The Majesty: Into the Fog

By Edward R. Laden

The 2,500 privileged passengers aboard the ultraluxurious cruise ship Majesty face life-threatening drama as it travels from London to New York. Once the ship encounters a mysterious green fog, things take an eerie, deadly turn. The fog creates a strange hallucinating effect on most of the crewmembers, pitting them against the passengers as deadly combatants.

But once courageous small bands of passengers mount a counter-offensive, the possibility of their survival is greatly enhanced. However, if they outfight the drug-enraged gunmen, they must also overcome a volatile mixture of spiritual folklore, long-held personal beliefs, and unexplained aquatic phenomenon.

The Majesty quickly deteriorates from the initial pleasurable ambiance experiences of luxury, adventure, and romance aboard an opulent ocean liner to a nightmare voyage simply created by an unexplained fog. A fog forcing the passengers and crewmembers into unchartered territories of their minds, bodies, and souls. Adrift in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean, each side fighting to survive the worst ordeal of their lives.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Jun 12, 2015
• ISBN: 9781503577336

Edward R. Laden

Edward R. Laden was born in St. Louis, Missouri. After graduating from junior college, he joined the US Air Force. That afforded him the opportunity to travel to Alaska and several foreign countries around the world. They included Canada, Mexico, Pakistan, Turkey, Afghanistan, Iran, and Saudi Arabia. Returning home to St. Louis, he worked his way through several unfulfilling jobs. Moving to Miami in 1976, he joined the Miami-Dade Fire Rescue Department, rising through the ranks from firefighter to division chief. He retired in 2003 after serving more than twenty-seven years of dedicated and dangerous public service. He acknowledged and highlighted experiences he gathered from both of those careers generously throughout “The Majesty – Into the Fog.” In 2013 Mr. Laden published his first novel, entitled “Lead Story.” It’s about an ambitious but seriously flawed television reporter who teams up with a sadistic Miami serial killer in order for both men to increase their profiles and achieve their separate goals. Mr. Laden will publish his third novel soon, which is tentatively entitled “Potential – Regrets and Rewards.” It is a semibiographical novel detailing people he has met who impacted his life both positively and negatively throughout his many travels here in the United States and abroad. In 2012 Mr. Laden formed his own public relations company, Laden Productions of South Florida, LLC. He hopes to continue to develop writing, publishing, and other projects in the future. His wife, Darlene, and son, Edward R. Laden Jr., are both enthusiastic ocean cruisers (she has sailed over sixty times, and he has sailed twenty-seven times and counting). This novel is a result of his imagining the worst possible scenario one could encounter on one of these splendid ships. Mr. Laden is an optimistic, easygoing, adventurous type of “people person” who encourages positive interaction among authors and readers of all ages. He resides in the Miami, Florida, area and is constantly involved in writing, publishing, and public relation endeavors. Mr. Edward R. Laden Sr., President Laden Productions of South Florida, LLC PO Box 848064 Hollywood, Florida 33084 Phone [phone] E-mail: [e-mail] www.leadstory1.com amazon.com/author/laden

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THE MAJESTY - INTO THE FOG

Edward R. Laden

Copyright © 2015 by Edward R. Laden.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted

in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system,

without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the

product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance

to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models,

and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

Rev. date: 06/10/2015

Xlibris

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Contents

Dedication

Acknowledgements

Preface Homichlophobia – The Fear Of Fog

Chapter 1 London Lifestyles

Chapter 2 Cast And Crew

Chapter 3 The Majesty

Chapter 4 Bedtime

Chapter 5 The Fog Appears

Chapter 6 Investigation

Chapter 7 Start Of A New Day

Chapter 8 Night Falls

Chapter 9 The Fog Returns

Chapter 10 The Message

Chapter 11 The Takeover

Chapter 12 Ransom

Chapter 13 Revenge

Chapter 14 Amnesty

Chapter 15 Confrontation

Chapter 16 The Waiting Game

Chapter 17 Deception

Chapter 18 London Calls

Chapter 19 Stealth Heroes

Chapter 20 Destiny

Chapter 21 Rescue

Chapter 22 The Aftermath

Words From The Author

DEDICATION

This book is dedicated to the three most important people in my life. My dear departed mother Mrs. Wanda Laden Garwood, my wonderful wife Darlene Dark-Laden, and my always supportive son Edward R. Laden, Jr. I sincerely thank all of them for giving me the courage to pursue my dreams and the inspiration to write this novel. Words cannot express how proud and lucky I am to be a part of your lives. I love you.

