View Full Version : Dane Orion

Gavin Luper
22nd July 2003, 02:24 AM
Here's something completely new.

Hope you like it!


Chapter I – Windswept.

It’s funny how things work out sometimes. Of course I mean funny as in strange and coincidental, not like hardy hardy ha, because what happened to me – to us – was hardly humorous. To me anyway. Maybe some people sat back sometimes and laughed at the whole thing, but I definitely didn’t; I don’t see how I ever could. I mean, sometimes Bryan tries to make a joke about it and we’ll smile a bit, but that’s about all. I don’t think our heart is ever in it, or his.

Everything happened kind of like an explosion; one minute everything was intact, stable, perfect, and then it exploded; things were destroyed, shattered, thrown everywhere, and in the middle was me. Well, that’s how I saw it at the time. It always seems that it’s always me who gets into some problem of some sort. If anyone’s in trouble, it’ll be Dane. Me, me, always me. I used to think everything centred around me, but since that day in Glasgow, I’ve come to realise that just about everyone thinks that about themselves, as though the universe revolves around them.

Well, guess what? Everyone is wrong.

The explosion wasn’t one that I could have seen coming, not that you can normally predict them anyway. I think it really hit me so hard because I was used to doing the same thing, everyday.

So this kind of popped up; it seemed so bizarre at first that I almost laughed. Then I almost vomited. I don’t remember thinking anything, just staring at her in shock. I didn’t even know her, but she had approached me in the middle of the shopping centre and kind of blurted it all in my face at once. I was in a little café that I went to a lot, they didn’t do much but make coffees and teas and a few cakes, but it was enough to keep me going back. I remember the sound of the cappuccino machine gurgling that day, because at the same time I felt a gurgling in my throat.

She looked at me – no, looked through me – without a trace of sympathy or empathy or anything-else-pathy. I didn’t even know her name at that stage. She blinked her bright cerulean eyes; it was typical really, she had platinum blonde hair, tied back in a neat ponytail, and blue eyes – the average little Anglo, I spose. Her eyes actually had a kind of soft watery look about them; they would have sparkled with innocence if it weren’t for her eyebrows. They weren’t bushy, but they curved in a funny way that made her appear as though she was on the lookout for something or someone.

When she asked – more like ordered – I shook my head, feebly at first, then vigourously. I felt like a tidal wave had just slapped into me at full force, and was now receding very slowly back into the ocean. I thought I’d had her sussed out; she seemed like a foreign businesswoman, one of those modernised women, who put their career as first priority, followed by pride and then they squeeze in time for friends. After she said that, a thousand questions began burning in my brain. Who was this woman? Why had she asked such a huge question? What gave her the right to do so? How did she know who I was – how had she tracked me down, so far from home?

“I don’t understand,” I managed to say, my voice coming out a lot steadier than I thought it would have. That calmed me a bit. I started exercising more control over my vocal cords anyway.

“No, you understood what I said perfectly well,” she said in a firm voice that sounded almost too forceful. She only looked a few years older than me, yet she seemed to be incredibly mature. “And you’ll agree, Mr Orion, that you have no choice.”

I was now thankful that my coffee hadn’t been delivered yet, because my stomach was an out-of-control washing machine. Without the clothes or detergent. She was looking at me still, scrutinisingly, as though she had never seen another human being before, and her gaze held the same lack of emotion as before. Her clean fingernails were drumming on the glass table rhythmically, impatiently.

I exploded at that point. “I can’t do that! Who are you anyway? Why have you just come up to me like this? I don’t even know you!” And suddenly huge doubts began popping into my mind. Who was she really? Could I trust her, or was she one of those she had just warned me about? I instantly imagined that she had a gun hidden in her bag.

A woman with the tallest mop of hair in the world looked inquisitively at me from another table. She didn’t even try to make it like she wasn’t looking, leaning over rudely. “Nice beehive,” I scowled at her, pointing to my head. She looked highly offended and turned away, patting the monstrosity delicately.

