Near
Death
By
Richard C Hale
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or to actual events or locales is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2011 Richard C Hale. All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book, or portions thereof, in any form. No part of the text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical without the express written permission of the author. The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book via the Internet or via any other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions, and do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copyrighted material.
Cover Designed by: Richard C. Hale; Jacksonville skyline courtesy of Devon Bradford.
Copyright ©Richard C Hale 2011
File version 1.00.C
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For Mom, I know you would have loved this.
Table of Contents
Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
About the Author
Part 1
PROLOGUE
Jake Townsend turned to his pregnant wife of two years and said, “Sorry it’s so late. I can’t believe I kept you out this long. Do you hate me?”
Beth smiled, touched his face and said, “No, silly, I was having fun too. Karen and Vito always throw a good party.” She rubbed her slightly distended belly. “I don’t think she sleeps anyway.”
Jake was annoyed with himself for losing track of time and keeping his wife out past 2:00 a.m. He knew better. Their unborn child was not getting its proper rest and this was his fault. Beth seemed to somehow sense his distress and grabbed his hand, placing it on her rounded stomach. She then moved it a little to the left. He felt a little burble under his fingertips as their child shifted inside her.
His angst melted away and he smiled. “He’s practicing his field goal kicks again.”
Jake signaled and maneuvered the old Toyota Land Cruiser off of A1A in Callahan, Florida, and headed south on U.S. 1 toward home in Orange Park. The vehicle was the only one on the road at this late hour.
“You mean her cheerleading kicks?” Beth said.
Jake laughed.
The baby continued to press softly against his palm. He still couldn’t believe he was going to be a father in just four short months. He was excited and terrified all at the same time.
Jake’s cell phone rang and it startled him. He couldn’t figure who would be calling him this late. He glanced down at the LCD on the phone and shook his head as he smiled.
He said to Beth, “Tony.”
She nodded and smiled. “He probably wants you to hang out tomorrow. He still tries to take you away from me.”
Jake laughed. He pressed a button on the phone and said, “Yo! What’s up man?”
An obviously drunk and angry Tony said, “I left the bitch, that’s what’s up! I can’t stand her! She’s ruining my life.”
“Whoa!—calm down buddy. What happened?”
Beth asked “What’s wrong?! What happened?!” and Jake couldn’t hear what Tony was saying.
“Hold on honey, give me just a sec…no, not you Tony, go ahead.”
Beth gasped and Jake looked up to see a huge deer standing in the road. He jammed on the brakes, swerved to miss it, but the top heavy Land Cruiser never had a chance and as the vehicle began flipping, Beth started screaming.
It was the most violent thing Jake had ever experienced. He was tossed from side to side like a ragdoll and before the Land Cruiser came to rest on its passenger side, Jake’s head slammed into the door frame and everything went blank.
Total darkness. The sound of dripping and hissing. His head pounded and he could feel something wet and sticky on his face. Jake was hanging almost upside down, tangled in his seatbelt, filled with shock and fear.
He called out “Beth!” but all that escaped his lips was a whispered croak.
He coughed, spat blood and then yelled louder. “Beth!”
He searched frantically around the inside of the car and could see nothing. He was beginning to panic now as he struggled with his seatbelt, blood running into his left eye hampering his vision. He kept calling her name, but could hear no answer.
The seat belt finally let go and he suddenly thumped face down against the pavement, but still in the car, the passenger window shattered, and the cold asphalt digging into his skin.
Kicking and wrestling his legs under him he finally stood with his head popping up through the driver’s window. His right shoulder protesting as he tried to clamber up and out of the window, he slammed back into the SUV.
Struggling and clawing up and out, Jake fell onto the pavement beside the car, crying out. Shaking, he stood, looking around, trying to find Beth. The moonless night and the eerie glow of his taillights were all he could see at first. He thought he could make out a vague shape lying on the road back there.
Calling Beth’s name, terrified, he came upon her motionless body and sank to his knees beside her.
“Beth! Oh God. Beth! Can you hear me?! Are you all right?!”
Forcibly getting a grip on himself, he could see and feel her breathing ever so shallowly. She was alive!
Looking and feeling for injuries, he was hampered by the low light and the blood in his eyes. Headlights appeared over the horizon, and as the distant car approached, more light bathed the scene and his wife.
Massive amounts of blood were around her head and pooled around her upper body. As the light brightened he could see a pulsing gush of blood flowing from a large gash on her neck.
Jake moaned. He knew it was bad.
He slapped his hand over the gash but blood still oozed and leaked from around his fingers. He knew she would need immediate attention to survive. There was no one to give it out here.
“Oh God, Beth, no…hang in there! Come on!”