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

I would like to thank the following publications, Web Sites, television programs, and various other outlets on which I have drawn some of the research and quotes used in this book: British Broadcasting Corporation, Yoog Search, Google Search, Comcast Search, Wikipedia Encyclopedia, Answers.com, GeoHab.com, Mountain Guides.com, Sport Polo.com, Britannia On-line Encyclopedia, Cunard Cruise Lines, Metropolitan Police Service (U.K.), Royal Navy.Mod.UK, Defense Talk, Lockheed Aircraft Corp., the United Nations, Miami Herald, NBC News, MSNBC, ABC News, CBS News, and CNN.

PREFACE

HOMICHLOPHOBIA – THE FEAR OF FOG

Fog. Such a small word. But a word that conjures up several images of fear. Fear of facing the unknown. Fear of being lost and unable to see clearly. Fear of damp nights and unfamiliar, unfriendly shadows. Lurking just beyond.

Fog is the true ultimate equalizer. Once you enter its world you become a wandering soul, captured and lost in forbidden landscapes. You may mistakenly rejoice in its silent and peaceful entrance, but you may also regret the haunting and lasting impression it leaves behind.

Those were the experiences endured by the passengers aboard the ultra-luxurious cruise ship Majesty as it sailed from London to New York. Faced with new found threats from a life-threatening mysterious fog and crew members transformed into deadly kidnappers, they fight a five-day battle to survive both aquatic and human threats to their existence.

Can they survive their ordeal or will they perish in isolation, stranded in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean, the latest victims of the foreboding fog?

CHAPTER 1

LONDON LIFESTYLES

Paul Sebastian took a deep breath, rose from his crouched position, and hurled two smoke bombs into the courtyard of the plaza.

Pooof, pooof! The canisters sounded off as they exploded and quickly began filling the open space with thick grey smoke. Turning his head from left to right he peered into the smoke that was quickly enveloping him. Suddenly the stillness of the night exploded before his eyes.

Tat-tat-tat-tat, tat-tat-tat-tat! Loud automatic weapon discharges peppered the once quiet atmosphere of the village. Red laser tracer beams appeared out of the dark from multiple angles and flash grenades were exploding all around him. Paul waited for the protective smoke shield to thicken. He pulled his night vision glasses down over his helmet and adjusted the lens. Quickly making the sign of the cross for good luck, he started running as fast as he could toward the building 25 yards away.

Once he reached the building, he flung himself against the safety of a wall. There with minimum coverage he checked his trusty 40-caliber Glock and his MP5 automatic rifle.

Never leave home without them, he said to himself.

Catching his breath, he used the few seconds to assess the situation. Paul thought about his father and older brother who preceded him into retirement; both had long and distinguished law enforcement careers. His career on the other hand had been marred by episodes of insubordination. Several disciplinary actions filled his file. The most frequent notes related to his demeanor with his superior Scotland Yard officers, occasional excessive affections involving numerous ladies and extreme enjoyment of too much alcohol.

Now Paul was determined to prove that all those ill-conceived episodes were behind him. He was nearing the end of his 30 years of public service with Scotland Yard and he wanted to end it on a positive and successful note. Tonight was a good time to start.

Paul pressed as close to the wall as he could, trying to diminish his profile to the gunners searching for him in the smoke filled atmosphere. Although his camouflaged outfit and darkened face masked his outward appearance, it did nothing to quell the fear of uncertainty his brain was trying to suppress.

He remembered a training officer’s words to him as he tried to mold veteran police officers into battle-ready SCO19 special operations team members:

Any officer who isn’t scared when someone is shooting at you and trying to kill you is a dumb officer, soon to be a dead officer. But you must use that fear in your heart to strengthen the processes in your brain in order to survive the situation. Paul took his words to heart and got ready to do his job.

Lifting his rifle, Paul peered through the gun’s scope surveying the upstairs layout of the building. Sticking as close to the walls as he could, he tried to remain in the shadows and inch his way slowly up the stairs, one agonizing step at a time.

Step, listen, observe, Paul recalled his training, step, listen, observe. Even after 29 years of service, he remembered the words from his police academy training.

