Breaking the Tranquillity of Solitude (Part Two)

By Eddie Johnson

The price for making history may be... the future!

Brody Martin’s, trapped in a mystifying alternate state is still unaware of his own simple error which led him there. Every direction seems to offer déjà vu, pain, and confusion. His deepest desire to get home is thwarted by the harmful possibility its success may create. Memories of friends from home become a strange mirror image of his current allies, and he knows that any escape attempt could potentially destroy them all.

Devastated by an horrific twist of fate, the decision of which reality is safer is made for him. With only one thing to blame he sets out on a new mission of retribution. Wanting justice for the loss, so brutally experienced and still longing to leave this contrary place, living here no longer satisfies his basic need for survival.

Constantly thwarted by his nemesis in this alternate version of reality, Brody vows to take revenge. The new companions, battle not only their growing inner demons, but also must overcome the evil intent that opposes their goal. Past and present blur into one as Brody leads his friends to flee the oblivion that beckons them all...

• Language: English
• Publisher: Eddie Johnson
• Release date: Dec 18, 2020
• ISBN: 9781916291058

Eddie Johnson

EDJ Publishing is set up to promote new authors and to bridge the gap between traditional and Self publishing. Our test case is Eddie Johnson's trilogy Breaking the Tranquillity of Solitude

Book preview

FOREWORD

When I originally agreed to write the foreword for Eddie’s first book I hadn’t fully realised how the ball of string holding the project and his dreams would finally unravel itself. It wasn’t that he had needed to sell it to me; we had known each other through other projects for many years.

I am, as most people know, a devoted Stoke City fanatic. Eddie had organised a charity football match a few years before getting in touch with me about the book project. He spent a considerable length of time encouraging recently retired and ex-players of Stoke City and Wolverhampton Wanderers to come together to play for a children’s cancer charity. About a year before this even, he had quite simply, in effect, door-stepped me at a charity dinner, but rather than being upset by a ‘pushy autograph hunter approach’, I had been quite captivated by his honesty and enthusiasm and readily agreed to help when and where I could, as and when the event took shape. In all honesty, having attended thousands, a lot of charity matches are often way over-promoted and well under-organised, but I was blown away at the lengths this tenacious character went to, to be able to pull it all together. He spent nearly twelve months constantly cajoling ex-players and other related celebrities to either attend or back the project. I have never considered myself to be in the celebrity bracket as such. I am just a down to earth football fan and agreed to help because it was a great cause and importantly to me, Stoke related.

About nine months after our first meeting Eddie got back in touch and had by then arranged the likes of Gordon Banks, Rachael Heyhoe Flint, Jeremy Bates, Mel Eves and Steve Bull to contribute to the organising of the day, not to mention John Purdie, Don Goodman, Neil Cutler, Neil Edwards, Tony Dinning and a whole host of others who he recruited to either play in, attend or publicly support the event. For someone from way outside the realms of ‘celebrity circles’ or ‘football hierarchy’, it was a mightily impressive feat and I felt as if I too wanted to contribute to this ever-increasing snowball of an event.

When Eddie came up with the idea of filming a promotional video at Stafford Rangers football ground in mid-December, I said Yea, why not? Ironically it snowed heavily overnight on the evening before our filming was due to take place, but Eddie managed to twist the relevant arms and, lo and behold, the snow-covered stadium was ours for the day.

Eddie had arranged a film crew, charity representatives, myself and ex-Stoke City goalkeeper, Neil Cutler, to come along. We shivered our way through filming, but took revenge on him by slaughtering him with snowballs later. If ever you get to see the finished film it is really quite something to behold – a band playing before the match, look-alike characters wandering about and live musical entertainment at half-time. Unfortunately for me I had a prior engagement in London and was unable to attend the match itself. However, when Stoke lost to Chelsea 7-0 at Stamford Bridge but the old boys had won 5-2 at the Rangers ground, I honestly wished I had changed my plans. Eddie and the guys raised over £5,000 for the children’s cancer charity NACCPO that weekend. I am extremely proud to have had any part in it.

