Episode 12

Sitting in Izzy's kitchen the trio had explained what was happening to her Mum and she said she'd go over and talk to Callum's Mum to explain where he was and see if she could help.

Shannon sat and listened as Izzy and Callum chatted. She had never seen someone so vulnerable and emotional. Especially a boy. She wanted to be able to help in a way that would mean something and help him through his troubles.

"Callum, do you think Jesus could help you?" she said when the conversation lulled.

"I don't know." He didn't seem to mind being asked "I've been thinking about it. Alisha and I have talked a little, but she seems to be a bit embarrassed to talk in any depth."

"Well, you know, if you wanted to, we could pray with you and you could ask Jesus to help you." She said it all in one breath, feeling she was putting her neck on the line and waiting for his instant rejection. Deep down though, something told her he was ready to hear it.

"Pray? umm. Yeah. What do I need to do?" Callum didn't really want to take the lead in this, but he was willing to go along with it.

"We'll do the praying. If you agree just say 'amen' at the end." Shannon caught Izzy's eyes and they both tried suppress a smile at the excitement growing inside them, borne in anticipation of what might happen. Shannon felt little hallelujah's going silently from heart all the way to heaven.

"And if there's a pause feel free to jump in and say what's on your heart. We're not going to laugh at anything you say, we just want you to feel God's peace in the middle of this...this situation!" Izzy interjected, trying to allay any fears that might be creeping into Callum's mind.

"Okay." He let out a long breath. "Let's do it!"

"Cool! Alright then, let's bow our heads and do it.", Shannon began.

A silence enveloped them, just as the darkness outside the kitchen enveloped the house. Thoughts raced through each of their heads, trying to make sense of what was going on.

"Dear Lord," It was Shannon again, she had decided how to begin her prayer and was going to wing it from there, "You are our heavenly father who never disappoints us. Yet we find many ways to disappoint you. Even so, you never give up on us and you always wait for us to come to you with your arms wide open and full of love for us."

As she spoke the words she could feel others welling up from inside her, wanting to be heard, "Lord, you know why we're here at this moment. You've placed me and Izzy in Callum's life at this moment, so that we can bring his needs before you. Lord, I thank you for the privilege of being here for him as he finds himself dealing with his parent's problems.

"It's not his fault that they are breaking up Lord, I know you know that, but I want to ask you to bring peace to his heart. Lord, give him a peace in his heart that passes his understanding. Help him to know that there was nothing he could do. Don't let him suffer for his parent's mistakes. Help him to know that he is precious to you!"

Shannon felt as if the prayer was flowing through her rather than from her. That her prrayer itself conveyed a message of comfort to Callum as much as it asked God to intervene.

"Heavenly Father, we feel really blessed to have been brought up to know your love. I ask now that your love would wash over Callum and bring him joy like he has never felt before. I ask all these things of you in Jesus' name and according to you will. Amen!"

Shannon closed her prayer with a feeling of elation. Izzy's amen confidently agreed with her friend, whilst Callum's was quiet and thoughtful.

The silence crept back in. The air was thick with a sense of otherwordliness.

Callum took in a deep breath, as if about to speak, but before he could Izzy spoke first.

"Dear Lord, I thank you that you that you have shown us another way to live our lives that means we can face life's challenges, not on our own, but with your strength to keep us going through them. We don't have to rely on anyone else but you and you are happy to help us because you love us.

"Please Lord, be with Callum now, even though he may not feel your presence, so that he will be able to look back at his life one day and know that you carried him through this difficult period of his life. Lord, give him hope that no matter how bad things may seem today, they will get better and his life will blossom with opportunities. Lord, let your spirit be with him now and touch his heart. In Jesus' name, Amen."

After Shannon and Callum said their amen's there wasn't much of a pause before Callum spoke up. Nervousness filled his voice but he seemed determined to just get on with this.

"God. There's a lot I still don't know about you, but I do know the people I've seen who go to Church because of you. Alesha, Izzy and Shannon are all wonderful people, God, and they all seem to think you're pretty special too. I don't know what to say really. I agree with Izzy and Shannon's prayers. If you could do those things, if you could make my life better, if you could stop the pain and help mend my parents' relationship I would be very happy. I don't know if you'd expect anything from me in return. I'd be willing to get to know you better and see if you are who people say you are." Callum let out a nervous laugh.

"I have felt something here tonight, God. If that's you then there may be something to it all. I don't really want to rush into all this. I guess it all boils down to, if you want to help me then I would appreciate it. If there's something you need from me then you need to find a way to let me know and convince me that it's really you. I'm conscious there's a lot of if's there, but I've never done this before. Anyway, I should probably stop there as I'm just rabbiting on now. ummm. Thanks for the help to come. Amen."

The girls followed suit with their agreement. When Shannon lifted her head she saw that Callum had a nervous smile on his face as he looked between the two of them.

"Did I do okay?" he asked.

"You did fine! I'm not sure there's a right way or a wrong way to talk to God if you're not actually a Christian! You just gotta do it, and you did!"

Shannon was still excited by this as she lay in bed. Last night was the first time she had ever been part of a prayer like that. The first time she had been present when someone had reached out to God. She had prayed silently for Callum all the way home as Izzy's Mum had taken them both back to their respective homes. She sent up another prayer now, hoping that God was working with Callum and his family right at this moment and things were changing for the better.

She hoped to see him at Church soon. Would he turn up or not?

"Shannon are you getting up?" It was her Mum. Everbody was already downstairs having breakfast.

She got out of bed, stretching, she said goodbye to the sunlight and headed of to do her bathroom routine.

She appeared downstairs and greeted her family as she sat down at the breakfast table. She sat between her elder sister and 10-year-old brother.

As she prepared her cereal her smile continued to dazzle as much as the sunshine she'd left behind in her bedroom as she thought about what God might be doing for Callum.

"Still beaming from last night, I see!" Her Dad commented. He had been waiting when she arrived and they's sat and talked about it for a while before eventually getting to bed.

"Isn't God excellent!" Shannon did a little happy dance in her chair, making everyone laugh, before tucking into her cereal. "It's going to be a great day, isn't it?"

