Dead Winter: A gripping crime thriller full of suspense Read online

  This Novel is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and events are products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or to events or locations is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2016 by Jack Parker

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

  No part of this book may be used or reproduced, in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  DEDICATION

  FOR MOM AND MY WIFE

  Contents

  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

  Epilogue

  Chapter One

  T-Minus: 24 Hours (7:12AM)

  It's seven in the morning. I'm dead again, sprawled across the aging couch in my run-down apartment with my face painted red and blue from the TV's glare. What's on TV? I don't know, with insomnia everything is tuned-out and far away. It was probably a show on home-improvement or the news, I couldn't tell.

  With my feet propped awkwardly across the cluttered table, I lay there; the table was a haphazard mess of plates, glasses and wrappers that obscured from view the things that should be there.

  Wait, let me backtrack a little here.

  For two weeks, I couldn't sleep. Having never really been a good sleeper, problems in this area weren't exactly that new to me, but this was more than just having trouble falling asleep; for the last two weeks, the only sleep I'd had was when I'd passed out from exhaustion.

  Unfortunately, this kind of sleep was useless and made me feel more like a zombie than before I had lost consciousness

  Not even feeling human any more, my body moved as if it were a machine. I didn't have time for this, I should have been brushing up my coding skills, or writing that paper on the importance of lighting in game design or whatever crap the lecturer had set for me this time.

  Anyway, two weeks of minimal sleep eventually forced me to pay a visit to the doctor lest I wander into oncoming traffic in a sleep-deprived trance or fall down one set of the absurdly high number of stairs in my apartment complex.

  The waiting room was a loathsome place filled with irritating sounds, such as that one baby that always seems to be there whenever I am and never stops crying.

  Pharmaceutical nightmares.

  I hated going to the doctor above most things. Right now, everything is so far away. The distance of everything distorted; you can't touch anything and nothing can touch you.

  I wanted the white-shell, red-text Venlafaxine, just to tune everything down to the minimum. Pharmaceutical amnesia, a blanket for my thoughts.

  A copy of a copy of a copy, I saw the meaning in this now more than I ever had or will. Kids with nothing but a small cough and their hypochondriac mothers filed in and out of the lounge. Single file, please take a ticket.

  Would number forty four please go to room seven, the doctor will see you now.

  It was my turn, at last. Dragging myself up from my chair, I shuffled across the ground towards the corridor leading to the examination rooms.

  Clean-shaven, grey-streaked hair. Suit and tie; sword and shield. His breath stunk of mints and cigarette smoke, I could almost taste his words as he droned on.

  I just wanted to sleep, I got what I wanted.

  The scene was changing, a bloody mess projected onto my face from the television screen, I must have dropped the remote.

  Glass of water, paper-white pill. Wash it down and wait for sleep to creep up on me.

  Back on the couch, I set my alarm and flicked the channel back over to home developments or whatever it was. Setting the glass next to the remote on the table, I picked up the black lighter from the table and my thoughts wandered back to events that occurred several months previously, events that haunted my dreams still.

  The lighter had belonged to my elder brother, Matt.

  I say had, because he was no longer with us.

  My childhood was spent in a small town near the city of York. For as long as I care to remember, my brother had been somewhat of an idol to me. Someone I aspired to be like.

  In my eyes, Matt has been a shining light of hope in an otherwise bleak and corrupted world. Even before he was in the police service, my brother had always strode down the path of light and justice. Although at points it had seemed like an obsession as he went to any means necessary to exact justice, nearly risking his life once to apprehend a gun-wielding mugger.

  The day flashed through my mind, it had been a miserable October afternoon, drizzle and mist. The phone call came through at around half past three. Because our mother had died over a decade ago and our father was estranged, I was the next on the contact list for my brother. So it was me they called.

  Matt was a Detective Inspector for the police service, he moved away from home when I was ten to live in Exeter, to take the position they had offered him.

  According to the press reports, he had been working the case on a particularly psychotic and violent string of murders in his area and had wound up becoming one of the last victims.

  The last time I had seen him was two months before the phone call, I'd decided to take a little trip down south to check up on him. Somehow, I still doubt the official story they fed me. The last time I saw Matt, he was in a very bad state. He couldn't sleep, his apartment stank of alcohol and cigarettes and he'd started writing on the walls in paint, constantly muttering to himself.