The blonde woman at the table with me was ignoring this; she seemed to be thinking it over very slowly. Her mouth curved almost as dangerously as her eyebrows. I almost shrank back. All this woman seemed to do was LOOK at things. Finally, she spoke, very smoothly. “I realise that this is really sudden for you,” she said, sounding as though she really didn’t care. “Perhaps it would be easier if we went for a more private drive in my car?”

“Oh sure,” I spat angrily. “Have you got your gun loaded? Chloroform all ready to go?”

A bemused look came onto her face, but she refused to speak, so I refused to look at her anymore. I decided to ignore her completely; I picked up the paper that I had been reading before she burst into the café and began trying to look interested. I wasn’t, of course, who could be after what she’d said? I was really quite afraid of her now, just because of the kind of thoughts she had injected into my mind only a few minutes ago. It was a strange rush, though, what she asked me to do. The tiniest part of my brain wanted to find out more. The majority wanted to run, escape, mingle with the Glaswegian shoppers like before, just get away from this woman.

It occurred to me slowly that I couldn’t do that, even though I did want to. This wasn’t really the kind of situation you walked away from, but I had no idea of how to approach it. It then occurred to me that this woman was not just an average, neutral person who had bumped into me by accident at the shops; she had tracked me down from the other side of the world. Either she had good intent or bad.

“My name is Anna,” she said abruptly, before I had even asked. “I realise I’ve probably confused you. I apologise. Maybe it would be best if I briefed you ASAP.”

“Briefed me?” I gaped. What was this, a spy movie? No, it was nothing like a movie. In movies you know what’s going on; you have a camera to show you everything you need to know. Real life’s different. Then, maybe I’d stumbled into one of those stupid TV shows where they approach people in the middle of the street and put them in a ridiculous situation, then at the end tell them it’s a joke. I actually turned around and looked for cameras, but the café was fairly empty, excluding us and the beehive lady and her friend. “What are you, an FBI agent?” I spluttered at last, sarcasm dripping off my voice.

A huge smile filled her face, her cherry lips curving halfway up her cheeks as though her secret had finally been discovered. She didn’t need to respond.

“No way,” I breathed. Anna was a spy or something … well that did make things easier to bear. A little bit. But I still wondered where I fitted into the whole thing.

Anna was speaking almost in a whisper after that, so I really had to listen in. “Close enough,” she said at last. “I’m not with the FBI, I’m with Interpol, working in the Pacific.” It took a good few seconds for this to sink in, but when it did I had more questions than before. My fear had been obscured by excitement.

“So that’s why you asked me,” I said, my brain thawing out.

“Naturally, I’d have a reason. What, you thought some innocent stranger walked up to you and asked you that? Of course not, it’s police business.” She realised she had been speaking a bit loud, and the beehive lady seemed to be listening in again. Anna lowered her voice. “It still won’t slot into place really until I brief you.” She took out a badge and showed it to me, proving her identity as Anna French, Interpol officer. “Will you come with me now, to the Embassy?” she inquired, and I nodded.

“Which embassy?” I asked suddenly. I didn’t think Tropika had embassies anywhere, except maybe the US and Australia.

“Well, I was thinking the Australian Embassy,” said Anna. “The Oceania embassies aren’t widespread yet. Anyway, it’s just a safe place where we can talk.”

I surprised myself then, and her too, by the looks of it. “What about my apartment? It’s just down in Pollokshaws, we could be there in fifteen minutes if we took the train.”

Oddly enough, Anna nodded her head; in fact, she looked quite stimulated by that idea. We left the café without waiting for my coffee to arrive. Within five minutes we were on our way to the train station when Anna suddenly stopped at a parked car, a shiny silver Volkswagon. She unlocked it suddenly. “Get in.” she said, and I did. “It’ll be more private this way,” she added. “I can fill you in a bit more.” Of course, I thought. Anna wouldn’t have taken the train like me. As an interpol agent, she would have had access to any car she wanted.

