The Universal Guide to Human Racing

By Jordan Oldbury

Join Tim Bloom, PR superstar, as he embarks on the campaign of a lifetime. Tim boarded a plane home hoping to ease his conscience and repair his broken heart. Little did he know he would be thrown into a journey around the world and beyond with the fate of humanity in his hands.

When God is challenged for leadership of the world by a would be dictator, he turns to Tim Bloom to manage his election campaign, restore his image, and help push his agenda. God's opponent is deity turned businessman Louis White, an ambitious challenger who would enslave humanity for his own purposes who runs a campaign of fear, bigotry, and lies.

Are Tim and God up to the challenge? When a secret enemy lurks in the darkness ready to destroy them all, allegiances will be tested, hearts will be broken, and cups of coffee will be drunk. The Universal Guide to Human Racing is the seminal comedy/fantasy/political/religious/satire/sci-fi novel you didn't know you wanted to read. 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Jordan Oldbury
• Release date: Apr 17, 2019
• ISBN: 9780987636836

Jordan Oldbury

Jordan Oldbury is one of the UK's least known and most under-appreciated writers, in his opinion anyway.  He published his first piece of writing at the age of 17 and has continued writing drivel for money ever since. If you enjoyed this book, you'll most likely enjoy the sequel currently being written. If you didn't, sorry, but thanks for the money anyway, I'll spend it on sweets and hard liquer. Follow along on his website for more information.

Book preview

CHAPTER ONE

The Story

Will all passengers please ensure their seatbelts are securely fastened, their tray tables are stowed away, their seats are in the upright position, and all electrical devices are now switched off. We are making our descent into Perth; the weather is a lovely 27 degrees and sunny. Tim felt the uneasy descent and deceleration of the aircraft. He hated this part. The landing process flipped his stomach around and made his heart beat faster. It felt unnatural to drop from 40,000ft to a few hundred in such a short space of time. He could feel the Thai chicken curry he’d eaten a couple of hours ago start to protest in his stomach. He heard the flaps rise and felt a jolt under him as the landing gear locked into place. He felt the plane slow and sink in the air. The man next to him woke with a start.

Are we landing? said the man.

Tim forgot about his nerves and looked around in surprise. He had been concentrating so hard on not crashing that he had forgotten about the snoring stranger seated next to him.

Yes, we should be on the ground any minute now.

The man raised his eyebrows and smiled nonchalantly. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a cigarette. He balanced it between his lips and felt around inside the same pocket for a lighter.

You can’t smoke on here.

The man raised the lighter to his mouth and lit the cigarette, the orange glow and cloud of smoke sent pleasant memories of university floating through Tim’s head.

Evidently I can. Would you like one? They’re very good. I know they give you cancer, but, well, that’s the least of my concerns.

How did you get a lighter on the plane? Put it out for God’s sake. You’re going to cause an explosion or something.

The man turned to face Tim. Firstly, don’t blaspheme. Secondly, do lighters really cause planes to explode? I don’t think that’s the case. I remember when everybody smoked on planes and there were no mass explosions.

Tim understood now. Eccentric people had a way of breaking the rules and getting away with it. This man probably belonged to some strange royal family or maybe had shares in the airline and drove the staff mad.

Tim, I’m not crazy, I don’t own the airline, and I’m not part of any royal family.

It took a second for Tim to realise the man had used his name. Tim looked down at his shirt for the name tag he knew wasn’t there. The man must have noticed.

You’re not wearing a name tag.

If Tim had been able to sit open mouthed, he would have. However, the plane was bobbing up and down so forcefully, and the smoke from the crazy man’s cigarette had filled his eyes and nose, that he could barely do anything other than cough and splutter and try not to lose himself to panic. He was concerned nobody else had noticed the man’s smoke, maybe, he mused, the stewardesses had noticed but were strapped in for landing and unable to do anything about it.

Tim, listen. What I’m about to tell you is going to be very difficult for you to hear. Not just because of the tremendous noise that’s about to fill this plane, but because of the emotional impact it’s going to have. I want you to know, I’m here for you. Ok?

Tim gripped the seat harder. The plane bounced in the sky as if it was a marionette on strings. Then a noise that sounded suspiciously like an important part of the aircraft detaching itself from its host and plummeting to the ground filled the cabin. Tim started to panic.

