Stream Liner of the Lost Souls

By Paul Leslie Griffiths

The Stream Liner is a powerful alien who crash landed on earth hundreds of years ago, his only goal is to somehow go home, he has no challengers on this planet, and humans to him are nothing more than ants. To keep him from not going insane he devises his own games, these games normally exist of people, men and women as he has no preference, where he can manipulate and make them do things that they would never normally dream of in their own life.
One of the main characters, a young girl by the name of Shannon is struggling to keep herself and her only brother left in this world away from the drugs and gang violence that is rife in their home town, the only problem is Ben her brother has no intention of keeping out of trouble, he has joined a gang and he thinks this is his best way of protecting his sister, he loves the control this gives him over other people. As in real the real world nothing in life is that simple, Shannon's life gets turned on its head as the books go on, finding love is the easy part keeping what she wants is another thing. What with the Stream Liner and a serial killer on the loose nobody is safe, one thing is for sure though Shannon has not come this far to lose what she has left in her life.
"You can run but you cannot hide from the Stream Liner."

• Language: English
• Publisher: Paul Leslie Griffiths
• Release date: Dec 28, 2014
• ISBN: 9781310785412

Paul Leslie Griffiths

Paul Leslie GriffithsBorn February 24, 1962 in Evesham, The United KingdomGender maleGenre Mystery & Thrillers, Horror, supernatural, Paranormal, Suspense.About this authorBorn in the picturesque town of Evesham, Worcester in 1962Youngest of three boysNow live's in Swindon, WiltshireInspirationI first started to write when the time in my life was at its lowest, I needed to come away from the real world and bury myself into a different world a world where I was in full control, who lived, who died, who laughed, who cried , I found that I prefer to be in a fantasy state than real life , I have not changed this thought ever since.

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All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the Author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

The characters in this book are all fictitious, and any resemblance to persons living or dead is entirely co-incidental.

Stream Liner of the Lost Souls

Copyright © 2012 by Paul Leslie Griffiths

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the Author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

There’s a time to live and a time to die. The only trouble is, when would you know?

When would your mind let you freely sacrifice your life? Life is as long or as short as you want it to be, Or so they say.

C H A P T E R 1

The town was busy as usual. Its tall buildings looked like they’d been built when dinosaurs ruled the earth. They had almost all been turned into flats that now a days have come to house the hordes of down-and-outs of Littleworth. The problem the council faced was that too many people were jobless and claiming state benefits.

Some of this was because people did not want to work; the majority wanted to work, however, but had no jobs to go to. The town looked like something out of an old western movie.

The streets, short and narrow, were littered with rubbish, while the roads looked like they were going to collapse at any moment and be swallowed up into the ground and never be seen again. There were shops selling everything from pushbikes to fruit and veg. Most of the sewage system had collapsed years ago. It had never been repaired, the council arguing that too much money was spent on the people claiming benefits and the homeless to be able to pump any more money into the town.

Yes, the town of Littleworth wasn’t exactly the Mecca of the world, but then again, what town was? The cobbled stones in the shopping mall allegedly came from an old castle ruin and many security guards had said they’d seen a ghost walking through the mall late at night. Littleworth’s buildings had never been modernized they’d only been restored, as the council put it, giving the impression of being in a time warp.

The houses surrounding the town were mostly pre-war and run down to such an extent that anyone in their right mind who could afford to move were long gone, leaving the old, the poor, the unemployed and the misfits.

The town was crowded with shoppers rushing around, barging into one another like headless chickens. Ben, who was sitting on a low wall outside the shopping mall, thought they looked as if they were running away from a farmer who was trying to chop off their heads: they were scattering everywhere.

He started to laugh, firstly in his mind and then out loud. What did I miss? Who just got killed? The familiar voice that broke Ben’s train of thought belonged to Dave.

He’d joined the same gang about three months before and had come to Littleworth because he was wanted for numerous offences in various towns.

Why, can’t you see? Ben retorted. Look at them, look at all those chickens running away from that farmer! There scared shitless. Now Dave knew he was a nutter but chickens? What was this bloke on? And if he was on something, where the hell was his share? Even though Ben was a bit of a head case, Dave knew if push came to shove he would like him to be on his side in a fight; Ben might have been the dumbest person he’d ever had the misfortune of knowing, but standing at six foot two and being built like a brick shit-house had it’s uses. Have you took your medicine today? he grinned. God only knows what your sister would say if she thought you were seeing chickens running round the middle of town with clothes on! Ben looked at him with a puzzled expression. You trying to be funny? You know chickens don’t go round wearing clothes? Dave looked at Ben with a worried expression, but decided not to give him a reply.

