The Dead Loop 3: Deliverance

By Jason Tipple

What would you do if you died every single day?
Would you turn to crime?
Would you try to help people?

The Dead Loop is an intense psychological thriller exploring the unique life of Ewan Charles who experiences his own death every single day.

Each death leads him along a journey of ever changing emotional states and takes him deeper into the mysterious and unending 'Dead Loop.'

Whilst trapped in this endless cycle he becomes embroiled in a struggle against the influence of a mysterious and sinister stalker...

Why does Ewan die every day and then immediately 'awaken' on a different day?
Who can he trust?
Should he turn to doctors, the police or religion for help?
What should he do with the knowledge that he will die today and every day?
How can Ewan hold onto his family when he loses his life every day?

Can he break the perpetual daily cycle of his own death?

"Best thing I've read since The Hunger Games"
"The DEAD LOOP trilogy is set to go viral."
"innovative, emotive and well crafted."
"thoroughly original and expertly written."

• Language: English
• Publisher: Jason Tipple
• Release date: Dec 16, 2012
• ISBN: 9781301330126

Jason Tipple

Jason Tipple was born quite near the coast in sunny Norwich in the Summer of 1973. He moved inland to the new city of Milton Keynes at the age of the 8. His love of writing began at school where he wrote fun stories about zany characters and letting his imagination run almost as wild as his hair. At the age of 13 he wrote in an essay about Jane Austen's Pride and Prejudice that Mr. and Mrs. Bennet's marriage could only be saved by a novelty 'His and Hers' towel set. Suffice to say this didn't go down too well with the English teacher but it set him on a path towards an interest in expressive writing. Four years later, his 5000 word A-level analytical essay studying the literary structure of the Conan the Barbarian novels by Robert E Howard was heavily frowned on by his teacher for not being about an 'author of suitable literary merit.' That moment convinced Jason only to ever write about subjects that he enjoyed applying his creative mind to. Jason soon began to write humorous tales, sci-fi and fantasy purely for his own enjoyment. The birth of his daughter in 2006 introduced him to children's books for the first time in 20 years. Inspired by the likes of 'the Gruffalo' and 'Mr. Gum', Jason ventured into writing children's books as well as an epic psychological thriller of 120,000 words.

Book preview

The DEAD LOOP Book 3: Deliverance

Jason Tipple

Copyright 2012 Jason Tipple

Front cover photo copyright 2012 Elena Filatova

Dead-Loop.com

Smashwords Edition

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 use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

All characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious.

Dedicated to the victims of the Chernobyl disaster.

What the first US reviewer said about the Dead Loop:

The Dead Loop is one of the most unique and original story plots that I have read in quite a long time! While it is dark and even kind of depressing to get through some sections, there is just something about the idea and the writing combined that from the very first few pages grabs you by the hand and tugs you along to see what comes next and fires your imagination to begin trying to figure out why it is happening...

BOOK 3

DELIVERANCE

Chapter 1: Two Sides to Every Story

I’m sitting down and staring straight ahead at a high green wall that seems to curve itself around me. The hard wooden bench situated under a tree is very uncomfortable and all of my joints seem to be aching. One of my knees seems to be bouncing as my toes spring involuntarily up and down. I try pressing down on it but my toes continue to move by themselves despite my efforts. But at least it feels safe here on this bench.

I shiver with the sudden realisation that my pyjamas are too thin and inadequate for the cold temperature. In an attempt to get warm I hug myself, pulling my elbows into my side and sliding my hands under my armpits. The involuntary movement of my toes and leg seem to be soothing me in some way and I lean slowly to one side until my body eventually tips over onto the bench. I rest my head on the wooden slats and curl up into a ball which makes me feel considerably warmer and a little sleepy.

When I open my eyes the green wall in front of me seems to be a little closer than I remember. I also notice tree branches above me, full of small gold leaves that curl up at their edges and tremble slightly in the breeze. I’m grateful that my leg has stopped shaking for the moment as I look up through the gaps in the branches at a dark grey sky. The tell-tale white signature scar of a jet trail highlights to me that an aeroplane has recently passed overhead. The white stripe is already starting to expand as it fans out and gradually begins to dissipate. I wonder where the people on the plane are going and if they think about me down here when they pass over my head.