Tim, listen to me. Calm down. You’re going to survive this. The plane is going to go down, hard. That noise you heard was the landing gear, I’m afraid to say it’s gone.

What? Tim screamed. In fact, everybody screamed. The PA was shouting over the screams. Brace positions, brace positions. Oxygen masks dropped from the sky like horrible yellow yo-yos. People were clamouring to put their masks on and help their loved ones. The plane lurched as the pilots tried to engage the engines and put the aircraft on an upwards trajectory. Instead the plane stalled and starting plummeting towards the Earth. There was not a lot of distance left between the plane and the ground. Tim tried to look around, but the force of the aircrafts expedited descent pinned him to his seat. The boy in front had blacked out without a mask on, his mother was weeping helplessly as she struggled to stay conscious. If Tim had been able to think clearly, he would have been amazed to still be conscious himself, as he had not even attempted to put his oxygen mask on.

Tim. In a few seconds you’re going to be involved in a plane crash. It’s not going to be a pleasant experience for you. You’re going to be the only survivor. You should know now that there’s absolutely nothing you could have done to prevent this and that none of it is your fault. It’s natural to feel survivor’s guilt, but your survival is going to ensure the survival of the human race so hopefully that will help to alleviate any guilty feelings you might feel.

Tim tried to throw up, but he couldn’t open his mouth. Instead he stared at the man. The smoke cloud had dissipated and had left him an unobscured view of the lunatic seated next to him, who had managed to fight the forces of gravity to be sitting rather nonchalantly in an almost relaxed manner.

Remember Tim, you survived this because you were meant to. I’ll meet you at the hospital and we can start on what I imagine is going to be a long and arduous journey. Chin up and all that. You’re home!

The man disappeared. Not with a pop or a bang or a cloud of smoke but disappeared almost as if he had never been there at all. Tim would never forget the feeling he’d had about the man when he first started talking. Even though he had been babbling nonsense, his voice had a calming, almost anaesthetic quality to it that immediately put you at ease. Tim felt reassured. Then he remembered where he was and what was happening. The plane hit the ground. It scraped along the runway at Perth International Airport ripping through the fuselage. Tim saw the wing break off and then explode. He saw a pretty stewardess thrown from her seat and into the wall. He saw the light fade from her eyes and the terror freeze permanently to her face. He couldn’t hear anything anymore. Then the world turned to black.

CHAPTER TWO

The Past

The air tasted hot. The farm was suffering through another summer, they seemed to get hotter and drier each year. The pigs were trying unsuccessfully to find wet mud to roll in, kicking up clouds of dusty, choking, sand and snorting their disdain. Tim threw a bucket of vegetable peel into their sty and rubbed the dirt from his eyes. He spat out a mouthful of dust and wondered how anybody survived this place before air-conditioning. He threw the bucket down and grabbed the old silver mountain bike from the side of the house. The house was an old wooden construction on the middle of the pig farm. The close proximity of the sty to the house was more of an issue in the wet season when the smell of mud and pig shit would fill the air. Not even that smell could survive this heat, it sizzled and melted away before it could invade any noses.

Tim cycled down the dirt track opposite the house and turned down a short lane. At the end of the lane was a creek, or what would have been a creek had there been any water in it. Now it was a dust bowl with a boy and a girl sitting in it playing cards.

Alright shitheads

The boy looked up from his cards and watched Tim dismount. Tim was wearing a pair of red shorts and a thin white singlet. At 15, Tim was tall but scrawny. He hunched when he walked but had an air of confidence that infected those around him. You felt that you could trust Tim and that if you were with him then you’d be alright. That was one of the reasons Bruce had taken him on as best friend way back in kindergarten. Tim had a way of making you feel good about being you.

Who you calling shithead you pommy bastard?

Tim dropped his bike to the ground and climbed down into the dry creek. His thongs were falling apart and weren’t ideal for this sort of thing, so he kicked them off and went in barefoot. Katie glanced over at him and went back to weighing up her hand. She took cards very seriously.

