The Agonising Death of Waltham Pinchiksnits: The Interconnecting Tales From the Other Side of Nowhere, #1

By Aksel Erzinclioglu

Five seemingly unrelated story-lines are all inexplicably linked by one gruesome and untimely death:

Lance Phyllis, a detective following a cold case that leads him to the small, mysterious town called Faith. Kenny, a teenager just trying to live a normal life, who is transported to a violent and nightmarish hell dimension whenever he goes to sleep. Nic, an alien silently running her small business, never goes looking for the trouble that always seems to find her. Tish and Berty, two inept criminals looking for one final job to set them on a path to freedom. And Shrum Pietersen, a man with a connection to the universe, so deep, that it'll make you question every chance encounter you have ever had.

Welcome to Faith...Expect the Unexpected.

Note: I shall be donating 50% of my profits to the NGO For Tigers; a charity dedicated to improving the welfare of captive Tigers in Thailand.
If you enjoyed the book, I would love to hear your feedback! Please leave a review and a rating. Thank you!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Aksel Erzinclioglu
• Release date: Nov 15, 2020
• ISBN: 9781393932055

Book preview

This book is dedicated to Lewis Saddington (aka Lewis Stone)

My dear friend, you have inspired me to get back into writing on more than one occasion, in ways you probably never realised. Your hard work, dedication and constant support played an enormous part in this book being written.

Adieu, my princess...adieuuuuuuuu

Prologue

Expect the Unexpected

The rain was light, but the night was dark making it nearly impossible for him to see. There were no streetlamps on the highway, and the light from his high beams was bouncing off the raindrops that were sprinkling overhead. He would have cursed it if he didn’t find the rain so peaceful. It was, as it happens, the only part that made his night worthwhile. On any other night, he would have stepped out and walked around under the gentle pitter-patter of droplets, relishing the shower and appreciating the serenity it provided. But this was no other night.

He was exhausted, sleep deprived and his stomach was gurgling to the point of becoming a distraction. Large bags lay under his eyes causing him to forcefully widen them awkwardly to keep himself awake. The last fourteen hours had been spent planted firmly behind the wheel; driving straight, high up into the mountains in the north of British Columbia, unable to fully appreciate the beauty of the Canadian scenery.

The long, continuous highway, hemmed in on both sides by huge evergreen trees, suddenly opened up to reveal a valley surrounded by mountains. He couldn’t see it through the darkness, but below him in the centre of the valley was a small, quiet town with plenty of secrets.

He rolled to a gentle halt, the engine still humming as the bright beams of his headlights illuminated a small, rudimentary sign. Etched into the ageing wood was a simple message:

Welcome to Faith

Expect the Unexpected

He’d heard enough stories to not take this message lightly. This very case had been anything but normal, and every clue, every twist, every turn, had been more mystifying than the last. The unexpected was the only constant that could possibly be seen to connect all the dots. This small and unknown town was the only logical destination.

His gnarled hands gripped the steering wheel tightly as he kept the car stationary for a few moments. Flaring his nostrils, he sniffed sharply letting the wet mucus up his nose drop to the back of his throat. Grimacing as he so often did, he swallowed and scratched the stubble that had been sprouting out of his chin for the last few hours.

Reaching out with his right hand he opened the glove compartment and began to rummage around amongst the papers. A low, rumbling growl resonated from deep inside him as he took longer to find what he was looking for; his lip curling up at one side as he tried to quell his frustration. Then, as his fingers touched on a small cardboard box, he pulled out a packet of cigarettes and calmly opened it up.

He withdrew a single cigarette, placed it between his lips and reached back into the pack with two fingers, pulling out the small purple disposable lighter that had dropped to the bottom. With a single flick, the flame began to dance in front of him and he raised it slowly to the end of the cigarette in a very deliberate move. The flame caressed the tip and ignited it as he drew in a long breath. Savouring the smoke that filled his lungs, he dropped the lighter back into the pack. An offhand flick of his wrist saw the pack tossed unceremoniously back into the disorganised chaos of his glove compartment before his hand swatted the hatch upwards, clicking it back into place.

A long funnel of smoke billowed forth from his lips and crashed silently against the windscreen before dissipating into nothingness. He raised the cigarette, held firmly between his index and middle fingers, and took a second drag.

