Coils Of The Overkill

by Steve Hammond Kaye

  The former security chief started to become very rotund with only the occasional visit of his son breaking this monotony. He started to drink far too many Jack Daniel's bottles and crashed around the house in a very dishevelled state. Pretty soon the one time neat and organised Kyra became almost unrecognisable. His possessions lay scattered across his house in an uncoordinated mess. After three months of house-arrest he engaged in a particularly heavy bout of drinking. After his third giant-sized bottle of Jack Daniels had gone down the hatch, he tripped over a rug edge and landed face-first among some of his possessions. He tried to right himself, but fell again and this time the familiar metallic love-call of an Excoriator reached his ears. Due to his drunken state, he couldn't initially place exactly where it was, but then it locked-on and proceeded to skewer him through his left flank. He screamed out in agony but no one heard his anguish. The Excoriator ignored his heart and proceeded to slowly munch it's way upwards towards his neck. Kyra released blood, spittle and vomit as the Excoriator paused briefly before sinking it's metallic hind-legs deep into his neck. It then sucked the power of speech from him and it menacingly slowed down as it gouged out his left eye from it's socket. With no power of speech and only half his eyesight, Kyra prayed mentally for the end and as he did so, his efforts to escape the device became more and more frantic. He fell into broken jars of vinegar and when contact was made with his wounds, he went into a temporary pain-driven seizure. The Excoriator shifted it's position to the back of his neck and the metallic clippers were set in motion. He tried to rip the Excoriator from his neck, but lost four fingers in the process. Then the fat man's heart finally gave out and he became blue-faced within twenty seconds. The Excoriator continued ploughing up the dead man - a truly fitting end for a man who worshipped sadism.

  He had one mourner at his cremation.

  FOURTEEN

  Jasmine fitted into the missile-surveillance unit with ease. Scope had shown her the rudiments of her role back in Seattle and her additional humanitarian duties involved her researching demographic factors in target areas. Scope's left-hand identification logging point and his desk area had been left in place as a mark of respect for the late Commander. His favoured grey trench-coat sill hung from the back of his black leather chair and his digital workplace area still carried gold embossed lettering with his name on it. Jasmine regularly brought in some flowers in memory of her dead friend these added an element of beauty to an otherwise monochrome environment. She got on very well with her unit colleagues, although she started to feel rather isolated when compared to the rest, with her role being to minimise casualties while the others seemed to adhere to a seek and destroy prerogative. On occasions she would surf the missile status-sites like she had done with Scope and she felt more at home observing the bluff and counter. Bluff tactics surrounding missile-movements that she did with humanitarian aid. Her colleagues noted her affinity with this area and eventually it was decided that she should undertake the same role as the others. She was pleased to leave her old role behind her and she started to excel in the metaphorical chess-game surrounding an Overkill situation. Her work station was next to Scope's shrine and one day she inquired about how long his work-space would remain unchanged. The reply from a senior colleague surprised and yet excited her.

  “Oh Scope's work-space will stay just the same indefinitely - a mark of respect for sure, but also it must be stated that his unit cant be closed down because the activation key to force closure is missing.

  Jasmine played dumb, although she knew the answer to the question that she asked.

  “What kind of key are we looking for?”

  “Scope's left hand. He lost both his hands in the fatal accident that befell him and the left one activates his work-space and could shut down Overkill - or activate it. Many would argue that Scope had the only real trigger-potential because he could act alone by using it. Now we would need a three-way agreement just to move missiles let alone fire one. Gone are the single-strike days. We have gone too soft.”

  The man's name was David Jackson and Jasmine thought that he spoke with a slightly wistful air with regard to past days. She wondered if Scope had ever gone beyond the chess-piece stages and actually fired a missile - she hoped so. His reply surprised her.

