'The Sheeved' 0.5

By D.M Ritchie

A war has started in the world where mankind is going to come face to face with his greatest threat that ever existed. This enemy doesn't come from the imagination of wizards and dragons or Aliens and spacemen, the threat is from his own evolution. Do not sit back and try to take sides in this war, they have already been chosen. 'The Sheeved' will rise to take what is rightfully theirs and there isn't anything mankind can do about it. God hasn't sent his angels for a mercy mission to save us all, God has allowed our predecessors to come full term. The age of the Megammal has arrived.

• Language: English
• Publisher: D.M Ritchie
• Release date: Jul 23, 2014
• ISBN: 9781311400376

D.M Ritchie

Having grown up in the outskirts of Melbourne Victoria, my extensive imagination has kept me sane and busy.Lived hard, only now after having settled down with my first and only wife can I build my library of works.Fiercely private, except for publishing my long list of high concept adult literature and numerous fantasy and fictional childrens books.From hard-core sex to blood thirsty fight scenes, i do not hold back on describing a story.

Book preview

CHAPTER ONE

RANDOM

ACTS.

Long strong silver.

Old bold told.

Three as one.

(Japanese Haiku. Translated from 600 BC text)

CHAPTER 1

RANDOM ACTS.

Friday,

16th of April, 21:30 hours.

The hunter valley. 30km’s north east of Adelaide.

The rustling of leaves under foot and the breaking of nature’s bracken from the thick foliage went un-noticed as eyes peered menacingly into the parked vehicle while Trey and Phil sat in the front seats of their mum’s inherited car. The heated cream and light blue beaded trim, customised leather upholstered chairs were slightly reclined in the small black Mercedes sports SLS AMG. Wear marks around the drivers arm rest and at the right side of the seat showed clearly how often the two year old ‘automobile’, as Augene used to refer to it as, was entered and exited by the lone driver. The car used to be their fathers, a legacy of his long hours at work. Now an heirloom for the family that aren’t doing too badly from some insurance policy the father had lucratively signed for six months before his untimely death.

The high performance engine of the Mercedes kept idling to keep the aircon’ going, just a slow murmur over the otherwise quite drone of the big V8 as it sat with its young occupants inside with the heavily tinted windows blacking out any external visual imagery especially at night. During yet another cigarette, the smoke weaved its way out through a slight crack at the top of the passenger side window. Trey constantly argued he could give up any time, but no time like the present suited Phil who brought the brunt of his brother’s addiction.

I just need them to get me through Uni and then I’ll give up. For goodness sake, they are lights. How much harm can they really do bro?

They both knew the answer was not a good one. Phil let it fly for the time being. Everyone was suffering some type of depression since Augene was killed. Phil's way to cope was drawing costumes or designing clothes for an exhibit he would one day ‘put on’.

I can’t believe you still say ‘goodness’ Mr University. Which deity are you afraid of offending by cursing to or about them to anyone or no one in particular?

Well I don’t hear you blaspheming any one. Did you ever consider I prefer to use the good English language than swear regardless of content?

Yeah, I did. Then one day I realised you were afraid of saying something out of context because you were afraid of dad.

That is a downright lie. Trey now became the hostile sibling, purely reacting to words he knew, deep in the pit of his stomach were true. Sensing he too had gone too far with the conversation which had turned into an argument, Phil tried hastily to change the subject to something they could both agree on.

Hey, were not here to argue about religion or politics. This is our time to remember.

Raising the half-finished beer cans in their hands from the Carlton six pack they had already consumed in their self-proclaimed nature reserve, they cheers to the memory of their guiding figure. To Dad,

To Dad, A subtle ‘chink’ of the light metal cans together and the factory brewed beverage is skulled to the end as each can is crushed when emptied by the brothers.

The laughter and their constant banter echoed down the heavily treed valley from their secluded arboretum, instigated by the six-pack of Carlton Draught beer cans that lay empty now, squashed and discarded to the back seat that was a depository for the empty vessels and numerous history and religious reference books.

Trey constantly searched for facts in all manner of fields, his iPad was barely legible through the heavily scratched touch screen. He gave up replacing the screen covers for he honestly thought they slowed down his research potential. He was also capable of altering certain computer programs for his own benefit. On more than one occasion he found himself deep in some military program trying to gain access through a back door he ‘accidently’ stumbled through in his third world country historical studies. (Basically, he was trying to circumvent a file that was normally ‘unavailable’ to the public). Though he chose not to delve too deep for the information for ethical reasons, there were times when Phil walked in and saw a protocol on screen Trey was attempting to crack, just for information.

