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NOT FOR BEDTIME - horror, murder
etc short storiesBEFORE HITTING BOTTOM -
addiction explained and tackled compassionatelyTHE
FORGOTTEN ARMY - grim true story of a prisoner of warINFINITY JUNCTION - (the book) - intelligent religious
farceA VERY EUROPEAN DEATH - the eurothriller has
arrivedDAGGER FIRST - rip-roaring futuristic
political satire/adventureTENGAR BRIDGE - modern
thriller part based on factIf reading this as a saved page, or you have come here without going through our main menu page, please click the next link to GO TO THE INFINITY JUNCTION WEBSITE - many links only work if you are already at our website
Click here to go to the Infinity Junction books for sale list.NOT FOR
BEDTIMEfrom One Case Too Many, by Brian Hunt
-
A gory scene in an ordinary suburban semi,
surrounded by a nice garden in a comfortable part of town, as happens. Warm
Spring morning. Neighbours cutting the lawn or walking the dog. Big green
hedges and small red gnomes. Beautiful naked woman on a blood-soaked bed.
Fitch always wondered about the eight pints of blood capacity of the human
body. More like twenty eight it seemed to Fitch. Up the walls, on the
windows, on the curtains and soaked into carpets and clothes. And the smell
of death and sweet fresh blood lingered in the bedroom air...
from
Seraphim by Gaye Jee -
The street lamps cast pools
of light on the wet cobbles, illuminating the heads of the saints as they
keep their stony vigils on the walls of Charles Bridge. Fog rising from the
river curls its tentacles between the statues, wreathing a head for a few
seconds or obscuring entire sections of the ancient walls. The Vltava flows
oily and invisible thirty feet below. A bell somewhere in Hradcany strikes
three.
The sound of running footsteps batters the
muffled air, and then a cry. Jakub, his bare feet filthy and bleeding,
almost catches his wife's shoulder as she flees under the gothic archway of
the Bridge Tower. But a chipped cobble tears the ball of his foot and he
sprawls on the wet stones. By the time he heaves himself upright again, she
is poised on the wall between the statues of St Joseph and St Francis
Xavier. She briefly turns her face towards him, the features blurred by the
fog into a pale moon partially eclipsed by black hair.
"Witch!" he screams, "Whore! Come back here and
... " Just as he thinks she is about to step into the air, the drifting mist
obscures her figure only to part again as he reaches the place where she
stood. The wall is empty...
from Double Barbecue, by Desmond Meiring
-
"You're going to kill me!" said the thin captive
in the middle, in a sing-song voice.
The clown held a
gun on him, a standard police Beretta 9mm, silencer
fitted.
The blond man, the leader, replied in English,
as if to humour him, and not in his native Afrikaans: "Why kill you, hey,
Johnny? We just need a little chat, to get you to stop using your blerry
printing-press for the commies, see? We can't have that! We might even give
you a drink or two, man!"
The driver, solitary in
front, exploded with mirth. The shortest of the three inquisitors, he made
up for that by the extreme breadth of his chest and shoulders. His voice was
full of Scottish gravel. He too wore a shirt, slacks, sports coat. They all
still looked in uniform. "A few drappies, indeed! To speed him on his way!"
"Hou jou bek!" said the blond leader curtly. The Scot
was silent at once. Ahead, the asphalted road to Chapman's Peak twisted away
under their headlights...
adapted from Genna's Ghost by M.A. Randall
-
Sunlight cut through the room in criss-crossing
rays. White sheets shrouded everything. Helen swiped the nearest away to
reveal an antique oak dresser, and the memories surged back.
On the dresser were a few of her childhood belongings:
a hairbrush, a vanity case, and various bottles of perfume, all, it seemed,
neatly positioned, their placement almost purposeful. It had been her
dresser as a child. This had been her bedroom. It was as she had left it
twenty years ago, but why had her father preserved it? Maybe he had truly
loved her? Maybe he had dearly missed her? The questions, she abruptly
understood, were revelations, and her emerald eyes welled with
tears.
Beside the dresser was a sheet that concealed
something tall. She knew that it was a full-length dress mirror, its oval
glass bevelled at the edge into the border pattern of a twisting rose bush.
As ten-year-olds playing hide and seek, she and her sister Genna had
sometimes hidden behind it, or on rainy winter days they had dressed in all
their glittery clothes and paraded in front of it like the models they'd
dreamed of becoming.
She pulled off the sheet to
reveal her reflection; only it was not her reflection.
