Dead

By Selena Jacobs

Beyond the thin film of life exists a dimension feared by the living since the dawn of time, an unavoidable world for us all, a world terrorised by monsters...one a man whose reputation strikes fear by name alone, the other a beast of unstoppable power.

When Bethany and her two young sons are killed by a head-on collision with a bus she finds herself forced into a battle of survival in a world overrun by lawless legions of the dead who revel in the soulless anarchy of the dark side.

The time has come to join the crusade against forces of evil beyond the eye of God. Hold tightly to the promised immortality of your soul to see beyond that of corruption, temptation and the powers of darkness, or be lost forever...to the dark side.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Tellwell Talent
• Release date: Feb 25, 2015
• ISBN: 9781925219609

Selena Jacobs

Selena is the author of "Dead" and currently lives in the Blue Mountains, Australia with her husband and two children.

Book preview

Some Kind of Animal

1.

Behind his closed lids the world was dark, comfortable and uncomplicated. At times like this, Chase often found himself wondering if this is what it’s like when you’re really dead, if this is what it’s like after the fatal touch of the beast …

‘I won’t tell you again.’ The order sounded casual, but Chase knew what to expect. The man sitting beside him on the concrete floor of his perspex cell was especially defiant, despite the dead man tied behind him. When they had brought him in Chase could tell immediately that this wasn’t his first time in the land of the dead; Jordon McAlister was not a fresh soul. It was, however, the first time that he had taken it upon himself to get Crowley.

People like Jordon who had previous experience in this dimension understood very well that the sooner you did a good deed the sooner you’d be reborn, and as the reigning king of the dark side, Crowley was considered a prime target by any vigilante worth his salt. Take him out and come dawn you’d be nothing more than a thin streak of light in the sky with the cry of a newborn infant ready to emerge from your throat. Over the past century thousands of would-be assassins had tried their luck, himself included, and yet none had prevailed. Crowley was more than just a cruel dictator, Crowley was smart.

‘Listen to me you silly man, the request is simple. All you have to do is put your hand on his body. If you don’t do it, I’ll shoot you.’ Crowley’s tone was chilled, malevolent.

‘Fuck you old-timer, do your worst,’ Jordon spat and Chase shivered when he realised that Jordon would refuse to touch him unto the bitter end. Though he admired Jordon’s defiance Chase tuned out their ensuing low voiced argument, refusing to participate any more than he was forced to and turned his attention instead to the silence in his mind. In it he saw everything, including what he had become.

Like Jordon, his heart held the conviction of a man determined to do righteous murder. He was also, however, a man who had become an animal, a helpless victim forced into a spectrum of cruelty beyond the eye of God.

Chase’s power was evident to Crowley the instant he pounced him at a sacrifice five years earlier. Chase should have gotten him then, but his men were quick, and though his power had been flowing freely beneath his skin, it could not move under the constant burn of the lights. He was captured and his plans had consequently changed.

Crowley was far from stupid. He understood immediately that he was no ordinary vigilante, and Chase subsequently found himself locked up and under constant guard.

In the beginning, the only reason Crowley kept him was because he wanted his power for himself. Every day since his capture Crowley sat with him in his little perspex cell for hours, seemingly willing his power over to him, and day after day nothing happened. Crowley could do little to force him, death threats held no power in the land of the dead. Come midnight everyone murdered or mortally wounded—a common occurrence under Crowley’s rule—comes back with nothing to account for it other than a memory. A person can’t die on the dark side of the moon. They could, however, be tortured.

Before Crowley left Chase’s cell each day he would look at him—his eyes dark, narrow and mean—and then he would shoot him in the head. He never threatened to feed him to the beast, nor did he threaten to sink him in the harbour like he had with the valiant unfortunates who were silly enough to think that they could become the elusive legend who took the life of Crowley. And though Chase understood that Crowley considered him too valuable for that, every day he could see in those dark mean little eyes that he wanted to. Crowley didn’t like the idea of another man being more powerful than he was. Crowley wanted him dead—permanently. And up until a week ago, Chase had thought that it would happen very soon.