If it all goes to shit Trey, it will affect all of us. Mum, the babies and me. Not to mention Dad’s reputation. His pleas usually fell on deaf ears except if he realised he could jeopardise his and the whole families future.

At the moment, he was researching history for a special reason, possibly his and Phil's lineage and ancestry. Trey knew he was adopted by the Mendelsohn's, but even Synthera, (pronounced Cynthia), couldn’t tell the boy’s where their lineage came from. The entire information of our pasts, it all seems to have died with your father boy’s.

Trey was an orphan from almost birth, and was studying at University with help from his adoptive parents. He is doing Engineering degrees in both electrical and construction. His masters will eventually give him the flexibility to travel and design his own eco-friendly engines. Phil had yet to decide his future. Friends from day one, some eighteen years, held these two mates in good times and bad over their short lives. Plans had been set for each, University for Trey, and hopefully an acting or mentoring role in the arts for Phil.

While Phil worked random days or weeks in production houses as temporary stage hand producer or fill in cast, he ultimately dreamed of the stardom fame as an actor would bring him. Still, but a dream. He dreamed of greasepaint and sawdust as if it filtered through his blood. An only child until the recent arrival of his twin sisters, Phil was still cared for at home by his mother Synthera, and he looked after his sister’s, when necessity called. Trey lived close to the university in a single bedroom sitter. The isolation was better to study and not have ones little brother looking over his shoulder at all times. Synthera worked part time as a secretarial assistant in some warehousing business, but Trey and Phil put in some hours at the local shopping centre as cleaners. It suited them both because the times were flexible and both could do different hours in accordance with their study or interests. Either way, the extra money never went astray with birthdays and Christmas. Not all the insurance money from Augene’s death paid bills so the entire family worked well as a unit meaning the babies never missed out.

These two brothers are as good as best mates and take each other on face value because they virtually grew up together. They have no reason to judge one another for any purpose beside the occasional jibe or practical joke, not physical labels. Trey is Phil's only real friend and adopted step brother, who never questioned him either.

So here they were, like any random night during the week, talking about anything. Topics for discussion tonight included the way the internet filtered government fuelled conspiracies from alien abductions to local and global urban legends. The way Phil spoke about such obvious fraudulent claims of monsters, and mad scientist’s mutants roaming the streets, gave Trey a chill, as Phil recounted details so accurately, that even his logical mind found it hard to sort fact from fiction. It is always a nice break from reality when these two find solace in each other’s company.

Did you hear about the fish man that was seen off the west coast? Internet pictures were so real that a federal agency investigated their authenticity, and then put a virus in the web browser to delete all the evidence. Phil's facial expressions put his own authenticity on every slant he told. Wind down a window will ya, the smoke’s killing me Trey. We’d better get back soon, too. Mum hates me getting home late since dad’s gone.

Trey looked back at Phil, as tears welled in his mates eyes. Sadness at the loss of their role model father was sudden and unexpected to say the least. An emptiness or void had entered the Mendelsohn's house, a gap that will be felt for ever. The two boys assured the grief stricken mother on many occasions of their stability and eagerness to help out, but neither of them yet realise that the hole Synthera feels is loss of love and a part of her, her other half, her husband and mate, and, ultimately, her lover.

A hand rested lightly on Phil’s shoulder, this is why they come out here to the edge of the national reserve, to reminisce, and console.

I just miss him you know? Mum’s taken it really hard, and with Cassie and Francine still only babies, we’ve got a long way to go.

He’ll be sorely missed by everyone mate. said Trey, knowing the gentle man as a baby through to adolescence, Phil’s dad, ‘Augene’ guided his destiny equally, as Trey had no parents at all. This death closer than any other he’d known. Let’s make sure the rest of our lives count for something like he wanted. Let’s make that pact here Phil. OK?

Phil’s shoulders pulled back as his chest billowed with pride.

Yes, that’s it. Make him proud, in his memory. Phil’s eyebrow’s furrowed and his lips pulled tight, no pearly white teeth could be seen. His head tilted forward and he leaned toward the dashboard, it appeared as if he was looking out at something in the night. It was a determined look.

"No more bullshitting around. Let’s do our best, for a better future for ourselves, our families, and the greater good for all.’’

Trey never really saw a serious side to Phil. Nobody ever did, he was considered ‘the perpetual joker’ and it was difficult to now take him as genuine. There was no mockery in his voice though, and it didn’t engulf his rhetoric as usual. He could actually be serious.

