Riders On The Storm

By Thomas Mackay King

A selection of short stories and flash fiction. An assassination, horror post EMP attack, Tsunami aftermath, Surgery, but no anesthetic, Suicide gone wrong.

• Language: English
• Publisher: XinXii
• Release date: Dec 17, 2013
• ISBN: 9781301888641

Book preview

Riders on the Storm

Thomas Mackay King

PUBLISHED BY TMK PRESS

Copyright © 2013 by Thomas Mackay King

All rights reserved. No part of this eBook may be reproduced or distributed in any print or electronic form without the prior written permission of the author.

This is a work of fiction with the exception of known historical facts any resemblance of any characters to anyone living or dead is purely coincidental.

E-Book production and distribution by

www.xinxii.com

TABLE OF CONTENTS

Pacific Call

Lost

Driven Mad

Vortex of Fate

Silent Scream

African Dream

Heads

The Hit

Sixteen

About the Author

Pacific Call

It had been one year nine months and twenty one days since the blackness. Every day hence Yumi had been drawn back to the beach. Inside her frail and timorous frame a fractured soul wept like an open wound. On most days her enfeebled legs barely held her up. But she kept coming back. On the sand she felt the connection, each docile wave called her name. Something mesmeric perpetually pulling her back.

It had been one year nine months twenty one days and one hour since hell rose up and ripped away her reason to live. On that frigid silent morning the putrid blackness came up and over them and then it just kept coming. She begged it to stop, but it kept coming, driving her down. Yumi could still feel the cold drilling in to her bones; still see the dark bile. It just kept coming and coming and it was blacker than black it was putrid and foul. The devils swill. But it just kept coming, higher and higher, deeper and deeper, surging over her strong, hard and cold; so very cold against her lower back.

Clamour filled her head as the shrieking banshee cry of the tsunami alarm vibrated through the village air. Frightened she ran with baby Meiko tight to her breast, the infant safe in her warm grasp. The surge of the third wave pushed her legs forward cutting her down. The helpless baby tumbling from her loving clutch. The warm soft bundle in the white shawl cast adrift floating beyond her mother’s straining arms. Their eyes connected and spoke, baby Meiko and mother Yumi connecting for an intimate but final moment. The putrescent bubbling water parted and sucked the fresh life down into the heinous evil darkness.

Toshio Ogawa stared at his reflection in the coffee shop window. The dim glass covered in a film of dust threw back an older more desolate face.

It had been one year nine months and twenty one days since the ground under him shifted. One year nine months twenty one days and one hour since his firm grip on her forearm broke and she slithered into the swirling pool of oblivion.

She had smiled at him as she slipped under the churning murkiness, their bond still strong. A black soup of twisted humans and debris charged through the narrow village street. Dirty thick liquid thundered over him, overpowering his grip on her, she thrashed wildly but the fight was lost. He watched hapless, as she evaporated under the bubbling black stew of death.

He was an infectiously optimistic and generous man but since that day he had been in a state of shock and the deepest, darkest depression. His vibrant sparkling brown eyes were no longer turned up at the corners. Now they drooped, drawn down to earth by the raw gravity from under the tainted and useless saline impregnated soil.

In the reflection behind his own wretchedness he noticed Yumi and his dull eyes tracked her