1 Life 2 Die 4 Read online

  1 Life 2 Die 4

  Copyright 2014 Dean Waite

  Published by Dean Waite at Smashwords

  Smashwords Edition License Notes

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your enjoyment only, then please return to Smashwords.com or your favorite retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  Table of Contents

  Acknowledgements

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Coming soon: ‘2 Lives 2 Live 4’ (take a sneak peek at the sequel)

  About the author

  Connect with Dean Waite

  Acknowledgements

  Thank you to those special people who have supported the writing of this story. Particular thanks to Emma, Wendy, Alan, Callum, Thomas and Tim.

  Prologue

  Gallery of Modern Art (GoMA), Brisbane, Australia.

  Just before 2am, Tuesday morning

  Except for the steady drone of a passing taxi, an almost perfect silence hung over the Brisbane city fringe near the Queensland Gallery of Modern Art. On the top floor, like everywhere else in the gallery, the subdued security lighting left the spacious display areas cloaked in a soft shadow, punctuated here and there by scattered pools of golden light focussed on some of the more expensive art works currently residing there.

  Suddenly – inexplicably – an area in the north-east corner began to shimmer and sparkle with the pulsating, vivid colours of a million tiny rainbows flickering silently about in the air. The dazzling display looked for-all-the-world like some vibrant work of art for which the Gallery might have paid some ridiculous sum of money.

  But this was no work of art.

  Less than a second after it had begun, the mesmerising display abruptly vanished, returning the area to its usual unremarkable tapestry of shadow and light. Bizarrely, however, on a previously empty section of floor there now stood a large abstract sculpture consisting of several gently-curving, interconnected slabs. A small plaque stood before it on a narrow metal stand, its neat black lettering reading:

  “BRIDGE TO SALVATION”

  by Ian Callum Hope

  2001 (Concrete over steel)

  Most of the slabs within the mysterious new sculpture were around ten centimetres thick and a half-metre wide, connected by sturdy rods of stainless steel so that they ran in on one another at various angles and heights. A slightly thicker and wider central slab rose from the floor at a gentle angle, curving steadily upwards over the rest of the sculpture towards a spot where, just seconds earlier, a small water-colour landscape had hung on a blank, cream wall. Now, in its place stood a huge window roughly two-and-a-half metres square, revealing a sweeping City panorama beyond. The State Library all-but filled the foreground of the view, its façade of two-storey vertical panels providing the vague impression of an enormous shelf packed full of gigantic books. To its left, however, the dark, slow-moving waters of the Brisbane River reflected a distorted collage of sparsely-lit city skyscrapers and the wide, elegant white arches of the Victoria Bridge.

  Several hours later, shortly after the GoMA staff began arriving, a ruckus erupted over the unexpected changes on level three. Yet it quickly died away once paperwork authorising installation of the new art piece, as well as the completion of various minor building alterations, was discovered on a clerk’s desk on level one. Despite the ageing man’s noticeably hazy recollection of the origin of these documents, and the fact that these changes had obviously been carried out during the dead of night, everyone was far too busy to dwell further on a series of sanctioned, minor changes. Of course, even if they had, it was unlikely that any of them would have suspected the sculpture, the window and the associated paperwork had all materialised out of thin air during the early hours of the morning.

  During the following few hours, there were similar confused reactions to various other unexpected changes across a wide swath of the City centre. Yet each time, just as had happened at GoMA, the appropriate paperwork was eventually uncovered and everyone was left feeling satisfied despite a vague sense of uneasiness about what had occurred.

  As if all this wasn’t confusing enough for those working in and around the CBD, just twenty-four hours later their grasp of reality was once more cruelly tested when a similar series of astonishing events reversed every single one of these mysterious changes. Considering the total lack of appropriate paperwork on this second occasion, a far greater ruckus would have seemed inevitable. Yet few people took much notice at all. By that stage, everyone was far too preoccupied with the devastating trail of destruction left in the wake of the sensational events of the previous afternoon.

  *****

  1

  Brisbane City Centre, Australia, 2016.

  I felt pretty good as the bus pulled up and I climbed out, hardly needing to look for the stairs leading up out of the underground bus terminal. I’d been taking the ride into the Brisbane CBD on my own every six months since I was ten, and at just over fourteen and a half I now had the routine down pat. Leave school early, at 12:45; catch the 12:58 from Yeerongpilly to the Queen Street mall underground, then up the stairs, through the mall and on along Queen Street for another hundred metres or so. Mum had made the trip with me until I turned ten, but that was all the hand-holding I got. It’s never worried me though. I’ve grown up with my parents being too busy for me. And being an only child, I’m used to doing things on my own.

  The stairs led me out into the sunshine above and I strolled off through the busy Mall feeling relaxed and happy. Some guys would probably fight with their parents about religiously visiting the tooth doctor every six months. But I never complain. For a start, I know there’s no way my dad would listen. When it comes to teeth, he’s about OC level 100 (‘OC’ stands for Obsessive Compulsive, in case you didn’t know. Like the poor sods who have to wash their hands every two minutes for no good reason other than that they just can’t help themselves.)