His adrenalin level kicked into high gear and Paul began to sweat in anticipation of the dangerous move he was about to make.

As he was climbing the stairs, he tried to remember the exact location of Ingrid, the Prime Minister’s kidnapped daughter, whom his team was sent to rescue. At the pre-rescue briefing, he had been told that a satellite spotted the terrorists taking her from a van into this dilapidated building.

There was a strong possibility that she was being held in an apartment somewhere on the second floor. Intelligence sources thought they might have seen her in the second apartment on the right side of the building. Paul hoped they were right.

He waited for his back-up team members Steven Whitehouse and Kelvin McSweeny to reach him on the stairway landing. Once they arrived, he began to assert his role as team leader.

Cover the rear area and look out for anyone coming up the stairs behind us, he whispered to Steven. Using hand signals, he told Kelvin to cover the front hall and the apartments on the left side of the building. Paul would initiate entry into the suspected apartment and grab Ingrid. Everyone adjusted their night-vision glasses again as Paul did a 3-finger countdown. Like a finely tuned Swiss watch all three men leaped into action at the same time.

Paul kicked in the door with one single solid kick. He hurled a stun grenade into the room as far as he could and dove in, staying low on the floor. The first terrorist jumped to his feet swinging a mean-looking AK-47 up to his hip. Too late, Paul popped him with three quick bursts from his rifle, two to the chest and one to the head.

Suddenly bullets seemed to fly from all directions filling the room with bright yellow tracers highlighting their paths. Kelvin dove into the room landing a few feet from Paul. Bullets crackled on the walls and the furniture behind them.

Paul felt the hot trail of a bullet whizzing by his left cheek, missing his face by only a few inches. It made him stiffen up a little and slowed his reaction time by a couple of seconds. But he quickly recovered his composure as he ducked down low, turned to his left side and let off a five-second burst from his MP5. Terrorist number two had been partially hiding behind a wall, but that didn’t help him. He fell with a loud thud, the victim of two shots, chest, and torso.

Steven moved from the hallway to guard the front door. Kelvin joined Paul to begin their detailed search of the apartment. His heart was beating so fast and loud Paul was sure Kelvin could hear it. But that thought subsided quickly as his training kicked back into high gear.

Cautiously they moved from one area to another, all of their senses were on full alert. Suddenly Paul raised a clinched fist. Everyone stopped dead in their tracks.

Ten feet ahead of them was a rolled up blanket with what appeared to be the outline of a body inside of it.

At first, the blanket didn’t move, but as they watched, Paul saw slight movement at one end. He and Kelvin carefully approached the blanket hoping for the best, yet fearing the worse. The blanket moved again and they heard a soft-muzzled moan.

Kelvin stood over the blanket, gun pointed directly at it, ready and waiting. Paul kneeled down and slowly peeled the blanket away. Kelvin’s finger nervously toyed with the trigger on his weapon. Paul hesitated for a few seconds and wiped away a few beads of sweat that were beginning to drip into his eyes.

Paul again pulled at the blanket. First a few locks of golden blond hair became visible, then, the smiling face of Scotland Yard Special Agent Louise Sweeting.

Hey boys! She called out to them, what took you so long?

Bright spotlights suddenly illuminated the training area as Paul and his crew of so-called rescuers heard a booming voice declare, Abort, abort. Cease exercise, cease exercise.

Paul, Steven, and Kelvin emerged from the building soaking wet with sweat. They flung their gear to the ground and began guzzling waiting bottles of water. Paul would have preferred a couple of pints of Guinness, but that was wishful thinking.

Behind them exited the so-called terrorists. Really, they were special agents from the Edinburgh precinct assigned to the yearly intra-squad training exercise.

Both of them were splattered with red paint from Paul’s modified paint gun.

Nice shooting, one of the men told him.

Thanks mate, Paul said, accepting the compliment. They all sat quietly on the grass, drinking water and waiting for the exercise critique to begin. They didn’t have to wait long.

A convoy of three Scotland Yard Special Operations trucks entered the training site. Ten men emerged from the first two trucks and began to dismantle the training site materials. Paul and the other exercise agents were directed to truck number 3, the Command Center Resource Vehicle.

Chin up guys, Paul said to the group, here we go again. A nervous giggle came from one of the younger agents. Paul led the group in, each man taking a seat as they waited for Commandant Byrd to begin his review of the kidnapping exercise.

