by R. G. Oram
‘David, David, David, why do you try and help people? I’m not sure if you’ve noticed, this world is full of nothing but pathological backstabbers who have got nothing better to do other than kick you to the curb and take everything you have. You got to stop believing in people. Its garbage. You’re wasting your time. And Jeffrey Dixon doesn’t matter now, he’s dead. He’s so dead that when he jumped all those years ago, he turned himself into nice red scrambled egg on the pavement. Not a bad analogy is it?’
Lewelyn stamped his foot on the ground. He spat out, ‘You want to know what I hate the most? When people think they can do what they want to anybody. They believe just because they’re better than that person it gives them the right to….’ Lewelyn growled. ‘You think just because of who you are, that gives you the prerogative, the right, to decide what happens to them?’
Newport giggled childishly.
‘Laugh all you want. I promise you, this won’t be the last time we meet.’
More soft laughs from the man.
Lewelyn had past his limits now and charged spontaneously. It didn’t matter if he could only use the one arm. He’d tackle Newport over the incline, into the water, hoping that would afford him some advantage over his opponent.
There was a buzzing. Like a storm of bees drifting towards him. Lewelyn lessened his pace, not sure where the sound was coming from. He looked both right and left and behind him – nothing. When those visual avenues were exhausted he looked up, spotting a hovering object.
Reducing its altitude. All four of its propeller blades spinning, cutting space in the air to manoeuvre itself between Lewelyn and Newport. The drone with a sound that could be associated with an angry small moped became an imposing Hadrian’s Wall between the two opposing forces. An inverted green triangle shone in its front centre – an optical feature resembling the eye of a Cyclops.
‘Guess we’ve got to make it a habit to look up now, don’t you think? It’s not just flying saucers we got to out watch for,’ Newport remarked glibly.
Lewelyn marvelled how each rotating propeller of the drone worked to balance it in the free air. With the additional two propellers, the personal UAV mildly matched a miniature, a more compact design than the U.S. Presidential MV-22 Osprey helicopter.
‘I’m sorry, David. But this might sting a little. I lied about what I said earlier.’
Lewelyn scoffed, ‘That’s all right. I knew you were full of shit.’
‘How’d you know, David?’
‘When you said you didn’t want to any trouble, the corner of your lips lifted up, for less than a second. Sub-consciously, you took delight in thinking you duped me. It made you feel superior.’
‘You are awesome, my friend. I can see a book being written about you.’
David replied, ‘I doubt it.’
‘Well, I suppose this is the last time we’ll see each other. Been nice talking to you, David.’
‘I guess these days you don’t need a knife or gun to kill somebody. It’s all done by remote control now,’ Lewelyn replied.
Newport made a loud hum.
‘Oh by the way, David. After my robo friend here is done with you, before he kills you. I thought I should let you know I’m not going to touch Sara. We don’t kill people out of impulse. When we make you ‘disappear’, she’ll get a message on her phone. The message is going to be from you, except, obviously it’s not going to be you. You’ll tell her that Hannah’s murder has made you think. How you can’t keep lying to her. You’ll her about the affair you had with Hannah. How you fell in love with her. And now after everything, you can’t keep pretending. How you wanted somebody younger. That it’s better for both of you if you leave. Don’t worry I’ll make sure to be gentle. I think it’s better to make a lie sweet and caring – gives it more authenticity. See you, David.’
‘Oh wait. Got another question, David,’ Newport had turned off his phone, letting the darkness absorb him, giving Lewelyn only a voice as proof Newport was still there. ‘This is kind of personal. Hope you feel like sharing. Tell me, everything that’s happened in your life up to this point, you regret anything?’
‘Nothing springs to mind,’ Lewelyn’s answer.
‘Wow. That makes this even easier.’
The drone went closer to Lewelyn. It circled around him. By the time he’d spun around to try and get in line with the aerial device it was already moving into his blind spot. As he turned, its non-metallic construction and lightning fast speed became obvious to him when he received a hard composite headbutt.
‘Shit!’
Lewelyn maintained his balance and moved away from his earlier spot. Now all he could hear now was buzzing. He saw it come for him again.
Christ its fast, he thought.
All drones, as far as Lewelyn knew, had obstacle sensors which overrode the droid’s flight path if it got too close to something which would result in a collision. This one didn’t have that built-in anti-collision firewall.
