The Nothingman: Duality: An Alex Brody Thriller

By Darren McGuinness

Alex Brody finds himself in Acapulco, Mexico. 

 

With the events at R.R Jackton Airfield and his demolition of the Arc of Evermore a not too distand memory. Alex embarks upon a new challenge as he tries to claw back some of what once was. He was a father, a husband and friend before he was forced to become The Nothingman. A battle of duality ensues as Alex tries to move on and focus on being Alex Brody. 

 

The problem is that not everyone is so keen for The Nothingman to simply dissapear. 

 

A monster in the form of Cartel kingpin Romeo Ortega injects himself into Alex and Misha's life. He wants The Nothingman and the unique skill-set that comes with. 

 

Unfotunately for Alex, Ortega will not take no for an answer. 

 

A deadly twist of fate and seuqence of events open the door for the The Nothingman to resume his trademark undying pursuit of vengeance. 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Darren McGuinness
• Release date: Aug 11, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223461975

Darren McGuinness

Darren began writing fiction in 2022, first publishing The Nothingman on ebook and paperback. With a writing style that is accessible and heavy on character and a scene orientated narrative he allows the reader to connect and become entwinted in the charater's perspective.  Darren draws a lot of his inspiration from his own experience growing up and working in and around Glasgow, Scotland. With a background as a Paramedic working in prehosptial emergency healthcare he describes it as a priviledge to experience humanity in it's best, worst, happiest, sad and most weird and wonderful! Darren is always keen and engaging to hear what his readers think about his work and can be followed on social media @dmcguinnessauthor (Instagram) or emailed direct at [e-mail]

Book preview

Act I - Duality

Chapter One

Barra Vieja – Acapulco

Playa De Barra Vieja ran adjacent to the Ocean for several Kilometres. Alex ran the length until he hit 10k every single day. The sweat gathered at the back of his neck and he felt the Ocean wind whip around him cooling him in the baking sun. The fine sand worked its way between his toes and provided a deep warmth. An energy stored in the top few inches by the beating sun.

It had been exactly six months since the events at R.R Jackton airfield. He monitored the news surrounding the bloody exchange for a few weeks after. He lost interest when they enshrined the Vice President as some sort of hero and brushed the rest of it under the unending rug at the oval office.

‘Hola American, you are looking good. How are you today?’ A voice sounded out at his six o’clock. He expected it, he heard the man approach and already knew his intentions. It was the same most mornings.

‘Hey Javi, I’m good.’ Alex stood, wiping the sand from the seat of his shorts. Like clockwork, Javi stood holding a sweating beer in his left hand and a sweating bottle of water in the right. His cool bag sat between his legs as he stood smiling at Alex. It was difficult to age Javi, he looked older than he likely was. The sun and cigarettes hadn’t been kind to his skin. ‘Water is fine this morning.’

‘Si.’ Javi smiled, flashing the unorganised graveyard that occupied his mouth. Oral health hadn’t been much of a priority, taking an ill protested second best to the crack pipe. Alex handed Javi ten dollars, it was too much, the water was only a couple of dollars but Alex always tipped extra. He thought Javi was a good kid. They talked every day, same spot, same time, same overpayment. ‘Where is the beautiful lady, I only come to speak to her Mr America?’ Javi’s head and shoulders bobbed as he giggled.

‘She’s back today. I’ll let her know you think she is beautiful.’ Alex smiled as he watched Javi flush with embarrassment.

Javi used his most prominent fang to bite the cap from a Corona, after a sip he asked, ‘Estados Unidos?’

Alex nodded in reply, that was as much information as he could allow himself to part with. He had never given his name to Javi, or anyone else around here for that matter. They referenced him as the American or the gringo when they assumed he didn’t pay any attention. He did. He always did.

Javi offered a fist bump before stuffing the money Alex had given him into his right sock. It took him a moment to gather his street vendor necessities and re-load his hands with the two best selling products. Water and beer. A nod of the head and he was off.

***

The small apartment that they had been living in wasn’t far from the beach, it was linked to a small complex that housed a lot of working people and their families. Barra Vieja was known for its beach and its reputation for good gastronomy. Alex had a favourite spot where the food was a welcome luxury and the beer was cold. They ate there too often he had always thought. It wasn’t a financial concern. More about being in a place regularly, predictably, where they could be found. The fact that no-one came looking worried him most. Every time he picked up on a stateside accent, his adrenaline flooded his body. Acapulco was a frequent vacation spot for Americans, he felt on edge most of the time and avoided any talk about himself or why he found himself in Mexico.