What are you doing? he mumbled to himself with his incredibly gravelly voice. He blew a second stream of smoke and watched it break against the glass once again before it quickly disappeared. Thoughts were racing through his mind and, as he let the cigarette hang from his mouth, he reached over onto the passenger seat and picked up his badge.

Detective Lance Phyllis

He almost laughed at himself, the absurdity of what he was doing now fully sinking in. He didn’t deserve the title that was on the badge and tossed it aside in disgust, letting it land on the floor beneath the glove box.

With thoughts still churning in his head he reached his hand into his pocket to produce the small, crumpled note that had started this whole escapade:

You’ll find the boy. Have a little...Faith...

The scratchy handwriting was sprawled across the note, almost like a blind man had scribbled it down. He shook his head. This was a leap and he knew it. But Lance was obsessed, addicted. If there was a chance this would lead to something, he wouldn’t let it go.

The cigarette was all but burnt up and he quickly rolled down his window and flicked the butt out. It spiralled through the rain and Lance watched as it landed with a hiss in the thick, soaking mud beside the road.

Alright Lance, He snorted out a gruff laugh as he looked around at his surroundings, Let’s find somewhere to sleep.

And with that, he drove off.

Tish and Berty with a ‘Y’

The Agonising Death of Waltham Pinchiksnits

The rain hammered hard against the windshield as the car raced down the empty road; pitch black surroundings without a single streetlamp to light the way as they headed further from the centre of town. Sitting in the passenger seat, fumbling through the pages of his notepad, was Berty. With a ‘Y’. A seemingly trivial and underwhelming detail that he prided himself on.

Berty was gargantuan. To call him fat would be an injustice but covering up the sizable muscles he had was a comfortable layer of fleshy padding, all of which coated a conspicuous six-foot seven-inch frame. He was the kind of man who always felt the world was too small for him rather than the other way around; never fully understanding his own strength. His chin was covered in clumsily shaved and patchy stubble, while from his head sprouted a tight mass of dark curls. He was pale with a speckling of freckles across his plump cheeks and bulbous nose. His left eye had a permanent purple haze beneath it as if it were constantly bruised. His right ear was missing its lobe, which was cut off in a perfectly straight line and continued as a scar running down the side of his neck.

Sat in a seat built for someone far smaller, he shifted his large buttocks from left to right; discomfort smeared across his face as he tried to readjust himself. He could feel himself numbing and constantly tried to manoeuvre himself into a more suitable position with little success. ‘I chipped my coccyx when I was seven’, he would tell people by way of an explanation for his constant fidgeting. Truthfully, he had a haemorrhoid problem, but he felt the lie was far less embarrassing.

To his left, wildly trying to control the car through the rain, was his partner; his best and possibly only friend, Tish. Tiny in comparison to Berty, Tish was his polar opposite. With a narrow yet solid frame, she stood more than a foot shorter than him, but with no illusions or insecurities about her size. She had dark skin that complimented her jet-black hair, which was unnaturally straight on the top and right side while the left was shaved down almost to the scalp. A silver ring pierced her right nostril; understated and subtle as it hugged closely to her skin. Finishing off the look were studs in each ear and a single, small bar running through her right eyebrow. But most notably of all, her left eye was frosted over like a cloudy white crystal.

Cautiously, Berty glanced in her direction to see her squinting the one good eye; her nose scrunched up as she struggled to see a thing. The windscreen wipers danced back and forth in a frenzied attempt to clear the glass but were unable to fully combat the unrelenting rainfall. The pitch-black darkness that shrouded them made the road nearly impossible to see and Berty watched as Tish bared her teeth under a worrisome expression as the car continued on its journey.  

Three years, Berty, Tish said grimly, her teeth locked firmly together as she strained to see further into the night, and this is how we spend our reunion...

There was an air of friendliness to her words but she was still, for the most part, audibly annoyed. Berty frowned at his own hurried notes, failing to reread what he had hastily scribbled down earlier. The jolting of the car as it bounced up and down wasn’t helping and Berty found himself reading the same sentence over and over again. This, combined with Tish’s irritated jibe, caused Berty to give up on his notes for the time being and let the notepad drop into his lap.

Hey, you know about as much as I do here, he said turning to look at her, you heard what the boss said.

She nodded, her eyebrows arching into exponentially angry peaks. The scepticism was writ large on her face and Berty gulped quietly to himself, eager to avoid her wrath.

I did, she snarled, still sounds to me like a horrible waste of my talent.

