daughter attended his school. Ms Beatrice was constantly turning around to stare at him with a sly smile on her round, broad face, and he wondered if Mama was complaining to her about him. He noticed how they were dressed alike in long flowery skirts that almost reached their ankles. Their loose-fitting cotton blouses with sleeves bunched at their elbows were just as flowery. They both wore flat shoes. Mama was taller though, nearly six feet she once told him, and was much slimmer and prettier than Beatrice. Mama had bright light-green eyes that could sparkle in an instant and a bright passionate mouth that could fill his world with laughter if she wanted to. She resembled a slightly older Em, but had cut her long brown hair and now wore it at shoulder height that showed off her square shoulders, which she once told him were strong enough to carry all the sorrows in the world.
He was glad when their talk was over, since his legs tingled, and he was feeling restless. Besides, he didn’t like how one of the post office employees was looking at him with tiny beady eyes, almost hidden under thick, long eyebrows. This one had to be a children’s eater, like the kind Em had once told him about. He tried to look at the rows of white Chiclet teeth that glistened as the man smiled, but he couldn’t. Em had told him not to look them in the eyes, or else they’d be able to guess what he was thinking. He should look away.
‘You all right, little man?’ Ms Beatrice asked as she pinched his cheek and billowed past him on her way out. Dorian could feel the draught that pulled at him as her buxom figure brushed past. For a moment, he wondered if he should grab onto something, lest he be sucked away, as he saw happening in a movie once, long ago.
‘I’m good,’ he answered, grabbing Mama’s hand. He watched as Beatrice waddled away through the doors that opened up automatically when she stepped in front of them.
‘Okay, now that’s over with, let’s see about getting you a haircut.’ They crossed the busy main street and entered the small, one-room barbershop. He saw Mama talking to the barber, who looked as if he was the one who needed a haircut. Then she placed him in one of the empty highchairs to await his turn. ‘I’ll be back in no time, Dorian, don’t get into any trouble now.’
He couldn’t believe she was leaving him with this methylated-spirit smelling lot. He tried to rid himself of his uneasiness by looking at their faces as the barber snipped and clipped dangerously close to their ears. He had to hide his smile when he saw some of the older gentlemen with their eyes closed, and he suspected some of them were fast asleep. Snip, snip, snip. They were having the long strands of grey hair jutting out of their nostrils trimmed as well. Hope they don’t sneeze. Soon it was his turn, and the barber had to lift him into the highchair. ‘So what style are we having today?’ he grinned from where he was hidden inside one of the thickest beards Dorian had ever seen.
‘I’m not sure. Just cut it I guess.’ His comment seemed funny to the barber, who grinned wider.
‘Okay, I’ll give you one of those fancy cuts. The kind that’s guaranteed to have the girls running after you,’ he said and watched as Dorian blushed red.
From where he sat, Dorian could see outside through the wide, clear glass window behind the mirror. He saw when Mama came out of the general store and went into the bookshop next door, and he smiled quietly to himself. She had to be getting him the science book he wanted, the one Grandpa Joe told him to ask her to get. After a short while, he saw when she came out with a small bag in her hands, then she crossed the road and was coming back this way.
‘All done, little man,’ the barber was telling him. ‘See if you like what I did.’
He glanced in the mirror and noticed how neat his hair looked, unlike before, all wild and tousled. ‘That will do, but I don’t see the girls lining up,’ he replied, and the barber chuckled heartily as Mama entered the door.
She paid him, and as she did, Dorian couldn’t help but notice how he kept staring at her flowery blouse, and he suspected the barber’s girlfriend had a blouse like Mama’s. They left the barbershop and headed for the ice cream parlour, which was owned by one of Mama’s friends. She was a dark, portly woman with a huge bosom who threatened to spill out of every seam in her dress, through the glass door, and onto the road. But she always had a pleasant smile on her face, and because of Mama’s friendship, Dorian always got an extra spoon or two on his cone from Mrs Brathwaite. He liked her and enjoyed sampling all the different flavour ice cream she sold, but his favourite was the creamy coconut with raisins. “A little chap after me own heart,” she’d chuckle as she scooped out his order.