It happened by pure accident. Before Trevor, even Chase hadn’t realised that he could mess with the living. Before Trevor, Chase had thought he was in control of his dark power. Trevor changed everything because Trevor was a paedophile.

There was nothing that Chase hated more than people who abused children. He had been dead for a long time now, and though he had been mentally disabled when he was alive, Chase clearly remembered his step-father abusing his step sister each night. He remembered because he hadn’t been able to help her. His body had been weak and feeble—powerless. When he died, however, Chase discovered quickly that he was more than just physically powerful—he was dangerous. Chase waited for his step-father on the dark side of the moon for many years, his anger building, fermenting, evolving. Now, looking back, Chase realised that it was his step-father who had changed him into what he had become.

Crowley had sent Trevor into his cage to handcuff him, a common ritual before he himself entered. The minute Trevor touched him Chase was overwhelmed, and though the anger was quick, the urge to see through him and into the life he had led up top was irrepressible …and uncontrollable. Trevor was a fresh soul in the land of the dead, killed only a few days earlier by a distraught father living two blocks up. The second Trevor touched him Chase’s power moved of its own volition, shifting his vision swiftly to the world up top so that he could lash out at the woman—Victoria—who had been abducting children with Trevor. Though inexperienced, his power automatically punched viciously into her mind so suddenly and so forcibly that she had swung her car towards a telegraph pole, breaking her neck and dying instantly. Seeing everything that had happened Trevor broke from the room screaming Victoria’s name. Brow furrowed, Crowley had simply watched him leave, his heinous grin spreading wide as he looked back to Chase.

When Trevor brought Victoria back with him to explain what had happened Crowley decided to sacrifice them both to the beast that very same night. Chase knew that Crowley was only doing it to manipulate him—but he had enjoyed Victoria’s death. The monster inside him thirsted for her, for both of them, and later, that very same day, that feeling had been satisfied. The beast had showed for the sacrifice, sending both Trevor and Victoria into the void of eternal darkness, their screams echoing in his head, a delight that he had replayed as often as he had found himself alone.

Now, however, Crowley wanted an innocent. Like Chase, he too had enjoyed watching the brutal sacrifice of Trevor and Victoria. Watching it had given him ideas, ideas that would only gratify a deluded ruthless killer. It wasn’t that Crowley assumed that the beast would like untainted blood; Crowley didn’t really care what the beast wanted. Crowley wanted to be feared. Crowley wanted each and every person that looked upon him to be struck with the kind of fear that set the foundations of terror. He wanted them all to see that he not only ruled the land of the dead, he wanted them all to see the power he had over the living.

Taking an innocent life from the land of the living would be the absolute worst thing Chase could ever do in his quest to destroy him.

At the sound of the hammer of Crowley’s gun being clicked into place Chase opened his eyes and looked up at him, his jaw tightening as his dark power lunged beneath his skin like a live thing.

Crowley grinned at him, his lips tight and nasty. Looking past him he brought up the pistol and Chase looked away. The ensuing gunshot rang loudly in his ears, but it was the hand suddenly gripping his arm that made Chase flinch. He had expected Crowley to shoot Jordon in the head.

Jordon’s touch surged through him and despite squeezing his eyes tightly closed the living world flashed open before him, the alteration of dimensions so abrupt and forceful that Chase gasped out loud.

He saw her immediately, standing in the doorway of a burger shop with the sun pinching her cheeks and turning them pink as though they were those of a mischievous grandmother. He felt the hand holding his arm stiffen, and he knew that Jordon could see her too. Pulling at the air Chase used it to empower himself, fusing a brief union between the two lovers despite the yawning void of darkness hovering between their dimensions. As he expelled his breath he watched her eyes skipping quickly over the sea of faces in the street. A glorious flutter of hope flitted across her lovely face and he sighed, the sensation heavy with regret. She had already sensed them on the dark side. The connection was strong.

She was beautiful, her body tempered by good health and an endurance harnessed only by the young. Her blond hair moved hypnotically, touched and caressed by the long fingers of the warm summer breeze as she raised herself to her tippy toes, her eyes hungry, roving the crowd faster, looking for an answer to the sudden sensation that she felt bursting inside of her.

