Hacking 'N' Slashing

By Gareth Curran

"You are going to lose everything!"

This is the note Alan finds on his door only days away from the national hockey tournament. At first, he thinks that it is some silly prank a neighbour has played on him. But once the pranks start piling up, with each one turning more serious than the last, he suddenly realises that he has much more to worry about than just these stupid tricks and the tournament.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Gareth Curran
• Release date: Mar 4, 2015
• ISBN: 9781310313677

Book preview

Hacking ‘N’ Slashing

By Gareth Curran

Copyright

Copyright © 2014 by Gareth Curran

All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organisations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

For my hockey team, and my family

Table of Contents

Hacking ‘N’ Slashing

Copyright

For my hockey team, and my family

1

2

3

4

5

6

7

8

9

10

11

12

13

14

15

16

17

1

How the hell are we going to survive? Alan crouched down in front of the hockey goal, shaking his head from side to side in disbelief as he brought his hands up to cover his face. Come on guys, you need to work harder! he shouted at the team.

He wondered if there was any point in training today or even at all for that matter. The past three weeks had been almost unbearable for him. Being the captain and starting goalie of the local indoor hockey team, he had increased the training sessions from three times a week to five in hopes of getting his players both mentally and physically fit for the National tournament which happened to be starting in only a matter of days. And now, standing there in front of goal, a couple of days before they hit the road and headed off to the competition, he wondered if it was really worth it. He felt the team was no better off today than they were three weeks ago before he intensified the training sessions.

A shot whizzed high above his head, easily five feet above the crossbar of the goal he was protecting, and he didn’t even move a muscle. Instead, he gave the player who shot the puck a cold, hard stare, and the young shooter went running back towards the centre of the court, his tail between his legs. He felt like calling it quits and packing it up right then and there. Instead, he turned around, casually jumped over the boards that separated the rink from the stands and retrieved the puck. Puck in hand, he brought his arm back and fired it back into the court, barely missing several players as they jumped out of the way of the deadly projectile.

Don’t take it so seriously man, a voice shouted from the grandstands high up to the left side of the court. Alan twisted his head and glanced up at the voice, and as he did, cursed under his breath once he saw who it was. Standing in the entrance of the huge recreational centre, wearing a tight yellow vest, short blue shorts and knee high socks was Vijay, a fellow member of the hockey team. Alan cursed again as he hopped back over the boards just as casually as he did a few seconds ago, and onto the court.

Before he was voted in as captain last year, Vijay had held the reins for the previous three. He was not very happy about being stripped of the captaincy. He was so angry with the decision that he missed all of last season, Alan’s first as captain, citing ‘personal reasons’ for his absence. Despite holding each other in high regards, as well as working well as a team before the change of captaincy, the two have never gotten along since, and they have grown bitter and less fond of each other, more so on Vijay’s half. Alan could never understand this as the team members were the ones who decided who the captain was.

You’re late, Alan yelled as Vijay made his way down the concrete steps and onto the large court.

Even though players had to run laps around the court for being late, Vijay simply walked up to the black equipment bag sitting near centre court, picked up a long white stick, and made his way towards the opposite end to where Alan was and started practicing with another player. It wasn’t the first time he ignored the new rules Alan put in place to make the team a better one. As a matter of fact, he wondered if Vijay had ever followed them at all. Instead of saying something he knew he would regret later, he called for a short break and made his way to the side-lines for a drink. He removed his shiny red helmet from his head and threw it to the side, removed his gloves from his hands, and used the back of his left one to wipe the sweat off of his forehead. The weatherman on the channel one news said they were in for a very hot day, and it seemed as though he had gotten it right for once. Surprise surprise. After a couple of swipes at his head with his hand, he reached for one of the water bottles sitting near the team bag, removed the lid, then put it to his lips and took three long gulps, each one longer than the last. He took a deep breath before screwing the cap back on and tossing it back into the pile.

