Contents
Title Page
Copyright
Lost
Nothing Left But Fear
Contact
Adrian Russell
Reviews
More reviews
Dedication
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
CHAPTER THIRTY
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
CHAPTER FORTY
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
CHAPTER FORTY-SIX
CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER FORTY-NINE
CHAPTER FIFTY
CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE
CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO
CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE
CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR
CHAPTER FIFTY-FIVE
CHAPTER FIFTY-SIX
CHAPTER FIFTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER FIFTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER FIFTY-NINE
CHAPTER SIXTY
CHAPTER SIXTY-ONE
CHAPTER SIXTY-TWO
CHAPTER SIXTY-THREE
CHAPTER SIXTY-FOUR
CHAPTER SIXTY-FIVE
CHAPTER SIXTY-SIX
CHAPTER SIXTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER SIXTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER SIXTY-NINE
CHAPTER SEVENTY
CHAPTER SEVENTY-ONE
CHAPTER SEVENTY-TWO
CHAPTER SEVENTY-THREE
CHAPTER SEVENTY-FOUR
CHAPTER SEVENTY-FIVE
CHAPTER SEVENTY-SIX
CHAPTER SEVENTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER SEVENTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER SEVENTY-NINE
CHAPTER EIGHTY
CHAPTER EIGHTY-ONE
CHAPTER EIGHTY-TWO
The End
Contact
NOTHING LEFT BUT FEAR
Adrian Russell
COPYRIGHT
Text copyright © 2016 Adrian Russell.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organisations, places, events, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
The right of Adrian Russell to be identified as the Author of the work has been asserted by him in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronically, mechanically, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other that in which it is published and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.
Published by: Adrian Russell; Edited by: David Gaskill
MODERN MAN
Man’s manifestation of fear in the modern world has been reduced down to a mere social anxiety, and in many it manifests as a fear of failure. Man’s false world of comfort and safely-nets means that he never really has to face his deep primal fear any more. This modern day freedom and security is turned completely on its head in Adrian Russell’s gripping novel Nothing Left But Fear. In this novel deadbeats soon find out what fear really means. They wake up to find out that they are right in the middle of the action…they are naked, vulnerable and alone…afraid and with nowhere to turn for safely…they fight to simply stay alive…they soon discover that nature never sleeps.
Imagine yourself placed in that scenario for just a few moments…what would you do?
NOTHING LEFT BUT FEAR
“Fear is the most basic emotion we have. Fear is primal.”
Max Brooks (American horror author)
“I think that’s still the most primal fear of all humans: to be eaten.”
Victor Saliva (American Film Director)
CONTACT INFORMATION
Website to join for Adrian’s newsletter: www.adrianrussell.com
You can also follow him here:
Facebook: facebook.com/adrianrussell.author
Twitter: @adrianrussell62
Goodreads: www.goodreads.com
Book is available in Kindle or in Paperback
ADRIAN RUSSELL
Adrian Russell lives in Hampshire England near to the beaches of Bournemouth and the New Forest. He lives with his beautiful wife Jo, their dog Missie and their cat Lilly. Russell began writing later in life and enjoys his new-found creative freedom, even when he’s in far flung places around the world. You’ll see him tapping away on his laptop or iPad in-between sailing, windsurfing or scuba diving…and of course spending time with Jo. His new-found career blossomed after going through cancer treatment. Contracting this illness awoke his inner creativeness and his need for a major life change. Russell decided life was too short to spend it doing what he didn’t enjoy doing, and later sold the very business he felt was zapping his life and energy.
PRAISE
“An uncomfortable yet compelling read…An intriguing and original novel. You are drawn in from the first page as the terrifying plot unfolds... A unique storyline which delves deep into the human psyche.”
An Amazon Reader’s 5 Star Review
“An amazing read. A really scary story. There were times when I was afraid to turn the page.”
An Amazon Reader’s 5 Star Review
“On the edge of your seat thriller. Wasters are kidnapped and dumped in a place far from home, very unfriendly scary places. They are not alone, what or who is out there? How or will they survive the night? They are hunted like prey. My heart kept skipping beats reading this book. I loved it, my kind of story, keep it coming. I can't wait for the next book from Adrian Russell.”
