1 Life 2 Die 4

By Dean Waite

On his way to a regular dental check-up, 14 year old Dan Macintyre finds his world suddenly turned upside down when he is trapped in a dizzying race for survival. Partnered with a gorgeous woman he has never met before, Dan flees through the city with heavily armed assassins in hot pursuit. If he can only discover what the hell is going on, perhaps he can find some way out of this mayhem. Or perhaps the truth will only leave him more gobsmacked ... and still running for his life!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Dean Waite
• Release date: Apr 27, 2014
• ISBN: 9781310697098

Dean Waite

Dean is a school teacher from Brisbane, Australia. He has a wife and two boys who are all passionate about reading. In his spare time, when he's too tired to write, he loves to read great books, watch intriguing movies and play with his sons, who enjoy soccer (known as football in most countries) and cricket (which is pretty much unknown in most countries!)Dean is always telling his students that the best thing they can do to help themselves achieve success in every subject (and in life!) is to read as much quality writing as possible. Without a firm grasp of their language, everything is always harder than it needs to be. To assist them, and hopefully others too, Dean set about writing a short action novel suited to teenage boys, who often find it difficult to engage with reading. '1 Life 2 Die 4' is the result of this effort, and Dean is very keen to hear from readers as to whether they feel it has achieved its goal of providing quality, enjoyable action reading for this audience (and perhaps for others as well?)Like most authors, Dean dreams of making enough from his books to allow him to bring to life some of the other stories which are currently trapped inside his head. Sadly, the reality is that most authors make very little from their writing, so they are forced to squeeze it in around a 'regular' job. Rest assured that their slice of the few dollars you might pay for their ebook makes more of a difference to them than you can possibly imagine.Dean has also written the first (much longer) book in a different series for young people, but he is hoping to miraculously find time to write the second book in this new series before publishing the first.

Book preview

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 much 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