Alex caught a slight movement at the entrance to the complex where the apartment was located. A slightly built male had come into view as Alex slowed his pace. He noticed him on the first floor initially. It struck Alex as a potential threat as the man had been taking a casual interest in their apartment when Alex first saw him. He felt the adrenaline rush again, the whooshing of the blood as it flooded upward to his brain intermittently filled his ears. Between the whooshing he listened for any other movement, there was none. The man stood looking up at their apartment door as Alex was within a few metres of him. He was unaware of his surroundings, Alex doubted he was a professional. The man managed a short, sharp breath before Alex had a forearm wrapped around his neck. There was a slight attempt to struggle but Alex only had to apply several pounds of pressure through his arms to discourage the man.

The man held out his hands in an overt gesture of surrender. Alex maintained his hold and walked the man under the stairwell where he couldn’t be seen. ‘Who the fuck are you?’ Alex said as he spun the man around and forced his back against the wall.

‘I’ve got no money man, fuck off and rob someone else.!’ The man stared into Alex’s eyes. Alex saw something right there, in that moment. The flash of a gold tooth and the ink that crept above his collar confirmed it. This man was affiliated. Cartel or some other organised crime thing.

‘Why are you here? You don’t live here?’

‘Tranquillo gringo,’ The hands stayed in front of him in a disarming pose, ‘My girl lives upstairs man.’

‘Number?’

‘What?’ The man let out a burst of defiance in a snort. Alex grabbed the man’s index and middle finger with one hand and the remaining fingers in his other. He began to apply pressure pulling them further from each other. He would have ripped the man’s hand right down the middle and was fully prepared to do it.

‘Ay, ay, ayyy, man, stop! Fourteen, man!’

Alex released his grip and leaned into the man, ‘Wrong. That’s my place.’

‘This is the Ocada complex?’ The man’s lips thinned into an awkward smile come grimace.

‘That’s around the corner, this is Azteca.’ Alex stepped off the man, ‘Now fuck off.’

The man nodded, smiled, and moved gingerly around Alex. He headed out on to the street. Alex thought about following him for a few seconds. He decided against it. Something unnerving washed over him and he pushed it away. The truth was that he never felt truly relaxed, he was always on edge, Misha had probably grown tired of trying to keep him on a level that was somewhere several grades below high alert.

Alex surveyed the immediate area outside the apartment door. No scratches or signs of tampering around the lock or the framing but the doormat was moved. It should sit flush against the threshold. It was off at an angle. Alex wondered if the man had been an opportunist, hoping the spare key was under the mat. It happened all the time, stupid decisions having consequences that could change a person’s life.

Alex remembered a night in the family home. It was when he rarely managed to sleep more than a few hours before the horrors of his deployment in the desert flooded his mind. Some tweakers burst into the garage at home whilst Emily and Sarah slept. He remembered the crunch as he brought a heavy wooden bat down on the first of the two men. His forearm was no match to the brutal force as he held it up in defence. The scream he let out woke both Emily and Sarah. The second strike was straight across the man’s shoulder blades as he scuttled around Alex’s Jeep. The second man was cornered by the time Alex gave up chase and turned on him. He had a knife and pointed it towards Alex. His eyes were sucked deep into his skull, a pink tinge where the white parts should be. Sarah hit the lights as Alex stood a few feet from the man’s outstretched arm. The man trembled. His body language told Alex enough. He didn’t fancy the fight that was coming. Alex heard Sarah telling him to let the man go but it was drowned out by the rage pulsing through Alex’s mind. He grabbed the man’s wrist and pulled him forward taking advantage of the man’s poor stance. Alex side stepped as the man fell flat on his face. Alex rained the bat down on the man’s hands and wrists until they looked like formless fleshy gloves. Sarah’s scream snapped him out of the rage and he allowed the man to slither out of the gap under the partly raised garage door.

He snapped himself back to the present and pushed in through the apartment door. A pause. He listened for anything that was out of sorts. The A/C hummed from the bedroom. A click signalled the refrigerator had reached its optimal setting and it was time to power save. When he was satisfied, he pulled a Colt 1911 from under a cushion on the couch and ran through his routine. Mag out. Slide back. Reload. Release. Safety. He took a quick glance out into the street and saw nothing that concerned him.