Besides, a joke’s a joke, right! But this farmer/chicken shit was giving him the willies. He’d seen Ben like this once before and that was once too often.

They carried on watching the people scuttling off to their love-ones and wolf-whistled every bit of skirt that walked past.

Dave managed to grab one girl and tried to stick his tongue down her ear but she was having none of it; she was a feisty lass and pushed him away, telling him in no uncertain terms to go away in short jerking movements.

All in all, bumming around the entrance to the mall had its fringe benefits. One of the girls they jeered at smiled at Dave and blew him a kiss, which wouldn’t have been too bad except she had a face that might easily have cracked walnuts. By the time they’d got bored with their fun and games, the night was drawing in and it was time they’d met up with the rest of the gang.

Come on, we’d better get going it’s late, Dave said, patting his mate on the shoulder.

They started up the road in a lacklustre manner, pushing past anybody who was brave enough or stupid enough to get in their way.

Ben looked at Dave with envy.

He had everything, good looks, charm, wealthy parents, but he’d fallen out with them, or so he said. It made him feel sick what the hell was he doing with the gang? He didn’t belong here; he wasn’t born in this town. ‘Look at him—he thinks his shit don’t stink!’ Ben thought bitterly. ‘Well, I don’t trust him he reckons he knows it all when in fact he don’t know jack shit! How can he? He wasn’t dragged up with hardly any food or with parents that argued day in and day out; no, he didn’t belong here and he never would.’ This got him thinking of an event in his life that he would like to forget, but true to life, the things you want to forget always somehow spring back in your mind like a smack in the mouth you know it’s coming but there’s nothing you can do to stop it.

He could still visualize that old house as if it were only yester-day; he could still smell the stench of the drain that was blocked up, the smell of the dry rotted windowsill that splintered so easy with the force of the crowbar.

It was all so easy he’d managed to break into more houses than he could remember and this one was no different.

That is, apart from one small detail. his brother. He had pestered him to go along with him that day.

Any other time he would have said no, but on this occasion he allowed him to come as long as he did what he was told. He was so proud of his younger brother; he always wanted to be around him, like a lap dog.

Even the voices haunted him to this day: Go on, get in there, you wanted to come, now’s your chance to impress me! If anybody comes I’ll let you know, go on then, we haven’t got all day! His brother clambered through the window and got his leg stuck and fell flat on his face.

The laugh that came out of his mouth still echoed in his mind. He should have gone in himself. If only he had why hadn’t he? Any other time he would have.

This is the question he would have to ask himself for the remainder of his life. Come on, we haven’t got all day! Dave’s voice boomed out. It’ll be Christ-mas before we get there. He didn’t hear him.

The vision in his head was still there, the lights, the sirens that sat on top of the ambulance, the feeling of pure horror and then the silence, as if the world had dissolved from under his feet.

He was floating in limbo. he couldn’t see or hear anything, nothing mattered to him anymore, and nothing ever would.

He tried to snap out of it but the pain was still there, like a blunt knife trying to pierce his scalp but not quite getting through.

It was like an itch that he couldn’t scratch, but the difference was he didn’t ever want to get rid of that itch.

It was his way of punishing himself. Dave had carried on walking. He looked around to see if Ben had caught up.

He wished he’d never bothered, he was so far behind. ‘I don’t know why I bother sometimes,’ he said to himself.

The truth was, if it wasn’t for the feeling of safety that Ben gave everybody when they were in his presence, he wouldn’t be in the gang, but that was just it he did, and that was that.

He decided to sit on a wall and wait for him to catch up.

The town was dying down now, the shops were all shutting up for the evening, and all the upstanding citizens were heading home to the relevant safety of their four walls.

The shop lights went out one by one and the street lamps started to come on. This in turn started to give out shadows of the people walking past the numerous lamps.

He started to ponder over the idea of getting enough money to buy a car. Yes, he could steal one, but then he would always have to worry about what part of the town he went to.

If he strayed out of the brotherhood’s patch there would be no one to back him up if he came across another gang or, indeed, the law.

That was the good part about the patch the law had in the main given up trying to control the area long ago.

Admittedly they still patrolled the area now and again, but most of them were on the take, and money talks in this part of town.

They say money is the root of all evil; well, if that’s the case, he wanted to be Mr Evil! He noticed Ben had caught up and he stood up from his seat on the wall. Bloody hell, Ben, what is it with you today? First of all you start ranting and raving about some farmer, then you start walking like you shit yourself or some-thing.

Ben glared at him, but Dave defused his anger with a burst of Laughter.

"Hey, I’m only jesting with ya man! I feel I can do that with you. Anyway, you know I look on you as my brother? Come on, let’s go we’re nearly there now.