  “Sure he did. I know of four occasions when Scope went past the bluffing-stage! Two Russian subs were taken out - one in the arctic and one showing too much interest in our west-coast ports. He also nuked part of Brasilia to put a halt on Brazilian superpower growth and he sent a massive nuke to Baghdad as target practice! The latter really wound-up the Russians! You see for the most part we flex and they run. The beautiful thing about Scope was that he would often do the unexpected and our enemies couldn't work a behavioural pattern for him - even we know that! Scope was a loose-cannon in many ways, but boy, we all miss him.”

  That conversation proved to be the start of a firm friendship between David Jackson and Jasmine. He was a couple of years older than she was and had the aforementioned senior status in terms of surveillance. Jasmine learnt a lot from him and occasionally she would glean more historic information about the late Scope's style of rule. She hadn't told a soul about what macabre secret was wrapped up in her freezer at home, but nonetheless she was keen to determine if a dead hand could still activate Scope's frozen work-space. She asked Jackson several 'what-if' type questions about Scope and after waiting for the right time, she went for the big one.

  “One thing has always made me rather curious about Scope's left hand identification sensor. If it was found now David, would it still work and open his work-space?”

  Jackson smiled at this bizarre question, but gave a full answer nonetheless.

  “It's probably rotted away by now wherever it is. Even if we found it tomorrow I am not certain that it would encode correctly in the work-space area or not. You see I don't know whether the hand was responsive via a living wrist pulse or skin pore DNA. If it was the latter it could possibly work or reactivate. Interesting witchcraft!”

  David Jackson had enabled Jasmine to delve more thoroughly into Scope's world and although he wanted more than Jasmine did, their bond strengthened over the ensuing weeks. As his birthday drew nearer, Jasmine had an idea that would please David, but more importantly provide a clandestine method to sneak Scope's dead hand on site. She was determined to see if Scope's work-space would reactivate. She kept her plan secret and nobody knew about her ulterior motive surrounding birthday-steak celebrations. She still needed to build up a mental picture of Scope's work-space to channel her expectations before she sat in the 'cockpit.' She chose to ask another colleague further Scope-related questions as Jackson may become suspicious of an over repetitive line of inquiry. She subsequently directed her question to a younger surveillance worker called Austin Clements.

  “So Austin, what different features did Scope's work-space possess then?”

  “Obviously the Direct-Engagement button was a key difference - lucky bastard! Then there was the Exit-Locking facility that he always activated when he fired for real. There was a left-hand dial to enable Work-Space-Destruction (WSD) in cases of extreme emergency and finally an attached Pod that would carry an exit statement should our base be destroyed. The latter has a orbit-penetration strength, so I guess that it is able to withstand everything including the aforementioned WSD. This Pod will stay intact even if there are no people left to tell the tale!”

  Jasmine laughed at Austin's gallows-humour. She had got what she wanted from him.

  As the birthday drew nearer Jasmine bought five massive steaks in readiness for the occasion. She was glad that America always prided themselves on the size of their steaks - it was easier to conceal objects within them when need be! She thawed the dead hand out on her kitchen table and re-applied an eighth coating of preserving formalin. She was determined to make sure that no trace of decomposition could emerge and spoil her best laid plans. Hiding the hand within the giant steak was extremely intricate as she had to part
the steak like a second skin and cover all human traces. Concealing the finger-nails proved to be the most difficult part of this process, but when she was finished one even fatter steak was the result. She was confident that security wouldn't detect her stuffed steak when it was surrounded by other steaks of sizeable proportions.

  Jasmine would have a window of opportunity to get to Scope's work-space without being detected if things went to plan. She would cook the steaks in the large work kitchen on the day and then she would present them to Jackson and three other colleagues. It was her surprise for his big day and it made her wider intentions very covert. After consuming their food the guys would briefly depart to another annexed building to take part in more birthday celebrations. Jasmine had been invited to join the others in celebration, but said beforehand that she couldn't go at that time because she would need to survey a particular missile site in that time slot. The others understood as each of them had a specific case load of sites to keep a eye of scrutiny on. It was the nature of their job. This would be the said window of opportunity for Jasmine.

