This is the unedited first chapter of my new ebook. You can now buy the ebook on Smashwords,
Amazon.co.uk and Amazon.com just £1.99 / $2.99.
Daniel knew every crack of his bedroom ceiling by heart.
He’d stare at it night after night waiting for the blessed relief of sleep
which seldom came easy. He’d tried everything, giving up caffeine, eating
earlier in the evening, cutting down on alcohol, drinking too much alcohol, but
sleep still eluded him. He felt he was a carefree soul during the day but as soon
as he turned out the light, his brain would start to examine all the problems
he faced; his taxes, his bills, his lack of work, his relationship with women.
Even when there was nothing to worry about, his brain would delve into the
archive and find a particularly embarrassing moment, - like when he called his
teacher mum - to replay in Technicolor on his eyelids making him cringe with
embarrassment all over again. But
tonight was different; tonight was one of the rare times he slept as if all was
well with the world. He’d only been in bed a few minutes when he was enveloped
by a delicious drowsiness. His brain emptied, his body seemed to float as he
fell into a deep sleep. Now, his light snoring could be mistaken for cat-like
purring; contentment personified.
He wasn’t sure what woke him up: the sudden breeze; the
banging; the shouting or the bright, bright light that burnt into his retina, but
Daniel’s sleepy paradise had come to the abruptest of endings. He sat up in bed
wondering if it was just a dream, wondering what the hell was going on. His
room was full - full of men, full of noise, full of activity, full of guns!
Guns pointing directly at his near naked form. He put his hands on his head as
if all the cop shows he’d watched had instinctively programmed him to respond
in that way. His eyes were adjusting to the light and to being awake. He could
now see the uniforms, not ones he recognised but he could see the insignia of
the Czech Police. His brain buzzed, it was all too surreal, yet all too real.
He could feel his heart pumping in his chest. He blinked to clear more sleep
out of his eyes. He wanted to speak but his brain could not conjure words and
even if it had, his mouth was probably too dry to talk. Three men had their
guns trained on him; three men who looked like human wasps with their grotesque
helmets and masks. They stood stock-still, arms tensed and muscles bulging. Their
weapons were poised, ready to pounce, like a cat preparing for the right moment
to attack its prey. Daniel could see a vein bulging in the neck of one of the
men. Meanwhile, others wasp-like figures were looting the room. His phone, his
computer, his iPad, his receipts, his wallet, everything was being put into
evidence bags, tagged and taken away.
Through the mayhem he thought he could hear footsteps. It
sounded like lady’s high-heel shoes on his parquet floor. For a second he
thought of the sound of high-heels, one of his favourite sounds, the sound of
sex, the sound of beauty. He felt the mildest of shudders down his back. Could
he really be thinking about sex at a moment like this? But then in the doorway
was not a sex siren but a young man. A young man in police uniform and polished
police boots. He wore a look of hatred and contempt that Daniel guessed had
wilted many a hardened criminal. Daniel watched the officer observe him, never
blinking, assessing the situation. He looked like a typical Czech policeman;
all brawn and no brains. If he wasn’t wearing the uniform of the Czech police,
you could easily imagine him wearing a neo-Nazi outfit.
‘Daniel Velsh?’ The officer spoke with a thick Czech accent. Daniel was used to
having the W in his name pronounced as a V. He managed to nod slightly, his hands
still on his head.
‘Stand up, turn around and face the wall.’ The officer spat out
the words, as if disgusted that English words could ever be in his pure Czech
mouth. Daniel hesitated for a second, but then followed the orders he was
given. His body tensed as he was sure the officer would give the orders and Daniel
would feel the burning steel of high calibre bullets ripping his flesh apart.
But it was hands that touched him not metal, rough hands, unfriendly hands,
rubber gloved hands. He’d been patted down at airports before but that felt like
foreplay compared to this brutal examination. He had no idea why he was being
patted down he was naked except his underwear. But then he felt his boxers being
pulled down and his cheeks being spread and he realised; this was the full body
search and no mistake. His eyes filled with tears, was it the pain, the
humiliation or the confusion?