"Are you going to be this annoying all day?" said her brother, only half-jokingly.

"For the rest of my life, hopefully." She replied.


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Episode 11

The sunlight crept slowly through a gap in they heavy curtains and into Shannon Grady's bedroom.

The sun never usually got her attention this early in the morning, especially on Sundays when she tried to wake up as late as possible.

This morning was different. Her excitement at what had happened last night was still running through her system. She smiled as she snuggled deeper into her pillow, her red curls splayed out, watching the shadows slowly inch across her room.

It had been another late night at her friend, Izzy's house. She and her Church youth group often met up on Saturday nights and went out bowling or to the cinema. Sometimes, as happened, some people brought a friend along who wasn't a Christian.

This was a bit of status symbol amongst her peers. To be friends with someone outside the church was seen as bit edgy. VERY Christ-like! Not like the adults who seemed to frown on contact with other people who didn't share their faith, unless you were trying to convert them.

The guy who came along last night was with another of her friends, Alesha, his name was Callum. He'd asked her out a few weeks earlier during college, following one of the lessons they shared together. There had been much discussion about what she should do, both over the phone and at that week's bible study. In the end she'd said yes on the condition that they 'dated' during the saturday outings with the rest of the group.

Shannon had suggested this, so she felt especially proud and full credit to the guy, he must have really liked Alesha because he did it!

Over the weeks he started coming to the youth group and also to the Sunday Services. Some of the group thought he was just doing it to spend more time with Alesha outside of college, as she still wouldn't go on a 'regular' date. Shannon, however, felt she was a good judge of character and had noticed that his attention was not always on his would-be girlfriend. He seemed to be listening to what was spoken about and also joined in the questioning at the bible study.

Last night it all came out though, as everyone was heading home from a night at the bowling alley. He had been dropped off at the centre by his Dad and after calling home to let them know he was done, he ended the call looking lost and upset. He had already waved goodbye to Alesha and soon it was just Shannon and Izzy left. They were about to head home too, but on saying goodbye Shannon noticed that Callum looked as if he was about to burst into tears. They made their way to Izzy's car but Shannon felt a niggling thought inside her.

She mentioned to Izzy that she thought something was up with Callum. They both stopped by the car and after a quick exchange of words decided they should probably go back in just to make sure he was fine.

As they went back in the place was still busy but Callum wasn't there. They looked around, but no luck. as they were about to head off again Izzy saw him come out of the loo's ahead of them. Catching up to him they tapped him on the shoulder, making him turn and jump.

Immediately, the girls could see that his eyes were raw from crying. Embarrassed, He tried to say a quick goodbye and head out of the door. Shannon and Izzy stayed with him not willing to let him escape now that they knew something was up.

He didn't resist. He wanted to tell someone what was happening. They went and sat in a sheltered corner just outside the brightly lit entrance, giving them a vague sense of privacy. Callum faltered at first, not sure how to start his tale and also how these girls would react to him. Shannon reassured him that this conversation would remain confidential, even from Alesha, if that's what he wanted.

His eyes glistened as fresh tears threatened to flow again and his voice cracked in a few places as he explained some of the problems that had been going on at home. Basically his parent's marriage had been breaking down for a while. Each week brought a fresh row between his Mum and Dad, sometimes in front of him, but always within earshot. He didn't know why they were always fighting as they had never talked to him about it.

He'd tried to find out from them, but they were evasive and never willing to reveal the details. It had never gotten violent, but it often descended into a viscious war of words, insults and accusations.

Callum guessed his Dad had been having an affair and then his Mum had had one too as revenge. When he'd called for his Dad to pick him up his aunt had answered the phone and said his Dad had left, taking the car with him. She was there consoling his Mum. Callum had said he'd make his own way home.

Shannon and Izzy shed a few a sympathetic tears as he relayed his story. A silence fell between them at the end and Izzy, being the more impulsive and emotional of the two girls broke the moment by throwing her arms around Callum, giving him a short, but comforting, hug, that spoke more than words could have right then. Shannon, felt slightly more uncomfortable with it, but did the same as she didn't know what to say either.

Izzy then offered to take Callum home. Even though they all knew it would take him about an hour or more to walk home, at first he said, no. He explained it was because he knew how their parent's would probably feel knowing they were more or less alone with a boy. Shannon rubbished his reasoning, saying that there were two of them so it was totally acceptable. Nothing, untoward could happen if they were both looking out for each other. With relief, he accepted the offer and they headed back to Izzy's car.

In the car Callum continued talking as if a weight had been released from him. He talked about his family situation and how he enjoyed hanging out with Alesha and her friends as they all seemed to have great parents and no problems. The girls were embarrassed by his observations as they thought about some of the selfish arguments they sometimes had with their parents. They seemed to pale into insignificance compared to what was going on in Callum's life.

Upon reaching his house it became quite clear that he didn't really want to go in. The girls were unsure what to do. Shannon, coming straight to the point as ever, asked him what was up. He said that his Mum was probably going to be really upset and he was just angry with both his Mum and his Dad. Shannon was surprised when Izzy volunteered that they go back to her house to give him a breather.

Callum accepted, a big smile now covering his face. It was the best news he'd heard all evening.


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Episode 10

Thomas was trying to relax.

Jamal had given him a single room at the top of the hotel. The street lamps outside were level with his window and filled the tiny little room, as if the sun itself was peering in, preventing him from going straight to sleep. He was certainly exhausted enough.

There was barely enough room to fit the bed in the limited space available. His frame didn't quite fit it and he had to scrunch his body up to get comfortable. A slimline wardrobe was awkwardly squeezed in at the foot of the bed limiting access to the en-suite shower by trapping the door behind it. He was glad he wasn't as big as Jimmy. He'd never get through. The smile faded quickly.

Every time he closed his eyes they filled up with visions from earlier in the evening. He'd come back to the flat he'd shared with his mate Jimmy. He had been away for a few days because of the Brentford Asylum business. As he had entered, closing the door behind him, the atmosphere had been stifling. There was a horrible smell in the air which he couldn't quite place.