A Goodreads Member 5 Star Review
PRAISE
“What would I do in this situation? A horrifying scenario that plays out in a fast paced read that brings to mind other stories. The end came as a surprise. All I know is that it made me want to go out and get a couple more jobs and not be a slacker!!”
A Goodreads Member 5 Star Review
“Just read nothing left but fear, couldn't put it down, great book.”
A Twitter Follower’s 5 Star Review
“Great book definitely what you would call a page turner would definitely read more from this author”
An Amazon Reader’s 5 Star Review
DEDICATION
‘This book is dedicated to my wife. She’s my rock and my soul mate and I love her to the moon and back. She understands my new found
freedom to write novels. She’s happy to let me sit and type away, at home, on holiday or in fact wherever we are. I would also like to thank my editor David Gaskill, who patiently went through my script line by line to improve my writing before going to print. I would also like to send a huge thank you to all the doctors, nurses and support staff at the Royal Bournemouth Hospital, for if it wasn’t for them, I would not be here today and able to publish my work.’
Adrian Russell
CHAPTER ONE
As he drifted up through layers of sleep, David Lane began to sense that something didn’t feel quite right. He reached instinctively for the comforting edge of his mattress. It wasn’t there. And where was the duvet that usually kept him warm?
His pulse quickened. Reaching further, trying again to find the raised mattress edge, his fingers grasped something that felt like straw. Straw? His eyes shot open. He found that he was not in his bed at all, but lying on the floor of what appeared to be a cavern. Straw was scattered about him everywhere. He was stark naked and itching all over.
Fear struck him like a lightning bolt: He really was no longer in the safety of his own little bedroom at home!
‘Where the hell am I?’
To find out, David jumped to his feet. Or, at least, he tried to. His legs, shaky from some kind of drug infusion he didn’t understand, since he didn’t do drugs, were not prepared for the suddenness of the move. He fell back onto the straw-covered surface, a jarring experience that didn’t help ease the racing of his heart.
He lay there for an instant, breathing heavily, feeling vulnerable and lost. Soon, though, he realised he would have to fight his fear and try to get up again. As he tried to grasp what was going on, he picked up a handful of the straw. It was dry to the touch and had an odd, unfamiliar smell. This did not make him feel any less afraid.
‘Am I going mad? Am I having a nightmare?’
Trying to calm himself, he began studying his surroundings more closely. He noted that the temperature in the cave-like room was warm, so, despite his nudity, he wasn’t cold. What dim light there was came from a single source, what appeared to be an entrance to the cave, but as he looked into the blackness behind him he could feel the almost abysmal depth of an unfathomable, empty space.
A new shiver of fright went from the base of his spine to the nape of his neck. It was as if someone had just walked over his grave. With his thoughts turning to …’where the fuck are my clothes?’…he cupped sweaty palms over his face in frustration and racked his memory for what might have caused him to end up in such a place. He vaguely recalled going to the withdrawal point at his bank in Chelmsford, where he lived, after his social security had been deposited.
‘I don’t remember going to bed at all.’
He rubbed his eyelids, then, as if in some way that would help lessen his confusion. It didn’t.
His mind, desperate for an explanation, soon began to grasp at straws. Train tracks, he thought. A train tunnel and tracks would make more sense than a cave. A quick look around determined no railway track had ever been there.
‘But how did I get here?’
He kept challenging his brain for answers, trying to piece together the few facts he had to make sense of it all.
Again, he recognised that the warm air in the cave certainly was odd; he should be feeling cold by now, but he didn’t. That wasn’t normal. As he looked toward the light, he could make out trees and some sky. That definitely did seem normal, although he had his doubts.
‘That can’t be outside in England, can it?’
Heart still beating fast, David slowly got to his feet, being careful not to fall this time. He stood, wobbling a bit, and drew some confidence from realising he was not under immediate attack. But that feeling was undermined by a wave of emotional — or was it physical? — fatigue.
‘Do I really want to know?’
Whether he did or he didn’t, he realised he had to do something. But what?
He looked at the welcoming light at the entrance. At the moment, naked as he was, he was reluctant to venture out there. Then he turned his head and peered again into the cave’s sloping depths. No way was he going in that direction! Staring into that impenetrable darkness sparked unpleasant images.
‘What if there’s something bad down there?’
