Breaking Point

By Sam Joyson Cardy

Breaking Point is an exciting view of the future, illustrating what happens when the benefits of technological developments are perverted for personal power. Michael Wolf is living a tedious, humdrum life where his principal pleasures come from alcohol and cigarettes. To his knowledge, this is all there is. However, he starts to have strange dream-like experiences and receives an unusual visitor. And who do the piercing blue eyes belong to, which follow him? What is that glowing on the back of his hand?Shock follows revelation as he follows a trail leading to both his past and a nightmare future. Sam Joyson-Cardy has written a tense, action-packed adventure full of suspense, where Big Brother has become a reality with serious consequences. Can Michael avert his own destruction and that of his family and friends? An enjoyable read for conspiracy fans.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Austin Macauley
• Release date: Oct 31, 2017
• ISBN: 9781786290052

Sam Joyson Cardy

Sam Joyson-Cardy is twenty-three years old and lives in 12 Nottingham with his family. He fell in love with writing 13 aged eight with short stories. Breaking Point is his first 14 novel and he hopes to write many more.

Book preview

Chapter One

I don’t remember much about the moment I died. The day had been the usual eclectic mix of cigarettes, television and whiskey. The streets had become too dangerous since Bletchley. The Phoenix had shrugged off the charade of innocence. People had begun disappearing from their homes. Self-driving cars had spirited dissidents away, never to be seen again. Home invasions had begun. I was amazed they hadn’t caught up with me yet. I had written more of the things the previous months had revealed to me; things I couldn’t wait to expand upon, but things that would undoubtedly be hazardous to my health if the book was discovered. I made sure it was hidden away in the second drawer beside my bed; beneath the optimistic condoms, my love life had been in a coma for at least the past five years. Letters I was keeping for their previous importance spread out above them, blanketing the book in dusty foliage of yellowing envelopes. They were so old their importance had probably waned but they served to protect the secrets of the battered old notebook beneath them. I turned off the lights, locked up and lay in bed wide awake, staring at the ceiling. I waited for my mind to stop racing through the thoughts I subdued during the day with drink. The events of the p`ast few months danced above me, haunting me in the shadows. The memories of what had caused them were more painful than any of the scars that had carved themselves into my skin. My eyes closed slowly and I drifted off into a dreamless, restless sleep.

Then it happened. With a sinking sense of inevitability, the silence broke.

The glass shattered with the chilling sound of impending danger. For a moment I just lay there, eyes awake with my sluggish mind taking a few seconds to catch up. My body had already lurched out of bed and was heading for the bedroom door. By the time I had opened the door I was fully awake, adrenaline coursing through my veins. I stepped forwards and swore under my breath, an immediate, sharp pain in my foot had brought me out of the adrenaline fuelled bravado which had me pictured as the suave James Bond type character, disturbing an attacker and kicking the living daylights out of him before returning to bed to a supermodel girlfriend who had been impressed by my macho superhero fighting skills and couldn’t wait to show her gratitude, in whatever way she saw fit. The warm trickle of blood brought me out of my ill-timed daydream. I peered through the gloom to see a jagged, clear, piece of glass sticking out of the sole of my foot. It had been stained crimson by my blood. I removed it quickly and limped forwards into the murky midnight darkness of my living room.

The shadowy figure was standing in the centre, the feeble trickle of the street light outside betrayed his outline. He was tall, muscular and searching for something. I watched him for a few seconds pulling books off the shelf, looking through each one briefly before throwing them over his shoulder and continuing on to the next. I had played out this scene in my head many times, the intruder, the James Bond hero mind set; every time it starts with a clear, confident signal of intent, putting the intruder on the back foot, and giving me the advantage to attack in the momentary lapse of concentration brought on by being startled in the middle of something. Instead of a calm clearing of my throat, what actually escaped my body was a strangled warble, shrill, undignified, not in the least bit scary. He turned slowly, he was in control of this situation and he knew it. He was certainly not on the back foot. We circled each other in the gloom. He had already sized me up, I was sure of it. This whole rigmarole was just ramping up the tension, making me feel uneasy in my own home, shifting the balance of power squarely to him. It was working. I wasn’t sure if it was the loss of blood or a hallucination, but out of the inky gloom, two other figures, who up until now had been obscured by the obsidian darkness of the living room, now ambled into view.