Are you two dickweeds going to screw or are we going to play cards? Katie had an attitude a polite person would call fiery. She was the only child of two lawyers. They’d bought a country house in the sticks and wanted to raise Katie away from the hustle and bustle of the city, not that Perth could be considered a city by any global standard. Still, they meant well and had tried to give Katie the freedom to make her own decisions and learn from her mistakes. She resented them for naming her after a song that she hated, and she was currently in a state of rebellion, though most of the time she wasn’t sure what she was rebelling against. Tim looked her over, he’d noticed recently that Katie was a girl, and he was noticing it more today in those jean shorts and that strappy vest. Katie's long dark hair settled just above the recent protrusions that had sprouted on her chest. Tim took her all in and felt parts of him stir, he had known Katie since they were babies but now, he felt like he was meeting her for the first time. He met her gaze and then quickly turned away flushed.

Whatcha playing?

Bruce noticed the way Tim was looking at Katie. He didn’t like it. He’d also watched with some enthusiasm Katie's transformation from girl into young woman.

Katie had been in love with Tim for a very long time. She’d decided to wait for him to realise he loved her back; boys took longer to figure these things out. The three of them went everywhere and did everything together, including playing cards in a dry creek.

Let’s play poker said Katie. She was great at poker and knew the other two weren’t. She could always beat them.

"Whatcha got to bet? Said Bruce

Tim sat down next to Katie and shuffled the cards. Bruce sat opposite and picked up a handful of dirt. Your dad still expecting you to become a farmer Tim?

Tim shuffled uneasily. He hated working on the farm and did not want to follow in his father’s footsteps. Instead he wanted to be a writer or a journalist, but one that helped people. He can expect what he likes, I’m going to be a journo. Bruce snorted, That writing shit is boring, you should be a mechanic like me. We can fix up old cars and race em through the paddocks.

You’d be a great writer Tim. You always notice things. Katie smiled. Now stop being a fanny and deal the cards. Tim finished shuffling and dealt five cards to each of them.

What are we playing for? I haven’t got any money on me said Bruce.

Me neither actually said Tim

Strip poker?

The boys looked at each other. Even teenage boys without any real experience with women knew not to decline a game of strip poker.

You serious? asked Bruce.

Katie nodded. It’s only bodies. You two better not start sucking each other’s cocks though. I know you’ll be tempted.

Tim laughed. Are you sure about this Katie? We could just play blackjack instead.

Stop being such a pussy, I want to see her tits. Said Bruce.

Yeah, stop being such a pussy. And to show you guys some mercy, I’ll start with a handicap. Katie took her singlet off revealing a tanned torso with only a white bra covering her breasts. Take a good look boys, that’s all you’re going to see.

Tim and Bruce looked without looking, crossed their legs and then got serious about the game.

After thirty minutes both boys were down to their undies with Katie having lost her shoes and not a lot else. Unfortunately for Bruce he had the losing hand in this round.

I’m not getting my dick out in front of you two.

Ashamed? asked Katie.

You don’t have to Brucer, we can call it quits now. Said Tim.

I’m not ashamed of anything. I just don’t want to get it out in front of you two.

You shall now be known as Bruce Little Dick

Bruce angrily put his clothes back on. Fuck you Katie. Just because you’re an exhibitionist slut doesn’t mean we all are.

Woah, take a joke Bruce.

Yeah, calm down man. Said Tim.

Fuck it, I’m out of here. Bruce got on his bike and rode away down the track, making sure he had committed the image of Katie in her bra to memory. He had been trying to hide an erection since the start of the game and couldn’t face the embarrassment of revealing it to the group.

Well, it’s just us. What do you got?

Tim was a bit taken aback. You want to keep playing?

Yeah, unless you’re chicken.

If there was one thing Tim wasn’t, it was chicken.

Hell no. Let’s go. I got 3 queens.

Katie looked at her cards. The 4 kings looked back at her eagerly, waiting to be thrown down on top of the queens. Instead they were discarded face down to the side.

Shit, I got nothing.

Tim's glee very quickly turned to fear. It’s ok, let’s just play for fun now.

Katie looked at the boy sat in his underpants. She could see the nervous anticipation in his eyes because she felt it behind her own. No way, a bet is a bet. She reached behind her and undid the clasp on her bra. She slowly slid the left strap down and then the right. Tim held his breath. Katie let the bra fall to the floor and...