‘Get dressed.’ The office rolled the r in dressed. Daniel
pulled his boxers back up but the officer nodded his head towards the jeans and
t-shirt discarded at the end of the bed making it clearer what he meant. The
three guns were still trained on Daniel, reminding him that he should not do
anything stupid. Again Daniel meekly did as he was told. He pulled the clothes
on slowly, careful not to make sudden movements. As soon as he had his jeans
and t-shirt on he felt the same hands grab his wrists and yank them behind his
back. He expected to feel the metal of handcuffs but it felt like plastic on
his skin. Then most frighteningly of all a hood was pulled over his head and a
drawstring pulled around his neck.
‘Valk!’ the voice said, again the W sound became a V. Daniel
walked in the direction he was pushed. He felt the warm floor of his under
floor heating of the bathroom, then the wood of his hallway before the tiles
outside his flat . Despite being blinded by the hood, he could hear the eyes of
his neighbours on him, opening doors just an inch to see what all the fuss was
about. He was bundled down the stairs by his captors, his feet missing steps
but his body being kept upright by the strength of the policemen holding his
arms. He felt the cold night air as he was taken out into the street and then
thrown into the back of what he guessed was a police van. He heard the door
slam and then silence.
Silence!
Total silence, no voices, no engine, no banging. His head
throbbed. His mind raced. The first thought he’d had was what time was it? He
had no idea. He’d had no time to look at his phone to check. He’d been so fast
asleep that the idea of time was jumbled. Sometimes a sleep like that could
seem like hours but actually be just a few minutes. He wished he’d bought a
proper alarm clock; an illuminated one. Why hadn’t he bought one of those? He
cursed himself for being so stupid. He then thought he was cold, he was only
wearing a t-shirt and it was the middle of the night, in the middle of March.
Why hadn’t he put a jumper on? Was he a fool? And no socks; what would his
mother say? He shook his head trying to
clear his mind. He wondered why such
trivial things were going through his brain when he’d just been taken from his
bed in the middle of the night at gunpoint by some strange division of the
Czech police.
He felt the van shudder but the only sound he could hear was
his own breathing. He felt like he was moving but he could hear no engine so he
couldn’t be sure. His eyes were open but it was pitch black inside the hood. He
could feel the plastic cuffs digging into his wrists. He tried to make himself
believe this was just a dream but he couldn’t. This was all too real. The smell
of the bag, the sweat on his brow and the pain in his backside assured him he
wasn’t dreaming. He sniffed hard and tried to concentrate. He tried to play the
scene through his mind again - the noise, the guns, the men. It must be a case
of mistaken identity - they had the wrong man. But then again they had used his
name. Surely there can’t be two Daniel Welshes in Prague. They’d known who they
were looking for but their quarry didn’t know why. He was sure he was moving
now, but he still couldn’t hear the engine. It felt like a turbulent plane ride
but he knew this was no plane, how could they land a plane in his street? He
dragged himself up and sat with his back on the cold side of the van. His brain
ran through reasons he could be in the van. He guessed it must be porn. He was
a bit of an addict, sometimes he visited sites he probably shouldn’t - a bit of
S+M but nothing illegal, nothing underage. But they had bagged up his computer
so it could be that. Had he stumbled across an illicit site? Had there been a
pop up that there shouldn’t have been? He wracked his brains and tried to
think. His antivirus had flagged up a few ‘attacks’ recently. Could that be it?
Had some paedo ring attacked his computer? Surely armed police would be a bit
much for that. How about downloads? He downloaded music like a trooper and he’d
downloaded a movie or two illegally recently but again the midnight raid and
the bag over his head might be considered a little over the top for some casual
file sharing. No, it must be a case of mistaken identity. Maybe there was a
Daniel Walsh in Prague. Dan’s surname was often misspelt. Maybe Mr Walsh was
lying in his bed now oblivious to the drama unfolding in his near namesake’s
life. Daniel tried to relax. It was easier said than done but he knew panicking
would not do him any good. He was as sure as he could be that this was some
kind of mistake and once they had realised that, he would soon be released,
apologised to and maybe even compensated. His eyes lit up for a second at the
thought of the money. But then his mind went haywire. What if it wasn’t a
mistake? Or what if they didn’t discover it was a mistake? Innocent men and
women were imprisoned all the time, sometimes for years and years, sometimes
just because the police were too embarrassed to admit their mistakes. Now here
he was, cuffed and hooded in the back of a silent van for no good reasons and
to make matters worse he was in a foreign country and his captors spoke a
foreign language. He had no phone, no way of contacting his parents or his friends
who were presumably fast asleep without a care in the world; the bastards. He
was getting hotter; the air in the shroud was moist with sweat and breath. He
felt his brain split in two. One side raging against the absurdity of it all,
terrified about what was happening. The other trying to calm down, accept the
fate, letting events take their natural course. The rational side was losing the
battle not least because there was nothing rational about this crazy situation.