Paul thought it had gone very well. But he and Commandant Byrd had met many times before. Paul knew from experience that the Commandant was not an easy person to please. Paul began to sweat and he felt a headache coming on.

Everyone in the large van turned and looked as the door swung open. In strode HMSP Commandant Jeffrey Byrd, followed by a trio of his subordinates. He used his six foot four inch height to gain full attention of the group of men gathered before him.

The Commandant’s piercing blue eyes began to scan the faces of the waiting exercise participants. He waited for the small talk to diminish and the men accompanying him to take their seats. At last, he spoke, and the words from his deep baritone voice seemed to echo off the walls of the command vehicle.

I have some good news and some bad news men, he said to them. The good news is that you located the P.M.’s daughter and effected a textbook hostage extrication. No one said a single word. No one moved an inch. They all knew what was coming next.

Choosing his words carefully, the Commandant hesitated and slowly rose from his seat. Moving around the vehicle, tapping his ever-present baton into the palm of his hand, he stared each exercise participant in the eye as he passed them.

The bad news, he said as he hesitated and looked at Steven and Kelvin, is this… He turned his head and his eyes found Paul Sebastian, the team leader. Slowly stepping over to Paul’s desk, he stopped; Paul defiantly looked up and returned his gaze.

The baton made a crashing noise as he smacked the instrument down on Paul’s desk, startling everyone in the room except Paul. Leaning down to his subordinate his voice dripped with sarcasm, as he looked the veteran policeman directly in the face.

The problem team leader is that she was already dead! Commandant Byrd shouted. Already terminally, irrevocably dead!

Paul looked at the man for a few seconds, their eyes locked on to each other. They appeared to be acting like two caribou males in Alaska locking horns to determine dominance over the observing herd. Finally, Commandant Byrd rose up, turned, and walked away without saying another word; he had gotten his point across to everyone.

The van slowly and silently began to empty. Men gathered their gear and departed the exercise scene. Paul was the last one to exit the Command Vehicle. He was relieved that he was nearing retirement and this would be the last time he had to endure this rigorous type of exercise. He certainly would not miss the unwarranted, unnecessary criticism from Commandant Byrd.

Stepping out into the cool London night air Paul welcomed the light rain shower falling on the training exercise scene. He raised his head to the sky and felt the moist raindrops coat his face with cool refreshing relief from the trauma of the exercise review. He inhaled and exhaled several times, trying to breathe fresh life into his lungs and reinvigorate his aging body.

Paul got into his car and started the motor. The old Jaguar huffed and puffed but didn’t start. Paul waited a minute and tried to start it again.

Come on baby, he said, not now, not now. He turned the key again and as if it only needed a little encouragement, the Jaguar roared to life. That’s a good girl. Paul pulled out of the compound and headed out on Southern Way toward his home. He was happy that traffic was lighter than usual, no bumper-to-bumper headaches.

What a bunch of bullshit! It’s a good thing I go on holiday soon; I need two weeks away from all this mess. He yelled into the air relishing the thought again that his final days were close. His apartment would be a welcome sight after his accommodations for the last two hours.

He looked forward to kicking off his shoes, heating up the leftover Shepherd’s pie in the fridge and downing it all with a pint of pale ale. What the food and drink could not do was diminish the loneliness he felt since his wife, Claire, divorced him.

Had it been two years already? Paul thought. He missed her so much. He missed coming home to the smell of cottage pie or Lancashire pot roast dancing through the house. He especially missed the smell of her perfumes and the powders he used to spread on her back after she bathed.

What Claire missed the most was him. After ten years, she grew tired of spending birthdays, anniversaries, and holidays by herself. She began to feel more like a single woman rather than the married woman she was supposed to be. She was such a sweet, gentle, and kind-hearted person that the day she left him she blamed herself for the failure of their marriage, not him.

Paul could not blame her for leaving him. He was not a good husband at all. He was more married to his job than to his wife. As he prepared to go to bed his thoughts drifted back to the strange dream he had two nights ago. The dream with the dark ominous fog. Paul had been enveloped in it, flailing about in a dark foggy world, trapped and unable to escape.

He remembered strange zombie-looking human beings reaching out trying to restrain him. He remembered the crackling sound of gunfire echoing through a large empty room, shattering sharp glass and plaster all over him. He visualized himself being chased by gunmen as he ran down long corridors and multiple stairwells.