He ripped his shirt sleeve and used it like a bandage, pressing firmly on her neck and the flow seemed to subside a little.
As the car approached and slowed, Beth woke and turned onto her back. She immediately coughed up blood and her breathing sounded harsh and ragged. When she stopped coughing, small bubbles of blood formed on her lips and burst silently as she struggled to breathe. The wound in her neck now had air escaping through it and was making a wet rattling sound. She was drowning.
“Beth! I’m going to roll you on your side so you can breathe. It’s all right! I’m here.”
The approaching car stopped and Jake could hear footsteps rapidly coming toward them as a voice called, “Oh, man! Is she all right?!”
Jake yelled, “Call nine one one! Hurry! My wife!”
The stranger yelled back toward his idling car, “Sammy! Use the cell! Call nine one one! Now!”
Beth was trying to speak, but Jake couldn’t hear her.
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“Don’t talk,” Jake said. “You need to save your strength.” But she continued to say things he couldn’t hear.
“Hey man. Can you turn your engine off?” Jake said to the man kneeling beside him. “She’s trying to tell me something and I can’t hear her.”
“Sure—yeah—sure. I got it!” The man jumped up and ran off.
As the engine died, he leaned close and heard Beth say, “Jake, I’m so cold. And I can’t see you. Where are you?”
“I’m right here, Baby. Right here. I’ve got you. Just stay still. You’re hurt and you couldn’t breathe on your back, so stay on your side and lie still. I’m here and everything is going to be all right.”
She coughed hard, her whole body wracked with spasms. More blood trickled from her mouth. She looked pale and ashen and seemed so frail and weak. Jake was scared she was slipping away
“Jake, I’m feeling better now. Not cold anymore, but I can’t see you. It’s so bright here. Where am I? Where are you? I can hear you, but I can’t see you. It’s so bright! Jake?”
The man came back to Jake’s side and said, “They’re coming. What can I do?”
“Can you turn off the headlights, she keeps saying they’re too bright?”
“Sure, anything.”
The man got back up and ran to the car, extinguishing the headlights.
“There Baby, is that better?” Jake asked Beth.
“Is what better, Jake? I feel ok, just tired. So tired. I still can’t see you and its getting so bright. It feels good. The light. Mom? Where did you come from? Where’s Jake?”
Jake knew Beth’s mother had passed away when she was young. He couldn’t understand what she was talking about.
“Beth, I’m right here. I love you! Everything will be ok.”
“Oh—there you are Jake,” Beth said smiling weakly. “You’re so far away though—ok Mom. Jake—Mom’s here with me now. I’m ok. I’m not cold anymore and I don’t hurt. I love you! Be good to Madison and Lucas.”
This last part so faint, Jake wasn’t sure what he’d heard. He carefully cradled her in his arms trying to hear.
“Beth, what? Stay with me! I’ve got you! I’ve got you!”
“Madison and Lucas—Ter…” Beth said, faintly. “Love you...”
She went limp in his arms and the blood stopped flowing from her wound.
He pulled her tight to him and cried, “No! Beth! No! Stay with me! I can’t lose you. No! Beth! Please!”
Sobbing into her still breast, a pain erupting from within him so great he thought he would burst, he wailed in anguish, and felt her slip away.
* * *
Dawn broke over Kandahar Airbase and Qayum Omar rose from his hiding place in the rock outcropping and peered over the boulder at the airfield. He smiled.
He glanced down at the weapon on the ground and waited for the Marines to assemble in the mess hall for breakfast.
The morning was cool and clear. Only a slight breeze was coming through the pass just to the north of his position. The wind would have negligible impact on his plans. The conditions were almost perfect.
He watched as the men filed into the open double doors, chatting and slapping each other on the back as they waited in line. Even from this distance, the smell of food was drifting up toward him from below.
It was time.
He crouched and began assembling the weapon.
He held what many believed to be an expensive toy. A radio controlled aircraft which he had purchased over the internet and modified for his needs. In his testing, it worked with deadly precision.
Turning on first the transmitter and then the electrical components of the aircraft, he armed the detonator and prepared to launch the plane into the morning air.
To him, the quiet whirring of the propeller as he tested it seemed very loud but he was confident the noise would be minimal and would not draw attention until it was too late.
Slipping the helmet on, he activated the virtual reality goggles and the screens in front of his eyes came to life. The helmet assembly displayed the view from a camera mounted to a gimbal system on the Styrofoam aircraft. He turned his head left and right testing the camera’s ability to track his head movements.
Everything worked flawlessly.
As he pushed the left stick on the transmitter all the way forward, he heard the propeller spool up to full power and could feel the aircraft vibrating in his hand, waiting to be liberated. Pointing the nose up at about 45 degrees, he tossed the aircraft up and away from him, setting the weapon free.