The panic was all around Daniel now, he felt like he was
drowning, gasping for air as the panic pulled him under. Just as he was about
to succumb to the waters he felt the van shudder and he realised that they had
stopped. He managed to control his breathing. He lay silently for a while
wondering what next then he jumped as the van door opened and a blast of cold
air hit him.
‘Lie down!’ It was the same voice as before, still spitting
the English with a sense of contempt. Daniel struggled to get himself onto the
floor of the van.
‘Na bricho!’ came the voice again. Daniel recognised the
words and realised the officer wanted him to lie on his belly. He flipped over The
floor was uncomfortable, without being able to use his arms he couldn’t stop his
body weight pushing down on his balls, the pain shot up his body as he wriggled
to try to ease the pressure. He heard the man get into the van with him. He
braced himself again, sure that he would now be shot or at the very least
kicked. Part of him just wanted that one bullet to the head - get it over with!
Would he even notice the pain? How long do the pain receptors work before the
bullet smashes the skull and destroys the brain? He heard voices and realised
there were now two people in the van with him. He strained to understand the
Czech but they were speaking too fast. The conversation was earnest, almost an
argument but not quite. Daniel felt something placed next to his head. He
almost smiled to himself at the absurdity of the situation. There he was,
trussed up like a captured lion in the back of a police van; it was just insane.
The men stopped talking. He realised, as he heard a zipper, that the thing
close to his head was a bag, one of the men opened it and took something out.
‘Lie still!’ It was a different voice; kinder, almost apologetic.
Then Daniel felt a sharp stab in right buttock. He
recognised the feeling of a needle and felt the warm syrup being squeezed into his
cheek. He tensed as the man removed the needle but then felt his body relax. A
delicious drowsiness enveloped him and his body seemed to float as he fell into
a deep sleep.
Want to read more? You can now buy the ebook on Smashwords and Amazon.co.uk and Amazon.com just £1.99 / $2.99.
Please note above is the edited but not finally edited version - below is the original short story that appeared on this blog on 25/11/2013.
Sleeping never came easy for Daniel, he knew every crack of
his bedroom ceiling by heart. He’d stare at it night after night waiting for
the blessed relief of sleep. He’d tried everything, giving up caffeine, eating
earlier in the evening, cutting down on alcohol, drinking too much alcohol, but
sleep still eluded him. He felt he was a carefree soul during the day but as soon
as he turned out the light, his brain would start to examine all the problems
he faced; his taxes, his bills, his lack of work, his relationship with women.
Even when there was nothing to worry about his brain would delve into the
archive and find a particularly embarrassing moment, - like when he called his
teacher mum - to replay in technicolour on his eyelids making him cringe with
embarrassment all over again. But
tonight was different; tonight was one of the rare times he slept as if all was
well with the world. He’d only been in bed a few minutes when he was enveloped
by a delicious drowsiness. His brain emptied, his body seemed to float as he
fell into a deep sleep. Now, his light snoring could be mistaken for cat-like
purring; contentment personified.
He wasn’t sure what woke him up, the sudden breeze, the
banging, the shouting or the bright, bright light that burnt a blur into his
retina, but Daniel’s sleepy paradise had come to the abruptest of endings. He
sat up in bed wondering if it was just a dream, wondering what the hell was
going on. His room was full, full of men, full of noise, full of activity; full
of guns! Guns pointing directly at his near naked form. He put his hands on his
head as if all the cop shows he’d watched had instinctively programmed him to
respond in that way. His eyes were adjusting to the light and to being awake.
He could now see the uniforms, not ones he recognised but he could see the
insignia of the Czech Police. His brain buzzed, it was all too surreal, yet all
too real. He could feel his heart pumping in his chest, he blinked to clear
more sleep out of his eyes. He wanted to speak but his brain could not conjure
words and even if it had, his mouth was probably too dry to talk. Three men had
their guns trained on him, three men who looked like human wasps with their
grotesque helmets and masks. They stood stock-still, arms tensed and muscles
bulging. Their weapons were poised, ready to pounce, like a cat preparing for
the right moment to attack its prey. Daniel could see a vein bulging in one of
the men’s neck. Meanwhile others wasp-like figures were looting the room. His
phone, his computer, his iPad, his receipts, his wallet, everything was being
put into evidence bags, tagged and taken away.