We weaved through the streets patiently. My mind was not as numb now – the original bluntness of the question had worn off and I was confused as all hell. Anna was so serious, it was freaking me out. I was taking a step at a time. Step one – get Anna to fill me in at my apartment. Step two – well, find out what I myself was going to do.

Of course I had no idea then what was stepping into. I should have had, because of how strange the situation already was, but I just didn’t see anything coming after that. Maybe because I was thinking in steps.

We had just driven across the River Clyde when Anna turned into a side street. I asked her what she was doing – she said she just needed to do a quick check on something. So we wove through sidestreets for about five minutes, then Anna said: “We’re being followed.”

I looked at her in disbelief, then shock. As if. “Are you sure?”

“I just did three circuits of the suburb,” she said, and I realised what she had meant when she said she was ‘checking’ on something. Checking to confirm her suspicions. “That blue sedan is trailing us. DON’T TURN AROUND!” she yelled abruptly, as I began to. “We don’t want them to know anything. Look ahead at the road.”

For the second time in about half an hour I almost laughed at something not funny at all. This was just like a movie. I was petrified they were going to pull out guns and start shooting us any moment. The disturbing thing was, a tiny part of me wanted the action.

Anna kept driving, not even speeding up a bit. I supposed she wanted to act as if she hadn’t noticed anything about the car behind us. Her hands were shaking a bit, though; she was scared. Or just cold. It was a cold day, even by Glasgow standards.

We drove past an apartment block that looked familiar – we had passed it twice already. “Do you have a plan?” I asked Anna, looking at her deep cerulean eyes. I hoped to God that she did. I felt my stomach flop as she shook her head rigidly.

“Not really,” she muttered at last, staring straight ahead. I didn’t react – not out loud anyway. I sneaked a quick glance in the rear view mirror and saw the car trailing us. It wasn’t new but not old either; a middle-aged car. I wanted to get a closer look, but for some reason I felt that if I glanced in the mirror again they would see me and open fire.

Anna drove around a corner that looked quite familiar, and I could see the apartment block coming into view again much further up the street. “This is stupid,” said Anna quite suddenly, sounding on the verge of tears. Oh God, that’s all I need, for her to have a nervous breakdown. The car would veer off the road and crash into a pole, and if I miraculously managed to survive that I’d be gunned down by the people behind us.

“Stupid?” I repeated stupidly.

“Yes,” Anna moaned. “We’ve gone round this block almost five times now. They aren’t as thick as I am,” she said, sounding worn-out. She was the kind of person Melanie would say was ‘self-defeating’.

“So what now?” I said, annoyed at her. “We just drive around till they get bored and shoot us?”

“I don’t know,” she replied quickly. “They might not have guns. They might not even be our biggest enemy. But they probably do have guns, and they probably are our biggest enemy.” I was completely confused now. She paused. “I’d tell you who I think they are, but if you get caught by them, I don’t want you to be anything more than an innocent bystander. On the other hand …” she added suddenly, muttering very quietly to herself.

“Here’s what we’ll do,” Anna said abruptly. “Go into my bag.” She pointed to a sleek black bag at my feet, and I reached for it to follow her orders. “There’s a green notebook in there. And a silver tin. Put them in your backpack.”

I found the green notebook and the tin, then turned to get my backpack from the back seat. And then I saw the blue sedan, speeding up behind us as the road widened into dual-lanes. I saw the driver – a man – hunching over the wheel like he was playing some computer game. Except in this game there were no extra lives. If you crashed, you lost a lot more than points.

“The car’s coming up beside us,” I gasped at Anna. Her scarlet lips tightened and her eyes flickered with some crazy kind of power. I pulled my bag to the front and stared blankly ahead, breathing fast. Slowly my eyes focussed. We had sped up a lot and we were no longer going around that same block. In fact, we were on a road that I was quite sure led out of the city altogether. There were no dense apartment blocks now. There were even a couple of houses that resembled the ones back in Tropika.