" Dave gave him a reassuring smile and carried on walking. As Ben watched him start to walk on, he had the feeling that perhaps he’d misjudged him.

Perhaps he wasn’t such a prick after all; but then again, perhaps is a big word, isn’t it! They looked up and down North Street to see if the coast was clear.

When they were both satisfied there weren’t any unwanted eyes watching, they pushed open the double corrugated doors just enough to squeeze through.

The old damp warehouse had seen better days. It had been built in the heyday of Littleworth when it was a booming industrial town; rich industrialists had moved into the area, more than happy to pump large amounts of money into the trade, speculating on making large profits. Unfortunately the powers that be for-got one thing it’s all right pumping thousands into the town’s industry, but if you’re not prepared to pump thousands of pounds back to the workforce, the inevitable will happen.

All the young and fit would leave, which left only the old and frail to do fit men’s jobs. Although their minds were willing, their bodies couldn’t keep up with the demand to keep the factories viable.

And so the rich and powerful left the town like it had caught the plague, leaving Littleworth to fend for itself; and now, over the years, the town was not a town anymore it was a war zone. With its fair share of nutters, weirdoes and crackpots all coming out to play at night, the majority of the streetwise had joined gangs with the pretence of the old saying ‘safety in numbers’. The old factory looked like a cesspit; there was a big gap in the roof where the rain had been able to find its way through, and the cast iron stairway leading up to the old dilapidated offices had lost the majority of its handrails.

The only source of light came from the gap in the roof, leaving dark patches throughout the factory, particularly in the corners of the building.

The factory floor was covered with old segments of newspapers, broken bottles and old needles, with a distinct smell of urine and excrement.

They quietly closed the sliding doors. Once they were in neither one of them was prepared to move before his eyes had adjusted to the darkness.

They headed towards the stairway; once they’d got there Ben crouched down and fumbled behind the first step.

After a few seconds he’d found what he was looking for a button and a switch hidden away under the stairwell.

He turned them on and straightened himself up. The lights hanging high in the factory started to twitch in protest, as if reluctant to be disturbed.

After a few seconds they flooded the area with a steady light. Ben and Dave waited a few minutes, not saying a word, but as the time ticked by without the response they were looking for, they started to look at each other with a look of ‘where the hell are they!’ The longer they waited the more nervous they became; one of the gang should have been on guard and met them at the top of the stairs, but for some reason nobody came.

Without saying a word they both reached for their guns simultaneously. Dave’s heart was beating as fast as an express train, his senses tingling with fear and excitement.

The adrenaline rush was unbelievable. Every sound seemed twice as loud as normal; he thought he could even hear Ben’s pounding heart.

Ben started to climb the stairs in a crablike movement, his gun trained to the top of the stairs whilst Dave followed tentatively, pointing his gun anywhere and everywhere that he thought he heard a sound.

The higher they got to reaching the top the more Dave wished he could just turn round and hightail it out of there, but he didn’t know what was waiting at the bottom of the factory floor or even if there was anything.

One thing was certain he felt safer in numbers, even if it was only the two of them. They finally reached the top and slowly headed towards one of the office doors.

Ben gestured to Dave to stay on the left-hand side of the door whilst he quickly got himself positioned on the right.

He got on his hands and knees and looked to see if he could detect any movement from the gap at the bottom of the door.

He noticed the light was on inside. He cautiously extended his arm out towards the door handle; he took a firm hold of it, and with a flip of his wrist he tried to open it but the handle came off in his hand.

Dave looked on in disbelief whilst Ben just stared at the handle as if it held him in a trance or something.

Dave shook his head as if to say ‘you useless bastard’.

This sent Ben in a rage. He body checked the door with such force that it was torn from its hinges.

This in turn sent him and the door tumbling into the office. Dave froze on the spot and held his breath whilst the thud of the door echoed around the building for what seemed an age before silence reasserted itself. He poked his head around, only to see Ben sprawled across the floor, shrouded in a cloud of dust.

Well, that was fun, Dave said with a wide grin. Ben heaved himself off the floor, brushing himself down before glancing over at him.

I’m fine mate, thanks for the concern.

Hey, think nothing of it. Just as they were starting to let their guard down they heard a thud. It seemed to come from the adjoining office.

Their senses immediately sprang back into overdrive; Dave had managed to reload and pointed his gun in the direction of the sound.

Ben quickly realized he was without his and frantically scanned the floor where he had fallen. No sooner had he spotted his gun than they both heard the noise again. This time it was louder. It was obvious who or whatever it was, was right behind the door.

Ben dived for his gun whilst Dave started to shoot wildly at the closed door. He was still pulling the trigger long after all his bullets had gone.