Through the mayhem he thought he could hear footsteps, it
sounded like lady’s high-heel shoes on his parquet floor. For a second he
thought of the sound of high-heels, one of his favourite sounds, the sound of
sex, the sound of beauty. He felt the mildest of shudders down his back. Could
he really be thinking about sex at a moment like this? But then in the doorway
was not a sex siren but a young man. A young man in police uniform and polished
police boots. with a look of hatred and contempt that Daniel guessed had wilted
many a hardened criminal. Daniel watched the officer observe him, never
blinking, assessing the situation. He looked like a typical Czech policeman;
all brawn and no brains. If he wasn’t wearing the uniform of the Czech police,
you could easily imagine him wearing neo-Nazi get up.
‘Daniel Velsh?’ The officer spoke with a thick Czech accent. Daniel was used to
having the W in his name pronounced as a V. Daniel managed to nod slightly, his
arms still on his head.
‘Stand up, turn around and face the wall.’ The office spat
the words, as if disgusted that English words could ever be in his pure Czech
mouth. Daniel hesitated for a second, but then followed the orders he'd been given. His body tensed as he was sure the officer would give the orders and Daniel
would feel the burning steel of high calibre bullets ripping his flesh apart.
But it was hands that touched him not metal, rough hands, unfriendly hands,
rubber gloved hands. He’d been patted down at airports before but that felt like
foreplay compared to this brutal examination. He had no idea why he was being
patted down as he was naked except his underwear. But then he felt his boxers
being pulled down and his cheeks being spread and he realised; this was the
full body search and no mistake. His eyes filled with tears, was it the pain,
the humiliation or the confusion?
‘Get dressed.’ The office rolled the r in dressed. Daniel
pulled his shorts back up but the officer nodded his head to the jeans and
t-shirt discarded at the end of the bed making it clearer what he meant. The
three guns were still trained on Daniel, reminding him that he should not do
anything stupid. Again Daniel meekly did as he was told. He pulled the clothes
on slowly, careful not to make sudden movements. As soon as he had his jeans
and t-shirt on he felt the same hands grab his wrists and yank them behind his
back. He expected to feel the metal of handcuffs but it felt like plastic on
his skin. Then most frighteningly of all a hood was pulled over his head and a
drawstring pulled around his neck.
‘Valk!’ the voice said, again the W sound became a V. Daniel
walked in the direction he was pushed. He felt the warm floor of his under
floor heating of the bathroom, then the wood of his hallway before the tiles
outside his flat. Despite being blinded by the hood, he could hear the eyes of
his neighbours on him, opening doors just an inch to see what all the fuss was
about. He was bundled down the stairs by his captors, his feet missing steps
but his body being kept upright by the strength of the policemen holding his
arms. He felt the cold night air as he was taken out into the street and then
thrown into the back of what he guessed was a police van. He heard the door
slam and then silence.
Silence!
Total silence, no voices, no engine, no banging. His head
throbbed. His mind raced. The first thought he’d had was what time was it? He
had no idea. He’d had no time to look at this phone to check; he’d been so fast
asleep, that the idea of time was jumbled. Sometimes a sleep like that could
seem like hours but just be a few minutes. He wished he’d bought a proper alarm
clock; an illuminated one, why hadn’t he bought one of those? He cursed himself
for being so stupid. He then thought he was cold, he was only wearing a t-shirt
and it was the middle of the night, in the middle of March. Why hadn’t he put a
jumper on? Was he a fool? And no socks, what would his mother say? He shook his head trying to clear his mind. He wondered why such trivial things were going
through his brain when he’d just been taken from his bed in the middle of the
night at gunpoint by some strange division of the Czech police?