“Listen carefully Dane,” said Anna, and I did. “When we get into the forest area north of town – if we make it that far – you’re going to jump from the car when I say to. If you can hide very quickly behind some trees, then you’ll be free. In a way,” she added with a flicker of concern in her eyes. “Now, these guys behind us should keep following the car, rather than going for you. The plan is to keep you safe. They’re going to lose one of us either way. And they hopefully won’t be expecting it.

“When the car is gone, you have to do what I say now. Go as deep into the forested area as you can. Go south for awhile – run the whole way – and then stop for the night somewhere safe. You can read my notebook then. That’s your briefing.” This barely sank in, but I got the gist of it. My knees were already wobbling, though, and adrenaline was pumping through my body.

“By the way,” said Anna. “I don’t think they have guns. They would have shot at us by now if they did. They probably have grenades or bombs instead.” I laughed loudly but realised, feeling sick, that she was being serious.

Very comforting. Thank you Anna.

Fifteen minutes later, my nerves were jangling worse than ever. The blue sedan was following us slowly and steadily now; it had not overtaken us yet. Maybe he was content to cruise behind us until we ran out of petrol. I shuddered at that thought – I could imagine the sinking feeling as the Volkswagon slowed down, then the engine spluttered out, then we were caught. Every few seconds after that I thought I could hear the engine failing. It never did, though.

I looked back at the car a couple of times, while Anna drove silently on. I realised already that we had made a major U-turn about ten minutes ago, around Carmunnock, and now we were approaching the Erskine Bridge. Anna had now told me she was planning to drive to the area around Loch Lomond, where I would leave the car, then she’d drive up north until she decided on a plan. She was considering either stopping at a northern town and losing herself in a crowd, or even curving back to Glasgow and try to trick them on a motorway exit. I think we both knew the first was the easiest.

We passed a nice urban area on the Firth of Clyde, which looked quite pleasant, compared to inner Glasgow. I was actually starting to relax a bit but the car went over a bump and I was jolted back to reality. By now I had started to get a bit unnerved by the car behind us; it was going slowly, but had a sense about it like if it wanted to, it would catch us. It reminded me of a peacock that had stalked me once in the maze at the wildlife park on Marino Island. It had appeared at every corner behind me in the little maze, stalking calmly and silently, as though it had all the time in the world, and strangely enough I actually got quite scared of it.

“Ready?” Anna’s voice sliced through my thoughts, and at once I felt my knees wobbling again. They were jelly. There was no other way to describe them.

We circled around a roundabout, and I saw trees on both sides of the road clustering in, shading me and Anna from the midday sun. Through the trees to the right I thought I saw water, but I didn’t get a good enough look to be sure.

Anna spoke some final words to me as I slipped my seatbelt off and hoisted the bag onto my back. “There’s a bend just up here. If I round it quickly enough, you might be able to conceal yourself before they see you. If they do see you, don’t worry, just keep running. Try to circle back towards Alexandria, then stop and read my notebook. If I don’t see you again, you’ll be able to work out what to do.”

“Just before I go,” I said rapidly, holding the doorhandle tightly. I knew I had to ask. There were some things that the notebook wouldn’t be able to answer.

“Yes?” Anna cried. The corner was approaching.

“Why did you ask me to kill them?” I demanded, suddenly feeling a huge burning anger inside me, that spilled over outside me as well. She glanced at me with those pale azure eyes, looking as though she was about to tell me, and it looked like she really wanted to. I felt a fire in my chest. She had asked me to do it less than an hour ago. I had to know why. But then;

“Goodbye,” said Anna bluntly, and the door swung open widely, revealing the bitumen road rushing past beneath.

Hyperness is a Good Thing
22nd July 2003, 04:28 AM
I likes! Hopefully you'll continue?

The way is started is cool...hopefully you'll explain it later...

:rolleyes: Read the notebook already...I want to know what's going on!!!!! *grumbles* I don't like waiting.