  My mind always wandered to suicide when I thought about what had really happened to him, he'd told me that the doctor had diagnosed him with manic depression and schizophrenia, he even had the medication to back it up. But he refused to take his medication and his condition wasn't improving.

  Somehow, the people at work hadn't noticed anything out of the ordinary with him, as thought he collected himself before he stepped out of his front door and pretended nothing was wrong.

  The drowsiness came in waves, softly at first until it was impossible to fight it any longer. Eventually, I fell asleep where I lay, on my fraying, stained couch.

  Even babies don't sleep this well.

  Chapter Two

  24 Hours Later

  First Day (21st December – 7:27AM)

  Dawn broke.

  Faint rays of sunlight crept dimly through the stirring city completely unnoticed, the overwhelming silence carried on for a couple of minutes before it was ended by a hasty dawn chorus that echoed through the streets.

  Several cars sped past the apartment complex, completely shattering the silence; the siren of an ambulance wailed from somewhere in the distance.

  Just the everyday sounds of the city.

  The thin winter morning mist cleared slig
htly as a dull, piercing thud cut through the din of a normally noisy city. Glass shattered, but this sound was nothing compared to the roar of an explosion which shook the main building, drowning out the sound of glass shards tinkering on the floor.

  A light crackling sound became audible as fire flooded through the ground-floor, triggering a second explosion that shook the complex down to its foundation columns. A single scream added the finishing blow to the silence.

  It was then that I jerked awake, having seemingly rolled off of the sofa I had fallen asleep on.

  Pharmaceutical dreams.

  After climbing to my feet, I switched the kettle on and pulled a mug from the cupboard and waited.

  Coffee, the saviour of mankind.

  Rubbing the sleep from my tired and aching eyes, I glanced up to the clock on the kitchen wall. 7:32AM.

  "Well these pills are certainly working." I muttered to myself, pouring water into my mug as the kettle finished boiling. "Maybe working a little too much." I concluded, considering the fact that I had just slept for about twenty-four hours.

  Sipping at the coffee I had made, I downed a couple of painkillers to ease the headache I had gained from sleeping too long. I'd always gotten headaches when I overslept.

  Ceramic-white ibuprofen, 200mg.

  Propping myself up with my arm, I sat back down on the sofa and picked up the television remote from the disaster-zone of a coffee table. The television was an old CRT that my father had given me when I left for the city. Cheapskate.

  I sipped at the concoction of coffee, milk and sugar. Coffee had always looked a bit like muddy water to me, tasted like it too until I was around 15. I guess it's an acquired taste. I'd rather be drinking an energy drink.

  The television made a strange crackling sound as a spark shone brightly from behind the screen. The screen switched on for a second.

  "There's reports of panic in the stree-" the news-anchor said briefly before the television began making strange sounds, and the screen warped and cracked. Smoke wafted from the back of the unit. I could vaguely make out the voice of the news-anchor, but understood none of it. I switched the television off and muttered in irritation.

  What a load of old junk.

  The television had never worked properly to begin with, it constantly changed its own volume and the picture constantly went in and out of focus. It wasn't very reliable, perhaps it would have been better left with father. They were quite alike in certain ways.

  Holy shit.

  The ground shook beneath me, like an earthquake as a third explosion tore through the building, knocking me to my feet. A couple of the papers on top of the television fell to the ground.

  This was the first I'd known about the disaster unfolding below me.

  Picking up the coffee mug which had fallen from the table during the shake, I made my way over to the balcony doors and placed it on top of the television unit before swinging the doors open.

  Prepare to evacuate soul in five..

  The morning light hit my eyes like a freight-train, the sight that fell upon my tired eyes made that bright light seem like a better option. A thick, harsh stench of smoke rushed through my nostrils as I inhaled.

  The street below me was a haze of smoke, which complimented the morning mist in a strange, unnerving way.

  Four..

  The sight of a fuel tanker loomed into view as the smoke lifted. It lay on its side, the underside exposed to the four winds.

  Three..

  Fire surrounded the tanker, letting out a thick smoke that was the cause of the strange mist. I noticed a small red object next to the tanker. There had clearly been a collision. The flames licked at the car and moved underneath it in a snake-like, fluid motion.

  Two..