He felt the van shudder but the only sound he could hear was
his own breathing. He felt like he was moving but he could hear no engine so he
couldn’t be sure. His eyes were open but it was pitch black inside the hood. He
could feel the plastic digging into his wrists. He tried to make himself believe
this was just a dream but he couldn’t, this was all too real. The smell of the
bag, the sweat on his brow and the pain in his backside assured him he wasn’t
dreaming. He sniffed hard and tried to concentrate. He tried to play the scene
through his mind again, the noise, the guns, the men. It must be mistaken
identity, they had the wrong man. But then again they had used his name. Surely
there can’t be two Daniel Welshes in Prague. They’d known who they were looking
for, but their quarry didn’t know why. He was sure he was moving now, but he
still couldn’t hear the engine. It felt like a turbulent plane ride. He dragged
himself up and sat with his back on the cold side of the van. His brain ran
through reasons he could be in the van. He guessed it must be porn. He was a
bit of an addict, sometimes he visited sites he probably shouldn’t, a bit of s
and m but nothing illegal, nothing underage. But they had bagged up his
computer so it could be that. Had he stumbled across an illicit site, had there
been a pop up that there shouldn’t have been? He wracked his brains and tried
to think. His antivirus had flagged up a few ‘attacks’ recently. Could that be
it? Had some paedo ring attacked his computer? Surely armed police would be a
bit much for that. How about downloads? He downloaded music like a trooper and
he’d downloaded a movie or two illegally recently but again the midnight raid and
the bag over his head might be considered a little over the top for some casual
file sharing. No, it must be a case of mistaken identity. Maybe there was a
Daniel Walsh in Prague. His surname was often misspelt. Maybe Mr Walsh was
lying in his bed now oblivious to the drama unfolding in his namesake’s life.
Daniel tried to relax. It was easier said than done but he knew panicking would
not do him any good. He was as sure as he could be that this was some kind of
mistake and once they had realised that it was he would soon be released,
apologised to and maybe even compensated, his eyes lit up for a second at the
thought of the money. But then his mind went haywire. What if it wasn’t a
mistake? Or what if they didn’t discover it was a mistake? Innocent men and
women were imprisoned all the time, sometimes for years and years, sometimes
just because the police were too embarrassed to admit their mistakes. Now, here
he was cuffed and hooded in the back of a silent van for no good reasons and to
make matters worse he was in a foreign country and his captors spoke in a
foreign language. He had no phone, no way of contacting his parents or his friends
who were presumably fast asleep without a care in the world; the bastards. He
could a feel panic attack coming. They say for a panic attack you should breath
into a bag but he already was and that
wasn’t helping. He was getting hotter, the air in the shroud, moist with sweat
and breath. He felt his brain split in two. One side raging against the
absurdity of it all, terrified of what was happening. The other trying to calm
down, accept the fate, letting events take their natural course. The rational
side was losing the battle not least because there was nothing rational about
this crazy situation.
The panic was all around Daniel now, he felt like he was
drowning, gasping for air as the panic pulled him under. Just as he was about
to succumb to the waters he felt the van shudder and he realised that they had
stopped. He managed to control his breathing. Then he jumped as the van door
opened and he felt a blast of cold air hit him.
‘Lie down!’ It was the same voice as before, still spitting
the English with a sense of contempt. Daniel struggled to get himself onto the
floor of the van.
‘Na bricho!’ came the voice again. Daniel recognised the
words and realised the officer wanted him to lie on his belly. He flopped over.
The floor was uncomfortable, without being able to use his arms he couldn’t
stop his body weight pushing down on his balls. He heard the man get into the
van with him. He again braced himself, sure that he would now be shot or at the
very least kicked. Part of him just wanted that one bullet to the head, get it
over with! Would he even notice the pain? How long do the pain receptors work
before the bullet smashes the skull and destroys the brain? He heard voices and
realised there were now two people in the van with him. He strained to understand
the Czech but they were speaking too fast. The conversation was earnest. He
felt something placed next to his head. He almost smiled to himself at the
absurdity of the situation. There he was trussed up like a captured lion in the
back of a police van, it was just insane. The men stopped talking, he realised,
as he heard a zipper, that the thing close to his head was a bag, one of the
men opened it and took something out.
‘Lie still!’ It was a different voice; kinder, almost apologetic.
Then Daniel felt a sharp stab in right buttock. He
recognised the needle of a syringe and felt the warm syrup being squeezed into his
cheek. He tensed as the man removed the needle but then felt his body relax. A
delicious drowsiness enveloped him and his body seemed to float as he fell into
a deep sleep.
Want to read more? You can now buy the ebook on Smashwords and Amazon.co.uk and Amazon.com just £1.99 / $2.99.