Then she was looking at him, her brow creased, and Chase suddenly found himself seeing beyond her features and into the woman that Jordon had loved.

At that point he lost all control. Now that the connection had been made, Chase was nothing more than a passenger.

He swallowed against the horrible lump in his throat. She was so young, too young to die. Not too young to fall for her professor however, about that she had felt most mature. Jordon McAllister had been a god, her personal Indiana Jones. Jordon had fallen for her just as hard as she had for him. And the gentle, well-mannered seduction that had followed had been wonderful in comparison to the anxious groping hands of her previous suitors.

‘Come on sweetheart.’ Moving in a dreamlike fashion the girl turned her head and allowed herself to be led up the street by her mother without taking her eyes off them. People moved between them weakening the connection and she began to resist, her expression filling quickly with the severity of her angst. Chase’s heart thudded heavily against his chest when he watched her twist her hand free and push back through the crowd towards them. When she lunged into traffic her senses were blind, her ears deaf to the screams of her mother chorusing with the panicked cries of the other pedestrians behind her. She only had eyes for Jordon.

2.

Chase felt a jolt when the girl died. He opened his eyes and looked up at Crowley, his eyes flashing large with rage. Crowley cocked his head and smiled. He knew that he could do it.

‘Where is she?’ he asked, holding down the relay button on his walkie-talkie, the device an inch from his face.

‘Macquarie Street, two blocks from here,’ Chase whispered, the fury he felt tightening his throat.

‘We see her,’ the response sudden and loud in the silence. ‘Wow, she sure is a pretty one boss.’ Anthony’s voice came to them loud and strong over the roar of their vehicle. ‘The boys are going to love her.’

Crowley’s eyes never left Chase’s. The walkie-talkie hung from his left hand, black and lifeless. To Chase, however, that thing was alive and breathing, the fresh young soul shrieking within its range already facing doom. Dropping his haunted eyes Chase tightened his lips. The gun in Crowley’s hand was a shine of silver that hung in his peripheral vision like a burst of sunlight. Though Crowley had what he wanted Chase knew he might still use it—Crowley was as unpredictable as a two-year-old child. Terror was part of his regime.

Jordon began to cry openly. It was his girlfriend that Anthony—Crowley’s most reliable thug—was talking about. Now she was dead—and soon to be deader. Chase felt his eyes on him but he did not turn to see the anguish in his face. Jordon McAllister now knew why Crowley hadn’t killed him the instant he had tried to take his life, why he had shot and killed one of his own men, why he had tied him to the dead body and why he had dragged him down to this godforsaken dungeon to sit with the dirty man in the perspex cell—he was bait. Chase listened to his sobbing, his despair for the man going much deeper than he imagined possible. Jordon was a seasoned player when it came to the dark side of the moon. He thought that he had all his ducks lined up in a row when he went after Crowley. He thought that he was only risking his own life. The dirty man in the perspex cell had changed all that.

Crowley continued to eye Chase. He grinned wide, his dark eyes glittery and bright with amusement. He raised his right hand, the muzzle of the gun wavering so close to Chase’s face that he grimaced from the lingering scent of gun smoke. The bullet resided deep inside Jordon’s thigh, a souvenir of his earlier retaliation.

‘You don’t want me to shoot you anymore, do you?’ Crowley mused. Jordon cried out and pushed out with his feet in an attempt to get away from the looming gunfire, his grunting from the effort of moving the dead man lolling against his back loud and pitiful in the silence.

Crowley looked away from Chase and eyed Jordon, his expression folding and creasing darkly. He turned his head to Carl who was waiting behind him, chewing his fingernails and appearing disinterested. ‘Get this fucking lollipop out of here, Carl … CARL.’ Crowley turned fully towards him and brought the butt of his gun up swiftly, catching the edge of the big man’s jaw with such force that a tooth shot clear in a dramatic spray of blood.

Nonplussed, Carl spat a glop of blood on the floor between them and looked at Crowley with distaste. ‘Sorry … What?’