Berty sighed and looked out of his window, seeing the beads of rain smashing against the glass. Tish was not hiding her highly justified frustration and Berty was trying to formulate the right words to calm her down. She had a wicked temper that was rapidly bubbling to the surface and Berty sensed it could erupt at any moment. Tish could strike fear into anyone with a single, one-eyed glance when pushed. So Berty made sure not to push. Treading carefully, he spoke up in a soft voice, his pitch getting higher as he attempted to sound unthreatening.

I called you here because you’re about the only person I can trust, he said eventually, still gazing pointlessly out of his window, "No, you are the only person I trust. Bodgey knows everything about me and what he was asking for...I needed a partner, Tish. You’re the only one I have...or had." He felt nostalgic as, internally, he reminisced about their past.

I thought you went straight, she responded bluntly.

I did, Berty clamoured rather indignantly, I haven’t killed anyone in three years. No crime, no nothing. I do yoga and meditate now. He sounded rather proud of his achievements, in particular the last two he mentioned, and shimmied himself a little upright in his seat with an out-of-place smug expression etched into his face.

So, what changed? Tish grunted in a way that suggested his peaceful pastimes were of little interest to her. Berty sighed as his smug expression soon faded, replaced with one of regret and frustration. His nose crinkled like he smelled something bad as he thought back to his recent encounters.

He blackmailed me, Berty said shortly, jutting out his bottom lip like a petulant child, The man is ex-CIA. He used to torture people for a living, Tish! He told me he knew all about my life before moving out here. It’s one job. We don’t have to ask questions and then he’ll leave me alone for good.

Tish smacked her tongue against the inside of her teeth with a disapproving shake of the head. She frowned as the car continued on; the dark road beginning to take an upward incline. Her one functioning eye glanced around trying to pierce through the darkness and get a better sense of where they were.

So, you dragged me into all this for what? she asked after a few moments silence.

You know where we’re going, Berty responded, I can’t break into a place like that.

It’s a hospital, Berty! she snapped.

It’s a medical storage facility, he corrected her calmly, there’s a difference. No sick people, just a shit tonne of... He looked down at his notes and began to read the list he had scrawled down. Respiratory equipment, saline drips and... The words began to blur again as the car bounced around. Berty blinked awkwardly at the page as his scribblings became unrecognisable, ...lots of other bits and pieces.

Tish shook her head, bewildered. This was beginning to make less and less sense to either of them as the night wore on.

Why does he even want all this shit? she asked.

"Who? Bodgey? He doesn’t. It’s for the guy who hired him."

And you don’t know who that is? she replied, sounding utterly underwhelmed.

No, Tish, we’ve been over this, Berty sighed, Whoever hired Bodgey wants to keep to himself. If he wants to make himself known to us, he’ll call, OK? But whatever this is, whatever is going on... it’s very illegal and very hush-hush so the sooner we just get it done the sooner we can get paid and get back to our lives.

He folded his arms and looked dead ahead. For the moment, the pair remained silent and Berty turned his gaze slightly, to gauge her reaction.

You think you’ll ever hear from the big boss? Tish eventually asked, still squinting at the road that was now very steep.

I highly doubt it.

The moment he replied, as if wishing it upon himself, Berty’s phone rang. A loud yet tuneful jingle startled them both and Berty looked down at the unknown number on his screen.

Who is it? Tish asked, struggling to glance at the phone while maintaining focus on the road.

I... I don’t know. Berty’s voice quivered. It wasn’t Bodgey. He was certain of that. But who else would call him so late? Timidly, he answered. Hello?

‘Bodgey?’ Tish mouthed at Berty as his wide, fearful eyes gave her the response she needed. He pointed upwards indicating that they, whoever they were, outranked the man with whom that had been dealing.

Er, yes... yes sir... yes I know... yes... absolutely sir, we won’t let you down. He was scribbling something down on his notepad as he nodded furiously at the instructions being barked down the phone at him. He hung up and dropped the phone onto his lap as he finished scrawling down his notes.

What was that about? Tish asked.

Turn around, he said bluntly, change of plans.

What? she snapped, more frustrated than anything else.

The hospital can wait.

It’s a medical storage facility, she corrected him needlessly, And why? I thought this was the whole–

Right, Berty turned and looked at her straight on, here’s the deal. I honestly don’t know much about what’s going on here but whatever it is, we both know it’s urgent and needs to happen soon.