22nd July 2003, 07:26 PM
Wow, you've got me interested. You've set the stage for something really intense; you've brought forth a lot of questions but very few answers. I'll be sure to read more when (if?) you post it.

Gavin Luper
23rd July 2003, 04:34 AM
Hyperness: Yes I hope to continue, I have a couple more chapters on the way already. It's good that you like it!

Yeah, the way I began the story is a bit unexplained, but you'll understand it a bit more later on. You just have to be patient!!

GCM: Hi! So far I have 2 LTL readers in here, hopefulyl some new peoples come to read also. Yeps, lots of questions have appeared ... how long till they are answered?

Thanks for reading, guys, I'll be posting more soon!

Chris 2.1
23rd July 2003, 10:44 AM
Beauty of a fic, Gav! It's great! It's a treat to see non-Pokemon fics around on the boards, I've gone down the same path after realising I cant write non-trainers x_x;;

Keep it up, i'll be watching......*twilight Music*

Darien Shields
23rd July 2003, 07:50 PM
Gah. only had time to read half! But I like it, maybe simply because its set in Glasgow, and you know where one or two things are. Are you a Glaswegian? I'm from a place called Renfrew... Its a miniscule place beside Glasgow, with the rather grand title of "Cradle of the Royal Stuarts.", that's a bit Off Topic though...

Has this been reviewed? If it hasn't I'll give it a thorough going through when I get back. And then I'll see what cruel fate I can slap together for 2ra, hehehe.

Gavin Luper
24th July 2003, 07:03 AM
Shiny Marill: Thanks! I've moved right away from poke-anything, though I do enjoy writing LTL, I can't take it much further, whereas this may be able to lead onto more.

Hope ya keep reading!

Darien: That's alright, read it later! Yeah, hardly anything is set in Glasgow. No, I'm not Glasweigen (I'm Italian-Australian actually) but I did spend some time in Glasgow a few years back and liked what I saw. You're from around there, eh? That must be pretty cool to have settings you know of.

Nup, it's not been reviewed yet. Don't review it till at least chapter 10, alright?


Chris 2.1
24th July 2003, 07:58 AM
Glasgow's a really nice setting; I live in North England, so I'm about an hour or so away from Scotland. Glasgow and Edinborough (sp?>__<) really are inspirational places.

So, I take it you're finishing LTL and then just rounding off? I was gonna do the same with TIR, but then The idea for Monica's Army buzzed into my head and glued me here! When I finish it (ages away, i'm doing Ch7...) then I'll probably go, but i've found so much more available to me now i've left the Pokemon Label behind. In fact...I might take my notepad to Menorca and get some inspiration for MA.....sorry...I'm blabbering on now...

Any idea when the next chapter is up? I know it's a bit early, but i'm sure you're plugging away at it ^_^

Darien Shields
25th July 2003, 08:39 PM
Edinburgh, I'm quite sure.

Gah, death to the Enlgish!

Gavin Luper
26th July 2003, 01:21 AM
Sorry for the long, boring wait guys. I'll get chapter 2 up soon!

Gavin Luper
27th July 2003, 03:36 AM
Chapter II – In the Forest.

I remember my brother telling me once that when you’re about to do some physical activity or fight, your blood capillaries shrink or something, so that if you get cut, there isn’t much blood until later. That was a theory he read anyway.

Turns out it must have been true. I leapt from the car at the weirdest angle, and hit my knee on the door. I hadn’t accounted for the fact that the door would swing closed as we took the corner. My right knee hit it with a crack but of course I was too far gone now. I felt my left side burning as I came in contact with the dirt on the left-hand side of the road, but there was no time to dust myself off. Anna was maybe five seconds ahead of our pursuer, so that gave me five seconds to jump and conceal myself. I think it must have been at about three seconds when I landed, the fall seemed to take so long. It was incredibly lucky what happened; I landed right beside a solid tree, and I’m sure I was fully hidden by the time the blue sedan screeched around the corner.