He wanted to pick each one up one by one and heave them across the court, but decided it was best that he didn’t let his frustration and emotions get the better of him. Instead, his mind continued to annoyingly taunt him. Why had the team failed to show any signs of improvement under his captaincy? They had been playing games and practising several times a week for around six months under his reign, yet they did not seem to have gelled as well as he had expected them to. Doubt entered his mind for a fraction of a second, and a frown spread across his face. Could he really lead this team to victory?

Why a sad face, boss? A hand came crashing down onto his shoulder, startling him. Alan spun around to see Kaito standing there, grinning from ear to ear. He was a little shorter than Alan, maybe five foot nine inches tall, and a whole lot quicker too. Coming from Japan, his English was very limited, and the team had to speak slowly for him to understand. Alan had looked after him ever since he left Japan just under a year ago, and the two had hit it off almost instantly.

Oh nothing, Kaito, Alan said. "It’s just me thinking way too much about nothing."

Kaito nodded slowly, taking a few extra seconds to process everything. It, it’s not me is it? he replied. His face mirrored Alan’s own glumness face.

What? No, no of course not! Alan laughed. You’re one of the good guys. I’ve got nothing against you.

He put his arm around Kaito and rubbed his knuckles against the young guy’s head. Kaito pushed him away softly.

So, me is good player? Kaito asked.

"I’m a good player, Alan corrected him. And yes, you are. One of the best I’ve got. So stop worrying. That’s my job."

Kaito grinned once again. Ok, boss! he shouted. I’m good player. We will win competition together!

Alan stopped and admired his happiness. His attitude was simply amazing and carefree. Maybe he should try thinking that way too for a change. How hard could it be to stay happy and look at the positives of the team? They high-fived.

That’s right Kaito. With you and me on the team, no one can beat us. Even though it sounded corny and stupid, Kaito looked like he enjoyed the statement, and he smiled from ear to ear. Now let’s get back to practice so that we can become unstoppable.

They high-fived once more, then Kaito ran off to talk with some other players. Smiling, Alan picked up his helmet and slapped it back onto his head. He started to walk back to his goalie position when something caught his eye and he turned to see what it was. It was Vijay, standing by himself at centre court, and he was staring straight at Alan with dark, sullen eyes.

It started to rain by the time Alan got home a little after seven o’clock. He had decided to get dinner at one of the local fast food outlets with a few of the other players after the training session. Two huge burgers with a side of fries were the usual for him, but with the tournament being only days away, he decided to skip on the fries as well as order a veggie burger instead to show his dedication and commitment to the team. Now in the safety of his own house, he ripped open a packet of chips, plonked down onto the sofa, and turned on the TV. Even though he lived in a small, two-bedroomed apartment in the city, he was the only one that occupied it. No girlfriend, no flatmate, and having neither suited him just fine. He was even happy with not having a cat or dog, not that a cat is much company to begin with. There was nothing and no one to get in his way or mess up his life, unlike a few of the guys from his team. It was hard enough to deal with them.

He settled down comfortably on his small, two-seater couch, the bag of chips riding the wave up and down of his slightly large stomach as he breathed in and out slowly. He scanned the channels for something good to watch while he ate but found that there was nothing on other than big-boobed bimbo reality ‘stars’ vying for love on eighty percent of the channels, so he turned it back off as quickly as he turned it on. Instead of watching TV, he sat back, relaxed, and listened to the rain pelt down onto the earth.

A few minutes passed by when someone banged loudly on his front door, startling him. He quickly got to his feet and made his way towards the door, a mere five metres from the living room. The rain had gotten heavier, beating the tin roof with an amazing amount of force, and it surprised him that someone would even come to his place in such terrible weather. When he got to the door, he took the latch off the hook and opened it. No one was there. A strong gust of wind and rain were the only things that greeted him at the doorstep. Alan took a small step outside and peered first to his left, and then to his right. He squinted hard and covered his eyes with his hands, trying to get a better look through the pelting rain. Still nothing. Nobody was in sight. He could have sworn that he heard someone knock. He was almost positive. Maybe it was just the wind and rain, or even the tall oak tree in the front yard smashing hard against the house. Whatever, or whoever it was, had stopped.