The panic set in as he went into the living room. They had worked out a system to let the other know if everything was okay. If Jimmy was fine then it would be on the shelf above the economy heater. It wasn't. If Jimmy had left the house voluntarily he would have had time to put the sacred Madonna figurine on the shelf. They'd agreed on this as they both suffered from paranoia and this eased the worry in case anything happened. The figurine itself was Jimmy's idea of a joke.

Thomas could see into the kitchen as he had come into the flat. The only other place to look was the bathroom.

The lifeless face of his friend would haunt him forever. He was positioned around the base of the toilet. Not the nicest place to be at the best of times in their low rent flat, but it made the scene look even more grim as vomit surrounded the loo. There was a syringe close to hand, its contents look spent.

He saw what had happened straight away. They had tried to make his friend's death look like an overdose. They were onto him. He hoped Jimmy hadn't told them anything about him. No doubt the flat was being watched. It was time to run again.

-------

Thomas woke up. This surprised him as he couldn't remember going to sleep. Even more surprising was the sense of peace and calm that he had. A dream was fading from his mind. He tried to catch it, but all he could sense was a pair of hands held out in comfort, now slipping back into the dream world.

He lay there trying to recapture the feeling, but all too soon the problems of reality crept back in and the edge returned to his existence.

Breakfast was buried in a room which was probably the servants quarters or kitchen in times past. All feeling of character had been wiped out by cost-efficient redecorating. Any sense of history lost to the subsequent owners who continued the new tradition of modern, functional refitting that had reduced these once grand townhouses to nothing more than was required by minimum health and safety regulation. On a good day.

There was a full english breakfast laid out as a buffet. The rubberised scrambled egg didn't look very appealing. The thought of eating sausages that weren't advertised as meat also put him off. The sauce on the baked beans looked too thick and was only a pale imitation of orange. This left him with a selection of overcooked bacon, the random choice of whether the fried eggs would be runny or just soft and the inevitability of the peeled plum tomatoes to give the ensemble a strong disguising flavour should the bacon or egg not taste as they should.

He sat in one of the many corners of this warren-like breakfast room. The table was at a normal height for the average person but Thomas kept knocking his knees on the already wobbly table. On his way over he had grabbed a glass of juice, except he now realised it was just orange squash. He took a sip to greet the day. Weak orange squash.

He was just about to work through the contents of his plate when a girl wandered over and spoke in a thick east european accent. "Coffee? Toast?"

"No coffee please, but I would like some toast, thanks." he replied. He was a coffee snob and he doubted they had his brand here and there's nothing worse than bad coffee. Good coffee was just about bearable, it had its uses. He had sworn off coffee for so long because of human rghts abuses of the workers, but just because now most of it was Fair Trade didn't make it worth drinking. Besides, he was sure that coffee would one day go the way of cigarettes. Toast on the other hand was pretty reliable. No matter where he'd been in the world you couldn't really go wrong with toast in the morning, where it had been available, so long as it had a good helping of...

"Butter?" the girl asked.

"Definitely. Yes please." With the thought of the toast already melting in his mouth he tucked into, what he later decided was, a rather bland breakfast after all.

He made his way up the stairwell, back to his room, having had his fill. As he approached the door his senses started to tingle. He was getting a bad feeling, something was not right. He stood where he was, not wanting to make another sound. Everything was becoming hyper-real.

He scanned the landing around him, but found nothing obviously out of place. He was on edge and as he stared intently at the door to his room it seemed to be jumping out at him, screaming for him to go away before it was too late.

Fear gripped him and made him unable to take another step forward as if a brick wall had suddenly been erected. Above him a door slammed. His body needed no conscious command. Stumbling backwards, he turned as he ran down the stairs towards the reception and out the door, throwing his key at the desk on his way. He had to leave London. Now.



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Episode 9

The rain was thick and heavy making the faded grandeur of the streets of Kings Cross more claustrophobic. Summer thunderstorms reminded him of what he was running away from. The moonlit sky adding to the gloom and darkness that seemed to be enveloping his life once more. They had to be close behind him. He had to stop running.

It had all gone wrong again. He should never have made this trip to London. London is a bad place to hide. They can find you almost anywhere. They could tap into any system and use it against you. He had taken a chance when he cleared out his bank account, but he figured they knew where he was anyway and he needed to escape.

He ran down Grays Inn Road toward the station, his lanky frame weaving through the late evening travellers making their way to their hotels and apartments. With his heart racing his mind was trying to think faster than his feet were moving. He was getting closer to freedom. They weren't stupid, he thought, they'll cover themselves and figure that I'm bolting. He noticed he was running past a number of side streets. I'm on the main street, he realised. There are probably camera's everywhere and I'm the only one running. He pulled up and looked around.

He could see the Scala ahead where he and Jimmy had gone most nights for the last few weeks. The old NUJ building was near too. He decided to duck into one of the anonymous looking streets.

Forcing himself to stroll down the street, he took in every detail. The dark doorways, high fences and deserted pavement made him feel claustrophobic. He was no longer running, but his heart seemed to drown out all noise in this busy city.

The night seemed electrified. Every sense heightened. He was passing by some blocks of flats similar to those he had just left. He wondered if the same tragedy he had seen would ever visit themselves upon these houses. He took that thought back immediately. These were decent, honest people. Not screw-ups like him. They didn't deserve the kind of life he had and he didn't want to be the one to wish it upon them.

He put his hand inside his jacket pocket to make sure his charm was still there. The old style Pepsi Cola bottle top felt good in his hand. The smooth, shiny side. The serrated edge. The rubber inside. Focusing on this grounded him, rooting him in the time before his world went crazy.

He came to a little square with the same name as the street he had just come down. It had a scottish feel to it. Argyll. There was a little, fenced patch of grey in the centre of the square which he assumed was one of those surprising areas of green that were occasionally found in this world of brick and concrete.

All around the square were a dozen Bed & Breakfasts. Their yellowing plastic signs lit up and standing out like beacons calling out to him in this foul weather. He paused. Tomorrow. I'll get away tomorrow.

He walked up to the first B&B he could see. They all carried the word Hotel in their title as if the mere fact of them being situated in the heart of London allowed them to rise above all the other B&B's in the country. "We're grander than you're used to", they stated in a grubby, not-so-subtle kind of way.