It happened so quickly that it seemed false. I had been so keyed up and so sure that the car would squeal to a halt and the men would come out and attack me. But they drove right on. Maybe they hadn’t even noticed the door swing open. For Anna’s sake, I hoped not.

Actually, I couldn’t care less, said the real voice in my head. She asked me to kill people just like that. And she got me thrown into this whole situation, I mean, who are those guys anyway?

It was about a minute later when I realised there was a huge gash in my leg. The pain slapped against me, so I pulled up the leg of my pants to see the laceration. Oddly enough, only a tiny amount of blood was seeping out of it. That’s when I remembered that theory Chris told me about once. And I decided momentarily to do what Anna had said and run straight into the bush. The cut in my leg wasn’t hurting much yet, and I knew it would after the adrenaline wore off. So, backpack slapping into my spine, I sprinted as best I could with my jarred knee and sliced leg, west into the vegetation.

I might have run for a solid thirty seconds when a huge wave of pain crashed through my leg and I knew my luck was at a standstill. I was about fifty metres from the roadside, which seemed at the time to be a safe enough distance. The car didn’t look like it was going to turn back any time soon. They’d catch Anna soon. She deserved it.

‘Nobody deserves anything,’ – that was one of Melanie’s stupid little mottos. Among the other three thousand she kept in storage to use when she thought the time was right to bite someone in the ***.

I hobbled for another ten metres or so before I slipped down beside a shady tree. Blood was dribbling down my leg now; I must have cut it on a sharp stick or something when I landed on the roadside. I didn’t think those guys in the shiny blue car would be anywhere near me. Yet. So I sat down and began thinking about where I should be right now – having lunch with Michelle maybe, or just veging out in front of a good video with a healthy supply of chocolates.

I ran through the day as I sat there beneath the tree. It was barely past noon but already I felt that the day couldn’t get any worse. Rocking up to work fresh and early and capable, only to be told that ‘my services were no longer needed’. Then I expected to drown my sorrows and Diamino’s Café and got confronted by Anna. Wanting me to return back home with her immediately, even though I didn’t know her. She wanted me to fly back to Tropika. And ferret around like a spy crossed with a sniper, just to do what she wanted. It mightn’t have been so shocking if she had told me first that she was an Interpol agent. But she waited till later to do that. Weird woman.

Something was digging into my back and it was then that I realised my bag was still on, squished between me and the tree. I took it off quickly, and looked through it, for something to do. I didn’t feel like sprinting through the foliage yet. My leg was probably fine, it didn’t hurt much, but I just felt like something had completely sapped all the energy I had begun the day with. I think the something was Anna.

The contents of my backpack weren’t that interesting. Three notebooks – two of them mine – and a pencil case and calculator; the silver tin Anna made me take; a card that I was going to give to Michelle for her birthday tomorrow; my work folder; my sunnies; the compact first-aid kit Mum forced me to take. Lucky I had it with me. I didn’t want to be stranded here, hundreds of miles from civilisation (the outskirts of the city were ten k’s away) and then have an accident and lose four litres of blood and die. I was bleeding already, too. Of all the times for that to happen - just when I had a million questions to ask.

Maybe it was that stupid thought (‘Hypocondriac.’ Dad’s voice rang in my head) that made me take out Anna’s notebook straightaway and begin reading, so maybe some of my questions would be answered.

The book was the colour of the most valuable emeralds, and had those big yellow smiley faces all over it. I opened the cover apprehensively, as though I expected someone to jump out at me, but there was nothing - a clean, lined page. I turned the next and it was empty also. I began to feel like Anna had tricked me – now she was driving around happily, and I was here under a tree, hungry and confused and informationless.

I heard – very abruptly – two cars speed past one after the other. For some reason my brain automatically knew that this was Anna and the men in the blue car, having done a u-turn. Two seconds later I heard a car horn beep constantly for about another two seconds, then there was the unmistakeable sound of a car crash, and a skid a moment after that.