He checked his phone and read the last message Misha had sent. It must have been when he was out running. It confirmed that her flight was on schedule. She would be back in the late afternoon. He felt the familiar heaviness surround him like an invisible aura. It was always followed by a nervousness in the pit of his stomach. Then the tightness in his chest. The anxiety subtly stole his oxygen anytime Misha was due to return from the States, It wasn’t enough to leave him fighting for breath but he felt the need to suck air in more forcefully.

This was the third time she had been back up north of the border. She was on recon. Watching Emily. It tore pieces from Alex with every update. She was housed with a new family in Colorado. A professional couple. No other children. A golden retriever. The photos hurt him more. She had grown. She had already begun getting in her adult teeth at the front. Alex had paid off a government official for the location. It was a huge risk and it meant that someone other than himself, Misha and Ed Truman knew he was alive. He had hoped the ten grand cash was enough and had even gone as far to threaten the man with death if it ever got out.

Alex ran through some breathing exercises until the band across his chest eased off. He dropped into a set of push ups until failure. He followed that up with crunches and took a cold shower.

Chapter Two

Alex sat reading a book that claimed to have the reader speaking Spanish in just a few weeks. He had little faith that it could deliver. Misha spoke more than just the basic phrases that he knew. She was able to pick up on the locals as they spoke about ‘the Americans’ and chastise them with what he assumed was a smart response. He tossed the book the onto the table as he picked up on the wavering hum of a diesel engine slowing down outside. He heard her thank the driver before the screeching of the fanbelt followed the clunk of the door being closed. He listened as her feet made contact on each tread of the steps up to the apartment and waited for her to come through the door. ‘Hey.’ He said.

‘Hey yourself.’ Her smile lifted his mood immediately. She dumped her bag on the floor by the door and hugged him. ‘Mhm...there’s a smell in here.’

‘Oh, that’ll be the failed huevos rancheros, the eggs were a bit off.’ Alex cursed himself, he planned on taking the trash out before she got back.

Misha pulled the front of her shirt up to her nose, ‘I need a shower. The stink of travel.’ She smiled with her eyes, ‘Might need some company.’ She kicked off her shoes and pulled her shirt up and over her head. Alex watched it hit the ground.

‘Go ahead, I’ll join you after I take the trash out.’ Alex watched her disappear into the bathroom as he tied off the trash and lifted it out of the bin. He fought powerful urge to ask about Emily as soon as she opened the door, he had learned the hard way that it wasn’t the best welcome when he negated a welcome home and demanded an update on Emily before saying hello.

Alex spotted the man from earlier as soon as he walked out of the apartment. He was stood on the other side of the street, with a cell phone to his ear looking directly at Alex. His initial impulse was to drop the bag and rush the man but he calmed himself quickly and headed down the stairs. He was focused, watching the man, their eyes meeting as Alex reached the bottom. The rush of adrenaline came as he expected. There was no fighting it. It was part of his makeup. Part of who he was.

Alex paused for a second and stared at the man. The man returned a nod. Then a smile, the sunlight hitting one of his plated teeth like a rapper in a music video. The man turned and began walking up the street. There was clink of glass and he turned to see the trash bag leaving a trail of rubbish after he had inadvertently torn it on a four-foot potted cactus. He stopped a beer bottle rolling with his foot and began picking up the trash. A small crushed up box caught his eye. He thought it was the packaging toothpaste tubes would come in. It wasn’t. He smoothed out a few creases and read ‘Clearblue’ along the long edge. ‘Fuck.’ He said to himself before a sudden flush of saliva coated his mouth. He balked as his stomach contents were voided into the complex flower bed. A cold sweat coated the nape of his neck as he searched through what was left in the bag. ‘Where is the fucking piss stick? ‘He said to himself. It wasn’t there.

He dumped the trash and tried to compose himself. He wondered when she was going to tell him. If she was going to tell him. Could they even be parents? Their life was far from normal. What about the shit Truman had put into him? Alex sat on the bottom step asking and answering every intrinsic question that was flooding his head. He had no concept of the time he had spent in this erratic state as he stared at his shaking hands, willing them to stop he interlinked his fingers and tried the breathing exercises again.

‘Alex.’ Her voice was behind him. He turned to see her standing at the top of the stairs in nothing but a towel. Her wet hair pushed to one side.