Crowley ground his teeth and narrowed his eyes. ‘I said; get this man out of here. I don’t want to see his stupid fucked up face again until tonight, got it?’

Carl nodded, sighing as he lunged forward and grabbed Jordon by the arm. Crowley stepped back to give him room to drag both him and the dead body past them. The dead body was security. Some people, vigilantes especially, could disappear, but not when they were tied to someone. Chase ignored Jordon’s ‘how could you?’ stare—the physics of his power was beyond even him to fathom. Before the paedophile, he hadn’t known how easy it was to mess with the living. Truth be told, he hadn’t even really put in that much of an effort. Jordon had done most of it all by himself. When the chips were down it was quite common for a man to think about the pleasures of life, to fill his mind with the time spent up top, where things mattered. The poor girl hadn’t looked either way when she had raced across the road, her eyes blind with tears, her mind made blind with the image of Jordon.

It was an illusion of course. Jordon didn’t exist up top any more than he did, but to the girl he would have appeared as every bit as real as the half-eaten burger in her stomach. That was until she was fiercely crushed beneath a four-wheel drive doing 80 in a 60 zone and sat up looking bewildered on the dark side of the moon. A place where everything appeared normal, but wasn’t.

When the sounds of Carl dragging the two men began to fade Crowley holstered his gun and crouched down in front of him, his eyes peering sharply at him out of his heavily lined face. Time spun out. Chase sat with his head lowered and his arms wrapped tightly around himself, not looking up when Carl returned, his finger tap on the perspex between them impatient.

‘I’m not going to shoot you today,’ he said finally, his tone conversational as he straightened. ‘You’ll stay here tonight with Carl. Keep this up, however, and I might let you out next time to watch.’ He looked down at him, his eyes keen for signs of anguish. Crowley liked anguish, he liked any kind of hot heady emotion, but Chase kept his head down and his body still—no satisfaction here.

Crowley abruptly turned on his heel and left, commanding Carl to stay, his steps keeping an even pace until the heavy door closed behind him.

Carl watched him depart with a sour expression on his face. Thirty seconds after the door closed and he considered Crowley out of earshot he opened the door and ran at Chase, catching him directly on his right cheek with an uppercut that put out the lights.

3.

Dum thump thok

Chase opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling. His head hurt horribly, puffy with a complication of blue black flesh that pushed against his eye socket making his vision swim with pain.

Dum thump thok

Ignoring Carl and his tennis ball he turned his tortured eyes to the window at the back of his cell. It was already dark. He felt the rise of panic—good lord, had he missed it?

‘Come here you oversized fucking meat ball,’ Jordon suddenly screamed from down the hall. ‘Come here so I can shove that goddamned fucking ball down your fucking throat until you choke on it.’

Dum thump thok

Jordon screamed, loud and long. It sent a chill down Chase’s spine, and yet he was also profoundly relived. The sacrifice hadn’t happened. He had time.

The door at the end of the corridor creaked open and two men armed with shotguns strode in, their pace rapid as they passed between Carl and Chase’s perspex cave. Chase rolled over onto his stomach to watch, his ears attentive when they went out of sight. Carl caught his eye and snarled before resuming his one-man tennis match.

Dum thump thok

The double roar of the shotgun was terrific in the closed holding area and the smell of blood and discharged weapon swept up the corridor thick and fast. Chase felt his body thrum with excitement when Carl leapt to his feet and hurled himself down the hall, his heavy bulk moving quicker than Chase could have imagined. He crawled rapidly to the glass and pressed his face against it, listening keenly to the shouts and hollers, trying to get a fix on who had been shot. He recoiled when Carl suddenly walked into view and slapped his bloody hand on the glass where his face had been, the perspex humming from the impact. His eyes widened when he saw Jordon being dragged along behind him. Though he was still tied to his dead passenger he had managed to work free one of his hands, which he fashioned into a make-believe gun and pretended to fire off a round.

‘When I come back I’ll kill you all,’ he promised, his bloodshot eyes flashing wildly, frightened despite his heroics. He caught Chase’s eye and Chase could see in his ravaged terror-stricken face that Jordon was far from delusional. He was acutely aware that where they were taking him, people didn’t come back—ever. He held his gaze for a second more, his eyes seeming to pierce a dime sized hole right through him. ‘Kill them all,’ he whispered, his eyes beaming with intelligence. ‘I know you can kill them all.’