My first thought was to go and see what the problem was, and get help for whoever it was. But something told me that someone had crashed, and the car that had followed had braked on the verge. Did that mean Anna had been killed? Or was it the bad guys who crashed?

I packed up my backpack and left it where it was, at the trunk of the tree. I’d been mopping the slash in my leg with my sock, but there still didn’t seem to be much to mop up. It still stung, though. I pushed through the trees and plants that grew so undisturbed around me. It took only a short while until I made it to the roadside, and I realised I was almost exactly where I had left it the first time.

A silver Beetle had collided with a tree very near the road.

I felt sick then. Not because Anna had been killed in the race between the two cars, but because I felt a complete lack of care about her. The animal part of my brain kept me angry about what she had asked me to do, and – it hurts to admit this – I felt almost satisfied; the rational part of my brain made me feel guilty that I felt that way. But that’s how it happened, and I’m not going to deny it and gloss it over.

There were skid marks which showed the path of the metallic cobalt-coloured car as it braked, but I couldn’t see it around the corner. I almost walked out to investigate the scene of Anna’s crash when three people appeared on the opposite side of the road; two men in casual clothes and sunglasses, and a woman wearing a fluffy coat. They strolled almost casually toward the wreckage of Anna’s car. They opened the driver’s side door, which had surprisingly kept almost perfectly intact. I watched, in some sort of grim interest, as they removed Anna’s body from the car, and it was then that I realised she was not dead. Not definitely dead, anyway. Her body was still very much in one piece, and she only seemed to have a huge red mark on her forehead. Talk about lucky.

I crouched behind a large scrubby bush watching them take Anna’s body into their own car, then the woman looked furtively around and jogged across the road. I could see her quite clearly now; she had auburn hair which had been pulled up into a lop-sided bun. Her fluffy coat was pulled right up to her chin.

“I think it was here,” she called to her two male friends. My heart thudded now. The woman was standing near the tree I hid behind when I first leapt from the car a few minutes ago. If I had left footprints … even if I hadn’t, my pack was only fifty metres away, and if they found that they might as well find me.

It was my only option. I slowly withdrew behind a couple more bushes, then when I thought none of the three others were looking, I pelted back as fast as I could. My blood capillaries shrunk again, I think, because I scraped my arm on a nasty branch yet no blood appeared. My heart was racing at about the same speed as my feet (which was pretty fast) as I made my way through the foliage to the tree I had sat down by. It took me a lot longer than I would have liked because I was coming a different way than before. I began to panic after about a minute, because I heard voices and knew the three people were on my trail. If I had been unnerved by their car following silently before, then I was officially a wreck now. My steps slowed and I willed my feet to keep moving, but they refused.

Their voices were closer now, and every tree I passed I expected them to leap out from behind it and blast me into oblivion with guns. That would have to be one of the suckiest ways to die; getting shot. If you were going to go, it would have to at least be original. That actually ran through my head as I darted from bush to tree to tree. I realised that there seemed to be fewer bushes now, and the trees were spreading out. Great. Now I’d be an even easier target.

This was like playing spotlight, only a thousand times worse, because it was with guns. Well, I presumed they had guns, even if Anna said they didn’t. It would be a bit stupid for spies (which is what I assumed they were) to go on a mission (which I assumed they were on) without weapons. I slipped very quietly beside a wise old oak tree, and felt like disappearing within its trunk, disappearing into safety.

I couldn’t and I didn’t, of course, but my lady luck decided to beam down upon me then, and I saw my bag lying at the tree I left it at about ten metres away.

There were no voices now, but I heard footsteps going further away, in the opposite direction. I crept stealthily toward my bag, then slung in onto my back painfully slowly. It dug into my back after a few seconds, but I tried to ignore it. Suddenly I felt very directionless. For some reason I was expecting that once I got my bag back, there would be some kind of reward, like a pot of gold at the end of the rainbow. But there wasn’t. I stood there suddenly, without any purpose at all. The voices of Anna’s killers were wafting around somewhere amongst the thick trees and it was only then that I realised they were searching for me.