"We both have abilities that can be directed to the common good. You’re exceptionally smart and good with computers, and I can adapt to any scenario, we’d be like Mission Impossible meets Hawaii 5-0. Together, we can create a new type of world help organisation. It can be ‘The Corpui Imperative’.’’

Treys look widened, and his eyes showed almost completely white, with contracted pupils, his mouth dropped to his knees, figuratively speaking.

You can’t talk like that Phil, you just don’t know who is listening.

Don’t give me that crap about what our father used to say. It was all bullshit mate, he never did any of that stuff. It was scare tactics to keep us from ‘going off the rails’ as he put it. Phil made the enclosed caption gesture.

Really Phil, you need to get laid or have a good pull. Either way you need to relieve some of that pent up sexual tension mate.

That’s a low blow Trey. Changing the subject to a forbidden topic, one that we both agreed to is really low.

Sorry mate, I just saw the conversation going downhill. I wanted to break that train of thought, for both of us. It does bother me you don’t have any other person in your life, even if it is just sex.

Phil though maintained an androgynous appearance, otherwise it wasn’t a priority. Getting on with the life that had been dealt to him was what he considered important.

You know I just want us all to be happy. The fact you don’t seem interested in girls, or boys, for that matter, to another guy is weird. I can’t chat about sleeping with some girl I picked up for fear of disturbing your moral ineptitude.

Yeah, thanks Trey. Sex never bothers me one way or the other and I’m inept. Sleeping with random partners is the greater travesty. How about I haven’t found that someone special yet? Did you ever even consider that?

Ok, no, I didn’t, but when you doubt dad, that’s different.

It never happened. None of it! There is no real proof. We idolised a scare tactic from the man that loved us unconditionally. It was all good until he got killed in that shooting spree. Now what? We rebuild our lives with mum and the girls, and a past built on lies.

Trey knew he was serious now. Phil never doubted his dad. Now he does.

Phil didn’t adjust to the death of his father well. ‘Conspiracy’ he called it.

But this is a new development. Denial of the possible good was an attempt to reach out for understanding. Why he died?

Synthera hardly spoke to anyone. Counsellors from the ‘Council for Victim Management’ came twice before being told politely not to come back as the grieving time had passed. It wasn’t even two weeks since Augene went to get some milk and never made it back to his car. Her take on life was always, ‘do what you can when you can.’ She doubled her work load by taking paperwork home. Francine was the bigger of the twins, born three months ago, supposedly healthy until both she and Cassie started showing signs of heart and lung problems. The doctors could see no logic in the deteriorating condition and keeping them home with a nurse on call was all they could afford. The boys showed the strain in their own work and personal lives differently.

Trey lost valuable time on study, and both degrees were becoming unachievable in the time frame he had originally set himself of three years.

Phil had made critical errors in costume sizing, and at one point made a dress for the main character in a production he helped write where the character was a man.

Tonight helped. It had been two months since they had spent time alone, as brothers.

Phil, you know how I’ve been researching THEM. There are still a lot of unanswered questions. History has indicators right through for the past five thousand years. Some of the most basic facts used in mid European mythologies co-relates to the rising tide of unusual beings and mysterious hominoids that the Grecians and Romans worshipped as gods, right through to the later Aztecs and Mayans who created their advanced massive cities now lain to waste. The pyramids and Ziggurats are so similar that they both could be the nomadic nature of THEM.

Trey gesticulated to the books and paperwork that littered the car. Leaning over to the back seat and grabbing the first thing he could, opening the book to a random page. It happened to cover the migration of the Mayan populace to the rise of the Aztec civilization, (One of his more interesting theorems). Even my logical mind has reservations of the existence of THEM, but proof is proof mate. He tossed the open book onto Phil's lap, the weight taking Phil by surprise.

From Egypt, all the way to South America, Trey gestured heavily the importance all around them.

In the small Mercedes, arm and hand gestures were minimal, but effective.

Augene was a go between the clans. To the best of my reckoning, he was a very valuable ally, and a very dangerous enemy.

Phil scoffed. To him, he was always the soft gentle man with an amazing imagination. Lessons to be learnt in the form of tales made up in the moment to sate curiosity and subdue wanton thoughts of mischief and mayhem.

‘The Corpui are everywhere’, he would taunt. ‘Keep your head down, focus on the task at hand and the clan will overlook you.’

Bullshit Trey, it was all bullshit. He could no more have ‘cleaved a path for twenty clansmen’, than cut a cabbage in half. He just wasn’t like that. The book was thrown in no delicate manner to the back where had been retrieved from.