Chase stood up and pressed against the glass as Carl dragged his now stone-faced quarry out the door. When the door closed he spun away from it rapidly, his heart thrumming hard enough for him to hear in the sudden silence. He was alone.

A brilliant flash of light burst into the cell. And then he was gone.

A Faint Cold Fear

1.

Bethany closed her eyes when she felt herself move. Inside it felt as though her body was being vaporised. Every atom within her zoomed, streaming through the cool atmosphere of the night, the air touching her intimate and very cold. She shuddered, and then she was really moving, shifting across the stratosphere like smoke blown by the steadfast breath of angels. Energy filled her, rushing throughout every particle of her body until sheer exhilaration forced her eyes to fly open and she gasped out loud.

She looked around wildly, her surroundings foreign and unexpected. Her eyes fell on the man beside her, holding her hand and she felt a strangeness overcome her. His eyes penetrated hers, drawing her into the darkness within them and she found herself dutifully relenting to the pressure he applied, folding her legs beneath her and crouching behind the bushes with him in complete silence. Her eyes roved forward, searching the world in front of her, knowing that it was full of danger.

Across the road an enormous building spread across the land. It rose into the black moonless sky like an enchanted castle, the turrets tall and foreboding. When her eyes dropped down she drew a shaky breath and held it in her chest where it seemed to chill her entire bloodstream with a bang.

A young man stood on the steps, his brow furrowed as he looked out into the night. To Bethany he appeared many years older than his youth suggested. The taunt, strong body that lurked beneath his fitted black t-shirt and jeans matched his jaw line, giving her the impression that he had already lived a very long and very rough life. He walked forward a few steps, heading in their direction, his lips tight against his face. Bethany was terrified. She wanted to move again, to streak away from him but the man beside her refused to let go. The high roar of an approaching motorbike filled the air and she watched the man walking towards them turn to the sound of the oncoming motor, his expression set as he reached behind him.

Bethany had seen men reach like that before, people like her brother. He was reaching for his gun. The grip on her hand suddenly tightened dramatically … a burst of anxiety exploded inside her.

Something was wrong, something was terribly wrong.

Looking beyond the gun toting blond she spied her youngest boy in the doorway. She tried to lunge forward, to go to him but the pressure on her hand increased and she turned to the man beside her with anger blooming hotly. Wordlessly he pointed her attention back to the castle and her eyes flew wide …

Jesse’s face had grown hard, but Bethany had seen that expression before … it was the gun in his hand that had shocked her.

‘No …’

The man standing in front of him began to turn around and Jesse’s lips curled into a snarl. His arm straightened, his stance steadied, and just as the man began to bring his own gun up, he fired.

The man beside her released her hand and once again Bethany moved … only this time she seemed to move faster, her anxiousness to be with her son overwhelming the thrill of the ride. She dropped to her knees in front of him and lifted her eyes to his with her arms open. The relief that washed across his tiny face drawing a heavy sob that seemed to thud all the way up from her belly to her lips.

Dropping the gun to the ground he cried out and rushed against her. Bethany held him tightly, looking around at the people standing in the street, knowing that in a short moment, all her fears were to collide. Her boys were in danger, serious danger. More bad people were coming for them, people that wanted her sons dead. Swallowing against the looming sense of terrible danger she lifted her head, the ever building steady rush of fear hitting her system like a bomb when she saw them coming …

2.

‘Mum … Mummy,’ Bethany felt hands on her and she sat up rubbing her eyes with her mind turning quickly. It was just a dream. ‘Mum, we got to get Jeremy. Come on, let’s go, go, go …’ Bethany pulled Jesse onto her lap and hugged him hard. ‘Too tight, Mum, you’re squeezing me.’ Jesse struggled in her arms to get free.

Bethany set him down on his feet and touched his face, smiling. ‘Mummy nodded off and had a bad dream baby, sorry, I didn’t mean to squeeze you so tight.’