  Anyway, ever since the first tooth burst through my gums, Dad’s been at me about keeping my ‘biters’ spotless. I reckon I’m the only kid in Australia who’s expected to clean his teeth for five minutes, five times a day. Yeah – for real! My dad even makes me take a toothbrush and toothpaste to school every day! Of course, that doesn’t mean I actually risk the embarrassment of having other kids see me scrubbing my teeth at school, but I always make sure I give them a quick clean as soon as I get home. Dad has a freakish ability to work out whether my teeth have been cleaned, just from a quick glance when he gets home.

  He’s so fanatical about it all that when I was five, Santa-Dad gave me ten tubes of toothpaste, an electric toothbrush, about a kilometre of dental floss and a special timer that flashed and played ‘All I want for Christmas is my two front teeth’ when my brushing time was up. It’s a real shame the timer vanished after the first day and was never seen again (I hope our dog, Canine, doesn’t dig too m
uch in the back left corner of the yard!)

  Dad seemed pretty upset, so I figured I’d better use the other stuff really well, otherwise he might just decide he needs to buy a replacement timer. Now, more than nine years later, I could probably clean my teeth standing on my head in the dark. But I’m just sooo over all that scrubbing and flossing!

  Anyway, Dad’s OC-ness aside, the real reason I never argue about coming in here so regularly is that I love being able to check out a few of the more interesting stores after my check-up’s done. There’s a cool skate shop on Elizabeth Street and an awesome video game centre nearby where they let you try out games for as long as you want. The place I love most, though, is the gun dealership down near the Botanic Gardens. Not that I can buy any at my age, of course. I just love checking them out. Mind you, I’m not one of those gun-crazies who get a rush from killing things. I just love the look of them … and the idea of a machine which can spit lethal chunks of lead that move faster than a Formula One racing car!

  Coming out of my daydreaming, I realised I’d already reached the Central Post Office. Still trying to decide which store I’d visit first, after I’d done my dental duty, I waited while the traffic pulled up. Then, along with a bunch of other pedestrians, I stepped onto the crossing. My dentist’s office was in a high-rise just twenty metres away, on the far side of the road, and although there were people swarming everywhere, I was easily going to make it with five minutes to spare. If he was running on time, and if my Dad-inspired dental-hygiene-overkill meant there were no nasty surprises, I should have at least an hour afterwards before I had to catch the bus home.

  Then I saw her …

  She was just stepping onto the far side of the crossing when our eyes met and it felt like about a million volts shot through me! I’m not ashamed to say that one of the other things I always like about the city is that there are plenty of good-looking women around. And like most teenage guys, I notice pretty much every one of them.

  But they hardly ever seem to notice me.

  And they never look at me the way this gorgeous doll was! She had a kind of desperate, wary frown around the most beautiful dark-brown – almost black – eyes I’d ever seen. It gave her an odd impression of deep, inconsolable sorrow that left me frowning as well. And there was something else, too; something even more odd, though I found it almost impossible to put into words … a sort of burning protective passion, barely held in check. Like she was some wild, caged panther watching through bars while hunters stalked her mate. Together with her Jessica Alba lips, the effect was so startling I almost tripped over my own feet!

  Why on earth would this drop-dead gorgeous woman be looking at me like that?

  Then ‘Jessica’ looked away and I suddenly found I could breathe again. It only took me an instant to realise how stupid I’d been. She’d obviously been looking at someone behind me. As if a mid-twentyish, absolutely stunning woman - my gaze slid down a bit - with a body to-die-for - would want anything to do with me. Not even fifteen yet, I was gangly and pretty average-looking. Not the kind of bait that catches the big ones!

  Grinning wryly to myself at how thick I’d been, I allowed my eyes to hover just a bit longer than I should have on the provocatively low neckline of her deliciously snug white top. It probably sounds a bit arrogant, but despite my limited years of experience, I consider myself a true connoisseur when it comes to the female body. And she was, without a doubt, one of the finest examples I have ever seen. Despite understanding that we were complete worlds apart, it almost killed me right then and there knowing that in a few seconds she would walk straight past and vanish from my life without a second thought.

  I was still struggling to come to terms with this tragic realisation when ‘Jessica’ turned back and her stare hit me like an uppercut from a rampaging red kangaroo!

  This time I really did trip over my own feet! There was absolutely no doubt Jessica was staring straight at me. And for some reason that look of wary protectiveness I’d noticed earlier had suddenly grown into a sort of frightened hostility!

  Unfortunately, I missed exactly what happened next because I was too busy trying to stay on my feet while I stumbled awkwardly forward over the zebra-striped bitumen. By the time I regained my balance and looked up, she was right in front of me, reaching into her tan, thigh-length coat; her eyes now cold and deadly. I felt my mouth drop open as her hand emerged holding the meanest-looking pistol I’ve ever laid eyes on. Then she reached out anddragged me in tight against her as she raised the gun...