Ben by this time had man-aged to retrieve his own gun and pointed it at the bullet-riddled door. Silence reasserted itself.

They slowly looked at each other. Your turn, I believe, Ben said, gesturing towards the door with a broad grin.

Dave hesitantly headed towards the door, staring at the handle as if expecting it to move at any second. He managed to pick up enough courage to stretch his arm out long enough to reach it. He glanced at Ben for reassurance that he’d got him covered, then nodded his head in acknowledgement.

He began to turn the handle and positioned his body so that he could jump out of the line of fire when the door opened. It quickly transpired that the door wouldn’t swing open freely.

They looked at each other. Ben could feel the sweat oozing from every pore in his body.

He re adjusted his vicelike grip on the butt of his gun. Dave made a second attempt to open the door.

This time he used more force.

It opened a few inches before stopping dead. The only explanation as far as he was concerned was that someone was behind it.

He decided enough was enough and leapt out of the way. Ben took his cue and proceeded to open fire wildly at the partly open door for what seemed like an eternity.

He kept firing until eventually, his finger still pulling the trigger automatically, he realized he too had used up all his bullets.

They looked at the door. There was no movement or noise coming from the other side. Whoever was behind it could not possibly have survived the barrage of bullets.

Ben went up to the door and confidently pushed it, but still it refused to open more than a few inches.

Then he put all his weight behind the door that slowly but surly opened, a little more with each shove of his full weight.

Eventually there was enough of a gap for him to squeeze through.

He could not have ever imagined the horror that befell him.

There were bodies everywhere.

The corpse that lay behind the door seemed to have a thousand bullet holes in it.

Then the realization dawned on him.

They’d been shooting one of their own gang members, possibly the only survivor who would have been able to explain the massacre before them.

Dave entered the room only to be presented with the worst carnage of his life.

The room was covered in blood.

It was everywhere, up the walls, even dripping from the ceiling.

The floor looked as though gallons of red wine had been spilt upon it.

Something or someone had wiped away the majority of their gang in one fell swoop, but who? Why weren’t there any bodies of the attackers? Surely, even if it were an ambush, they, or it, couldn’t have killed them all? At least not without a big fight! They had to try and find out.

They went over to the bodies in the hope of finding one of them to be still alive, but to no avail—they were all past caring.

Their number had come up and no caring in the world was going to bring them back from where they had gone.

Ben went over to the window that was situated at the far side of the room. This confused him even more.

He noticed the gang’s emergency ladder at the end of the flat roof was still tied up as usual. This being the case, how could the gang not have detected the intruders? They should have had ample warning.

If they had came through the factory the alarm should have warned them as soon as the intruders started to climb the stairs! Something’s wrong here, Ben mumbled under his breath. No shit, Dave replied, bemused. "I don’t know what shit’s going down here, but I think it’s time to split.

I don’t know about you but I’m outa here." Ben acknowledged him and they headed towards the factory stairs.

They reached the doorway where Ben had previously demolished the door. They both heard a distinctive sound getting louder and louder.

The police were on their way and by the commotion the factory doors were making, some of them had already got there.

They didn’t need any cues; they turned round and ran back to the office. Once they got there they headed for the window.

Ben pulled the sliding window down and they both clambered out onto the flat part of the roof and reached the gang’s escape ladder.

Dave fumbled to untie the rope that was holding the ladder up; once the rope was free the ladder went crashing down towards the ground in sections until it was complete.

This allowed them to climb down; when they were safely on the ground they started to run as fast as there legs would carry them.

They managed to reach a park. With the relative safety of the trees and bushes they decided to stop running and fell in a heap on the ground, out of breath and exhausted with an overwhelming sense of relief.

Dave tried to get the air back in his lungs. He sat up. It was times like these he’d wished he were as fit as Ben.

Even though his frame was quite slim, he never really kept his body in peek condition.

He didn’t have to he could eat as much as he wanted and not put on an ounce of fat.

And besides, his father was a keep fit freak that used to bombard him through his childhood with insults, calling him a lazy bastard who was good for nothing and wouldn’t make anything of his life as long as he had a hole in his ass.

Well, stuff him, he thought.

As far as he was concerned he didn’t have a father, nor did he need one; and, in any case, the numerous girls in his life had never complained about his physique.

Ben looked at him, as if reading his mind; he patted him on the back, then proceeded to do press-ups! Was Ben as thick as shit like he’d made out, or was he just a very funny man? Dave was beginning to wonder. I think it’s best if we split and meet up in the morning, Dave said. There’s nothing we can do tonight and, besides, the police are going to be swarming all over the place.

Ben