Light. The brightest light Tim had ever seen filled his eyes. Next the world returned, and his eyes strained to focus on the horror that surrounded him. He could smell smoke, but he couldn’t see fire. He looked down at his body. He was strapped into a chair, but the chair wasn’t attached to anything.

Christ, this guy’s alive. Somebody shouted. Tim turned his head to look. He had a sharp headache just in front of his eyes that made it difficult to see. A figure engulfed his view. Don’t worry buddy, you’re safe now.

Tim didn’t feel safe. He struggled to remember what had happened. He remembered playing cards in the creek, was that just now? Was Katie ok?

Katie, is she ok? Tim tried to stand but was still strapped in.

Easy pal, everything is going to be ok.

Katie, is Katie ok. We were at the creek. Tim frantically tried to stand.

You’re in shock. It’s ok. You were in a plane crash. Do you remember? Your plane crashed on landing. You’re at Perth International Airport.

Tim looked around and finally saw his surroundings. He was in his airline seat, still strapped in, with carnage all about him. He could see countless bodies, some still smoking from the fire that had engulfed the plane during the crash landing. He could smell fuel and taste the burnt flesh. His lungs remembered they were full of smoke and Tim convulsed with coughing. He tried not to wretch, but he lost control of his body. The man holding him down was a first responder, a fireman Tim thought. His eyes grew wide as he further surveyed the scene. The fuselage was in pieces. There were ambulances, fire engines and police cars all around. He started to shake uncontrollably.

I need help over here, he’s losing it. The fireman pinned Tim's arms to his sides and tried to stop the spasms that were rapidly taking over. A paramedic ran over and took charge of Tim's welfare.

Sir, what’s your name? Sir? I need you to listen to me and tell me your name.

Tim looked at the paramedic. She was beautiful. She had a soft voice. Tim. My name is Tim.

You’re in shock Tim. I need you to focus on my voice and try and calm down. Are you in pain? Tim hadn’t considered that. He fought through the shock and tried to focus on any pain. He couldn’t feel any.

No, I’m not in any pain at all.

That could be the shock. We’re going to unstrap you from your seat and get you in the ambulance. Try and stay calm, alert me immediately if you feel any pain. Ok?

Tim saw her. Katie. It was her.

Katie.

What, what did you say?

Katie, it’s Tim.

The paramedic stopped trying to unbuckle Tim's belt and looked at him. She tried to picture the man without the ash covered clothes, the burns marks on his skin or the dust covering him head to toe.

Tim?

Tim smiled. Then he passed out.

CHAPTER THREE

The Terrorist

Tim woke up. He could hear soft beeping and the whining of electrical equipment. He knew before he opened his eyes that he was in hospital. He slowly looked around. He was in a room of his own, several floors up if the view from the window was to be believed, and unusually he was handcuffed to the bed. His headache had gone, and his body felt well rested. He quickly surveyed himself for any unusual injuries or signs of medical treatment, he found nothing.

Hello?

He knew it was clichéd to shout hello in a hospital after you’d just woken up, but as both of his hands were out of action and the call bell was just out of reach, he felt he had no other option. After a minute, he shouted it again. The door opened and two men walked in. They sat either side of Tim, one taking out a notepad, the other checking his phone.

Hi, I was in a plane crash. Are you doctors?

The men did not respond. They both wore suits, the younger man with the notepad wore a navy two button blazer with matching pants and a dark tie. His hair was short and neatly trimmed, yet it had the faintest hint of styled rebellion. The older man had closely shaven grey hair, stubble, and wore a black suit. There was no hidden element to him. He was business through and through.

Mr Bloom, can you tell us why you were on flight QF253.

Tim was surprised at the question.

To get to Perth, I’m visiting family. Look, can I see a doctor please.

The man with the notepad began taking notes. The older man set his phone to record and placed it on the table next to the bed.

Why were you on the flight Mr Bloom?

Tim clenched his fists. Where’s the doctor? I got on the plane at Singapore after flying there from London. I was due to land in Perth and then I was going to hire a car and drive to my family’s farm 2 hours south of here.

The man with the notepad scribbled furiously. The older man showed no emotion.

Were you alone on the flight? Were there others involved?