He leapt down the incline, tripped and somersaulted over, landing squarely on his back. Not giving his aching spine any rest, he levered himself to his feet. The drone was hovering over the water, its green eye preying upon Lewelyn. Quickly, he unstrapped the sling to free his wounded arm, then ripped his long sleeve shirt off just in time to meet the attack. Like a matador, Lewelyn wrapped it around the drone’s camera-eye with one arm, while retaining hold of the shirt by its sleeves. The drone was momentarily motionless. Lewelyn guessed the pilot, wherever they were, had no clue what was going on and was fighting to keep a level flight under its new blanket.
Impatiently, the drone surged at his abdomen, the contact causing David’s face to cringe with pain. He maintained his one armed hold on the vestiges of his shirt. But then instead of charging at him again, the drone began to back out. Not wanting to lose his potential advantage Lewelyn followed it. As it moved further away, it swung sharply left, drawing Lewelyn into a slow motion spin. He tried desperately to keep his balance while being pulled around like the victim of a lethargic twister.
Another sudden tug manipulated Lewelyn to the water’s edge. Even though the quadcopter was small and light it had resilience. His toes nearing the end of terra firma, but not allowing himself to be pulled in, he let go of the shirt.
He watched the drone fly halfway across the reservoir, then shoot vertically up into the sky at a speed almost impossible for the human eye to follow. When it stopped it plunged back down like a meteor entering the earth’s atmosphere. Lewelyn’s shirt fell off it, sinking into the water. He’d seen rips in the shirt’s material as it had fallen into the reservoir – those thin sheeted blades weren’t the usual carbon fibre propellers that came attached with a basic drone, the blades which had torn into his shirt were purposely manufactured for slicing and grinding hard sheets of metal, or flesh.
The body language expert was now shirtless, with only a cotton vest as armour to defend against the motor driven blades. The intensified engine noise advertised an imminent attack on Lewelyn. He scrambled to the top of the incline, trying to decide where to go, attempting to distance himself from his situation. He imagined a house in some remote forest and a time when technology did not exist.
The advancing sound was now becoming more like a saw. Lewelyn turning in time to meet it head on. All he could do is put his arm out as if to block a punch.
The slashing of flesh, blood oozing from new wounds, coating the attacker with the victim’s blood.
‘Argh! Shit!!!’ Lewelyn screamed as the blades attempted to dismember his arm from his body.
His arm which blocked the drone held its guard. Lewelyn began to feel the pressure of his aerial attacker as it pushed his bleeding forearm closer to his face. One of the propellers was getting close to Lewelyn’s eyelid. The eye became watery from the harsh non-interrupting spin of the blade. He could see it coming. This was it – the decider.
Thankfully the blade had not bitten deep. With his free arm, Lewelyn grabbed the top of the drone, feeling the propellers cutting into his wrist. Throwing all his weight across its top, he forced the drone down to the ground where the blades threw up a shower of sparks before starting to buckle out of shape. The device attempted to squirm from his hold as the blades continuing rotation, walked it along. Gradually, each motor ceased turning and Lewelyn set about disabling his adversary.
Gripping its landing gear, he ripped away the outer plastic shell to expose its core. Lewelyn tore out as much as he could. Gradually, he heard powering down sounds as each electrical organ was being disengaged. Finally, a tired Lewelyn stopped harvesting the components.
The adrenaline began to wear off. He slumped back to the ground, but not before he’d thrown the violated remains of the machine in some direction he had now forgotten. Alone again, Newport had departed at the start of the battle between droids and humans.
He looked at his arm.
‘Ah shit, I got to go back to the hospital.’
His phone vibrated in his pocket. The message was from Sara.
Hurry up! I’m hungry!
‘Good to know,’ Lewelyn said to the message, leaving it un-replied.
He opened the front door to get away from the heavy rain. The smell of smoked barbeque and sweet cooked onions invaded his nostrils. Lewelyn fought the urge to walk straight into the living room and devour that pizza. He made his way to the bathroom, near running past the food in case Sara caught sight of his arm. Reaching the door he saw her emerging from the bedroom. Immediately she saw it and gasped, which filled the entire room.
‘Bollocks, what happened to you?!’
‘Any chance you can open that door for me?’ he pointed at the bathroom.
She helped him in, as Lewelyn’s legs began to crumble. He wedged himself on the edge of the bathtub.
‘You’re accident prone. That’s two arms now. What happened?’
I’ve got more work to do, he thought.
