The Wrath of David

by Sean-Paul Thomas

  They armed themselves with guns and knives, defending themselves from the onslaught of white extremists who were still running amok all over the base. David and Ashley shot down dozens of them – men, women and newly adopted soldiers who tried to take them out as they fled the base and escaped unharmed.

  For days they ventured through country fields, farms, forests and hills, avoiding any place that seemed too populated in the growing hate-filled climate, where even having a decent tan could lead to bullets being fired in your direction.

  When they reached hills overlooking Glasgow city, the first thing they saw was that smoke and fire seemed to rage over the majority of the town. It was like some nuclear bomb had hit the heavily industrialised city out of nowhere, but it was only the official beginning of the race war, which had raged completely out of control and finally poured out onto the streets of Britain.

  As they trekked around the outskirts of the city, David remembered coming across an old, abandoned farm. The place looked like it had been burned down only a day or two before their arrival, as the ashes of the farmhouse were still smouldering and smoking in the foreground. A number of unrecognisable bodies littered the nearby grounds and fields. Foreign migrant workers, David imagined, people who had come from the poorer regions of Europe and the rest of the world to work on British farms, to make better lives for themselves and their families. But it had all been in vain.

  Next, David noticed dozens of dead cattle, probably caught up in the crossfire of the massacre. The remaining sheep and cows had most likely been taken away to new homes and other farms.

  David remembered feeling utterly astonished when they found two stray horses at the bottom of one of the farthest-away fields, close to a small woodland. At first, the horses were scared and restless, but Ashley had always been good with animals and was good at calming them down. Soon he had them literally eating out of the palm of his hand and ready to be mounted. Both men rode off together, heading farther north and into the Highlands. They were ready to begin their new life together.

  They rode all that day and for most of the next before arriving at the familiar clifftop cottage, the place where they had taken their first vacation together all those months before. There was no sign of anyone else around, so they tied the horses to a branch beside the oak tree and made themselves at home. It was a nice, humid night, so they lit a small fire on the open cliff top before falling asleep in each other’s arms.

  David remembered how they had spent the next few weeks roaming around the hills, hunting deer and rabbits, and collecting wood and wild vegetables before attempting to make their own vegetable garden behind the cottage. They rode, fed and looked after the horses together. They cooked, cleaned and ate together. They even went swimming in the nearby sea together, almost every single morning like a ritual.

  On one particular hot, sunny day, David remembered how they had both laid together, on the clifftop, reading and napping, watching another sunset. They were so happy. So in love. There was no reason to want for anything else. They had found their own little piece of paradise, even if that little piece of paradise was surrounded by a sea of hate.

  Finally, David remembered their very last day together. In the late morning, they went for a ride to the nearby beach. They tied up the horses behind some large rocks before venturing farther along the beach and into cold, calm sea. When they were done swimming, they rode the horses back to the cottage, where they made love for the very last time.

  David remembered wanting to go out hunting for a few hours. He also wanted to check some of the new traps he'd recently laid in the large forest only a few miles away. He dressed and gathered his shotgun, crossbow and hunting backpack.

  For the very last time, he stood over his beautiful, peacefully sleeping Ashley. Gently, he bowed over Ashley’s naked upper body and kissed his forehead. He then made his way out of the cottage, down the old dirt track, over some nearby fields and out towards the distant hills, valleys and forest, where he knew his hunt would be waiting.

  Once he made it to the forest, David checked his traps. Some he'd made with his own hands while others he'd taken from one or two of the old, deserted farms he'd come across on their journey north. A couple of the traps gave him a few rabbits while others lay bare. Then David saw a large deer feeding beside the next hill. He took a chance and snuck up on the unsuspecting creature. Keeping low while making his way close enough to get a good, accurate shot, David fired his crossbow and shot the magnificent creature straight through the heart. He'd killed the deer outright with one shot and would be rewarded with weeks’ worth of veal for his efforts. He couldn't wait to take it home and show Ashley.

  As the sun began setting, David started walking back over the hills and valleys towards his cottage on the high cliffs. He walked steadily with the large deer draped over his shoulders. However, when he came into the last valley before reaching the sea, his heart sank to the pit of his stomach. A vast amount of smoke was coming from the high cliffs and in the general direction of the cottage.

  David dropped the deer and his backpack full of rabbits and weapons. In no time at all, he was sprinting back over the fields and up the steep hill to his new home. He didn't even pause to catch his breath, not until he'd reached the demolished gates and saw with his own two eyes the cottage he had come to call home with Ashley, burning furiously in the wind.