He tried the door of the Park Lodge Hotel. He tried to imagine how on earth that tiny scrap of grass could be thought of as a park.

Walking up to one of the hotels he pushed at the door. It was shut. He looked through a glass panel and could just see a head behind the desk at reception. He located the doorbell and rang. At the sound of a buzzer allowing him in, he entered and approached the desk.

There was an elderly gentleman there. The kind of guy you would expect to be a doorman at a more upmarket hotel. He looked in his eighties but fairly fit with it.

"Jamal's not here. He's gone out to get some sugar. I'm just looking after the desk." said the octogenarian eyeing his visitor with eyes that seemed to look right past him

"I'll wait" came the reply. His body's senses were starting to calm down. He was inside, out of sight. He was safe.

"I'm just looking after the desk you know. I live next door. I'm a volunteer"

His jaw was clenched so tight, talking was impossible without great effort.

"He's just gone out to get some sugar. I live next door. I'm a volunteer. I won't be here for much longer though"

His attention was briefly drawn away from his current turmoil. This guy seemed gentle enough, but he wasn't quite all there. Maybe it was past his bedtime.

"I'll be going to the Chelsea home in a few months. I fought in the war."

War? He knew all about that. No-one would believe him though. They never did.

"I'll be going in a few months. I fought in the war, so I can go there."

"I need a room."

"Jamal's not here. He's gone out to get some sugar. I can't get you a key as I live next door. I'm just volunteering. Doing my bit."

The voice faded in and out revisiting the same theme. The repetition just seemed to stretch the time out into an eternity.

After what was, in reality, only a few minutes there was a key in the front door and in walked a young, middle-eastern guy in a baseball cap and a Bench sweatshirt. He wasn't that wet, so maybe the rain had quietened down.

"Did you get the sugar?" the old guy enquired as he stood up.

"No. There was no sugar, old man."

"Did you try the shops?" he asked as Jamal came behind the counter and flopped into the seat his elder had just vacated.

"The shops were shut, and nobody had no sugar". The young man's tone of voice suggested he had little patience for the old guy, let alone having to answer his questions.

"Do you have a room for the night?" At the question Jamal totally forgot about the octogenarian war veteran as his attention was focussed on business. No-one noticed the senile veteran as he slipped away.

"We have a few. What's your name?"

"Carter. Mr Thomas Carter."


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The Thomas Carter Chronicles

Okay, so let me explain this slightly pretentious sounding title.

I've been writing this thing on and off for over 13 years now. As inspiration has taken me and time has allowed I have bursts of creativity where I progress the plot or flesh out the characters a little.

As a result I now have pages and pages of stuff written at various stages of my life, informed by the experiences up to that point.

As an example, one scene was written very vaguely and was a chase scene. My experience of life at that point was fairly limited so I didn't have the vocabulary to describe it in any detail. It just stood as a chase scene, that demonstrated two things, the title character's furtiveness and paranoia and also establishing doubt as to whether he was running from something real or imagined.

Some years later, I took a job in London and stayed a lot in various cheap hotels around Kings Cross. After being there for some time and again picking up my previous notes to occupy me on a quiet evening, I re-wrote this chase scene, now using Kings Cross as a character too, the environment now interacting with Thomas. The scene instantly became more alive as he ran the back streets and took refuge in the kind of hotel I stayed in.

So now, with time on my hands once more, I am revisiting my previous notes. This time though these drafts are being made public via the blog to invite comment and feedback.

I would say that the whole story takes in such a wide range of influences that its difficult to say which it takes on more than most. Especially as it yet has to be written, or read, with a cohesive narrative. There are still a number of gaps that need to be filled in my notes so these first drafts will actually get published straight away without me having done re-writes. If you come across these inelegant pieces please forgive me for any weaknesses displayed there as they exist at that stage only to bridge gaps between more established pieces.

There is one bias that will be displayed here and that is I will be re-tooling my initial stories for publishing on the blog. That means they will, in effect be scenes or vignettes that may be from any character's viewpoint or none at all. Of course, should the dream happen and someone decides to pay me to turn it into a novel or something else then I will probably have to bring a halt to this type of publication and go back and re-shape it all again!

I believe the story will have many twists and turns to keep you coming back and whilst it will have elements of fantasy about it I have attempted to ground it as much as possible in depictions of real people, with genuine emotions and reactions. One of my hopes is that you will grow attached to the characters and want to find out what has gone on in their lives. Only your feedback can tell me how successful I've been though, so please leave comments.

If you have any questions you'd like to ask me I would be honoured to answer them and will do my best to inform you of anything related to the story, but without giving away too much of future developments.

I thank you for visiting and reading.

Chris

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Episode 8

Shannon ran as fast as she could.

Thomas was over the other side of the building, but where? There were so many terminals at this airport how could she make sure she was at the right one?

She hung back by the entry doors, moving down, scanning the crowds, all the time searching for the face that she had longed to see again over the recent months.

She had hoped that his homecoming would have been a bit more welcoming, but things seldom went as planned with Thomas around and a happy ending was rarely on the cards as he stumbled from one mishap to another.

Thomas had the kindest heart she knew and all he wanted to do was make the world a better place.

She knew from experience that there was a very real danger to Thomas' existence from some mysterious people who were always chasing him. That was how they met after all.

That fateful night when Thomas had flown into the middle of a church service. It was only a few years ago and she stil remembered it vividly. It had been the beginning of her new life.

She missed the excitement he brought.

Things hadn't been the same with him gone. He had become more of an echo as reality seeped in to every day life again. That her job had become her life now instead of a means to finance it grated her nerves.

She would be happy to throw it all away and follow Thomas wherever his whims took him next.

She caught herself thinking like the schoolgirl she had never been.

Their relationship had started off as one of conflicting opposites as she recalled the many long nights and summer days spent debating the very basis of life itself. Now here she was acting as if he was all that mattered. They had spent most of their time together on the verge of breaking up, so she was angry with herself when she realised how important he'd become, but it made her no less determined to find him.