She nodded, but the frown she wore showed she was clearly struggling to see where Berty was going with this.

Bodgey... we both know what he’s doing at that farm. Someone there knows something about something that the big boss wants. And now he’s asked us to go... talk... to someone else who might know a little bit about what’s going on.

Tish rolled her eye and slammed on the brakes bringing the car to a complete and unceremonious stop. Berty jolted forwards and the notepad shot out of his hand, spinning onto the dashboard in front of him. Tish glared at Berty as he rubbed his chest and winced. He opened his mouth to complain only to be greeted by her steely gaze; the harsh, cold glare of her frosted eye as it sat emotionless in her head. Transfixed by its unrelenting stare, he couldn’t look away.

You, Tish stuck out a finger at Berty, almost gouging his eyes out, have an incredible skill for saying a lot without actually saying anything.

What–, he was pulled out of his trance, looking into her other eye.

You call me up five days ago and tell me to come to the ass end of Goddamn nowhere in this stupid, shitty little town and tell me we’re going to rob a hospital–,

Medical storage–,

I don’t care, Berty! she snarled. Then she spoke slowly with her teeth firmly clamped together, "I don’t care what it is, OK? You call me here to steal medical supplies, but you don’t know who for. Then out of the blue you tell me we’re not stealing supplies and now we’re having to... to..."

Berty tracked her hand as she stopped and slowly reached out to grab his collar, pulling him closer. Her one good eye stared deeply and menacingly into his. He gulped as he found himself staring back into the lifeless eye, more ashamed of letting her down than feeling any real threat to his well-being.

Tell me everything you know... right now.

She released him and sat back a little; she was yet to blink as she awaited some clarification. Berty nodded as he straightened his collar, realising only then, that he had inadvertently held his breath.

OK, he exhaled. "All I know is that someone... the man who called me up just now, has some device. Or... had a device. I don’t know what it is, what it does, what it’s called but I know that he had it and it’s been stolen by one of two people. He hired Bodgey to find it and Bodgey is talking to one of the two. A man named Pete Mubbs. That’s who’s at the farm. And the boss just called me up and said to forget the medical supplies, for now, and we’re to go and talk to the other guy who might know anything about this. Waltham Pinchiksnits."

She blinked twice, her face staying perfectly emotionless for a few more seconds before parting her lips. Slowly, her blank expression turned to one of confusion. Her forehead creased as her eyes narrowed and Berty could see the questions spinning through her mind. This was it. He felt he had pushed too far and recoiled, expecting an onslaught of her famed fury.  

What? she said anticlimactically, after what had been a rather elongated pause.

Waltham–

Is that even a real name? She cut him off, now looking perplexed, with just a hint of frustration.

Yes, Berty snorted rather indignantly, he’s a crazed inventor who’s literally spent the last few months locked away in his house, probably because he’s known someone is coming for him sooner or later. So, it’s a good thing I’ve got the girl who can break into anywhere, he said with a smile, hoping the compliment would somehow help his cause. Tish seemed to ease up as he spoke and she relaxed a little, looking out at the rain that was still smashing against the glass. Her mouth was pursed as she rolled her top lip up under her nose. She was deep in thought and Berty sat patiently waiting hopefully for the desired response.

OK, she said shortly, as the frustrations faded. That’s a little more like it. Should we call Bodgey and tell him?

No, no, Berty said, waving a dismissive hand in the air. He’s busy. Besides, we don’t know if Waltham Pinchiksnits even knows anything.

Tish turned the key and the engine coughed and spluttered into action. With a screech and a disconcerting slide across the wet tarmac, the vehicle turned sharply around as Tish slammed her foot down, heading back to town.

Fine, she said. But can you do me a favour?

What’s that?

If you want me to do this and to take it seriously, please for the love of God...stop saying his name.

Twenty-three minutes later...

Argh!

Berty was squirming in the front seat, holding a cloth to his forehead to stem the flow of blood that was now gushing out of it. Pools were forming on his top as the blood seeped through the cloth and between his fingers, dribbling down his forearm. The physical pain was minimal but it was his pride that had been deeply wounded.

As he glanced to his left, he could just make out a suppressed smirk on Tish’s face as she drove the car silently through the suburb; the headlights dipped to avoid any unwanted attention.

It could have happened to anyone. Tish tried to comfort him with a hand on his shoulder while she continued to navigate the darkness. It was clear from her tone that she did not believe her words but Berty wasn’t in the