  At first David didn't know what to do. He was about to call out to Ashley when he glanced over towards the old oak tree. He expected to see the horses still tied to its thick branches, jumping and wrestling away in unrest at the nearby blaze. What he saw there instead broke his heart in two and shattered his soul into a thousand tiny pieces.

  Through his tears, he saw the dark, smouldering figure of his beloved, gently swinging from one of the high branches. David knew right away that Ashley was gone and his warm light had long been extinguished.

  With tears streaming down his face and unable to control his heartfelt sobs, David approached the tree. He knelt in front of the dead, hanging Ashley and gently wrapped his hands and arms around his ankles. David buried his face deep into Ashley’s feet. He remained in that position long after the black night had engulfed the surrounding land with its arms of darkness.

  ***

  Back on the old dirt lay-by, David continued kneeling on the edge of the cliff face that overlooked the valley and surrounding mountains. He opened his eyes for a brief moment, still breathing hard, in and out. Now he had done what he had come all that way to do. What else did he have left to live for? Why would he even want to live in such a world filled with hate, rage, bile and fear?

  In no time at all, his thoughts filled with images of letting go – letting himself fall forward and having the wind take him where he needed to go. David closed his teary eyes and raised his arms, holding them at shoulder height in a cross-like position.

  At the top of his lungs, he screamed out the most gut-wrenching, heartfelt roar, which swiftly filled the hills, mountains and valleys all around him. Then, slowly but surely, he leaned into the wind and fell gently into Ashley's waiting arms.

  The End

  Thank you for downloading my Novel 'The Wrath of David'

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  As a bonus, please find an excerpt from my books - The Old Man and The Princess, Lust for Life, and The Fairy Boy of Calton Hill.

  The Old Man and The Princess

  'EVERYONE SHOULD READ THIS BOOK.' Chesca, Goodreads blogger

  A Raven Award Finalist

  'Is the old man who he says he is? And is he telling Sersha the truth about where she is really from?'

  A mysterious old man kidnaps Sersha, a young, headstrong, Irish girl, from the streets of Galway and tries to convince her that her life's destiny is tied to a seemingly random cave in the Scottish highlands.

  But with half of the Irish criminal underworld violently on their trail, the kidnapped Sersha, struggles back and forth with the old man's real identity and far-fetched intentions to whether he truly is genuine in his wild and fantastical beliefs. Or is he just some kind of mad, demented, old fool, having a mental breakdown in his twilight years?

  A witty and thrilling, action-packed mystery, that will keep you guessing, right up until the breathtaking, finale.

  Sample

  The old man drove his car west, out of Galway. It was the early hours of the morning and still very dark all around. The roads were quiet, just the way the old man liked them too, but that didn't stop him from driving with great care and just below the speed limit.

  The life he'd led up until that point, caution and calm in the face of adversity, had always been his best friend. And on these old Galway country back roads there was no telling what late-night patrol cars were kicking about, just looking for any excuse to take out their frustrations with another week of night shifts on the next speeding motorist.

  Sersha lay in the backseat of the old man's car, still unconscious. She had masking tape wrapped around her mouth leaving her nostrils free, while her arms and ankles were bound tightly with rope.

  The old man continued driving through the dark hills and countryside. Suddenly Sersha's phone began vibrating, flashing, then ringing loudly from inside her jeans pocket. The old man glanced back at her, then down at her buzzing pocket. He cursed himself for not checking her more thoroughly back in Galway, but it had made him feel uncomfortable. He wasn't used to kidnapping young teenage girls, then rubbing his hands up and down their young, firm bodies, checking for unwanted items.

  Sersha stirred. The intoxicating effects of the chloroform were beginning to wear off. She opened her eyes, just a little bit. Disturbed by the vibrating movements against her thigh. She was still in the haziness of dreamland and unaware of her predicament, even though her unconscious mind kept desperately screaming at her that something was wrong and she wasn't safe and sound at home, inside her comfy bed, as she'd imagined she was.

  The old man swiftly pulled over to the side of the road. He had to get rid of that blasted phone. He stepped out of the car and opened the back door. He leaned in over Sersha. She stirred again, becoming more and more restless in her unconscious state.

  The old man reached into her tight jeans pocket and grabbed the noisy, vibrating culprit. He was just about to throw the damn thing into a nearby field when he studied it for a second. ‘Mary' was calling. So someone does care for the girl after all. And it only took you half the bleedin' night. The old man powered down the phone and threw it hard and far into the nearby dark field.

  The old man kept driving. He drove deep and slow, into the heart of a thick, dark forest. He drove at a crawling pace down a single dirt road for a good ten minutes before his headlights revealed an old, hidden tunnel just up ahead.