‘Did it have bad guys? Did you get them?’ Jesse’s eyes were suddenly bright, interested. He loved to get bad guys … it was his thing. Her brother Dan encouraged the boy every chance he got. Last weekend he had brought him a new PlayStation game, Duke Nukem Forever. Jesse had completed every level by Wednesday. Not a single bad guy had survived.

She eyed his excitement and wondered if he would join her brother when he grew up and become a part of the Federal Police. According to Dan, Jesse had a killer’s eye. ‘Of course we got the bad guys,’ she shuddered at the memory of the dream, her nervous system still singing with the anticipation of battle.

‘Was I in it? Did I save everybody?’

In her mind Bethany saw him, saw his dark expression as he pulled the trigger and shot the blond in the face …

Bethany shook it off and laughed her hand rough as she tousled his hair. ‘It was just a dream, honey, but I am sure that if any of us were ever in trouble, you would be the one to save us all.’

Jesse picked up his toy laser gun from the coffee table, another one of Dan’s gifts and immediately went into a stiff stance, firing once like he meant it. ‘I’d shoot them right in the head,’ he said coldly. Bethany watched him for a second before getting up from the lounge shaking her head and smiling. Dan had the boy pegged. Ever since they were born she had suffered terrible nightmares of having them taken from her and she had compensated her fear by teaching them both how to protect each other. What she hadn’t predicted was how fierce the emotion would become.

She had taught them to be careful, to watch and calculate situations before acting. It was smart. As she had educated herself to be a protective parent, she had educated them to protect themselves and each other. Both Jeremy and Jesse knew that if they got into a situation with a bad man they were to firstly punch them in the balls, and then, when they had bent over in agony, the throat. Some of her friends had thought this to be a bit hardcore but to her it was imperative that they knew how to do as much damage as humanly possible; nothing was off the table when it came to survival. It terrified her to think that there were people out there that wanted children for their own sick perverted means, and she was damned if they were ever going to get their grubby mitts on hers. Not without a fight, she thought stubbornly, her emotions still wound up tightly from the dream.

As she moved into the kitchen to get Jesse’s shoes she looked back to watch him roll on the floor and aim at the skeleton statue of Michael Jackson on top of a speaker. The red point of the laser was right between his eyes. She sighed, still smiling. She had watched him perfect that move for nearly six months. It hadn’t taken that long for him to make the roll look right, but she understood that Jesse had persisted until it felt right. When it came to pretending to be in a fire fight, Jesse took every move seriously. He had impressed Dan and a few of the undercover guys that he kept company with on many occasions far beyond the communal adult appreciation of a child doing or saying something clever. When Jesse was around what little emotion these men had was clearly evident on their faces. She wholly doubted that he would ever be put in a situation where he would need these uncanny skills, but they all agreed that it sure it didn’t hurt to hone it. If he did grow up to be on the force, the younger he started the better. It was a dangerous world out there for a cop.

‘Come and put your shoes on, baby,’ she called placing them where he could see them and looking for her watch. She smiled when she saw it hanging on Tony Montana’s arm, a reasonably sized figurine that she had bought for Will long before they had children. Jesse had obviously put it there for her to find. The fact that his machine gun was aimed at face height was a dead giveaway. She picked it off carefully whilst Jesse busied himself behind her putting his shoes on. Will had bought the vintage Rolex for her when she had received her first big check. He had told her that ten thousand dollars wasn’t a drop in the ocean when she had complained about the expense. Though he went along with her philanthropy, Will wanted her to have nice things that showed her success. She had, however, made him stop after the watch. When there were children starving in the world such frivolous possessions made her feel uneasy; there were better things to spend money on than flashy materialistic crap that saved no one.

She checked the time. They still had at least half an hour before Jeremy finished school. Jesse knew, however, that if they got there early he would be allowed to play with the other kids before the bell rang. She frowned. It baffled her to think about how he knew to calculate the time—he couldn’t read time yet … could he? She shrugged. Trying to figure Jesse out was like trying to see what was at the bottom of an abyss.