Thomas had taught her a few tricks about scanning crowds. You didn't need to focus on every individual face, just take it in chunks at a time, pull your focus back and your sub-conscious will let you know when you've found what you're looking for.

As if on cue her attention moved to some doors near the far end.

They seemed to bypass the normal check in/out entrances and because of that she didn't notice the first few people make their way out until the familiar frame of the man she loved appeared too and started making for the exit surrounded by what appeared to be guards.

"Thomas?" she whispered to herself.

She dove out through the nearest exit trying to see above the throng. She caught sight of him again. A car was pulling up. They were taking him away!

"Thomas!!" she screamed.

Thomas lifted his head, turning to see her.

As soon as their eyes met, he came to life, "Shannon!"

A few people stopped to see what the fuss was about, most just hurried on, more worried about missing whichever flight they were they were there to catch.

Thomas turned to run to her, but as soon as he tried to make a move a guard in a bandaged hand grabbed hold of him.

Shannon continued to make up ground between them, dodging the moving mass between them.

"Shannon! They're taking me away!" Thomas shouted.

At that another guard grabbed him, then something else caught her eye.

A car had pulled up behind theirs and a man had gotten out.

"Thomas! NO!" She tried to warn.

Too late!

The man calmly held up a gun and fired. Twice.

Thomas slumped into the arms of the bandaged guard as the others whirled to face the shooter who was already making his way back to his car.

"NO!!" She arrived beside him and held his hand. All she could see was the blood pumping out of his chest.

She tried to look him in the eyes, she was shocked to see them smiling.

"Shannon it's going to be alright." Thomas said between ragged breaths. She didn't believe him though.

The man was no random stranger, she remembered him from before.

A few years ago in Edinburgh he had tried to kill Thomas Carter for the first time.


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Episode 7

Kelvin waited for the arrivals doors to open into the lounge.

He had been right to anticipate some fallout from the cabinet meeting.

His aide had had to field calls from reporters known to be press outlets for certain cabinet members.

This meant that whilst he could hold them off for now, before Thomas left the airport he would have to give his statement.

That could wait for now.

The doors opened and following a couple of men who were obviously the embassy officials he had been told were accompanying him, came Thomas. Behind Thomas were two injured men. Kelvin wondered about their presence but quickly turned his attention back to his son.

Thomas' body language was quite open to him and he could tell that his son was bearing a lot of guilt for what he'd done but that there was always that furtive undercurrent that made him think of a cornered rat looking for it's escape.

"Thomas!" He held his arms out, partly for appearances sake and partly because he really did hope that his son would just fall into his arms for comfort.

Thomas looked up. There was no chance of a warm re-union here. Kelvin put his arms down and walked up to him instead.

Putting his arm around him he felt his son tense up but then give in. "Dad." He said coolly.

"Firstly, I'm glad you're okay." Kelvin led him away from the officials. The two injured men watched them whilst taking a position by the exit.

"Secondly...What the hell were you doing over there?" Kelvin's anger was real enough but it was two part's fatherly, one part politician. He felt justified enough to show his anger from both standpoints.

"Fighting for freedom against the oppressive capitalist beast to stop it from swallowing up another country!!" Thomas' eyes lit up. His father knew which buttons to push with his son. They'd had this argument many times before. "You wouldn't know anything about fighting for the people though would you? You just another appendage seeking to control others!"

"Don't be an idiot! You performed a terrorist act out there in Egypt what did you think you were doing?" Even though he knew all eyes were on him, Kelvin felt this argument was necessary to clear the air. His impartiality and his postion must be in no doubt if he was to retain his authority in the situation. The officials would without doubt report back to someone in government and that would probably be the current Foreign Minister.

"It wasn't meant to be like that..." He listened to son, who was probably re-imagining everything that had happened out there. "They were who I was fighting for."

"Look, son. I know you probably thought you were doing the right thing, but come on. Taking lives. That's not you. What happened?"

"I was...I didn't...It wasn't just about the attacks." Kelvin could tell Thomas was holding something back.

"There was something else behind it? Tell me, Thomas. You're going to save yourself a lot of trouble here on in if you can just tell me what you got yourself into." His concern was real enough. Though he felt that nagging doubt that Thomas might spin him a fantastical story.

Thomas looked up at the ceiling and gave a deep sigh. He's resigning himself to his fate thought Kelvin. "There's nothing else to say."

Bringing his gaze back to Kelvin it was as if his son was a little boy again. "Dad, if I told you, you wouldn't believe me, so I'm just not going to have that conversation. I'm really sorry." Thomas' eyes were filling up with tears. "I'm sorry for all those deaths. It was my fault. It was all my fault."

Feeling like father and son again the politician put his arm around his shoulder. Softly, he spoke his name. "Thomas. I love you and I'll do all I can to help you." his voice cracked too, "I won't leave you alone again."

It took a few minutes for Thomas to pull himself together. Not many in the room were sympathetic to his misery, if they had to pick a side the majority felt more for Kelvin as the put-upon father.

"Do you think you're ready to leave?" Kelvin asked.

Thomas raised his head. His eyes had a far away look. When he spoke his voice was flat. "Yes."

Kelvin moved over to one of the officials, the same one Thomas had spoken to on the plane. "Can you let me know where he goes from here?"

"I'm sorry Mr Carter. This is going through official government protocol now. You will be contacted when you are able to talk to him. Before that you will probably need to go to the Foreign Secretary for more information."

Beuracrat! thought Kelvin, but he didn't want to jeopardise his chances of salvaging something positive out of this mess for Thomas and his own reputation. His lips stayed firmly shut.

"Myself or Michael will be available anytime." he said pointing to his aide.

"Okay, sir." The official presumed that was Thomas' cue to leave and he nodded to the two injured men. Kelvin realised that whatever happened to them they were acting as Thomas' security detail.

"Mike, any sign of the press?" He was worried he would have to run the gauntlet and deliver his statement here and now.

"None at the moment. We should be clear to get away."

Thomas was now shuffling toward the exit, led again by the embassy officials and trailed by the two security agents.

Kelvin watched his son walking off like a condemned man. He knew what would probably be in store for Thomas for refusing to co-operate and although he tried not think about it he couldn't help but tear up again at the thought of what the next 48 hours would be like for him.