  When the actual day dawned, Jasmine's pulse seemed to have a double beat due to the enhanced adrenalin coursing through her body. As she journeyed to the missile-surveillance workplace, she wondered what her punishment would be if she were caught. After a few seconds of reflection she concluded that it would almost certainly be the death penalty - due to the magnitude of what she was carrying around and the ultimate power contained within this object. Her journey had parallels with another woman unfamiliar to her from a distant time in a far off place. She too was a seer in that context. She neared the corner of no-return and her heart fluttered like the last caged dove.

  Through the doors she went and Security smiled at her heavy load. They glanced inside her haversack and with inane smiles asked if there was any chance of a free steak. She passed them by on the road to deliverance, but now she needed to maintain her envisaged synchronicity.

  “Yo - the steak lady!” Yelled Austin, already half-cut in celebration. He laughed, gave Jasmine a buddy-hug and then he sought out the birthday-boy who was proving elusive. The drunken state of her colleagues helped Jasmine and they pushed their steaks around their plates in a lazy fashion, with their desire for more alcohol proving to be more exciting. She kissed a drunken Jackson on both cheeks and hurried all of them away to their next booze-soddened destination. They were playing into her hands really and now it could be Scope-time for Jasmine. She approached his work-space with less caution than before because she had managed to lose the others. She proceeded to tear the hand from the polythene safe-bag and wiped the encrusted formalin from it's surface. She wiped the hand on a towel that she had brought with her and then held it close to her heart with some memories of pleasant times. She drew his chair back and feasted her eyes on his vacant work-space. It was her now or never moment and she hurriedly made sure that the Primary activation points were in place and she then placed the dead hand on the activation pad. If Jackson was right about the wrist-pulse, it would be a no-show and initially that looked like being the case. The sounds of merriment a few buildings away disrupted Jasmine's thoughts and she scowled at The Master's silent unit. Then a flicker became a screen and the screen revealed those beautiful options. It was time to attack and his spirit would ride with her.

  She activated immediately and chose Direct Engagement without a second thought! She was gunning from the outset and was loving the experience. She launched an actual missile at a projected Moscow (2) site and smiled at her initial efforts. Then she made sure that all exits were sealed and diverted another missile in the direction of north-Korea. Nothing would stop her now. Some alarms sounded from outside, but Scope's palace could not be scaled. She enabled a nuclear sub to engage in a repeat - strike program with Peking. She off-loaded 2 massive 4-Meg missiles from subs off the Japanese coastline. This was proving fun for Jasmine and she smiled again at the metaphorical board-game in front of her. After an hour or so, she concentrated her efforts on blasting Russia from all angles. Her philosophy now was very much bang-bang bye-bye and she became oblivious to any moral closure. Then after nearly three hours of engagement came the warnings that she had expected...

  Idaho Alert State (1) - Attack Imminent with incoming missile in a state of Lock-on. This was followed by New York - Attack Imminent - three incoming Missiles Locked-on. She started to rock in her chair and began to chuckle to herself. She had a speech to prepare to set the record straight and as news of Cincinnati being blown to pieces reached the web, she began drafting her chosen words. As missiles hit her screen from many directions she hit the C.O.T.O button and committed America into emptying it's nuclear arsenal. That signified the end and she knew it. Sirens, alarms and the sound of gunfire provided a dying soundtrack. Red alert warnings ripped into a sonic death - knell. It was time to die.

  EPILOGUE

  Many years ago my little family were cruelly wiped out by the Memory-Camera Project. They

  left me as a token survivor while the blood of my Father, mother and little brother ran as one across the sand. I swore to avenge the murder of my family as I watched them breath their last on Herm. I am sorry this took so long Daddy, but some things are best served cold. I feel that I, Rachel Vain (not that awful Jasmine that they gave me) have carried out the ultimate vendetta really haven't I? By the time you get this Pod I will be scorched out of existence. You see my friends the Project died in the end but it left me unfulfilled and so my revenge switched to killing you America. You spawned the MC-Project and I have killed you in return.

  Goodbye world Goodbye America.