His breaths became labored as his heartbeats increased due to the imaginary trauma he was experiencing. Paul knew he was only dreaming, but the dream felt so real, almost too real. When he finally forced himself to wake up his tee shirt and pillowcases were soaked with sweat. That’s how real and frightening the dream felt.

Paul hoped his upcoming cruise from London to New York would give him an opportunity to clear his head of all the problems surrounding him. He would come back home after the cruise, ready to finalize his retirement plans and end his law enforcement career. He wished things were different. He wished Claire were still with him. She would have loved a two-week holiday and a cruise.

Ringggg! Ringggg! Scott Kincaid awoke to the sound of his alarm clock. Forcing his eyes to focus, he realized he had only been asleep four hours not his usual eight. Scott had gone to bed only a few hours ago because he had to complete a last minute report his boss asked him to submit at the staff meeting taking place this morning. He pushed the covers off and slowly climbed out of bed.

As Scott put on his robe and slippers, he heard voices downstairs in his kitchen. Lou, his exuberant and precocious six-year-old son was asking repeated questions to his mother. Although he was named after his great grandfather Louis Kincaid, everyone called him Lou.

Scott made his way to the bathroom and continued to hear the sound of excited chatter downstairs between Lou and his mother. He smiled as he began to decipher the main topic of their conversation. Scott’s wife Dianne was playing the perfect role of being the attentive, interested, sounding board parent.

What’s the name of the ship mommy? Lou asked her.

"For the 10th time, Dianne told him, it’s named the Majesty."

Is it really as big as it looks in the magazine? Lou asked.

Bigger. Dianne answered, Much bigger.

Wow! Lou exclaimed, I can’t wait to see it.

Upstairs as Scott began to shave he paused and stared at the image of the man reflected in the mirror. What he saw made him think about recent happenings in his life. Things were moving around Scott at a much faster pace than he ever envisioned.

Dianne came upstairs and was walking pass the bathroom. Seeing her husband shaving she retraced her steps and returned to face him.

What time did you go to bed my darling? Dianne asked, using her best Queen Elizabeth impersonation. Scott morphed into his best Sean Connery impression and replied, I think it was around 3:30 or 4:00 o’clock my dear.

Dianne frowned and tilted her head to the side, a look of amusement and befuddlement on her face.

I don’t know if that was Prince Charles or Richard Burton, she said, but whoever it was supposed to be, it needs a lot more work. Scott grabbed a towel and tried to pop her on her bum but Dianne quickly turned and stepped away.

Hurry up and get downstairs, she told him, Lou is asking me a million questions about the cruise and I’m running out of answers for him.

I’ll be down shortly, he shouted out to her. As Dianne walked away, Scott could not help but stare at his beautiful caramel-colored, mixed-race wife. She combined the graceful beauty of Halle Berry with the raw sexuality of Marilyn Monroe. Dianne’s mother was a white secondary school teacher from London and her father was an African semi-professional soccer player from Nigeria. Somehow, they met, fell in love, and got married in the quick span of just eleven months.

The union between Scott and Dianne would take a lot longer to consummate. Dianne was a rebellious teen-ager and an adventurous fun-seeking young woman once she entered college. During her freshman and sophomore years, she adopted the whole offbeat Gothic lifestyle. Black hair, black clothing, and a dark foreboding demeanor were her everyday persona.

She dabbled in drugs and practiced African and Caribbean occult exercises with her Gothic friends. For a while, she even worked at a SoHo independent newspaper that specialized in extolling the virtues of legalizing drugs, promoting alternative lifestyles, and railing against suppressive government establishments.

Soon Dianne’s mother and father would do an intellectual intervention, challenge her to straighten up, and try to realize her true potential. Dianne took their urgings to heart and used her final two years of college to excel in all her studies. After graduation, she became both a professional prolific writer and a gifted athlete.

Scott met her at a coffee shop where they were forced to share the lone remaining small table. Not being a great communicator his initial conversation was minimal. Finally, Dianne noticed Scott’s shyness and tried to draw out a few words.

Would it help any if I told you that you had me at hello? Dianne jokingly asked him. Scott doubled up with laughter and tried unsuccessfully to remember Tom Cruise’s retort from the movie. That would be the beginning of an inside joke they shared with each other for many years to come.