Helping Eddie try to make a success of his strange, mysterious fantasy fiction story, Breaking the Tranquillity of Solitude, has been an absolute pleasure. Part two has been a serious diversification from the original plot line that I read a couple of years ago, but I loved it; the same humour and sense of fun is mixed with more excitement and intrigue. Give it a go. You won’t regret it. I know I certainly didn’t and I’m really looking forward to the conclusion in part three.

Many of those who played or helped out on that charity match are very sadly no longer with us. I know in particular that the loss of Gordon broke Eddie’s heart, as it did mine, but I also know, for certain (because he told me so), that he was very proud of what Eddie achieved that day and, just like me, regretted not having been able to attend. Gordon would have loved that Eddie is still continually trying to better himself and please others.

Well done, Eddie. Keep up the good work; you will get there, I’m certain of it.

Nick Hancock – Stoke-on-Trent, 06/06/2020

PREFACE

After my possibly over-detailed first attempt at creating a preface I am deliberately keeping this one as short as possible. Realistically, nothing has changed from that first draft from book one. The reasons for me writing part two are completely basic.

If you have got this far you will already know that the crux of the story initially evolved from my repetitive dreams and nightmares, over more than a ten-year period. With this and the many other strange, but more real inspirations, if I’d have tried to cram it all into a single volume – that first book might have rivalled War and Peace, at least in length if not in quality.

I felt this might not appeal. People who, potentially might be taking a chance on me as a first-time author, may be daunted discovering a one-off monster to wade through. By tickling the public’s interest a little in part one, hopefully I will have been able to intrigue some of the intrepid folk who tried me once, to come back for a second glance. They might also want to take a look at where this weird and wonderful flight of fancy will take them next. Well, the format and style will likely not have changed much but the story itself may once again surprise in its direction changes.

Just as importantly as before, I sincerely hope that you enjoy it as, realistically, that is the main point of any book.

The continuing story is a bit more of what I like to call a ‘fact-inspired fiction’ that, as I mentioned before, is slightly different from the popular trend of fictionalising historic facts in so-called ‘faction’.

Why? In this instance it is less because it was there and because I could, but more of ‘I must’. As with part one I have changed some of the names to protect the innocent but I have also left some true to their inspirational sources.

If, once again, you enjoy the results it will have made it all worthwhile and will help me push on to continue relaying the rest of the story as it originally happened, so to speak.

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

In contrast to the first book, I have, as with the preface, a lot less to say here also. I don’t want to ingratiate myself upon those already mentioned by repeating my affections for them but feel I must mention some others that slipped the net last time. Once again I have gone for the non-favouritism method of alphabetical progression to name a few other very big influencers. All of those mentioned here continue to motivate me even after having very sadly embarked upon their final journey.

Dave Adams, Jenny Brindley-Pye, Eric Bristow, Ken Dodd, Bella Emberg, Bruce Forsyth, Stephen Hawking, Bill Maynard, Mary Palmer, Nick Rogers and Paul Ware.

Nearly two years on from writing the previous book some things have changed; however, for those much closer to home, my affection only grows.

Archie, Charlotte, Daniel, Ethan, Harry, Matt, Tyler and last again but definitely not least, the centre of my alternate phase of reality is…

Jane (without a y).

I love you all. X

INTRODUCTION

My adventure as the story teller and reporter of the details continues. On this occasion it realistically needs far less background information. However, anyone finding this volume without having seen part one first, might want to backtrack to get a better feel of some of the finer points and details.

In brief, Brody fell in love with Charley at first sight. Before any relationship could develop he was torn away from not only her, but also his lifetime friend, Cash. Due to a calamitous error on his behalf during the final testing sequences of a new transportation system, something went terribly wrong. Brody was then stranded in an alternate phase of reality. He has spent the interim period trying to get back home. Whilst being tasked with solving the riddles left along the way by the elusive and malicious Evet, he has been pulled from pillar to post on numerous weird, somehow reminiscent, very unusual and often terrifying adventures. At the end of part one he was left with a huge decision to make.