They placed their orders, and while he squeezed himself between a long table and a bench near the window, Mama remained at the counter, gossiping and chuckling hilariously with Mrs Brathwaite. The parlour was already crammed with customers, most of them older than him, many of whom were having coloured sprinkles on their cones. Dorian didn’t like sprinkles on ice cream. It was okay to have it on the chocolate cake Grandma sometimes baked, but not on ice cream. He saw Tiffany and her twin sister, Isabelle, on the far side of the room. They were with their mother. A skinny woman, older than Mama, with a bosom so huge it pulled down her jaws and made her look sad. Sad and comically surprised today, because she’d shaved off her brows and drawn them back again high on her forehead. It reminded him of when he stood in the yard at home and looked up at the sky and saw the crows with their sweeping wings descending for the biscuits that he’d throw at them. The twins were sitting quietly, as they did at school, staring glumly at their mother as she decided what they wanted.
Now that Mrs Brathwaite was busy, Mama joined him at the window. She sat on the other side of the table, across from him, but after a while, he noticed she seemed to have trouble finishing her cone. Maybe it was too much for her, so he had to help her with it. ‘We can’t let something so divine go to waste now,’ Mama said, and he quickly agreed. After they were through and had said goodbye to Mrs Brathwaite, they set off for home. On their way, she handed him the bag he had seen her holding in front of the bookshop. ‘Here’s the book you wanted. I don’t know if you’d be able to understand what’s written in it. If you want any help, you know I’m right here.’ She was secretly pleased that he’d asked for a science book.

An extract from my third novel in the series Of Days Gone By; Armageddon.Kahill remained silent. He was stunned and his ...
25/05/2022

An extract from my third novel in the series Of Days Gone By; Armageddon.
Kahill remained silent. He was stunned and his breath had caught in his throat. He’d been figured out by this other smiling bitch in front of him, and a silent rage was building within him. How he wanted to reach out and strangle her. He could feel his inner being quivering, yet somehow, he held himself in check. Lord, there was no end in sight. His mind was racing when he said, ‘Lemme use your phone for a minute.’ He’d left his phone in his vehicle.
‘Sure, go right ahead.’ She pushed the phone on her desk toward him.
Five minutes later, he was telling her, ‘I got a mill coming into my account anytime now. I want four certified cheques for a quarter-million each, made out to cash. Think you can handle that for me?’
With his humiliation at the bank completed and the four certified cheques in his breast pocket, he left the bank soon after with his head bowed and his footsteps uncertain. He was bathed in sweat and his collar was damp around his neck. It leaked under his arms and ran down to the waist of his trousers, and he could feel the dampness soaking through his underpants and running between his legs. He needed a drink or two in the worst way possible right this minute, but he didn’t want to visit the liquor shop across the road from where his vehicle was parked. There, the idiots and other misfits would crowd around him, begging for favours. For state houses or anything else they could think of. They behaved as though he carried those in his pockets and could pull them out at any time like a magician. He’d have to swallow his saliva and bear it for a little while longer until he reached the Chinese, where the drinks would be cold and free and the bets large. The odds ought to be with him today because Lady Luck owed him something after having dealt him such a sh*tty hand today.
He drove to the casino about a mile and a half away in a daze, and it was only as he parked at the back of the building that he noticed he had reached. This must be how a diabetic would feel without his shot of insulin, he thought. He couldn’t recall the route he had taken to get here. He parked in his usual spot and nodded a greeting to the old African guard, who limped his way toward the heavy metal gates. After a brief struggle, the gates were pulled in. He continued toward a long flight of wooden stairs that hugged the rear of the building. He heard the familiar creaks under his weight as he made his way up, two steps at a time, to a thick metal door at the edge of the landing.