Spittle spewed from Phil’s mouth as his face turned a dark red, the anger obvious to Trey who knew it to be an unusual trait in his kin. There is no clan, there is no Corpui!

Trey began to worry at the train of thought his brother was following. If dad died for anything, it was working too hard to keep us in a lifestyle that we had become way too accustomed too. Phil’s chest heaved in fury and his breathing increased almost to hyperventilation. Trey had to change the conversation. Bring it back to where he was headed with the train of thought originally.

Did you ever think dad may have been colour blind?

What?

"You know, maybe he didn’t see things very well in colour. Take this car for instance,

‘The Automobile’, who the heck could order the black paint job and cream interior and then a light blue bead around the entire edge of all the seats, It looks silly. It just makes me think he couldn’t see colours very well."

From all that you deduce dad was colour blind. I happen to think it looks quite cool, individual, like him.

Trey wasn’t getting anywhere along that train. He had to change it to mental ability. Phil always thought dad was special. He knew everything and apparently nothing.

Yeah, I suppose you can look at it like that. The other thing is, with all his appointments and jobs he arranged, how did he keep all the times and information in order? Where is his laptop or iPad, iPhone, book, anything? Trey shifted in his seat to better display his thoughts to Phil, who became a little agitated at Trey’s new focus.

What the fuck are you actually talking about? You sound a little weird Trey. What exactly is it you’re trying to say?

I think whatever he used is so secret that the proof of THEM is with it as well.

And where is this mystical, all knowing thing he used? You obviously have a guess.

It is the car. Trey sat there in the passenger seat nodding in hope that Phil would begin to nod as well, in agreement. Instead, his eyes glazed over in a look of horror, at the prospect that Trey his older, adopted sibling wanted to rip the only solid memory he has of Augene to pieces in search of something he only thinks exists.

Oh no, not the car, Mum will kill us if we touch any part of it unless we’re washing it. How could you be so insensitive?

Don’t be ridiculous. It will be somewhere he could just reach out and grab it, from the driver’s seat. Trey pointed beside Phil, towards the driver’s door.

Oh, and when I reach into some crevasse, you jolt me with a horsey bite and the jokes on me then. I am not falling for it.

No, I’m serious, just look around. You and he were about the same size and reach. It has to be somewhere.

I’m not bloody doing it. I don’t trust you after a couple of brewski’s.

C’mon, I am not that easy to read or that shallow. We could find the..

I said no fuckin’. AND I FUCKING MEANT IT.

The heated argument erupted to where Phil ejected Trey from the vehicle, pushing him into the musky, mild night air. Pushing him unceremoniously out the passenger door, he virtually fell backwards onto the stone laden grass of the reserve car park. The fog seemed heavy in the forest for this time of the year.

C’mon Phil, it’s stuffy and humid out here. Let me back in. I don’t even have a drink mate. The attempt to confide in his humorous side was less than appreciated.

Phil, stop it man. C’mon. Please.

Humidity with quickly cooling high pressure, even the noises were dull. Every word seemed to stop short, almost with no reverberation or echo, an area of dead space. The air felt solid in their personal arboretum.

The big engined car roared at the sudden heavy acceleration, the headlights burst forward into the National State Forest ahead. Steam pillowed from the hot dual exhaust pipes at the rear of the car, as small drips hit the earth randomly as if the tailpipe itself leaked water onto the grass covered stony ground.

Trey stood bewildered beside the expensive two door vehicle. Shuffling from his left to right feet to better attain a glimpse into the interior, Phil was barely visible from the built up condensation and dark window tint. A quick rev, then, a beeper acknowledging the reversing car bellowed into the dark night, causing the cicadas and other night crawlers to respond by ceasing their songs. Even Trey was taken aback from the noise generated by such a small vehicle. It seemed more than necessary for the size as bright white reverse lights shone backwards into the emptiness, creating a wall of white on the trees and shrubbery surrounding them. The car park spot they occupied, singular among many became vacant too.

The beams of blue H3 xenon light shone out from the opaque, semi rectangular and smaller semi oval rounded glass lenticular headlights at the front of the car and were, to say the least, bright on high beam. The twin globes created a thick, almost dense beam that temporarily blinded Trey. His reflex was to raise his arms in an attempt to shield his eyes and made it impossible to look anywhere else really. Watching where the black sports coupe was moving to, became difficult and he began to stumble backwards on the loose gravel and stones scattered through the road base and dew laden grass. He knew the area reasonably well, so when he backed against a solid object in the dark, he was startled and leaned forward to counter his motion. There were on occasion horses and cows let lose in the park by local famers, to allow the animals to graze on the carefully manicured lawns, not that the rangers or park officials ever really cared about it. But in that split second, it was that fear of the unknown behind him that scared him.