For more than that you will need to seek out the detail within the pages of part one itself. If you have already done that you might by now have got a better idea of what I eluded to in the previous introduction when I used the phrase ‘The devil is in the detail’. Never a truer word was spoken, and this theme rolls on as the adventure unfolds and characters develop.

Once again, I suggest that you read into things what you will, take out of it what you can, but remember, the human brain is a very complex machine, capable of much more than we mere mortals will usually allow.

I hope you get as much from this as the last and look forward to addressing you again in the next and final part. At this very time part three is still incomplete, so although I am the writer, even I don’t fully know how things will end. Suffice it to say it is unlikely to be how either you or I initially had expected back at the start of part one.

PROLOGUE

Although still mourning the loss of the children of others, when we left Brody, he was desperately trying to find a way home. The seven mystical beings whom he had become close to and relied upon on many occasions were no longer there to help. His newly found blood brother, Cu-bér, was keen to despatch Evet permanently let alone just to an alternate phase and Brody was finding great difficulty in not allowing it to occur.

If you can excuse the phrase I use, let’s transport ourselves to his location in that unnamed, unknown alternate phase of reality. We can re-join him now at the exact moment we left and see what actions he will take next. His task to put right all the devastation that Evet has caused is no small undertaking…

CHAPTER 1

One Possible Future Broken

"What if I kill you and take the Necronomicon for myself?" He sent a threatening verbal warning shot over Evet’s bows for everyone to hear.

"The book only responds to you now because you opened the rift originally, but it ONLY responds with my permission, my personal, physical contact with my great-great-grandfather’s skin which is enshrouding it, ensures that. Why do you think your previous attempts were unsuccessful? No triclipse. No contact, no permission; my hand was not touching the cover. I must feel my ancestors for the true synchronisation to occur and to create the temporal shift. It is HIS almighty power that controls the travel from one phase to another."

Things Can Only Get Better, was the title of the song that flashed into Brody’s mind, but he did not even attempt a comical recital or take any interest in trying to recall the rest of the composition. Evet’s use of the word ‘almighty’ rang bells of hope in his head.

‘Even here blind foolish faith can be mocked,’ he thought openly, deliberately hoping to silently ruffle Evet’s feathers. Blocking his thoughts again, he pondered that if he and Evet had actually disrupted space, time and reality simultaneously with pods or other forms of transportation, ‘where were those items now?’ He was being forced to choose and didn’t want the risk of picking door A again. B had worked before, but what would have happened with C? Blue pill or red pill? His complex comparison between his previous choice of doors, one of his favourite films and his current predicament, didn’t help at all. This time, as with an increasingly large number of occasions since arriving here, it didn’t even amuse him. He racked his brain for what it could possibly be that he could have done to cause such a situation. Yes, between him and Evet, one or the other of them, or both had certainly done something to place them all here in this ever confusing situation. The chances of it being just a cataclysmic coincidence was way beyond Brody’s belief or even comprehension. He was fully convinced that he had made no errors in his final transport test computations. It had just been an OCD repetition, done for the sake of it. Therefore, in his mind it logically must have been Evet himself, that orchestrated their first miraculous and unlikely meeting, but why? As his head spun with all the conflicting information his back pain surged in harmony and he flinched in momentary agony.

Charlotte rose and walked over to Evet. She stood shivering in front of him looking as if she was about to go into shock, then she released a cracking left cross with her open palm and knocked Evet clean off his stool. The long-haired, tall man recovered and stood quickly. He towered over the young girl. Brody and Cu-bér were like coiled springs but Evet sat back down quietly and did not speak.

Charlotte did not return to her original position but walked slowly over to the window and slumped down with her back against the wall and burst into floods of tears. Brody instinctively went to her, knelt down, put his arm around her and protectively tried to give comfort with an affectionate squeeze. He softly kissed her ear and whispered,

Shhhh, don’t fret, it’s going to be OK. He glanced across to Evet who sat smiling more smugly than ever. Jumping up, he lashed out with a closed fisted carbon copy of Charlotte’s slapping strike and caught Evet clean on the nose, spraying blood sideways. Cu-bér’s trousers were splattered as Evet collapsed backwards and hit the hard floor flat and completely out for the count.