Those hinges wailed again, but she couldn't turn to
look; no way could she tear her gaze from what lay before her. She heard
Steven's heavy rasping as he entered, and then his startled words.
"Oh Jesus Christ, that's..."
She
knew it was fear that had caught his voice, and she whispered the remainder
of the sentence for him. "Genna's ghost."...
Not For Bedtime detailsReturn to top menu?
BEFORE
HITTING BOTTOMa compilation brief of quotes from Deborah and
Gene Dupré Wheeler's important work - please note most of these
have been significantly edited to fit into the space
available:
"I am an addict. I need your help. Don't
allow me to lie to you and accept it for the truth, for in so doing you
encourage me to lie. The truth may be painful for me, but find a
compassionate way to show reality to me through an intervention. Don't let
me outsmart you. This only teaches me to avoid responsibility and to lose
respect for you at the same time.
"Don't lecture me,
moralize, scold, praise or blame. I have a disease." It
is understandably difficult to comprehend that alcoholism and other drug
addictions are a disease, especially when the powers-that-be convincingly
teach that behaviour associated with the condition is a matter of personal
responsibility.
If you have not experienced all of the
horrors (of addiction)... every day and continued to
deny there is a problem, you would easily fail to understand the power of
chemicals in the body of one addicted to them.
Before Hitting
Bottom - questions and answers: Why are
interventions necessary?
Most parents and friends
unsuccessfully try to change the behaviour and attitude of the addicted
person they love. Because of denial these attempts usually fail and alienate
the loved one even further, resulting in further frustration and anger for
both parties involved. Subsequently, ordinary reasoning only further damages
the fragile state of being of the person wanting to help, producing feelings
of failure and depression in all involved.
Why are
interventions rarely used?
Many people associate
interventions with aggressive, forceful attacks rather than the gentle and
most loving thing family, friends and colleagues can do for an
addict.
Another reason is that they are not easy.
People are afraid of them. Most people find it difficult to confront someone
they love about most personal private parts of their life.
Before Hitting Bottom detailsReturn to top menu?
THE FORGOTTEN ARMYadapted from The
Forgotten Army by Roy Yates -
One particular
episode whilst working on the bridges will remain in my memory forever. Once
the scaffold was erected my main task involved pulling on one of the forty
guy ropes to raise and release the weight to drive in the pile, which was
rather monotonous; forty men all pulling together, very little effort was
needed and I naturally became bored. My eyes were attracted to the elephant
to my right struggling with a pile caught up against a tree stump. The Thai
driver was getting irritated and hacked at the animals head with his hooked
driving stick causing blood to spurt out, they were often very cruel, the
animal would experience considerable pain from the sharp pointed hook going
into its head. As I watched, I suddenly felt something strike my back, the
pain and shock sent me dizzy, I turned to see a Nip behind me with a bamboo
stick, looking into his eyes I saw that wild barbaric uncivilised glare
which we all knew so well and had at some time or other experienced the
cruel punishment that followed. He swore at me in Nipon and in English
saying "English soldier no good, dammy, dammy" with both hands on the stick
he raised it to strike again, I turned my back on him to carry on pulling
the guy rope, with all his power the next blow struck my back the pain was
excruciating and travelled throughout my body like an electric shock,
another blow quickly followed and my head began to spin. My brain raced with
thoughts of how I could try to stop the pain and agony of my situation,
should I drop to the ground in the hope that he would stop, my mind said no,
do not cower to this insignificant little man remember you are a British
Soldier. I braced my body and carried on pulling on the rope as the blows
continued. I lost count as my senses began to leave me and my body became
numb, my grip on the rope slackened and I felt my hands sliding down the
rope, then I must have blacked out. I never did find out if he continued to
thrash me, I was told that no one was allowed to help me for some time then
eventually I was carried away from the bridge by two comrades...
The Forgotten Army detailsReturn to top menu?
INFINITY JUNCTIONadapted from chapter 1 of
Infinity Junction (the pre-production book) by Neil Gee
'Straddling the border between Swaziland and France
there finds itself DERN, the huge international underground experimental
particle dei-celerator, the most big of worlds.' So the brochure said.