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Episode 6

Shannon sat nervously in the waiting room at the airport.

The waiting area where she had sat was not very well populated. There were a few people that she tagged as reporters.

She noticed they were all having a quick fag on the sly even though it was 'no smoking' area.

The two black suited security people didn't seem to be bothered about this infringement. They probably had bigger fish to fry.

She was sure they must have noted her presence and due to the lack of other suspects to watch she was under close surveillance.

That would make what she had to do more difficult.

Her nerves were making her empty stomach churn.

She knew Thomas was coming in by plane any minute now. When she had recieved the call at Thomas' flat she had driven here as quickly as speed limits would allow.

It had been months since Thomas had gone to Egypt. It had been just as long since they had spoken too.

She loved Thomas, but his constant paranoia saw conspiracies everywhere.

It was one of these that had led him off to Egypt.

He had changed though, since she had originally met him.

Whereas before he was a reclusive, conspiratorialist, something in her had inspired him to suddenly become an activist and try to change the world.

She felt a pang of responsibility for him as well as a whole bunch of other feelings.

Her stomach reminded her how hungry she was. Making her way to the vending machines, Shannon tried to look inconspicuous, even though she worried it might actually look like she was attaining the opposite effect.

Her heart was pumping. The phone call had given her a brief idea of what had happened to him.

What had he got mixed up in now!

He had always been easily taken in. He believed he had been abducted by UFO's and seen monsters and aliens at various points in his life.

She had seen some strange things in her time with him but nothing as unexplained as those.

Thomas had told her that he had been institutionalised at one point by his father when his fantasy life had influenced his real behaviour to such an extent he believed it was all real.

This had left him in a delicate balance between what he thought he saw in the world and what he was told he should be seeing.

He had demonstrated these qualities plenty of times in her company, yet she found his vulnerability and his innate goodness to be some of his most charming traits.

Who had gotten to him now? Who had taken advantage of him to get him to act like a terrorist? He hated violence.

She found herself standing by the window, looking out over the runways. Dawn was breaking. She was eating a chocolate bar.

She wasn't a chocolate person, but she figured her body knew what it needed and at this time of the morning it needed a peanut-packed chocolate injection.

A small plane appeared in view and she followed it down.

In the intervening months Shannon had tried to get on with life as best as possible, knowing that Thomas could turn up at any moment with numerous stories of the adventures he'd had.

She still felt unable to return to her family in Edinburgh. She had burnt those bridges when she left with Thomas.

There was still something to prove to them. They were good people. They had their beliefs, which she generally shared, but she had questions that they couldn't answer.

Maybe it was a character flaw but the self-confident, independent daughter was exercising those traits in a reluctant rebellion against their compassionate but narrow world-view.

Before she had a chance to think anymore Shannon pressed her hands against the window pane. The small plane had landed and its passengers were getting off.

Although they were far away and tiny she recognised Thomas' lanky, drop-shouldered frame as if it were burned in her memory.

"No!" she gasped. They were being shepherded into the other end of the airport.

She was going to miss him!



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Episode 5

Thomas looked about him in the plane.

He hadn't really paid much attention to who else was there with him, so lost in his thoughts he had been.

Apart from a couple of officials from the embassy, who he guessed were there to look after him, or at least keep an eye on him, were two other men.

The first was a well dressed man, with a short fade haircut and a bulky, muscular build which showed in his face. Thomas imagined that in later years the man's face would sag if he didn't keep in shape and would be indistinguishable from Droopy Dawg.

The man saw Thomas staring at him. "Something funny?"

Thomas jumped out of his skin at being caught out. "Huh? No. No. Not at all. I...I was just looking around."

"Well if you could avoid looking in my direction it would be better for you."

Thomas noticed that "Dawg's" hand was bandaged with some blood seeping through.

"I'm sorry." Thomas knew he should probably leave it there, but his curiosity got the better of him. "How did you hurt your hand?"

He suspected he knew what the answer would be. They were both on the same plane, being rushed out in the aftermath of a terrorist attack he had a hand in. The question that tugged at Thomas's furtive mind was why Dawg was here and injured.

Dawg seemed to consider whether he should answer or not "I was in Cairo following a terrorist suspect. We never realised until too late that he was carrying a bomb," Dawg nodded his head toward the back of the plane.

Thomas glanced over his seat and saw the second passenger who wasn't from the embassy. His head was bandaged and he seemed to be asleep.

"We got caught in the blast as we followed him into a Coptic church." Dawg closed his eyes and turned his head away.

"I'm sorry" was all Thomas could come out and say.

"You should be. You will be." Dawg turned his head, his eyes boring into Thomas'. "I know who you are. What you did. You will be sorry."

Thomas turned away before the guy could continue. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat for a minute, still wondering if Dawg was watching him.

What was he? A spy? International Police? They had been onto them! How much did they now of his involvement?

In the end he stood up, looked around and went to move a few rows down, closer to the embassy officals.

As he got out of the seat, Dawg grabbed his arm. Thomas looked down at him in absolute fear.

"We're going to get to know each other very well in the next few days, Thomas Carter."

"L-let go!" He was never very good at hiding his fear.

"No-one here really cares about you, scum. We're just doing our jobs. Me? I'm really looking forward to my part of the job once we're away from the airport."

Dawg let go of Thomas' arm as he continued on down to his new seat. He saw contemptuous smiles on the faces of the officials.

Had they always been there? How could he have not seen their hate for him.

Did they know their embassy had been the original target? There's no way!

Maybe they just hated him for killing innocent people. Or for fighting for a cause they didn't agree with.

"um...excuse me?"

One of the officials looked at him his initial sneer quickly covered by his professional attitude.

"Mr Carter?"

"Where am I actually going? I thought I was meeting my father." Dawg's words had set him thinking, fuelled by his natural paranoia.

"You will be meeting your father at the airport, but following that you will be taken to a secure location...for your own safety." The official couldn't help let slip a knowing smile as he mentioned the reason for Thomas' impending custodial period.

"For my safety? That man over there just threatened me."