Twenty minutes or more passed and Brody was starting to worry that his punch of anger may have cost them more dearly than he had anticipated. Cu-bér hoped in vain. Gradually, a groggy Evet started to come round and as he sat up, blood was dripping from his nose into his mouth. He very annoyingly smiled straight at Brody revealing his blood-filled teeth, gums and tongue which looked distinctly as if Brody had split. He got to his feet and replicated a bloody version of Brody’s choked spitting of earlier. It was regarded in an ironically similar way. Then Evet spoke, slightly gurglingly as if nothing had happened.

Feels good, doesn’t it, that feeling of releasing rage and taking out your inner power on someone else?

No use trying to wind me up now, I see you for what you are, but your treatment of Charlotte was beyond cruel. Brody batted away Evet’s well-delivered curve ball of nonchalance.

She really is your Achilles heel, isn’t she? Evet probed further with a hidden laugh in his tone. Brody jumped up again, fist raised but Cu-bér sprang up to stop him as further violence in the room seemed futile at this point. Although it was completely understood and justified, the tables were momentarily turned with Cu-bér now the mediator and Brody the bad cop. He calmed down and Evet untensed himself from his expectation of another attempted beating; they both sat back down.

The four sat for a few moments in contemplative silence, all trying to decide what to say or what to do next. Charlotte’s attack on Evet had not changed anything for her and she wept softly in despair at how she had been used and abused. Brody’s perspective was changed. He was distracted from deciding between the sacrifice of one world or another and now centred more specifically on Charley vs Charlotte and Cu-bér vs Cash amongst other more ludicrous emotion ridden thoughts of that nature. Charlotte was racked with conflicting emotion. Her heart was yearning; from Cu-bér’s pep talks, she longed for Brody to see her, as she knew that he saw Charley. She was jealous and also angry at what Evet had made her do to him against her will. Cu-bér was holding back a tribe’s worth of emotion. It was purely out of his respect for Brody that he didn’t carve Evet a new smile as he had annoyingly and in a very antagonising way earlier been goaded to do. He desperately wanted to do exactly what Evet had requested. Hatred was growing within him.

Evet’s eyes flitted from one to another and back, slyly planning what to try next to keep them all on their toes, alive and delayed. He had been relatively successful with most categories so far but felt they were getting too close to knowing his well-hidden intentions.

Brody reminisced to the blagged escape from Baylok’s village and considered that a similar bluff might help now. Having no partners to secretly contact or to silently help him plan and plot, he decided to try a different tack and pander to Evet’s ego. If nothing else he could delay his own decision making process, pass time and maybe get some worthy information without having to fight or argue.

Evet, your abilities were obviously tenfold of what the others thought; I have some small, secret admiration for you but how did you manage to hide the growth and development?

You see much, Brody, but do not take much in, do you? Evet replied sarcastically.

What does that mean, I c..? Brody started to jump to the defensive but was cut off before he could argue.

I didn’t want it to be like this. When I first came across them they were an evolving species and my only desire was to help them develop. When the odd experiment here and there left some scars, so to speak, they lost faith and banished me.

What scars do you mean, Evet?

Well there was, in the early days a few fatalities within the testing and development of various forward moving principles. They fell for my pretence of being related and then when I amazed them with simple trickery they soon became my play things.

Is this the eugenic experiments they told me of? They thought you were trying to manufacture a super race and in effect in doing so, steal their abilities and add them to your own unique set of skills; do you think that it was right or don’t you care?

My ploy was always a selfish one, they were just stupid enough to trust me.

"Fair enough, but I don’t trust anyone, any more, and really only want to get back home, just the same as you continue to pretend. So if you will play ball, can’t we all simply agree to a compromise?" Evet raised a curious eyebrow.