Tim had no idea what the man was talking about, his headache and the hunger pangs radiating from his stomach had no time for this nonsense.

Who are you? Why am I handcuffed? The man with the notepad continued writing. Why is he writing everything down if you’re recording this? Why are you writing? God-dammit tell me what’s going on.

The older man leaned in closer. Why are you so interested in what he’s writing? You’re handcuffed because you’re a terror suspect. I am AFP Agent Malarky, you don’t need to know anything more than that.

Tim shouted. Terror suspect? I was just in a plane crash; how can I be a terror suspect?

You were just in a plane crash that killed all 339 souls on board, except you of course. How could you not be a terror suspect?

Tim calmed down. His bound hands fell limp. Everyone is dead?

The older man’s brow furrowed almost imperceptibly. I almost believed you felt remorse for a second there you clever bastard, but I can see you. I can see who you really are. And believe me, you’re going to see just how the Australian legal system deals with terrorist scum like you. He got out of his chair and walked out. The younger man followed, not saying a word. Tim started to cry. It was an hour before a doctor came in. A young Asian woman with long black hair. She was accompanied by a short but well-built man who had a firearm holstered at his side.

Good afternoon Mr Bloom. I’m Doctor Woo, I’ll be looking after you whilst you’re here. I have good news; you appear to have come away completely unscathed. Whilst you were unconscious we gave you an x-ray, an MRI, and a CT Scan, and all were unremarkable, which is to say, completely remarkable. You survived a plane crash with little more than some smoke inhalation and a few cuts and bruises. I’ve no idea how, you were either incredibly lucky or incredibly clever.

Tim smiled. Well I’ve never been accused of being incredibly clever before.

The doctor smiled back. She was attractive and although difficult to tell, Tim imagined she hid a nice physique under her scrubs. Mr Bloom, if you weren’t handcuffed to the bed, I’d say you were ready to be discharged, however what happens now is beyond my control. The doctor motioned to the AFP agent, who’s steely face gave nothing away. Dr Woo, I didn’t do anything. I was in a crash.

Dr Woo turned back and looked at Tim. That’s not for me to say Mr Bloom, all I can tell you is that you are fit, healthy, coherent, and incredibly lucky to be any of those things after what you’ve been through. Luckier than anybody I’ve ever treated after an accident, aircraft or otherwise. If this is just some freak anomaly, consider the police involvement just a minor inconvenience in an otherwise extremely fortuitous circumstance. You could very well be proof that miracles do indeed happen; you could also be proof that evil is a very real thing. Good afternoon Mr Bloom.

The doctor and her guard left. Tim considered her words. He was the sole survivor of a major plane crash. Not only was he the sole survivor but he had suffered no injuries, not a single broken bone. And who was the man in the seat next to him? What had he said, he’d told Tim the plane was going to crash and then he’d vanished. Did Tim dream him? And Katie. Was she really at the crash site? Why did he keep jumping back to the memory of her, the memory of the first time they...The door burst open and the two police officers from before entered the room again. The older man released Tim’s hands whilst the younger man took his previous seated position and again began taking notes.

Mr Bloom, I’m very sorry about earlier. You can understand why we had to take precautions, you arrived here under very suspicious circumstances. Anyway, that’s all been cleared up and the doctor says you’re good to go. Your family is waiting downstairs.

Tim didn’t know what to feel. This was all happening so fast. Was he not a terror suspect anymore? What had happened? What family? His parents had come to pick him up? Maybe his sister?

Do I have any clothes?

The officer reached under the bed and pulled out a bag. He opened it and showed Tim the contents. A pair of jeans, a white tee shirt and a black sweater with a pair of nondescript brown leather boots.

Your family didn’t have any of your clothes, your clothes were taken as part of the investigation and your suitcase, well it didn’t survive the trip. We had intended to take you to holding in scrubs, but as you’re free to go and to make amends for the misunderstanding, I had my men grab you something from one of the local stores. The doc gave us your measurements.

So that’s it? said Tim. I’m free to go? I survive a plane crash and a day later I’m allowed to go about my business? The older man was a little taken aback.

"The aircraft investigators will be in contact with you to take a statement and to ask you some questions that might help them understand why she went down, but as far