Dianne sat back and admired her new friend’s beautiful smile and easy-going manner. They talked for hours and exchanged phone numbers. Scott couldn’t wait to call her the next day. The first time he asked her out on a date he was so nervous and flustered he began to stammer the invitation. Dianne calmly took control, finished his sentences for him, and accepted his invitation. At that moment, he fell in love with her.

As their relationship grew more serious, so did Scott’s anxiety about bringing Dianne home to meet his family. His fears were well founded. She received an icy reception at his father’s palatial home. But Dianne took their unenthusiastic response to her presence in stride and seemed to move on. Later that night as she cuddled in his arms she made a simple but profound observation to him.

One day we will be married, have kids, and grow old together, she said. I would rather look forward to those loving moments we will share in the future than look back with hate and anger in my heart at the past.

Scott, lost for words as usual, could only kiss her and speak from his heart.

I love you, he told her. You are my world. As long as you are with me I don’t need them or anyone else. Now Scott had a complete family of his own, Dianne, Lou and the newest member of the family, their four-year old daughter Jewel.

Their marriage was not perfect, but at least their past was no longer a hindrance to their future.

As Scott was getting dressed, his wife called up to him. Do you want any breakfast? Yes. Scott answered her as he stepped downstairs, gingerly avoiding the normal assorted obstacle course of toys that Jewel always leaves for him to trip over. Scott quickly ate his breakfast, kissed everyone good-bye and prepared to head into his office in downtown London. He had a lot of work to do and only had one more day to complete his unfinished business before going on holiday.

Dianne was to complete all the travel arrangements for the cruise, including some last minute shopping. Scott had to get his office’s business priorities in order prior to his two-week absence. He knew he had to delegate added responsibilities to his assistant manager, review some project deadlines, and send two cost review reports to the accounting department.

I’ve got to give Todd my satellite phone numbers, he reminded himself. He had recently purchased two new high tech phones he would utilize on the cruise ship just in case he had to contact his office. Although he was on holiday, Scott realized the dangers of being out of touch with the home office, especially since he was a new manager.

Scott got into his car for the short 10-minute ride to the train station. From there he would take a 35-minute high-speed train ride into the heart of London. As he settled into his seat on the train Scott reflected on some of the decisions he had made that caused him to be at this particular junction in his life.

His decision to forego a position at his family’s 300-year-old tobacco business and accept a low-level position in a banking and securities firm caused a serious rift with his close-knit family. That decision paled in importance, and was overshadowed by his marriage to an older, divorced, multi-racial woman. But Scott had fallen madly in love with Dianne. Marrying her was something he considered the best thing he had ever done in his life. Unfortunately, his family had an opposite view.

Scott’s family was proud of the fact that what started out as a small 200-acre tobacco farm in southeastern England in the 17th century, grew to become a worldwide multi-billion dollar conglomerate in 2013. But Scott wanted to go in a different direction, one vastly different from the one his family wanted and expected him to enter. They knew Scott’s keen intelligence and savvy business skills would be a welcome addition to their family’s dominance in the highly competitive tobacco industry.

But Scott met Dianne and everything changed. For the first time in his life, he began to look inward not outward for peace and satisfaction. Just as important, they were teaching their children to embrace education, adventure, and diversity in their everyday lives. The fact that both Lou and Jewel seemed to be well-rounded children made both of them proud.

As the train continued its journey toward London, Scott began to feel the effects of the loss of sleep he experienced the previous night. The rolling side-to-side motion of the train only heightened his drowsiness. Scott’s eyelids became heavier as he casually observed the passing scenery.

The rolling grasslands and plains were punctuated with sporadic farmhouses and pastures. They provided a calming contrast to the hustle and bustle of the 21st century lifestyle of fast approaching London. Soon Scott closed his eyes and drifted off into a semi-conscious state of rest. He could almost hear his breathing deepen; the sounds around him were barely audible. The passing scenery became a blur, whirling around in a tornado like vortex. It turned into a dark mass, completely enveloping him and placing Scott into a shallow but blissful sleep mode.

In his tranquil state of mind, Scott relaxed even more as visions began to appear. At first, they were lurking in the shadows of the darkness, not clear. Scott sub-consciously tried to re-focus his eyes, get a clearer picture of what he was struggling to comprehend. The black darkness started