"Mr Carter, that is one of our top security agents in Northern Africa. I'm sure he just wants to ask you a few questions about what happened today." This time he managed to keep a straight face.

"He's going to interrogate me isn't he? You know torture is illegal don't you! I've got friends in Amnesty International!" Despite his protestations the official seemed unconcerned.

"Really! What a coincidence! My Uncle is on the board of directors. Look, if you offer your co-operation freely then I can't see a reason to worry. Just tell them what they want to know and you'll be fine. After all, I know you want to serve your country as much as possible considering all the trouble its gone to to keep you out of harm's way."

The sarcasm did not go unnoticed. Thomas slumped back in his seat as the official went back to what he was doing.

He had no friends on this plane.

His future depended on his father.

He hated that.



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Episode 4

Kelvin was taken through secluded corridors at the airport to avoid the crowds, not wanting to draw attention to what was happening.

The plane hadn't arrived yet and wouldn't for about another hour.

The airport escort met with with Kelvin's aide in a private airport lounge area were told to make themselves comfortable.

"Would now be a good time to go over the statement we've prepared?" said the aide, approaching him with some handwritten, but clear, notes which had clearly been thrown together in the last hour or so.

"How much time have we got to keep the lid on this, Mike?" he asked the aide.

"I've been speaking with the consul. The Egyptian government are still dealing with the aftermath. It's chaos there. Reports are intermittent and unclear. There's no indication they know who's involved let alone whether its...your son."

"Let's be thankful for small mercies, then. Once he's here he can answer for things at our pace, in our way, rather than left there to god knows what kind of treatment."

"Kelvin. I know this is going to be difficult are sure you want to be the one handling this? You could leave yourself wide open..."

"Your concern is noted, Mike. I'm the best option for handling things though. Especially if things deteriorate. As long his name is kept out of the channels then there should be nothing for anyone to pick up on."

"Leaks?"

"Well, we can't control those can we? Such is their nature. We've got our response there though in case something does get out. The chance of there being someone in the chain who doesn't like what's going down is real but unlikely."

Kelvin took the handwritten sheets, "I'll let ou know when I'm done."

"Anything else?"

"Not yet. Thanks."

As the aide started to move away Kelvin had another thought.

"Mike, wait! Do you know whether this has filtered further than the direct chain of 'Need to Know'?"

Hesitating his colleague responded, "About twenty minutes ago the PM's secretary called me for an update as he wanted to take some info into an emergency meeting. I didn't really have anything to tell that he probably wasn't getting from his own people."

Kelvin drew a sharp breath. "Cabinet briefing."

Mike nodded in agreement.

"Okay. The PM's not going to be able to hold onto this much longer for me. There'll be too many arguments in that room to use this against me. This is going to get ugly before that plane touches down. The only thing in our favour is that it's the middle of the night."

"Kel, We need to get on..."

The two men parted and Kelvin moved over to the window looking over the runways. He stared up into the black night that was held at bay by the airport lighting.

The preceding hours had weighed heavy on him already. Now he wondered what kind of world his son would touch down in.



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Episode 3

Not uncommonly, Thomas was confused.

He felt he was safe now that he was in the custody of the British Embassy.

He didn't have to make any more decisions. His fate was no longer in his hands.

He knew the Egyptian police wanted him for questioning, but that the embassy had delayed them with technicalities whilst shoving him onto this plane.

It helped when he had told them who his father was.

He was still in it up to his neck, though.

Overheard whispers whilst at the embassy and on the ensuing flight had told him that there had been other explosions around Cairo.

He guessed that, like his intended target, they were major religious and political institutions.

He had been making his way to his intended target via a crowded marketplace when a confident thief decided to relieve him of the rucksack slung over his shoulder.

Thomas recalled the panic as the thief took the rucksack deeper into the crowded streets. He followed, calling after him, his tall, lean frame made good strides, but the thiefs knowledge of the area gave him an advantage. However Thomas was determined that he would not be undone from his target.

Unfortunately this got the attention of a couple of police officers who had been patrolling the stalls. Their vigilance rewarded when the culprit passed them by.

They gave chase and Thomas start to slow his run realising things were gettting out of control.

One of the officers, the more athletic one, caught hold of the thief and brought him down. The other caught up with him and wrenched the bag from his grasp and opened it, checking its contents.

The sudden change of body language and expression made Thomas stop in his tracks. They knew there was a bomb in there.

Raised voices carried to Thomas as the thief looked around desperately and saw him. A pointing finger locked onto him and the athletic police officer caught his eye.

Thomas started backing up. The officer called out to him. In response he turned and started pushing through the market which just seemed to have doubled in population. The officer put the bag down and followed him whilst his colleague started to handcuff the would-be criminal.

All Thomas remembered from then was the force that knocked him down flat in an instant and then nothing.

He must only have been out for a few minutes, but as he came to, the world was much quieter and peaceful.

Dragging himself to his feet all he could see was chaos.

Ahead of him people were thrown across the floor. There was smoke everywhere, debris floating in the breeze.

He saw some people coming towards him. They were checking the bodies. He couldn't tell if they were looking for signs of life or picking pockets.

Then he looked behind him. His mind wouldn't let him make sense of what he saw. He knew exactly what his eyes were trying to tell him but he refused to let it sink in. The terrible reality was more than his fragile mind could cope with.

Most people were prone on the floor, but one started to rise. It was the police officer.

Their eyes met again. Thomas' senses were starting to return so he was able to react first. He ran and didn't look back.

He ran to the only place he could think of. It had been his sole focus for the last two weeks. He knew as much as he could learn about it. He made for the safety of his original target.

The British Embassy.

How should he be feeling now?

Looking out of the window, high above the clouds, far removed from the world below, he wished he could just stay there.

He hadn't been able to look the diplomats in the eye the entire time he'd been in their protection.

Hours earlier, these had been the opppressors, the enemy. Yet now they were responsible for his freedom.

He was now benefiting from the same corruption and underhandedness that had angered him enough to take action.

He should be being brought to justice for his actions but, at the mention of his father's name, wheels had started turning to protect him.

The government of Egypt was ever subject to the promises of wealth and status the west usually enticed Muslim cultures with in order to weaken them.