  I’ve heard that adrenaline can do strange things, and as I glanced around, it honestly felt like someone had pressed a slow-motion button. Like my mind had gone into overdrive. I had time to take in almost every detail of the people around us. Most were already reacting to the unexpected sight of the gun, some frowning oddly, probably hoping this was some sort of tactless joke, or that they’d accidentally stumbled onto a film set. Others looked openly horrified as they accepted it was all too real. A few of the more responsive ones were already moving, doing their best to put some distance between themselves and this stunning, gun-wielding goddess.

  My head swiveled quickly round, taking it all in, until I was staring back the way I’d come. Then I felt my eyes go wide at the sight of the guy Jessica was obviously aiming at. He was of average build in much the same way Tiger Woods is an average golfer. Muscles stood out from his arms like mountains along the Great Dividing Range and I knew the bulk beneath his baggy shirt had nothing to do with flab. Bizarrely, two narrow strips of hair arched back along either side of his head and had to be heavy with gel or hairspray ‘cause they stuck straight out over his ears like baseball cap brims! If the rest of his head hadn’t been shaved bald, I’d have thought he was paranoid about getting sunburnt.

  The guy was certainly an intimidating sight. Understandably, however, the thing that really got my attention was the mother of all guns he was cradling in his arms while he swung it to point at Jessica. It was roughly the length of a rifle, but that was where all similarity ended. The thing was thicker than the guy’s leg-of-ham arms and it bristled with all kinds of knobs, switches, buttons and odd protrusions that gave the impression it did a whole lot more than just shoot things.

  Even as this thought raced through my mind, one of his fingers moved inward slightly like it was pressing a recessed button and the air in front of the gun shimmered. At the same time, I heard the powerful, yet controlled explosion of Jessica’s gun firing three times in rapid succession. A split second later, three bright spots blossomed just in front of the guy’s chest. I squinted at it and actually saw the bullets Jessica had fired as they slowed to a stop, one after the other, amidst brilliant white flares of light! Then the glow vanished and the slugs dropped towards the ground as casually as coins slipping through the guy’s fingers!

  Who were these people? And what the hell was going on?

  I had no time to think about it now. Before the bullets hit the ground, we were moving - Jessica and me, that is. With surprising strength, she guided me away along the street, glancing warily back over her shoulder as we ran.

  Naturally, there was mayhem all around us by now. Drivers had either hit the accelerator or slammed on their brakes, and several minor crashes had occurred. Pedestrians had scattered or dropped to the ground in whimpering huddles, and there were frightened screams coming from all around. To the left of where we were heading, people streamed out the far side of a Council bus, desperate to get away from the woman with the gun and realising their bus wasn’t going anywhere while people were swarming all over the road around it.

  I thought about pulling away from Jessica and going my own way. I certainly didn’t want to get dragged into whatever feud she had with Baseball Cap man. But she was surprisingly strong, and I figured if I complicated the situation by trying to go in a different direction, I’d probably just slow us down enough to get us both killed. I had no choice but to go along with her for now; and anyway, she was getting us away from
Baseball Cap Man much faster than I could have done on my own!

  She glanced over her shoulder then unexpectedly dropped to a crouch, dragging me down with her as she raised her gun over my shoulder and pressed a button on the side. I glanced back and saw smoke streaming from the barrel of Baseball Cap Man’s mega-gun while he held his trigger finger down. A heartbeat later I squinted as explosions of light erupted from the shimmering air about half-a-metre in front of my nose! Instead of riddling me with hundreds of holes that I could easily do without, the bullets were being halted by some kind of field, just like the one the guy had used seconds earlier!

  Where did they get this stuff?

  After it seemed like Baseball Cap Man had emptied more rounds at us than even that bloated mega-gun of his could hold, he finally worked out he wasn’t having much of an impact. With an irritable grunt that reminded me of a bad-tempered gorilla, he released the trigger and unclipped something from the side of his weapon. I barely had time to register that it looked like a miniature silver and red missile before he’d aimed it straight at me. A red laser dot appeared on my chest and I almost spoiled my good jeans thinking I was dead right there and then! At the same time, I heard Jessica gasp. I guess she felt responsible for involving me in this little war of hers, since she didn’t just abandon me to die. Instead, she yanked me to my feet and started dragging me towards the front of the now-deserted bus.

  Once I’d convinced myself I was still alive, I threw a look over my shoulder just in time to see Baseball Cap man lob the mini-missile into the air. It spun lazily upwards, end over end … then flames suddenly burst from its tail end and it did a rapid u-turn, racing straight for me with a whooosh that raised the hairs on the back of my neck and left me feeling like my relief at finding I was still alive was about to be cut tragically short.