Besides it finding itself there, it found that it had
been plunged into financial crisis yet again. The biennial review always
prompted certain political factions to argue for its closure, usually to no
avail, although this time the anti campaigners seemed to hold sway. It
really did look worrying for employees and supporters now. Divine
Experimental Research Nihilinstitute had been founded near Aches-les-Pains
fifty infinities earlier and in all the time that it had been found there,
not a single truly respectable deity had been initiated. Nor yet had one new
universal truth of any real use been revealed, bar maybe a few hundred
proverbs, which in any case came not from the dei-celerator, but were
generated by Derncom, the self-enlightening computer. Not that even those
were particularly illuminating. For example: 'When deities sneeze,
there‘ll be a breeze, (and maybe a shower as well;)' 'Look before your
rolling stitch gathers a silver warning,' considered to be very profound
in France, and 'Ne'er cast aspersions till later versions.' Now while
the last saying was patently true, it didn‘t need a zillion dollap machine
to proverbialise it. And there were dozens more.
Senior philosophysicists had always maintained that
this was a long term project which could not be held to a timetable,
however, important results had been dismally slow coming from this
exceedingly expensive contraption. In fact the advent of usable results was
so overdue that cynicism had percolated deep into the fibre of
establishment...
...Down far below... ...was the main
control room, literally at the centre of the experiment. It was enclosed
within a protective concrete and metal sheath just in case the very worst
case, hypothetical chain reaction ever happened: MUD, (multiversal
uncontained deification,) which might rupture their massive vacuum system,
not that it looked very likely from the first fifty infinities of work. This
control bunker, aptly named Infinity Junction, housed the research
technicians who did the real work of monitoring and controlling, at least as
much as they could with such an unpredictable
experiment.
Suddenly one of them noticed an event,
possibly of major significance.
"Chuck, c'm'over here
a mo."
"What?"
"Looks like we got a double down line four!"
"Double?"
"An effin flippin
floating double!"
"Sure?"
"Look
for yourself." Technician operator Ncomber kissed his instruments in glee.
"You beautiful job saving little devils you!"
 | | (illustrations
from later in the book) Nick Coppernickers' dream (left) is
fulfilled
many hundreds of years later
(right) | |  |
Infinity Junction (the novel) details.Return to
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A VERY EUROPEAN
DEATHadapted from early chapters of A Very European Death by
Mike Bonner -
..."Is this your knife,
monsieur?"
Geoff shook his head, "Non," and added that
he'd never seen it before. The agent took down his name without looking up,
then made his way upstairs to join his colleagues. Geoff found himself
trembling slightly, moved over to the window to retrieve the
cafetière and put on some coffee. This was the first hint of violence
he'd experienced since his arrival. That was one of the things he'd liked
from the start. The hotel, the whole city even, had felt so safe...
He switched on the radio, fiddled randomly and came up
with Europe 1. It was six o'clock, news time, and he just managed to get the
gist of things before turning to some light music. He yawned. It was too
late to go back to bed now. He had a busy day ahead....(a few days later at work)
...Geoff, on impulse, went up to the workshop manager, thankfully something
of an Anglophile, and broached the thorny question of a few days' leave.
Cahuc was distinctly rosy-cheeked after a couple of lunchtime cognacs.
"Ta petite Madeleine, hein?" The workshop manager gave
a conspicuous wink, accompanied by a slap on Geoff's back and a howl of
laughter."Bon, fous le camp!"
Geoff thanked him and
turned to go, then remembered all was not well with his boss, either. "My
condolences," he said. "I saw you leaving Pêre Lachaise cemetery last
Saturday. No-one close, I hope?"
Cahuc looked
taken-aback, scrutinised Geoff's features and his face relaxed. "My niece,"
he said softly.
"I'm sorry, it's none of my
business..."
"It's perfectly all right," said the
other, after a pause. "Unexpected, a shock. You understand?"
"Of course."
"A lovely girl,
Nathalie - Nathalie Buffy - but rather naïve, I'm afraid... And
somewhat too liberal with her affections." Geoff waited, rather against his
will, for the other man to continue.
"Three years ago
she joined the police. Female officers work routinely with the Social
Security agencies; benefit fraud, that sort of thing." Geoff nodded.
"During the course of her enquiries she developed an
unfortunate liaison with a rather inadequate young man. He found out she was
also having a long-standing affair with a married man and killed her. End of
story."
Geoff suddenly couldn't let it all finish
there. "And where did all this take place?"
"Somewhere
you know well. The Hôtel du Dôme."
For
Geoff it was now all falling into place. "Your niece - Nathalie - I've
probably seen her. And I certainly know the young man concerned."
Monsieur Cahuc looked long and hard at Geoff. "Then you
know both the gentlemen I'm talking about."...