Obviously, but at the time my mind just didn’t click.

I turned around furtively and twitching the whole time. My brain had really churned into action now, though, and I began carrying out the directions Anna gave me. I slowly crept backwards, West I hoped, to escape these people. I was lucky enough to find myself on a fairly smooth section of grass after about five metres, so I began walking a bit faster. The people who chased Anna were going in the other direction now. I should be safe.


It was well and truly dark when I found myself finally on Pollokshaws Road, and since it was summer, that really said something. My legs ached like hell, especially the one I cut as I jumped from the car. The jacket I had with me wasn’t the thickest one ever made, and of course the clouds had decided to burst back in the city centre so I was drenched and chilled to the bone.

Niddrie Road. I actually smiled when I saw the sign, then walked down more hurriedly, trying to forget the pain in my leg. I finally made it to the front door of my apartment building. I’d been fired, asked to kill someone, stalked by a car, thrown out of a car, cut my leg open and soaked by icy Glaswegian rain in one day. You can’t imagine how much I was looking forward to getting back to my apartment, sitting down on the sofa and sinking into it while drinking a warming cup of coffee, forgetting all about the Worst Day in the History of The World.

You can’t imagine how disappointed I was.

In a lot of movies, people’s houses, apartments and bedrooms get broken into and trashed. Everyone knows what that looks like, including me. Books thrown everywhere, furniture damaged and torn, clothes strewn across rooms, glasses broken, everything destroyed. An absolute mess.

Well, I got to my apartment and saw pretty much the opposite.

Hyperness is a Good Thing
27th July 2003, 04:16 AM
CLiffie!!! How dare you inflict a cliffie! =P

Anyways...that's an interesting theory about blood capillaries shrinking...is it true? O.O

*grumbles* Still don't know what was in that notebook! -_-

Gavin Luper
27th July 2003, 04:26 AM
Hyperness: Whee! I know, I love my cliffhangers. Really, I do. I'll stop them one day, but I'm on a roll at the moment.

I dunno about the theory, it's something I heard from somebody once and I can't remember if it was a science teacher or a friend or what. But it does kind of make sense.

Lol, the notebook leaves ya hanging too!


Darien Shields
27th July 2003, 04:59 AM
Opposite? So, what, someone broke into his appartment annd cleaned everything? I don't know about the rest of teh world, but in Scotland this is a pretty big crime. Cleaning Ladies are amongst our ten most wanted, you see someone with a broom out on the street, you scream. Not because they're a witch, but because they're going to clean. Or, alternatively, all the stuff could have been removed or something. I personally expected him to have been kicked out because he had no job (I know it wouldn't make sense to kick him out the same day, but since when do fics make sense?) Well, pretty damn good otherwise.

Gavin Luper
1st August 2003, 08:30 AM
Darien: Lol! Cool ... thanks so much for reading. It may or may not be what you are thinking, I'll keep you in suspense until I post the third chapter, which will hopefully be sometime in the near future.


Chris 2.1
1st August 2003, 04:17 PM
Whoah, an intense game of Spotlight, an empty notebook and a rather strange Maid? Hmm....2/3 aint bad.

Talking of maids, we had this maid in Menorca (jus got back today!) who was a massive, butch woman with tree-trunk legs. She came in to clean when I was asleep and I went 'ARRRRRHHHHHHHHHHHHHH' and then she said something like sorry in spanish and plodded out! Geez....

Anyway, I start blabbering again.

I loved that chapter, simply because NOTHING went as planned. As soon as he could, Dane checks the Notepad and....ITS EMPTY! hehe. Oh well, btw, a fun fact, I had a character called Dane in TIR, based off reader Oakbark after winning the quiz, AND my name is Chris, like Dane's Brother!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Gavin Luper
2nd August 2003, 09:18 PM
SM: Good that you liked it. Yeah, nothing really happened as it was supposed to in that chapter did it? Ah well ... as long as it kept you interested.

That Chris-Dane thing is funny hey.