Jesse was a boy that people noticed. Though he had only just turned four he was big for his age. Tall, lean and fit. Three afternoons a week she took them down to the oval in Malvern Street. It was not a big oval but it was discreet, heavily flanked by a forest that made the Blue Mountains world famous. Often they would train. Dan, a high ranking Federal Officer had taught her numerous martial arts, and passing these skills onto her boys was a weekly priority. Mostly, however, they would just run, filling their lungs with the cool mountain air and streaking away from each other as they took turns in playing catch. As small and as young as he was, neither she nor Jeremy could outrun Jesse, and when he tackled, he tackled for keeps.

Jesse lifted the gate that she had made to keep him from falling down the steep stairs and headed down to the garage. After slipping her phone into her backpack where she kept the essentials Bethany followed him with her mind on her dream.

It always unsettled her when they felt so real, and though the rush of emotions that she had felt for her boys subsided the second she woke up, they rode in her chest like a nervous energy making her heart thump a little faster. The thudding reminded Bethany of the few times that her dreams had been a prognostication of the future. She watched Jesse hop into the back of the car and shivered as the memory of the intruder fell upon her mind’s eye and she saw herself play out the dream she had a few days before to perfection. Though she had never confided this to anyone Bethany had always thought that it was the dream that had made her alive today. That night was not your average B and E. The man had broken in to get her.

Bethany understood that she had most probably manufactured these prognostic dreams with her fears. Hell, it was normal. And yet when her dreams had her babies in danger the very thought of the possibility of it becoming real chilled her. The faint cold nasty feeling that anything could happen to that little boy now waving to her from behind the wheel made her ill and yet the simple fact of the matter was that there were people out there that liked to harm children.

She recalled the man holding her hand in her dream, his face was now as non-descript to her as a man with his back turned, and yet the man himself felt indelible. Though she couldn’t recall his features she remembered feeling as though he was with her … he had been there to help. She frowned. Why hadn’t it been Will? He was their father, her husband. Why hadn’t she imagined him there rather than some random stranger?

Shaking her head she ushered Jesse into the back seat and slipped in behind the wheel. Dreams were bizarre. As she reversed down the drive she waved to Anna and Brian. As usual, they were working in the front garden. The garden was magnificent, the pride of the mountains, and they worked hard at it. She looked away from them when she found herself thinking that Jeremy would have been safe with them when Jesse had shot the bad man in the face and she felt that horrible anxiousness swell in her chest once again … and though she mentally pushed the dream away she allowed herself to acknowledge that it was good to know that they were living next to people that would always be there for her family should anything happen. In reality, Bethany knew that her neighbours could be counted on in a crisis. Anna and Brian loved her children. They had known them most of their lives.

She and Will had moved here without much, and for the first two years they had rented this place. When they had bought it, her older neighbours had been overjoyed. She smiled and pressed her foot down, leaving the house behind them. Everybody liked it when they lived near people that they liked. It made life less complicated, easy.

‘Can I get a toy when we go to the shops?’

Bethany looked at Jesse’s hopeful face in the rear view mirror and smiled. They always did their big shop at Coles on Fridays. How the hell he knew when it was Friday was just another one of those things that baffled her about him. ‘If you and Jeremy behave I will give you each five dollars to spend, how’s that sound?’

‘Yahoo!’ He pumped his little fists in the air and looked out the window, grinning his ass off, making Bethany laugh, her nasty dream finally pushed back into the recesses of her mind with the rest of them.

When it came to her fears for her children they often played out in her dreams. For the most part, she used these mythical situations to calculate what she would do to get the happy ending that everyone desired in a story. When they felt as strong and as real as this one did, however, she tried to forget them. It was hard enough protecting them in the real world let alone the crazy world of dreams. The anxiety wasn’t worth it.

Departure

1.

Picking up Jeremy from school had been an exhausting adventure. Jesse hadn’t wanted to leave when the bell rang and she had been forced to carry him to Jeremy’s class as well as to the car. Jesse might have been lean, but he was solid and when he didn’t want to do something it took all her strength to contain him. The shopping hadn’t gone smoothly either, and chasing them to behave had sapped her energy completely.