  THE END

  Coils Of The Overkill

  By Steve Hammond Kaye

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Find Steve Hammond Kaye, Thirty Four Minutes Dead, The Scream of Feyer & Coils Of The Overkill on facebook.

  * * *

  I started writing book one Thirty Four Minutes Dead in 1990 and concluded the said novel in 1998. I deliberately chose to write the book in a style that is intricate, expansive and visually aware. I wanted the book to engage with the reader in a similar fashion to film on occasions and thus my plot arteries were often determined by a heightened visual perspective.

  On the 25th April 2001 TFMD was available online for the first time with a publishing company based in Milton Keynes, UK.

  Two years later, book two, The Scream of Feyer found its way online. This book really is TFMD's ugly sister and is a completely different beast. In fact, if it were a animal and you fed it, it would literally bite your hand off!

  I wrote this at a time when my life was pretty wild to say the least, so I suppose a strange duality transpired with The Scream of Feyer being the mutated offspring.

  Book three, Coils of The Overkill comes 12 years later after the success of books one and two on Amazon. I’d always planned it, but really knuckled down in 2014 to finally finish The Memory-Camera Project once and for all!

  With Kind Regards

  THE FOLLOWING LIST OF PEOPLE HAVE BEEN REMEMBERED WITH HIGH REGARD BY THE AUTHOR FOR A VARIETY OF DIFFERENT REASONS. SOME ARE VERY WELL KNOWN TO ME WHILST OTHERS TOUCHED MY HEART IN A MORE FLEETING INSTANCE. EITHER WAY, YOU ARE LOCKED IN MY HEART AND I THANK YOU.

  MRS AMANDA KAYE: EMILY DANIELLE KAYE: GEMMA LAUREN KAYE: SALLIE-ROSE KAYE:

  PROFESSOR MICHAEL MARSHALL KAYE:

  ANNE MARGARET KAYE: ANDREA KAYE:

  STEVE MULLINS – MY MATE AND HEAD OF ICELANDIC OPERATIONS: (STEVE-MULLINS.CO.UK)

  HANNAH CUNDALL:

  CARLA LANZON:

  EMILY ALICE WILSON:

  ALEX ADAMS:

  JASON BEAMAN (MR COVENTRY):

  ROB SHAW:

  RUSSELL MORELAND:

  DAVID GREENMAN (KING OF THE EXTRA MILE):

  ICE CREAM BEN:

  MARK COUPER PHOTOGRAPHY:

  PAUL ANDREWS:

  JAYNE - QUEEN OF THE VETS:

  STEVE CAPELL:

  ANTHONY MINGHELLA R:I:P

  TONIA
CANN:

  KEVIN JENNINGS - I THOUGHT OF YOU AT THE END OF COILS BUDDY!:

  JUSTIN MASON:

  ROBIN ALLEN:

  LEWIS WILSON:

  MICK HAILES:

  ANDY WILLIAMS:

  CAREY NELSON:

  ANTHONY SIBLEY:

  HILTON HARVEY:

  GEORGE & JENNI WILBERT:

  GARETH WALKER:

  LIAM MOODY (MAN OF HONOUR):

  MATTHEW MOSS:

  DAVE JUPE:

  STANLEY BOWLES:

  GABRIELLA HAMMOND:

  SERA LEFROY-OWEN:

  KATE VALENTINE:

  JACKIE SWINSON:

  KRISTEN SCOTT-THOMAS:

  MS C CAMPBELL:

  COLETTE FRENCH:

  MR T:

  TONY FICETO:

  PETER CAWLEY (SUPERB ENGLISH TEACHER):

  BECCA CHEETHAM:

  C.JENKINS:

  LORRAINE BEVAN:

  LOUISE HARRIS:

  GEOFF SAUNDERS R;I;P

  MARY SILK:

  MARY MOORE:

  LINDA SNAITH:

  VICTOR PLUMBLEY R:I:P - A TOP BLOKE VIC MATE GOD BLESS:

  * * *

  Published by

  Publishing for the twenty-first century author.

  www.standardcut.co.uk

  publishing@standardcut.co.uk