Cu-bér safely knew that Brody had not meant, the lack of trusting part of his statement as any sort of an insult to either him or Charlotte, so refrained from any reaction or interjection. He continued to fester sullenly. Even from within his heightened animosity, it seemed remotely possible that Evet was starting to soften to Brody’s platitudes, but before he could get a more positive vibe they were all interrupted.

The noise of heavy footsteps was heard outside on the stairs and the office door was suddenly flung open. Three machine gun muzzles all entered pointing up toward the ceiling, the weapons then lowered and were aimed roughly at Evet and Brody. Slowly, cautiously, their respective holders who had initially led with their firearms now fully entered the room. Gaining in confidence as they entered, seconds passed. They had not yet themselves been killed or forced to do something against their will, so paused, whilst glancing around, looking for their mistress. They had possibly not seen or even realised that Cu-bér was there. He was, by virtue of the hinge positioning within the door frame, now sitting behind the open door itself.

He quickly realised this and deliberately kept quiet, especially after an understandable glare from Brody. Brody was only a few feet across the room and the look he gave Cu-bér was a big clue that the new arrivals were possibly not of the friendly variety.

Miss Charlotte, we do not want to harm you and we certainly fear your wrath, but please tell us who is in charge here now. The men spotted Charlotte still huddled under the window and in latent fear, politely sought her approval.

We are lost without your controlling instruction and many others are looking to leave this place before the remnants of the plague infects them all. They want to live normal lives and so do we. But we are still loyal to you.

It took a mere second for Charlotte, who had no real memory of these men, to realise that they must have been assigned to her when she had been in her vampiric state. She thought they would most probably still respond to her commands, without question. They seemed scared to the point that they did not care or even realise that she was no longer able to control them as before. All they saw was the woman, not the lack of power or intent.

Using all her imagination and the horrific detail she had gleaned from Brody and Cu-bér, she rose from her hunched position under the window, straightened her back and suggestively pushed out her bust as best she could manage. This drew strange glances of silent awe between the guards and total confusion from the other three.

‘What is she up to?’ was the unlinked but unilaterally thought question that simultaneously emanated from Brody, Cu-bér and Evet.

In her best sultry to slutty improvisation, she slowly but meaningfully raised her right arm and commanded the men…

Shoot… him!

At that very moment she pointed directly to Evet. To reiterate and differentiate the target, she continued to point and repeated louder,

"SHOOT HIM… NOW!"

For Brody, time began to freeze and everything seemed to go into super slow mo. He pushed himself up and lunged towards the three outstretched gun barrels from the left side just as Cu-bér kicked the door closed from his hidden vantage point behind it on the right side. The hollow rakataktak of automatic gunfire was deafening as bullets sprayed all over the room. The empty cases were sent clanging onto the wooden floor as they were rapidly expelled ten to the dozen from the clips of the three Tommy guns. Even in this horrific slow motion malaise, Brody flashed a thought of Gloria with Mickey’s Bren gun and the irony of the answer he had sought earlier was complete.

Normal speed was resumed as Brody crashed into the spitting gun barrels side on and the door smashed into the shoulder of one of the goons sending him flying into the other two. Triggers now released, the bullet rain ceased but the collision of bodies was prolific. The two biggest men landed on Brody like a high school pile-on and the shoulder-injured third tripped over all three of them and went sprawling towards the window and Charlotte’s feet which were, by now, hunched under her body as she once again sat on the floor tight against the wall. Evet was cowering behind the desk having leapt for cover when the order had been given.

Cu-bér was trying to recover from the crack in the face he had received when the door bounced back off its target henchman and, as he rose to fight, had caught him clean on the bridge of the nose.

The third bodyguard recovered first. Quickly picking up his gun he spun around to cover the twisted array of bodies that lay before him. Evet twitched for comfort’s sake as he had contorted himself tightly behind the wooden desk for some relatively futile protection; the re-armed gangster levelled his weapon and called,

"You-uuuu