The next few moments flew by in a blur of knuckles, blood and broken bones. As I say, I don’t really remember the moment I died. The flash of the knife, the searing, burning pain as it twisted in my gut. The dizzying nausea as I fell to the floor all whirled together into a sickening blur. Finally, the warm embrace of my own, ever expanding, bloody pool slowly and inexorably made its way toward the corners of the room. I summoned the last reserves of my strength and raised my head out of the already congealing mess which sprawled lazily out from beneath me. Our eyes met as he crouched down next to me. His, calm blue eyes met my brown, which were clouding over, closing slowly. He leered over me in the darkness. My strength failed and I relented to the darkness that engulfed me.

I felt someone cradle my head.

Chapter Two

A FEW MONTHS EARLIER

The fire of the whiskey warmed my stomach against the chill of a mid-winter evening. Outside the street lights sputtered into life, throwing grotesque shadows onto the walls and making all the objects around me look ghostly and unfamiliar. My laptop sat precariously perched on the arm of my chair, humming nonchalantly, the ethereal white of the screen flickering in the darkness. The smoke from my cigarette obscured my vision for a second as I exhaled, dancing up from my lips and disappearing into the abyss beyond the screen. I wasn’t sure what I was looking for, just another evening browsing aimlessly, suffocating in the fumes of my own idleness.

Just for a second I was sure my screen wavered, revealing another picture beneath, but no sooner had my whiskey-addled mind recognised it, it disappeared again, leaving me both nonplussed and excited – what happened? What changed, and more importantly, why had it changed? The blood pulsed in my ears, my heart raced, the warm whiskey feeling in my stomach dissipated instantaneously, leaving my mind in a whirl; had anyone else seen this? Ninety-five per cent of the developed world spent more than an hour a day online, chances are someone, somewhere must have seen something. Although I hadn’t felt so awake in years, with my mind a buzzing hive of activity, the whiskey had taken its toll, my eyelids acted on their own, closing where I sat, bathed in the glow of the intriguing yet simultaneously mundane screen.

When I awoke, the murky darkness of night had faded to the blood red haze of dawn, caressing the entire room in a comforting glow which seeped into every corner, illuminating all the meaningless trinkets that had cast unfamiliar shadows last night, making them instantly recognisable once again. My skin responded to the warmth of the winter sun’s first rays before my eyes finally wrenched themselves reluctantly open. A sickening dread filled the vacant space in my stomach previously occupied by the whiskey. My head pounded, partially due to the aching need for the first cigarette of the day, partially down to the questions that filled my fuzzy mind. Had last night really happened? If it had, what did it mean? How could I find out for certain? I wiped the last remnants of sleep out of my eyes and groaned as I heaved my body into life. As my eyes focused I became acutely aware that I was being watched.

I lived alone.

My momentary confusion was replaced by shock as the adrenaline flooded into my system, I sat bolt upright and stared into the piercingly blue eyes which leered out of the screen at me. The eyes lingered for a few seconds longer then, almost as though the owner of them realised they were being watched, darted furtively from one side to the other then faded into the darkness, leaving me alone and shaken. I’d only slept for four hours; it had taken its toll. I stood up slowly, stretched, groaned and shuffled towards the bathroom. The face that greeted me in the mirror was one that I hardly recognised, the eyes were darkened by lack of sleep, cheeks were sunken and thin, the stubble that framed it clung there as if it was shading them in, aged and greying beyond my 30 years. The steam rose up from the basin. I bent down and buried my face in the cleansing, soothing water.

Fifteen minutes later the eyes on my screen were at the back of my mind, as I stepped out of my front door into the bright chill of a winter’s day. I trudged moodily through the snow which had fallen three days ago, it was no longer bright, crisp and fresh, it had begun to melt, greying and freezing again into treacherous ice. All of a sudden, I felt a pair of eyes burrowing into the back of my skull, fixed onto my slouched, moody figure. I turned slowly; glanced over my shoulder as swiftly as possible. The man froze, his long black coat swirling in the icy breeze; he was too far back for me to make out any of his features, but he was tall, slender and watching me intently. I turned completely, to face him, to confirm that he was actually there. By the time I had turned he’d disappeared, leaving me back in the whirling confusion of the previous night.

I picked up my pace, my heartbeat thundered in my ears, the breath escaped my chest even before I realised it, numbing my hands and blurring my vision. I had to stop, the hyperventilation had come out of nowhere, suddenly, everything became too real, the sheer panic washed over me, paralysing, nauseating, a lump in my throat rose from my chest and lingered, stubbornly refusing to clear, no matter how many times I coughed. I stumbled forwards, my legs weakened, feet splayed on the ice and I plunged forwards towards the pavement.

I don’t remember hitting the ground.