Leaning heavily against their black Jeep Bethany took a deep breath and closed her eyes, arming away the sweat on her brow. It wasn’t that she was mad or upset, sometimes this was just how it went with kids, but before she got back in the car she needed a breather. Her ears sang. Jesse had fair clawed them red raw. He did not want to get back into the car and put his seatbelt on and when he was of that mind it was a challenge. It wasn’t that he was a bad boy, he just wanted to run free and Bethany could understand that. She loved the little mongrel, as Will fondly called him, a label that had become much more apt since his third birthday, but the ear shredding was something that she could have done without.

It was a great comfort at that moment to remind herself that Will did not have to work this coming weekend; she was looking forward to a break. He was going to take the boys down to his parents’ home in Sydney for the weekend, leaving her to work. She opened her eyes, smiling as she pictured working to music so loud that it shook the house, her responsibilities down to a minimum.

Of course, she would clean. That was a given. First she would vacuum, then wash the timber floors, clean surfaces, make the beds and do the washing. Sure these were chores, but the music would be on, and it would be loud, the beat fuelling an energy that she revelled in. Besides, she preferred a clean space. Once she was done, she could concentrate on creating.

Her eyes brightened as she thought of the status she would achieve once she finished this particular contract … and hopefully, that was going to be this weekend. Six months ago a national radio network had put a large offer on the table for her to create a FM station that would seize the ears of every teenager in the country, and of course squeeze a few pennies out of each one of them. She had taken the job because the idea of the station was not to add voice to the many conglomerates that had already bombarded people to death with their tedious spruiking but to make it a label of its own. Its own merchandise, festivals and such, the type that created a cult following. Bethany had seen the potential immediately, sitting up into the wee hours writing reams of ideas the very same night. Those reams had come together over the last six months and Bethany really felt as though she had done herself proud.

To be successful these days, a person had to be savvy. The advertising game wasn’t what it used to be, over the years it had become a complicated science. Just catching the punter’s eye was not enough, advertisers wanted more, they wanted their products drilled deep into people’s unsuspecting brains, and as a result agency competition had become fierce and as shrewd as the work itself.

Bethany was not especially proud of making people spend money, but if one really considered it, materialism was now simply considered an unstoppable disease limited only by the imagination of people like her. She only ever took on jobs that had a legitimate product, something that would actually improve a person’s quality of life. Her smile expanded. Turning down jobs had actually worked in her favour … well, the results of the jobs that she had taken had helped. Truth was that she kicked ass, her subliminal technique was unsurpassed, and for the past two years the infinite money pit world of corporate marketing had her private number. They called often and they paid well.

She crinkled her nose, her smile fading. At times, it annoyed her that Will insisted on working. Her face smoothed as she thought of him. She knew that he enjoyed it. She too enjoyed the fringe benefits of his career as a National Event Manager. She often got smashed backstage at the variety of music festivals that Will ran, and conversing with the artists was beyond awesome, it was a lifestyle. She smiled deviously. She had become accustomed to that particular kind of lifestyle when she was in her twenties. Will had met her whilst she had been working in marketing at a popular radio station in Newcastle; both of them had been off trolley that night, as was the custom for people working in the music industry. Bethany shook her head. It seemed that anyone who had anything to do with music and fame partied hard. She and Will belonged together. They had both known it from the minute their eyes had met. Now, he and the boys were a big part of her world.

For him to keep working was unnecessary. Her pay packet alone had enabled them to live well, well enough to indulge in the wonderful world of philanthropy. Will could have stayed at home. The boys would most definitely love that, and then she could spend more time on her projects. She would love that. She knew she should enlist help.

For the millionth time, Bethany briefly considered hiring a nanny and then shuddered. The world was a freaky place, danger lurked behind almost every corner … she quite literally saved Jesse’s life at least four times a day, and sometimes even she failed in keeping him out of harm’s way. Knowing that they were in safe hands was more than just a priority; it was what had kept her sane.

She spotted a woman that she knew from Jeremy’s school towing her three children across the parking lot. They locked eyes and she smiled in commiseration and waved. She wasn’t the only one with kids who had other ideas when it came to shopping.