Closing my eyes again I suddenly feel the comforting sensation of a heavy blanket being placed over my body. The warmth of the blanket assures me that there is nothing to worry about and no reason for me to be preoccupied with thought. Everything is quiet and peaceful here, there is no one to harm me and sleep washes over me like a second protective blanket.

When I awaken and sit up on the bench, a purple blanket falls onto the floor at my feet. It looks extremely thick and feels velvety as I rub my bare feet on it. The blanket still has my warmth in its fibres but my body feels considerably warmer now under my jeans and jumper. My pyjamas have been replaced.

The green wall curves even more dramatically than I initially realised and forms a complete circle around me like my own private little sanctuary. I notice that the aeroplane trail has gone now and the sky is a little lighter. My leg has begun shaking again although the involuntary movement stops when I stand up and walk towards the wall. My legs feel slow, mechanical and weak as if I haven’t used them for far too long. My arms also feel feeble and weak making me wonder how long I was lying on that bench.

I stretch out one arm and touch the wall but immediately have to draw my hand back. The surface feels rough and my fingers seem to sink into it. It’s a curious sensation and for a moment I hesitate before touching it again, but this time the wall feels a little softer even though the sensation is accompanied by a gentle scratching on my fingers. I realise that it’s not a solid surface after all, its foliage. The green wall is actually a hedge! I peer at it closely, its thick, tightly woven branches and leaves look almost impenetrable while there seems to be only darkness between them. No matter how closely I look it’s too thick to see through to what’s on the other side. I delve my arm deeper inside the hedge which starts to snag my jumper and scratch my hand. I’m sufficiently deterred by the thorns and decide to slowly withdraw my hand.

My legs are beginning to ache again and I start to feel a little cold so I return to the bench and pick up the blanket. I feel the benefit immediately when I wrap it around my legs but as soon as I sit down my knee begins to bounce again. At least I feel comfortable now with the blanket warming my legs and the jumper keeping my upper body warm.

After some considerable time passes with me staring at the hedge I realise that there aren’t any sounds here at all. The silence is complete and total but it also feels slightly oppressive and I begin to feel lonely. For a moment I contemplate calling out but find myself reluctant to break the fragile silence, as if perhaps I might damage or pollute it somehow with my voice.

I tilt my head backwards but the back of the bench is too low to afford me any comfortable support so I curl up on the bench instead, pulling my legs into my chest. My knee continues to shake while I’m lying down on my side but as I spend some time watching the sky through the tree branches it begins to slow down.

I’m not sure if I actually fell asleep or not but my leg has stopped moving completely now and I find myself sitting up again, only this time I’m not alone. There is a man and woman here, both of them standing up facing me. The woman is dressed all in white with dark hair and a wiry fringe. She has her hands cupped in front of her and is rotating her thumbs in little circles. The man is dressed purely in black clothes which are in stark contrast to his blonde hair. His arms are folded as he stands there with a deep frown on his square jawed face.

‘I’m disappointed in you,’ the man says, his eyes fixed intently on me, but the woman doesn’t speak.

His voice shatters the unnatural silence around us but it’s a welcome disturbance. ‘Why?’ I ask him curiously.

‘Suicide is so boring,’ he replies.

My knee begins bouncing again as I glance at the woman and expect her to speak too, but she seems content to just watch me. I stare almost straight through the odd couple with my eyes fixed on the hedge, ignoring his strange comment about suicide.

‘Thank you,’ I say, offering them both my gratitude.

‘What for?’ the man asks, losing his frown and raising an eyebrow.

‘It was too quiet here,’ I say, my voice immediately swallowed by the silence. ‘So thank you both for coming.’

‘Well let’s go somewhere louder Ewan,’ the man suggests.

‘But where?’ I ask him. ‘And how?’

As far as I understand the tall circular hedge that surrounds us makes going anywhere impossible and anyway my legs feel too weak to carry me very far. The man simply holds his arms out wide and grins.

‘Vegas!’ he says excitedly. ‘How about going to Las Vegas? That’s much better than jumping in front of a car.’

The place name is familiar