The virtual reality goggles caused him to panic briefly as the world spun crazily, then the aircraft stabilized and climbed steadily above the desert floor. He leveled it off and pointed the nose directly at the mess hall doorway and watched it grow larger in his vision as the craft rapidly approached the base.
He dropped the aircraft’s altitude until it was about head high above the desert scrub and remained there until the twenty foot fence loomed large before it. A little gust of wind buffeted the aircraft and he had to correct quickly to keep it from crashing into the dust.
Climbing again to clear the fence, he caught brief glimpses of faces manning the guard towers and watched as one saw the aircraft and pointed. It would not matter.
The doorway was very close and they would not be able to stop what was about to happen.
The line of men waiting to dine had thinned with most already inside sitting at their tables eating. The staccato of small arms fire drifted over the mile distance and reached the terrorist’s ears, but soon stopped because the Marines would not risk hitting their own as the weapon flew closer to the mess hall.
He smiled and held his finger against the detonator switch. A few seconds more.
The doorway bloomed, filling the view completely as the aircraft flew through the opening. Flipping the detonator switch, he reflexively ducked as the screen flashed and then went blank.
The explosive shock wave reached him in his hiding place a second later. It was very strange to be so disassociated from the destruction, yet be right on top of it as viewed through the camera.
The last thing that Omar saw before the screen went blank was the shocked look of disbelief on the face of one of the Marines as he turned toward what must have been the whirring of the motor. The vision remained frozen in his mind as the craft struck the Marine and then exploded.
The terrorist packed his things quickly and fled into the mountains.
1
January 8, 2010 8:32 am
Two Years Later
Orange Park, Florida
Frank Lucas sat in the confessional and waited.
Soon he heard footsteps and watched as the vague shape of the priest entered the adjoining booth. He started to sweat.
“You may begin.”
“Forgive me, Father, I cannot remember how long it has been since my last confession.”
Only silence greeted this revelation and Frank waited, expecting some reaction he did not get.
“I’m not quite sure what to do next Father. Like I said, it’s been a long time.”
The priest sighed. “Tell me your sins and then the Act of Contrition. Do you remember the Act of Contrition prayer?”
“Not the whole prayer, Father. I’m sorry.”
“It’s printed on a plaque to your left and you may refer to it as needed. You may begin.”
Frank took a large breath.
“This afternoon I lied to my wife about where I was going. She thinks I’m playing golf with my friends. Yesterday I…”
The priest interrupted him and said with some humor in his voice, “My son, if it truly has been as long as I think since your last confession we’ll be here for the next month if you continue with these small, venial sins. It may be best for you to start with your mortal sins and we’ll go from there.”
“Yes, Father,” Frank said, pausing. “I have killed a man.”
Frank could see the silhouette of the priest react and h
eard him take a sharp, quick, breath.
He waited and finally the priest said, “Tell me, when did this happen?”
“Over thirty five years ago, Father.”
“Now, tell me how this happened.”
Frank told him.
As Frank spoke, an uncomfortable pressure started to spread across his chest. A pain, like a live wire electrifying his skin, raced up his arm and spread into his neck.
“I had no choice,” Frank said, “he would have killed…”
Frank’s voice faltered. He was having a hard time breathing. A high pitched whistling noise invaded the confessional and it took Frank a moment before he realized it was coming from his own lungs. His throat was clamping shut and he was unable to speak.
As the pain intensified, he thought, ‘I’m going to throw-up!’
He trembled and shook violently, then finally lost his balance as he fell from his bench and crashed through the confessional door onto the floor of the church.
The pain was overwhelming. Frank had never felt such anguish. It was a searing, tearing pain that seemed to permeate his whole body. He was blacking out.
He could see the priest over him yelling into a cell phone for an ambulance and then there was a final ripping pain along with a tearing sound.
Then the pain stopped.
He found himself moving up and away from the floor and thought the priest was helping him to stand, but then realized that he could see the priest and his own body below him. He was floating and felt surprisingly calm at this revelation.
Suddenly, his long dead father was next to him. He looked nothing like he remembered, but he instinctively knew it was his dad, only in a much younger body. He smiled at Frank and reached out to grasp his hand. As their fingers touched, two things happened simultaneously.
Frank heard a wonderful sound. It was the most glorious musical chord he had ever heard. Such a wondrous sound no human could ever imagine creating. Made up of impossible tones, it had such depth and color he wasn’t sure if he was hearing the music, feeling it, or both. It washed over him and through him, making him feel so peaceful he never wanted it to end.
Near Death (A Jake Townsend Science Fiction, Action and Adventure, Thriller Series Book 1) Page 1