The charter plane was due to land in the UK in just over an hour. He wanted to forget what he'd done. Take it back.

Those people in the market weren't the ones he was supposed to have killed. They were the ones he had been fighting to free. He had been willing to give his life for them.

It wasn't difficult for him to imagine the souls of those innocents now soaring among these clouds on their way to an infinitely better life.

He didn't know what paradise was, but it in his mind it was a place where we could exist in our ultimate form. Pure spirit. No physical or mental handicaps. Just the sum totality of what we could be.

Instead, here he was running away from the battle instead of standing tall like a soldier should.

Soon he would have to answer for his beliefs and his actions.


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Episode 2

The ride from Westminster to the airport was going to take a while. Even with a congestion charge London's ancient streets just weren't built for heavy traffic.

Kelvin Carter went over again in his head just what trouble his son had now gotten himself into.

He wasn't sure he wanted to believe the report he had been given.

A succession of bomb attacks in Cairo on religious sites had caused untold damage and casualties.

The extent of his son's involvement was as yet unconfirmed by the embassy, but there was no doubt that he was, in some way connected.

Kelvin had immediately called in a favour with the Prime Minister to suppress the story for as long as possible. Not to save his embarrassment but to allow time for the diplomats to do their job in determining exactly how to stave off political disaster.

He may be a member of the opposing party but in the halls of Westminster his Foreign Policy advice was well trusted. Although it could never be revealed in public, the current PM relied on him as if he were a party advisor.

The current Foreign Minister was in his post to gain experience, not because he had any. He was the favoured child to lead them at the next election and so this was seen as invaluable to cement him as a contender in the public's eyes.

The thought that by helping the Prime Minister from time to time might be ruining his own party's chances of election gnawed away at him. In the end, he was an idealist.

He was in politics because he really did want to make a positive impact on the world and bring about peace and harmony for everyone.

Petty party politics didn't concern him.

If he could improve things for other people in the world today he would do so. It seemed like madness to wait for the slim chance that his party would get re-elected in order to make progress on things that could make life better for all.

How many lives could he save today by influencing the current foreign aid policy? How many conflicts could he resolve by using his substantial negotiating skills now rather than later?

That thought brought him back around to Thomas. Thankfully in all the confusion surrounding the alleged massacre, his son had made his way to the British Embassy before the local authorities got to him.

He was now being flown back for his own protection after a bit of adroit thinking by one of the local diplomats. Getting him out of the country would at least make it difficult to prosecute anything quickly.

It would be hard to reconcile this mess.

Even though his son was a constant embarrassment to him, he still loved him.

He had tried to help him before. Divorcing Thomas' mother some years ago had not stopped him from trying to keep in touch with his son.

Amidst his burgeoning political career it had been especially difficult watching him grow up mentally unbalanced.

A doubt had always resurfaced at times like these that maybe it was his fault. If he had tried to make things work in the marriage and not been selfish about his career then maybe he could have been there to guide Thomas' through his dark years.

He pushed the guilt back down as he normally did, in order to think more clearly. If he was going to help his son now, he needed to be on top of his game.

If the situation got nasty though and it turned into a full-blown international incident then there would be nothing he could do to protect his son. He may have to sacrifice him for the greater good.



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Episode 1

In the beginning was God.

He created the angels.

One fell from grace bringing disobedience into creation.

He created mankind.

One disobeyed and brought death into life.

God saw that all was not good.

God became a man to free his creation from death.

The God/Man was killed.

The God/Man lived again.

God abandoned Man.

But He left a way back...

- - - - - - - - - -

The table was one of those gleaming, executive boardroom designs that dominated the room with an aura of power and wealth.

The five men sat around the table, one chair unoccupied.

It felt as though it didnt matter who sat in their chairs. The faces could change but it was the table that represented what each of these men craved.

You would not expect the most powerful men in the world to look as these did. Unremarkable without being non-descript. Businesslike without being corporate. Confident without being arrogant.

None of them knew each other personally. They were selected by someone they had never met previously but who each of them now relied upon to know when these meetings are scheduled.

Neither were any of them running the meeting. They all waited for someone to begin proceedings. Tension buzzed in the air as the silence grew louder and the seconds passed increasingly slower.

The head of this small collective of ambitious power-brokers was never present.

To meet him. To become his right-hand man was the second-most important goal in their lives.

Each of them looked at the others wondering which of them it was that had his ear. Outside of this room, they spent millions on investigators trying to find out who these rivals were in order to nullify them and possibly harvest the fruits of their efforts.

They were here in order to share information about their respective plans, but no-one wanted to reveal their hands before they were successful.

There was no room for small talk here. They would never be friends. The only words spoken here would determine the course of people's lives. They were words which gave life or death to individuals who knew nothing about these people and their ultimate goals.

Each word would be power. Pure. Undistilled.

With no idea of their leader or his adjutant their schemes would seek to outdo what was revealed at the previous meeting, hoping to impress their worthiness to be sitting at his right hand.

Such closeness was desired because it would give them the perfect opportunity to kill him and take the throne.

Sometimes the faces changed which caused some concern and not a little curiosity, though none questioned the presence of one or the absence of the other. Speculation led to thoughts of promotion or worries about elimination.

Blinded by their ambition and greedy for their own immortality, the truth escaped them. They would not have believed it anyway.

The truth was that their leader was there with them. The sixth member was always there. He had attended every meeting. Saying nothing. Invisible to all.

He sat in his chair and marveled at how, with the just slightest of suggestions, with merest of enticements mankind ran away with their own fantasies of godhood.

Their willingness to give up the gift of humanity, so unique to them, made him smile.

Their capacity to inflict suffering upon faceless masses for their own comfort and gain gave him a special pleasure.

It shouldn't be this easy to turn the creation against it's creator should it?

It's not even as though he had to even sow seeds of doubt about following a righteous path any more as few even believed in the existence of God to begin with.

Tonight would be another good night. More sorrow and suffering would be brought about with the excuse of plausible deniability as they did it all to themselves.

The Prince of Darkness sat back in his chair and laughed an inaudible laugh of triumph and self-satisfaction.



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