He pushed off the stair and turned to head up, ‘Yeah. Sorry...’

‘Are you alright? You look a little waxy.’ Her concern was in her facial expression as well as her tone of voice.

Alex puffed out his cheeks, ‘The eggs.’ He headed inside the apartment and brushed his teeth. Rinsing with mouthwash and hoping the rancid taste of his vomit was gone. He saw her watching him in the reflection of the mirror. Misha seemed to take the hint that sex was off the table and unpacked her clothes as Alex avoided eye contact and lay on the bed.

‘I better not be eating at Eduardo’s alone tonight.’ She shouted from the kitchen. He heard the hiss of a soda being opened. Not a beer.

‘I’ll be fine for dinner.’ He had no idea how to address the pregnancy test. He wasn’t sure if she had gained any weight. She hadn’t been vomiting in the morning but then again, she had been away for a week. Sarah hadn’t been a walking vessel for vomiting and nausea until the second trimester with Emily. He closed his eyes knowing he wouldn’t get any sleep and stared at the inside of his eyelids for what felt like a few hours.

***

Misha slid a beer across the counter to Alex. She sipped from a bottle of water. He leaned on the countertop, feeling less nauseated. ‘Have you got any news?’ This was it. He said it. It was up to her, he waited with bated breath.

She looked up, ‘Yeah, you might not like it though.’

He felt the butterflies spring to life inside his stomach, ‘Oh, should I be worried?’

‘Well. You haven’t been the same since we found out about Emily. I have reservations based on that if I’m honest.’ Alex knew what she meant. His mood was easily affected. Knowing his daughter was alive and that she had no idea he was out there killed him. He hadn’t left her, he still wanted to be her dad.

Alex took a long pull on his beer, ‘Aren’t you having one?’ He wondered if this was another piece of the pregnancy puzzle. Had she stopped drinking?

‘No, the water is fine.’ She narrowed her eyes as she studied him. He knew it. ‘Are you sure that you are okay?’

‘What do you need to tell me Misha.’ His tone was sharp, direct, and caught her by surprise.

She let out a sigh and chewed at the inside of her lip, ‘The Bryant’s are taking her to Scotland,’ She tossed the empty water bottle in the trash, ‘Just for the summer, they have family there.’

Alex felt a surge of anger explode inside him, ‘What the fuck!? I need to see her.’ He pushed off the counter and paced the room, ‘Anything else?’

‘They fly out in two days. Return in three weeks.’ Misha said before placing her phone on the counter, ‘The latest pictures.’ She walked off, into the bedroom.

Alex looked through the photos. Emily looked genuinely happy. The Bryant’s looked as though they actually gave a fuck about her. Even from a distance and under Misha’s covert observation Alex could not find a reason that supported his worries. Her life seemed as good as it could get after your mother was killed by a heinous cult and your father supposedly killed in action overseas. There was a thirty second video that showed Emily playing in the front yard with the dog. Alex could not control the tears as he watched it. He knew deep down; these were moments he could never have with his daughter. Moments meant for other people. Moments that lasted seconds but could punctuate a person’s entire existence.

He sat on the sofa halfway through his third bottle of Modelo, reflecting on the last while he felt ashamed. No wonder Misha never mentioned the pregnancy test. He thought about how difficult he had become. How he only existed in two planes of reality. One was a constant on high alert waiting for the next fight and the other was a depressed, anxious asshole. If Misha was carrying his child, they’d need to make it work. They’d need to be well insulated. They’d need concrete identities, far from anyone who could find out who he was. That would mean cutting Emily out. No more observing. No more photos. The thought of that was the most difficult part. He felt tingling in the fingers he had wrapped around the bottle. They were white at every joint and knuckle from how hard he was squeezing the bottle. He breathed several controlled breaths and studied the scar on his hand. Some whack job with a superiority complex, a penchant for rape and preaching cultish ideology had shot a large nail through it during his systematic destruction of the Arc of Evermore.

***

‘I’m sorry.’ He said. Her eyes meeting his and softening immediately.

‘You really need to give yourself a shake up Alex. What has happened to you is devastating, but it has happened. You need to choose whether you stand tall and keep moving or lay down and die.’

‘...I’

‘Let me finish.’ Misha swung her legs off the bed and stood, ‘If you want to stand and keep moving forward then I’m with you, if not, then...’

Alex closed in on