A Very European Death detailsReturn to top menu?
DAGGER
FIRSTadapted from Dagger First by Evelyn Murray
-
Rubin posed in front of the shining red
machine,* elegant and sophisticated in his best uniform. His meticulously
groomed black hair was modishly brushed to show his perfect pale brown
complexion and he put on the best girl-catching smile he could muster. Above
his head the space corps motto could be seen immaculately painted around the
stylish crest of space capsule rampant: 'Per Ordure Ad Astra,' which roughly
translated meant 'through adverse conditions to the stars.' He hid the
Spanish fishing boat registration mark behind the flag of Europe... (editor's
note - registered as a Spanish fishing boat to get EC subsidies)... One roll
of film later, he was back to normal. Within the hour he had signed each
picture and written a short note to each of his dozen closest female friends
explaining how he was off on a dangerous mission into the unknown. He would
follow that up comprehensively when he came home... Six
o‘clock launch from Swilsbury was, as usual, delayed.
"GPV zero-fifty-one stroke fishing boat Maria of
Santander, requesting permission to blast off."
"Terribly sorry Jack darling, there‘s a delay. Air
traffic control congestion."
"Haven‘t they got those
Swanwick computers running yet?"
"Give them a chance
sweety, they‘ve only been at it two hundred years."
"How long a delay?"
"Two hundred
years. Oh no darling, I see what you mean; just till the evening rush is
over, about two hours."
Jack switched off the
microphone... He picked up the latest issue of that scientific journal and
scanned it for interesting articles; not even pictures on page three.
Suddenly Daley sounded excited: "I've found it!"
"What?"
"Chicken supreme, still
got a label!" **
"You‘ll have to put a poly bag on your
head or you'll mess the furniture."...
(editor's note
- it makes sense when you've read what goes before)
(* Brand new general
purpose space vehicle with guns and art deco shower)
(**that hasn't bio-degraded - they're biodegradable to be
'green')
Dagger First detailsReturn to top
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TENGAR BRIDGEadapted from
Tengar Bridge by N. M. Lewis -
...Every minute or
so the sonorous burp of a distant foghorn disturbed the near perfect
silence. From which direction it came I couldn‘t tell. I stood very still,
forcing my unwilling brain to focus all its resources on listening.
Listening for sounds of life, sounds of danger. My own heartbeat thumped in
my ears and I could hear occasional drips or trickles, as water condensing
on the steel and concrete succumbed to gravity. More and more the
mysteriously suspended fog droplets concentrated in the atmosphere, dancing
aimlessly until they stuck to a surface. The air got denser and denser,
seeming to squash all that is wholesome out of it. Harder and harder it
seemed to push down the world underneath, squeezing the will to live out of
creatures. I had never experienced such a fog and was no longer certain that
I could find my way back.
Damn Chi Mok, damn him.
Where the hell had he got to? Apprehension grew and the longer I waited the
less comfortable I felt. What had gone wrong? Had be been caught and if so,
would he sell me out? The fog seemed to get even thicker, if that was
possible. Light faded even more. I checked my watch. Half past eleven, the
daylight above the fog had not even reached its brightest. Fog and the
uncertainty were getting on my nerves, adding to other worries. He should
have been here more than an hour
ago. ... ...I was disturbed from this
agitated train of thought by a faint sound. I thought I heard a stone bounce
on the concrete some distance away to the north. The intense fog deadened
the sound and I doubted if could believe my initial interpretation. To my
relief, rapid footsteps of a lone walker came into earshot. Soon I heard a
low mumble as the man reached the last cable on his side and counted out the
paces. The outline of a smallish human form started to materialise from
obscurity, soon the real man emerged.
"Jim?" I asked.
The dim light and diffused image concealed his definitive features.
"Than' god it you!" said dripping Chi Mok. "This no
good for my nerves, no like it a' all."
"I was
worried, you‘re very late." I said.
"No' easy, had to
be very careful." Then he asked in his distinctive accent, "No one?"
I shook my head, "Nobody for ages. Have you got it?"
"Yeh, go' it, but money first, quick: fog clearing
inland, I hear it on radio."...
..."That‘s all?" I asked
thinking I may have been cheated.
"Honest, tha' all.
Real big fuss about this when it go. I'll be in big mess if the boss find
out it was me. Okay?"
"How many more are there?"
"Not too many left now, maybe twenty. Look to me like
they getting ready for something even bigger. More guards with guns than
before."...
Tengar Bridge detailsReturn to top menu?
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