That thought triggered a strange foreboding in his brain. He was still very unsteady on his feet, so he braced himself by stooping and resting his hands on his knees. He closed his eyes for a few seconds to temporarily shut out this disturbing, unwanted new reality.
‘Think, David! Think!’
If only he could tap into the memories he knew were dancing somewhere at the edge of his consciousness. If only he could.
Just then, two men came into his mind’s view. Were they real? A flash of fear shot up his spine once more. And he opened his eyes and screamed.
CHAPTER TWO
It was the sun streaming in through the window of her flat that awakened Carly Prow.
She was not one for setting her alarm, as this wasted sleep time, and she hated getting up anyway.
She also hated the curtains around the window to her bedroom; these were too small for the opening, which meant there was always a gap for the morning sun to come bullying through.
Turning away to avoid the bright rays, she closed her eyes to continue sleeping. Too late! Her nicotine craving had already begun.
Sitting up, she reached for the Silk Cut packet on her old pine bedside, pulled out a cigarette and put it in her mouth.
Next to the cigarettes was a Jack Daniels petrol lighter of her father’s that she had gotten when he died a few years back.
The smell of petrol fumes filled the space around her as she opened the cover, which always reminded her of her dad. Pausing for a few seconds to smell the fumes before striking the flint, she thought back to how she had loved her dad so much and still missed him.
She struck the flint several times before a small, flickering flame arose, which she touched to the end of her cigarette, and took in a long, first drag, sucking down every last wisp of smoke deep into her lungs.
She loved the first smoke of the day.
Whilst she sat there enjoying it and contemplating what to do next, she studied her room, where parts of the green carpet that she could see were worn and threadbare and more of a light shade of grey.
Carly knew today she had to look for a job and comply with the Claimant Commitment she’d made with the Jobcentre. Not having a computer in her flat, she would have to make a visit to the library at The County Hall.
She hated looking for work; more still, she hated working. But her next visit to the Jobcentre for her regular interview with her work coach was coming up, so she needed to get moving.
Last week, the Jobcentre contacted her about a property company interview, which had been set for Friday.
She began to plan how best to fail at this interview. Not wanting to risk jeopardising her benefits, she knew she had to keep the appointment. However, she was adept at not getting hired; in fact, she had made it a fine art.
The last time she had worked was around two years ago as a cleaner for a large local company that manufactured rubber O-rings. She’d hated the work and it had only been a matter of time before she got the sack.
In the end, she had poured bleach over the carpet in the board room. As she was already on a warning for being late on numerous occasions, she had been fired immediately.
Carly finished off her cigarette, then got up to go to the bathroom.
After she’d relieved herself she studied her dishevelled look in the small, bathroom mirror. Her hair was matted and greasy and her skin looked pale and blotchy.
She then grinned and saw that her teeth were looking quite yellow; she was well overdue a visit to the dentist. Carly hated dentists with a passion, so hadn’t been to one for several years.
Leaving the bathroom, she went back to the bedroom for her second cigarette of the day.
C
HAPTER THREE
Peter Druker sat in his office in front of a computer screen checking his healthy bank balance and, on a separate screen, looking at a list of quoted shares that he owned.
His focus was suddenly interrupted by movement just outside the one large window in the room.
Turning his gaze to what had caught his attention, he could see a pair of Mouse Birds, which are plentiful in this part of Africa, playing about in the branches of the bushes.
He took a few moments to watch these birds with their trademark long tails and tufted crests. He smiled at the way they hopped from one branch to the next, constantly checking for danger with quick movements of their heads.
After a few moments, they flew away, prompting him to return to his computer screens and the daily work routine in his office, which was a large room with a dark, wooden desk placed in the middle.
In one corner was a coffee machine with a jug full of coffee, which gave the room a constant, newly brewed coffee smell.
He would always start his day with a black coffee to help him to think clearly. His first cup would normally be drunk whilst he sat on the veranda before starting his work.
He felt restless today and, having been distracted by the birds, he decided to get up to refill his mug with more black coffee tempered with two teaspoons of sugar.
As he put the freshly filled mug to his lips, he looked across to the desk and the computer screens that were all lined up. He stood there for a few moments thinking about what he should do next.
His agitation was not eased by the coffee. He didn’t feel like sitting down, so he decided to go out onto the veranda to have some thinking time.
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