Looking around one final time, and then feeling relieved and safe once he did, Alan turned to head back inside, but suddenly stopped. That’s when he saw it. A small, soaked white folded up piece of paper nailed at head height to his front door. He stood there, looking at it with a confused look as it took him a few seconds to realise that it was a note. He wondered if it had been there before he came home, but he knew it hadn’t. He surely would have noticed it if it had. Suddenly feeling a sense of danger, he ripped the note down quickly, leaving a small bit of it hanging off the nail on the door, stepped back into his house and slammed the door shut behind him. He grabbed the latch and quickly fastened it back into place, then grabbed the key off the kitchen bench and locked the door. He peered through the peep hole and looked about hoping to notice something or someone, but there was nothing to be seen.

After shaking the door several times to make sure that it was securely locked, as well as checking that the latch was locked down twice, Alan walked over to the kitchen area and slumped down into one of the wooden chairs by the small card table that occupied one corner of the room. He unfolded the soggy piece of paper carefully so he did not rip it, and he noticed that his hands were trembling as he did so. He stopped and took a couple of breaths to calm himself before continuing. After hesitating with it a few times, he finally managed to open it, and his eyes first darted back and forth on the soggy page before they widened in horror. He now realised why he had felt so worried standing out on his front step moments ago. Four words were scribbled down on the note with a red marker. It shocked him so bad that the piece of paper slipped through his fingers and fluttered down onto the kitchen linoleum. The rain had caused the letters to run down the page, making it look like wet streaks of blood. He stared down at the note, and the note stared evilly back.

You’re going to lose everything!

2

Alan arrived a little bit earlier to practice the next day to warm up before the rest of the team showed up. He had originally scheduled a day off for the team, but after yesterday’s fiasco, decided to have one more training session before they hit the road the next day. He liked to arrive earlier than the other players most days as he felt it helped him to relax and clear his mind before taking charge of the team. It was almost like a sacred ritual or superstitious act the big time professional players do before they go out to play.

He was halfway through his second drill of hitting the ball against the wall and catching it with his glove when the first group of players started to make their way into the gymnasium. He couldn’t help but notice the annoyed expressions on some of their faces, possibly from the fact that it was the second time they were in the building in less than twenty-four hours. A bigger, as well as probably more viable reason being it stopped them from getting drunk throughout the whole day. He counted five heads in the gymnasium which meant that another four players were still to come. As he had expected, Vijay was not one of the five that were there.

Alan glanced down at his black wrist watch, and it read eight fifty-five. Practice was meant to start at nine o’clock, and only half the team was there, suited up and ready to train. Thankfully for him, everyone that was standing around grumpily, waiting for practice to commence, were the players that were in the starting line-up.

David, the team’s first-string left winger, was having a rather relaxed chat with Josh, the first-choice right winger. They were both standing near the scorer’s table, with Josh leaning up against it, waiting for practice to start. David ran his hand through his short curly black hair as he explained a few of the plays they were going to run. He was a bit shorter than Josh and a lot skinnier too. He was known for his quick feet and silky, smooth passes, whereas Josh was known more for his powerful shots and trash-talking. Alan felt that they were a perfect match for any team once they got going. Sadly for him, it was not very often, so he was really counting on the two of them to step up and perform at the tournament.

Then there was Jason, the real star of the team. He was sitting down on the far side of the gear bag near David and Josh, headphones strapped to his head. He was listening to one of the latest rock songs, and he tapped his foot to the rhythm of the beat and banged his fingers against his thighs as if playing the drums. Despite being one of the shortest members on the team, he was the real deal, the natural, the whole package. Not only could he pass the puck better than David, or shoot it harder than Josh, he could also dance around any defender without even breaking a sweat. He was unstoppable, and Alan was glad to see him return this year. Without him, they would definitely be favourites for last place.

The only other players that were waiting around patiently for practice to start were Kaito and Haruki. Like Kaito, Haruki also came from Japan, and