The pain in my head rudely woke me up, I could already feel the lump pushing its way out of my skull, erupting outwards, competing with my skin for space on my face. I couldn’t see it, but I had a sneaking suspicion that it wasn’t the best I’d ever looked. I pushed up from the ground in one sweeping motion, and instantly regretted it. I knew I’d got up too fast. The double vision swayed sickeningly in front of me. Fumbling for my phone I tentatively took my first steps. I found the number I wanted and pressed dial.

The dial tone hummed twice.

Hey man, what’s up?

The relief flooded through me. Hey man, are you free, want to get a drink?

Sure man, bar, 10 minutes? came the reply.

Sounds good, see you then. The phone clicked off, the seconds of silence that followed gave me time to adjust to the blurred vision, which cleared. I shrugged off the snow from my shoulders and trudged forwards towards my favourite bar in the town.

Chapter Three

Joe was already there when I arrived. He spotted me in the doorway and began to stand to attract my attention, before spying Mount Vesuvius protruding out of my forehead, frowning and settling back in his chair. The pint of lager was on the table in front of me, the glass felt cold but reassuring in my hands. Joe took a deep drink from his pint, stifled a belch and looked up.

What the hell happened there? He asked, nodding toward my forehead.

Gravity man, gravity, can’t fight it, it will win. I replied slowly, smirking from above the brim of my pint.

He chuckled under his breath and nodded grimly, watching my movements as I tapped nervously on the table, looking around at the other drinkers all engrossed in their conversations, laughing, blissfully living in a communal ignorance that, up until last night, I had shared in. Now, that feeling of wonderful complacency was the furthest thing from my mind. I mused on this, mindlessly scratching at the back of my left hand. My musings were interrupted by Joe grabbing my hand and pulling it toward him.

Woah, hold up there fella, at least buy me a drink first! We’re friends but that’s it! I smirked.

Fuck you wise-ass, he scowled, what the hell is this?

I gazed down curiously at the hand I’d been scratching. Beneath the skin there was a thin square, about an inch across, barely a millimetre tall, glowing ominously green under the taut pale skin. I pushed it from side to side, there was no give in it at all, whatever it was; it was fixed in there, clinging to the bones with a parasitic tenacity. I sighed deeply, shrugged and looked up. I took a long draught from my pint, set it down fastidiously on the coaster, took another deep breath, and began to relay all the previous twenty-four hours’ events to Joe. When I finished, I looked up directly at the furrowed brow of my best friend, whose eyes remained fixed on the table, fingers running along the carved names of previous patrons who had etched their stories into the eternal fixings of this dingy watering hole.

He paused; his whole body seemed to tighten in the dim lighting around us. His eyes flicked upwards and met my gaze, before hurriedly looking away again. He exhaled slowly, chewed his lower lip nervously as he pondered his next words, like a chess player, studying the board before executing the checkmate move. He tapped the table twice and spoke; his voice barely above a whisper.

So let me get this straight, you see a pair of eyes coming out of your screen, you’re followed down the street, you pass out, when you wake up you have some sort of Area 51 technology under your skin, and the first thing you think is, ‘I know, I’ll expose my best friend to this risk,’ well thank you very much man, my whole family could be at risk if they know you have associates! He paused; the fury evident in his emerald eyes. He stood up, looked down at me, shook his head and sullenly stomped out.

I sat there stunned in the wake of his exit. Shit, had I exposed everyone Joe held dear to this? Whatever ‘this’ was it wasn’t good, I knew that much, he had a wife, and a small child, he had a world that he cared about more than anything, and I had stormed in, selfishly bringing him into this chaotic world, which I didn’t fully understand myself. As I sat there, mind racing through all the possible consequences of involving my best friend, I happened to glance across the room to see a figure shrouded by the shadowy corner of the bar. As I watched, it stepped out of the shadows, and, even though I was convinced I’d never seen the slender, muscular figure before, the piercingly blue eyes sent an ominous chill through my body. He stood there; the black suit clinging to his muscular frame, a thin, silver tie splitting the darkness of his shirt like a rapier. He was clean shaven, tall, dark hair cut short, functional, flecked with grey. However, if you didn’t feel like you’d seen him before somewhere, he could have easily been a bank clerk or lawyer, someone you’d pass in the street without a second thought.

Before I knew what I was doing, I was standing, tentatively taking steps towards the shadowy figure. The bruise on my head throbbed, I suppose it must’ve always been, but I’d only just started noticing it again. The nauseating pulsation, impossible to ignore, once I had started to feel it again, I wondered how I managed to subdue it for so long. I looked down at my hand, the luminous green was not helping in the slightest, it was the exact shade that could provoke a severe reaction in an instant. The lager began a slow, inexorable journey up my throat, the lump from earlier had returned, then, all at once everything I had eaten and drunk over the past day made a spectacular