  The entrance had weeds overgrowing it from every angle. He pulled up beside the old tunnel, which looked big enough to fit a small lorry inside. He turned off his headlights and took a small flashlight from underneath the passenger seat. He took a quick glance into the backseat and at Sersha again. At first glance, with her eyes firmly shut and her body completely still, she looked out for the count.

  Satisfied with his observations, the old man opened his driver-side door and left the car.

  When the door slammed shut, Sersha opened her eyes wide with fear. She was very much awake and had been for some time. She watched the old man hovering around outside for a few hesitant moments. Eventually he walked out of her line of sight.

  Sersha tried hard to remember just what the hell had happened to her that night. One minute she'd been in a good mood, walking cheerfully home after her dance auditions at the community centre. She had almost made it back too, she felt sure of it. She remembered hazily getting off the bus, and then... the next moment she'd felt someone grabbing her hard from behind and a dirty filthy towel covering her mouth with that god awful-smelling substance.

  She could remember nothing after that. She had blacked out. And now here she lay, tied and bound, in the backseat of some old pervert's car.

  Sersha's anxious mind raced with all kinds of horrendous thoughts and images of what would become of her if she didn't at least try to get the hell away from the raging pervert.

  She frantically struggled to free herself. She moaned wildly as she pulled and tugged at the tight rope around her hands and ankles. It was useless. She had been tied too damned tight and hard. She could roll from side to side no bother, but what good would that do her in such a tight space and nowhere to roll away to?

  Outside, the old man approached the dark tunnel. He shone his flashlight a few yards inside until it fell upon a huge camouflaged canvas. It covered something big underneath, bigger than two cars piled on top each other, anyhow. The old man approached the canvas and pulled it roughly from the object. Underneath, a large white transit van sat in wait.

  The old man pulled a set of keys from his pocket and opened the back doors of the van. He shone his torch inside to reveal a double mattress, some water bottles and a couple of empty buckets.

  Back inside the car, a determined Sersha continued to struggle with her ropes. She rolled back and forth, over and over again, desperately trying to loosen them and free herself. She knew deep in her heart that it was all for nothing, but for the young fiery life inside her, she had to try something, anything at all.

  Suddenly the door in front of her head opened up. A startled Sersha ceased struggling instantly and turned onto her back to face her kidnapper. She gazed up at the old man with her gagged face. Her eyes were wide and pleading for any kind of mercy. The old man showed little and immediately pulled her out from the backseat like an old, rolled-up carpet. She moaned and groaned through her gag.

  After the old man had dragged Sersha out of the car, he made a great effort to stand her upright. Sersha took a second to compose herself, then quickly glanced around at her surroundings. All she could see were dozens upon dozens of thick, dark trees, branches and bushes and nothing else.

  Suddenly she caught a glimpse of the dark tunnel behind the old man and then she saw the back of the white van, its doors open invitingly wide. So this was where it would all end, she anxiously thought. This would be where her short life and sweet innocence would be taken from her.

  For a fleeting moment she felt that losing her virginity to Stephen Fletcher in the youth club utility cupboard last month had been the right call. She knew she would be kicking herself now if she'd stood by her morals, just like Betty Mcdougal had begged her to do so, and remained a virgin until
the day she married.

  Before she could reflect any further, the old man swiftly picked her up and slung her over his shoulder in a fireman's lift. Sersha squealed. She wriggled and moaned as the old man carried her awkwardly towards the tunnel and the waiting van.

  When he reached the open back doors, he lowered her abruptly from his shoulder. Sersha caught a quick glimpse of the mattress inside the van and panicked even more. She shook her head back and forth, over and over. Her assumptions were right. She was going to be the victim of a brutal sex crime at the hands of this old pervert, and there was absolutely nothing her strong, youthful body could do about it.

  She knew that without the restraints she'd have a great chance of doing some damage to the old man, but tied up and at his mercy she was as good as his. He could do whatever the hell he pleased.

  Then the old man did something totally unexpected. He turned her around to face him, urging her to sit upon the edge of the van's rear bumper. She'd been one-hundred-percent certain that he was going to bundle her into the back of the van as quickly as possible, and onto that mattress to begin his dirty deeds.

  The old man crouched gently in front of her so that he was exactly eye level with Sersha. After a slight hesitation, he spoke to her in a very calm and composed manner.

  'Sersha? Listen to me now, all right lass?'

  But Sersha did not want to listen to anything the dirty old man had to say. Especially if it was anything about all the filthy things he was going to do to her innocent little body in the back of this here, grotty little van and right on top of that big, dirty mattress too. A mattress that had probably been lying in there for god knows how many years, and used upon how many other countless innocent victims.

  Sersha started breathing hard, almost hyperventilating. She tried to focus on anywhere and anything except the old man.