  The next step was pretty obvious, and yet I wasn't quite prepared for it. A thunderous clap of ear-splitting sound shook the buildings around the two vehicles as they exploded, transforming them into a disaster-zone of charred metal and burning rubber. I peered down over the balcony as the smoke came into view.

  One.

  In five panic-filled seconds, a large gust of wind swept through my apartment, making the blinds swing wildly. They knocked the coffee mug over and to my surprise, the television unit switched back on. The screen completely shattered and smoke billowed out of the back.

  The papers on top somehow caught fire and soared to the ground, setting fire to the curtains and blinds. A page landed on my desk, setting light to a stack of assignment papers, quickly turning my apartment into a fire-filled disaster-zone.

  Adrenaline pumped vigorously through my veins as I reached for my bag, quickly throwing its contents onto the floor. I grabbed anything I could find; drinks, crisps, the lighter.

  Swinging my bag over my shoulder, I turned around to face the fire as the wind caught the blinds, sending burning material flying across the apartment. The flaming pieces landed underneath another set of blinds, setting them alight. I should have bought the aluminium venetians.

  A section of the blinds fell from the rest, landing on top of a deodorant can. A high-pitched whistle became audible.

  "Oh please, no.." I whispered as the can burst into flame and ignited the papers I had dumped from my bag. The fire crept across the floor, licking at the underside of the couch as it too became combustible.

  The fire chased me across the room as I shoved the rest of my necessities into the bag; my phone, wallet and butterfly knife as the fire made its way over to the kitchen.

  On my way over to the door, I tripped on a loose wire and the keys for my door went flying across the floor. Smoke had already filled the room as everything went up in a cacophony of fire and smoke, even parts of the carpet had caught fire.

  Gasping for air as the smoke tore at my lungs, I groaned loudly and picked myself up from the floor with haste.

  Sickly pain shot through my shoulder-line as I rammed the locked door and bounced straight off, having only created a small dent in the middle.

  Hearing another high-pitched whistle, I turned around as my liquor somehow exploded, sending liquid fire flying across the kitchen and into my bedroom.

  Oxygen-deprived, I rammed with every ounce of strength in my body at the door for one last try. To my delight, it gave way, cracks forming around the frame as it dislodged from the hinges and swung open at the same time, sending me flying into the corridor.

  Thud.

  No sooner than I had regained my balance, it was crushed by another explosion which tore through the lower floors and took out the electricity. The lights cut out almost instantly as a colossal sound came from behind me; my apartment disappeared from sight as the roof caved-in, sending massive chunks of concrete and personal belongings coursing down into the apartment like hail. The floor must have given way as my apartment too sunk into the one below it.

  Shaking my oxygen-deprived head a few times, I began to stagger down the corridor, endless as it seemed from my perspective; stretching out into infinity. No sooner than I began to think like this, the end of the corridor was in front of me and I was forced to turn the corner. An elevator was the first thing my tired eyes noticed.

  As I walked towards it, the floor beneath me vibrated constantly as other sections of the building gave way into each other, triggering explosions that would make the next section give way like some form of twisted chemical reaction.

  They say that you should never use a lift during a fire, but I don't think I'd been paying attention during that lesson.

  Oxygen slowly filled my lungs again and the dizziness ceased, I walked with haste over to the elevator. My delusions that the elevator would somehow work as if by magic were cut short as I tapped madly on the down button. But to no avail, the elevator doors stood motionless, I'd forgotten that the power was out. I kicked at the thick, metal doors and swore in agony as pain splintered through my foot.

  "Fuck!" I shouted, immediately regretting my decision to kick the door, pain still coursing through my foot like the electrical-c
urrent this building lacked.

  Ladies and Gentlemen, the human battery.

  A woman came into view at the other end of the corridor. Clutching at my foot and hopping, the woman walked towards me as though in a trance, completely unaware of the concrete dust falling from the ceiling above her.

  My voice finally reached her as I shouted words of caution in regards to the ceiling above her, which cracked loudly. Her face was struck with pure fear, smeared with dirt and ash. She couldn't have been any older than thirty.

  I stepped forwards towards her, but immediately leaped back as the ceiling cracked more and water spewed from the fissures, the ceiling gave way, propelling a large chunk of concrete down onto the woman, who screamed as the floor beneath her gave way too.

  Then, silence. I didn't even need to look to know she was dead, sandwiched between two sections of heavy concrete. If that didn't kill her, the corner of the table going through the back of her head did.