Kahill rapped on the door and listened to the hollow metallic sound that buzzed and reverberated around him. A small hole appeared out of which two shiny eyes peered at him. The pair of eyes scrutinised his face for a while, then the doors were hastily thrown open. He continued through a dimly lit corridor where his calfskin leather shoes echoed dully on the thick wooden floorboards that ran between tiny cubicle-like rooms with flimsy pieces of curtains drawn. He could see the writhing, naked bodies in the throes of heated passion inside these tiny rooms, and he could smell the musky scent of s*x hanging like a thick shroud in the air around him. The sharp grunts and the low moans he heard excited him. It was one reason he came here. The other was because of the rich, sweet scent of burnt o***m that pervaded the air and hung over the room like a thin mist. Then, opening another wide double door, he was in the engine room of the establishment. The casino.
He had to have a drink first, and he felt he needed something strong today. Something that would burn at his insides and jolt him out of this nightmarish trance he was in. Scotch wouldn’t cut it. Not today. Walking up to the bar in one corner of the high-ceilinged room, he looked around him and noticed how scant it was. Scant and silent.
One hour and three tall glasses of vodka martinis later, with extra dry vermouth garnished with lemon peel, he was on a high chair reserved for the “high rollers” at the devil’s wheel… the roulette table. The bets were announced and covered by chips he’d purchased, and as usual, he started by playing the first column of random single numbers, four to thirty-one, to the maximum. These were thirty one-thousand-dollar chip bets with a payout of two hundred and ninety-four chips. He lost a quarter of a million this way. An hour later, he moved to the second column of numbers from five to thirty-two, which cost him forty chips to cover to the maximum. But this had a payout of three hundred and ninety-two chips, and as he normally played with his bet down, the forty chips would be added to the payout. After the second hour, with lady luck sitting on an empty high chair at his side, he was up to four and a half million dollars.
He had the urge for a cigarette, and besides, he needed to take a five to clear his head and revel a bit in his good fortune. The numbers were with him today. He was fully focused, and somehow, he could tell exactly which fret the ball would glide through and on which number it would fall. The tables around him were crowded now, and several curious eyes had gathered to watch him play. He wasn’t aware of their presence before, being so absorbed in the game. Still, he wished they could go away and leave him alone.
He returned to his high chair in good spirits. Somehow, for the next two hours, whilst time stood still in the cigarette smoke-filled room, the martinis got stronger, and the “devil’s wheel” spun faster. The women who had gathered around the table appeared prettier than when he first walked in. It was a little after ten that night when he cashed in the thirty-seven chips that remained. It had been a good run while it lasted, yet once more, he had lost. He called for another martini and remained at the table for a while before he got up and staggered to a sofa near one of the broad glass windows. Lighting another cigarette, he sat down wearily and looked out. His temples ached, and raising the tall glass to his head, he closed his eyes and rubbed its coolness against his forehead.
Beyond the flashing neon sign in front of the casino, he could see the savannah, now almost deserted. He saw the dazzling headlights of the never-ending stream of cars driving along the broad circular roadway in front of him. The lights on the houses far away on the hills twinkled like stars in the sky and seemed to call him home. He wondered what Christine was doing and whether he should go and see Mariam. She had to pay. He shouldn’t forget. Maybe he would leave in a while, but for now, he was just going to sit here and relax and enjoy the cool, slender fingers that were massaging his shoulders and neck. Gently rubbing against his ear-lobe, softly erasing the humiliation and disappointment of the past day. That felt so good.
He got off the sofa, reached out, and pulled the hands that were massaging his shoulders. He liked the soft smoothness he felt under his grasp and smiled when he noticed the cherubic nymph with large, round eyes at the end. Pulling her to one of the dimly lit rooms through the double doors, he brushed aside the thin curtains and entered one that was empty. The nymph was trained, and she had her supply of black resin and her pipe, which she wasted no time heating. Soon, a feeling of blissful dissociation fell over him, and he joined the other naked, writhing bodies he had seen on his way in.

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