The red haired youth behind the sports steering wheel, which had silver spokes from a central hub, similar to the road wheel hub cap had stopped the car. Small plumes of dust rose from the road, up and past the front of the Mercedes. Trey watched the particles disperse into the night, as the yellowish mist drifted behind the standing youth. Phil however, sat immobilized. His grip on the leather sewn disc tightened, so as that indents in the upholstery showed at the fingertips. The blood stopped flowing to the clenched digits turning them white. Trey’s eyes accustomed to the rays shooting out at him in the mild night air and then peering through his fingers, trying to ascertain the point of origin, his head swayed sideways, glimpsing the figure behind the cool laminated glass. Phil’s stare seemed transfixed elsewhere other than himself. Treys choice of T-shirt, a yellow bonds that was by far too small after six or seven years of wash and wear and had a large, winking smiley face and its tongue poking out, even faded, refracted the light into glare. His camouflaged cargo shorts covered his skinny white legs to the calves just below the knee and the low socks in his ‘Pure/Tyranny’, or ‘PT’ runners covered his size eleven feet.

The attire was the ‘look’ of book orientated and academic type students and scholars alike, ‘Geeky chic’. Phil wasn’t much better in the actual wearing of clothes stakes. Although he would tell Trey on many occasions that it was not an attempt to appear trendy, Phil’s appearance was a high priority only to himself. Blessed with flaming red hair that grew faster than his pubic hair and the stubble he constantly shaves, Phil was still an awkward teenager. Not ashamed of his appearance, there were specific times when he would hide behind hats and hair colour. Usually black hair dye would run down his cheeks and face on hot days from the sweat, after that he will change back to his natural look. Both boys grew quickly in their late teens, blossoming into handsome young men. Trey had a well-defined chin and nose. When he eventually fills out, the definition will turn this tall skinny lad into a full chested, rugged man. Like his real father.

Struggling with his typically undone shoe laces, tripping around in a comical Laurel and Hardy type scene, Trey now stood between the luxury car and the hard object he’d backed into. Closer to the windscreen and with less light blinding him, Trey could see into the driver’s side seat and noticed Phil observing something else in their proximity. Something

past and behind him.

Have you ever have that feeling of being watched? Not paranoia, but the enclosed stuffy regard of others around you, like a box had been closed and the very walls were close enough to touch the clothes on your back. Every noise was on top of you and even a pin dropping could be heard. The very essence of your surroundings felt tight as if you weren’t able to move for fear of being seen or caught up in some sinister plot from a 50s B grade movie.

Trey sensed all of that, and there wasn’t a single thing he could do to change the events that followed.

The heavy breath, from behind, made the hairs on the back of Trey’s neck stand on end.

The raspy lungs sounded similar to an emphysema patient. The pure force exhaling onto Trey’s neck told him it was otherwise. Even a horse with pneumonia sounded better than the heat generated onto his bare skin between his shirt and short haircut. Trembling with fear and his hands shaking so much they were unable to hold even an empty can of drink, he turned. What felt like snot, dribbled down his back, underneath the light shirt, cooling as it ran onto his skin, every drop making its way to his middle back, before being absorbed by his old tatty T-shirt. The mass clung to his clothes and skin, giving the exact location of where he could be scrubbing the crud off tonight in the hottest shower he will ever have. So he thought.

Phil’s mouth had been open so long it seemed to drip saliva into his lap, even as only seconds had passed. That serious look from before had now become a serious look of terror, the whites of his eyes were wide and his pupils were dilated. The rich green of his cornea virtually glowed from the dashboard lights reflecting off them. The light blue of the changeable dashboard colours turned his features into a pale, almost iridescent shade of white. A pallor similar to the whitewash he and Trey had painted the flat Trey was now living in. Time seemed to stall in that exact moment as in slow motion, Trey would remember in precise detail each nanosecond of recognition from his peripheral vision picking up the shadow to his right, to the look down to the ground attempting to gauge the distance from where he stood to the grotesque which was taking a long, no, huge step in his direction.

Turning to face his visitor, Trey had to step back towards the Mercedes.

The looming uninvited guest was a good two and a half meters tall. He, or IT, seemed barely clothed, in the bright light of the high beam headlights, a skin tight shirt worn with long sleeves clung like a second skin. The overall effect was the unclothed look. On closer inspection, the faint orange colour ran in line with muscles and bone structures. On purpose or not, the top emphasised the distinct tone and shape, flowing with any