‘I know what I have to do now,’ Lewelyn told her.
‘Which is?’
‘Something you’re not going to like. Something really stupid,’ Lewelyn gazed down at the red stains, at the blood still coming through the bottom of his vest, feeling a cool breeze over him. ‘If this is it, then it’s been good. The greatest. Diolch – Thank you… Sara.’
He produced the best heartfelt chuckle he could. Letting his body relax, allowing himself to fall into the waterless tub. Letting it seduce him – kissing sleep right on the lips – the need for sustenance dissipating – forgetting he still needed to patch up his arm.
The falling rain outside, its endless harmony, the drops like shards of glass, the endless music – his much needed rain.
David Lewelyn, granted his much needed sleep.
The Final Epilogue
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Visitor: Good Evening.
N3wprt: Good Evening.
Visitor: I require some assistance.
N3wprt: How’d you find this page?
Visitor: A friend.
N3wprt: Your friend have a name?
Visitor: Not one I’m willing to share.
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Visitor: My son.
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Visitor: David.
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N3wprt: I have no recollection of that.
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N3wprt: That’s a lot of money. I wonder where it all came from.
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Visitor: She is an issue as well. Another which could prove to be just as disastrous. I think it prudent that my daughter-in-law should disappear. Immediately.
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Message to Law Enforcement Agencies
This novel is a work of fiction. The law enforcement personnel in this story are solely imaginative and it does not intend to depict or represent any past or current law enforcement bodies, personnel or event. I have full admiration and respect for law enforcement officers, who everyday go out and fulfil their promise to protect people, through courage and dedication, risking their lives daily. I cannot think of a more selfless act than being willing to ensure people remain safe at the risk of one’s own life.
Message to Los Angeles
I first visited Los Angeles while I was on vacation, desirous to see the entertainment capital. I did not know what to expect when I got there. I was not disappointed. It wasn’t just the fantastic cloudless weather that did it for me. There is so much to do there, so much to see. Amazing places to visit. Vibrancy. I would like to thank the City of Angels for its great hospitality during my stay.
Acknowledgments
A lot of research went into developing this story. The books which deserve thanks:
I give thanks to Joe Navarro for allowing me to use the material from his book, What Every Body is Saying. Joe Navarro, Marvin Karlins, Ph.D., (2008), What Every Body is Saying, First Edition, U.S.A. Harper Collins.
I would like to thank Dr Paul Ekman and Wallace V. Friesen for giving me permission to use their in-depth research on facial expressions from Unmasking the Face. Paul Ekman, Wallace V. Friesen, (2003), Unmasking the Face, Malor Edition, Malor Books. Also, Dr Paul Ekman’s work, Emotions Revealed. Paul Ekman, (2004), Emotions Revealed, U.S.A. Orion Books.
The author thanks Marc Seifer Ph.D. for granting giving him permission to use the content from his book, The Definitive Book of Handwr
iting Analysis. Marc Seifer, Ph.D., (2009), The Definitive Book of Handwriting Analysis, U.S.A. New Page Books.
Through my research, I found The Psychology Book. Reproduced by permission of Dorling Kindersley Ltd. Collin, C., Benson, N., Ginsburg, J., Grand, V., Lazyan, M., Weeks, M. (2012) The Psychology Book, First Edition, London: Dorling Kindersley Ltd. It was very helpful in crafting my book.
I would like to commend FBI.gov website (https://www.fbi.gov/) for the rich material it publishes. It is an immense vault packed with knowledge, not just invaluable for writers but also for the general public. A great place to learn.
I wish to give thanks to the people at Matador who assisted me on the journey to publish my book. You all made the publishing process so much easier. Appreciate all the support.
There are so many people I need to thank. So many people who helped and encouraged me, not just with my writing, but throughout my entire life. I can’t thank you all enough.
Mom, Dad.
Thank you for always supporting me. Never once has either of you given up on me. You both have helped me so much. You understood. Diolch yn fawr.
George.
Thank you for believing in me, your generosity and encouragement. Thank you for everything.
Mr Francis.
Don’t stop. Keep moving. And chase the dream.
Amit.
If it wasn’t for your exceptional surgical skills I would still have to hold onto to banisters to get down stairs. You gave me the ability and confidence to run again.
Phil.
I don’t think I would have ever even considered writing if you hadn’t done such an amazing job guiding me and fostering my passion for literature.