Beacon Of Light: Episode one (The ultimate post apocalyptic sci-fi thriller serial) by Luis Samways Page A
Authors: Luis Samways
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of coffee in his hands but today he has opted for a Red Bull. He knows the stuff isn’t too good for you, but he just can’t bring himself to get up from his chair and miss out on any breaking news. He sits there for a while, still trying to grasp what is going on. It confuses him slightly. Could he be mistaking what he is reading?
He has been following the case of a computer technician who went missing ten years ago. The man’s wife insists that her husband had been kidnapped but officers insist that the suicide note that he had left behind before blowing his head off was proof enough that the man was dead. The thing is, when the wife ID’d the body at the morgue she was adamant it was not him, so much so she demanded a DNA test. The cops were sceptical of her because the sad truth is; she has a history of mental problems. The woman suffers from Bipolar and a mild case of schizophrenia, if there was ever such a thing as a mild case of s chizophrenia that is.
The head of the man was obviously beyond recognition. A shotgun blast from close range will do that to a human head. But the one thing that makes the woman certain that her husband was not the one lying on the table in front of her was the fact that his skin complexion was off. She remembered that he had three moles on his chest; the corpse at the morgue had no moles. To make things worse, the man’s DNA profile magically disappeared. It’s been a low brow case since. Not much media exposure what so ever. If it isn’t drug or gang related, the media doesn’t want to know.
But today of all days, Ray found himself staring at the screen in dismay. After ten years of searching, the woman had found her husband’s body. It was dumped on her front lawn that very morning. His face was still intact, no shotgun blast to the head. Her husband was dead, but not from the suicide he apparently committed ten years prior. Where was her husband for the past ten years? Why was his body dumped on her lawn today of all days? These were the questions that the news wanted answering. These were the questions Ray found himself asking.
Three
New York’s Sewers
The alarmed mysterious man looks down at his arm. He can see the blinking light pulsate in his wrist, much like a sniper’s laser dot. He isn’t being scoped at though; the light he’s seeing is a light that’s been blinking in his wrist under his skin for the past two hours. It’s been gnawing at him. Distracting him from his daily routine. What’s a man supposed to do when he sees a blinking light in his wrist? Does he tell people? Does he run? He’s done the latter because he did not need to tell anyone. Not one soul needed to know. Not a living soul anyway.
A few hours prior he had found himself at a rather large dinner party. He just signed the deal of a lifetime. The lawyer’s firm he works for was rather pleased with his progress. The Japanese clients he was wining and dining were impressed with his pitch. They signed on earlier that day and that evening was supposed to be a celebration. It turned out to be the start of something he had no control over. It was something no one had any control over.
He was sitting there an hour into his meal when something caught his eye. One of his fellow colleagues was twitching about in his seat. He was sweating profusely. The man didn’t know what was wrong, but soon found himself in the same fearsome state. He clocked his fellow worker’s eyes drift from his dinner down to his wrist. A bright red beam had seemed to illuminate itself through the man’s skin. Suddenly the frightened co-worker had bounced off his seat and up to his feet, waving his bright red arm around as if it were on fire.
‘My arm, my goddamn arm! There’s something wrong, call an ambulance!’ The man had screamed.
The top flight lawyer found himself in shock at what was happening to his co-worker. In fact, so did the gentleman that they were entertaining. A tirade of English and Japanese fear
He has been following the case of a computer technician who went missing ten years ago. The man’s wife insists that her husband had been kidnapped but officers insist that the suicide note that he had left behind before blowing his head off was proof enough that the man was dead. The thing is, when the wife ID’d the body at the morgue she was adamant it was not him, so much so she demanded a DNA test. The cops were sceptical of her because the sad truth is; she has a history of mental problems. The woman suffers from Bipolar and a mild case of schizophrenia, if there was ever such a thing as a mild case of s chizophrenia that is.
The head of the man was obviously beyond recognition. A shotgun blast from close range will do that to a human head. But the one thing that makes the woman certain that her husband was not the one lying on the table in front of her was the fact that his skin complexion was off. She remembered that he had three moles on his chest; the corpse at the morgue had no moles. To make things worse, the man’s DNA profile magically disappeared. It’s been a low brow case since. Not much media exposure what so ever. If it isn’t drug or gang related, the media doesn’t want to know.
But today of all days, Ray found himself staring at the screen in dismay. After ten years of searching, the woman had found her husband’s body. It was dumped on her front lawn that very morning. His face was still intact, no shotgun blast to the head. Her husband was dead, but not from the suicide he apparently committed ten years prior. Where was her husband for the past ten years? Why was his body dumped on her lawn today of all days? These were the questions that the news wanted answering. These were the questions Ray found himself asking.
Three
New York’s Sewers
The alarmed mysterious man looks down at his arm. He can see the blinking light pulsate in his wrist, much like a sniper’s laser dot. He isn’t being scoped at though; the light he’s seeing is a light that’s been blinking in his wrist under his skin for the past two hours. It’s been gnawing at him. Distracting him from his daily routine. What’s a man supposed to do when he sees a blinking light in his wrist? Does he tell people? Does he run? He’s done the latter because he did not need to tell anyone. Not one soul needed to know. Not a living soul anyway.
A few hours prior he had found himself at a rather large dinner party. He just signed the deal of a lifetime. The lawyer’s firm he works for was rather pleased with his progress. The Japanese clients he was wining and dining were impressed with his pitch. They signed on earlier that day and that evening was supposed to be a celebration. It turned out to be the start of something he had no control over. It was something no one had any control over.
He was sitting there an hour into his meal when something caught his eye. One of his fellow colleagues was twitching about in his seat. He was sweating profusely. The man didn’t know what was wrong, but soon found himself in the same fearsome state. He clocked his fellow worker’s eyes drift from his dinner down to his wrist. A bright red beam had seemed to illuminate itself through the man’s skin. Suddenly the frightened co-worker had bounced off his seat and up to his feet, waving his bright red arm around as if it were on fire.
‘My arm, my goddamn arm! There’s something wrong, call an ambulance!’ The man had screamed.
The top flight lawyer found himself in shock at what was happening to his co-worker. In fact, so did the gentleman that they were entertaining. A tirade of English and Japanese fear
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