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Matt Drabble
Copyright © 2020 Matt Drabble
All rights reserved.
BOOKS BY MATT DRABBLE
Gated
Gated II: Ravenhill Academy
Gated III: Election Day
Asylum – 13 Tales of Terror
Asylum II – 13 More Tales of Terror
Asylum III – Crowtree Manor
Abra-Cadaver (free Kindle version)
After Darkness Falls Volume One
After Darkness Falls Volume Two
After Darkness Falls Volume Three
The Travelling Man
The Montague Portrait
Double Visions (free Kindle version)
The Last Resort
Grave Robbers
Survival Island
Prime Time
Capes
The Cure
CONTENTS
Prologue - Origin
Chapter 1 – Cosmic Jones
Chapter 2 – Jamie-Lyn
Chapter 3 – Six Shooter
Chapter 4 - Ambush
Chapter 5 - Burying the Dead, Among Other Things
Chapter 6 – Dr Quantum
Chapter 7 - Crimson
Chapter 8 – SOUL
Chapter 9 - Bull
Chapter 10 – Havencrest Part One
Chapter 11 – Havencrest Part Two
Chapter 12 – Havencrest Part Three
Chapter 13 – Hidden secrets
Chapter 14 – Newsflash: Cats Escape from Bags
Chapter 15 – Bad Pennies
Chapter 16 - The New Battlefield
Chapter 17 – A Shifting Landscape
Chapter 18 – New Power
Chapter 19 – We’re the Bad Guys?
Chapter 20 – The Other Side of the Line
Chapter 21 – Home Invasion Part One
Chapter 22 – Home Invasion Part Two
Chapter 23 – Home Invasion Part Three
Chapter 24 – White Flags All Round
Chapter 25 – Life on the Run
Chapter 26 – Best Laid Plans
Chapter 27 – Rearranging the Pieces
Chapter 28 – The Hunt
Chapter 29 – Seeking Answers
Chapter 30 – The Missing Time
Chapter 31 – Planning Department
Chapter 32 – Ice Fishing
Chapter 33 – Unexpected Callers
Chapter 34 – Frozen Stand
Chapter 35 – The Mood of a Nation
Chapter 36 – The Enemy of My Enemy is Probably Still My Enemy
Chapter 37 – Defrosting Answers
Chapter 38 – A Hero Rises, A Hero Falls
Chapter 39 – Setting the Stage
Chapter 40 – Rats in a Maze
Chapter 41 - Showtime
Chapter 42 - Countdown
Chapter 43 – Lights, Camera, Death
Chapter 44 – Director’s Cut
Chapter 45 - Aftermath
Chapter 46 – Cleaning House
Epilogue
CAPES
Matt Drabble
Copyright © 2020 Matt Drabble
All rights reserved.
CONTENTS
Prologue - Origin
Chapter 1 – COSMIC JONES
Chapter 2 – Jamie-Lyn
Chapter 3 – Six-Shooter
Chapter 4 - Ambush
Chapter 5 - Burying the Dead, Among Other Things
Chapter 6 – Dr Quantum
Chapter 7 - Crimson
Chapter 8 – S.O.U.L
Chapter 9 - Bull
Chapter 10 – Havencrest Part One
Chapter 11 – Havencrest Part Two
Chapter 12 – Havencrest Part Three
Chapter 13 – Hidden secrets
Chapter 14 – Newsflash: Cats Escape from Bags
Chapter 15 – Bad Pennies
Chapter 16 - The New Battlefield
Chapter 17 – A Shifting Landscape
Chapter 18 – New Power
Chapter 19 – We’re the Bad Guys?
Chapter 20 – The Other Side of the Line
Chapter 21 – Home Invasion Part One
Chapter 22 – Home Invasion Part Two
Chapter 23 – Home Invasion Part Three
Chapter 24 – White Flags All Round
Chapter 25 – Life on the Run
Chapter 26 – Best Laid Plans
Chapter 27 – Rearranging the Pieces
Chapter 28 – The Hunt
Chapter 29 – Seeking Answers
Chapter 30 – The Missing Time
Chapter 31 – Planning Department
Chapter 32 – Ice Fishing
Chapter 33 – Unexpected Callers
Chapter 34 – Frozen Stand
Chapter 35 – The Mood of a Nation
Chapter 36 – The Enemy of My Enemy is Probably Still My Enemy
Chapter 37 – Defrosting Answers
Chapter 38 – A Hero Rises, A Hero Falls
Chapter 39 – Setting the Stage
Chapter 40 – Rats in a Maze
Chapter 41 - Showtime
Chapter 42 - Countdown
Chapter 43 – Lights, Camera, Death
Chapter 44 – Director’s Cut
Chapter 45 - Aftermath
Chapter 46 – Cleaning House
Epilogue
PROLOGUE
ORIGIN - 1937
Some say that heroes are born, some say that they are made that way; in truth, it’s probably a little of both.
The events of our lives shape us into what we shall become. A sharp chisel can knock off the rough edges until eventually exposing what lies beneath – in the best cases, a heart of pure courage.
Pop culture shows us the classic image of a hero kneeling over a gravesite while the heavens rage overhead and the lightning flashes across a rain-soaked night sky while our subject screams to the heavens about vengeance.
The problem, of course, with this image is that in real life at some point, our hero has to get up off their grass-soaked knees, walk back to their car, drive home through possibly rush-hour traffic, their fingers tapping irritably on the steering wheel while the radio prattles on in the background. They have to get home, make an evening meal, brush their teeth and perform a whole host of dreary monotonous and repeatable tasks. It is what we call life. In the real world, we don’t get to leapfrog the dull bits and fast forward to the action.
Heroes are slowly moulded into such beings. Experiences shape them like slow moving water over a long period of time and they grow into what they were destined to be. We can only hope that the reveal is one of purity and that the darkness doesn’t seep in and take hold.
As the saying goes, power tends to corrupt and absolute power corrupts absolutely.
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Astrid looked out of the window for the hundredth time that morning. Her face was pale and drawn; her expression was of nervousness, and her knuckles were white as she gripped the curtains.
“Come away from there,” her husband Erik said absently as he busied himself in the lab.
“I can’t believe that you are so calm about this,” she responded without turning away from her post.
“I cannot believe that you are allowing your mind to run away with you. You are a scientist, my dear wife, just like me, and just like our son will be one day.”
“He is not a robot.” She smiled back at his gentle poke.
She knew that he was only looking to provoke a fight in order to take her mind off things, and despite his transparent – but clumsy – attempt, she loved him for it.
“He shall be whatever he chooses to be,” she said, turning away from the window and walking over to stand at her son’s bed as the little man slept peacefully.
�
��Of course! He will have full autonomy,” Erik said, joining her. “He shall have the whole world to choose from, just as long as he chooses to follow in his father’s footsteps… or his mother’s,” he added quickly.
The space that they lived and worked in operated as a home and a laboratory. There were sleeping quarters, a kitchen and a playroom for their four-year-old son, but the main bulk of the area was given to their work.
They were scientists: two like-minded people who shared a love for what the world could become as well as a great love for each other.
Their work focused primarily on the human body – what it was, what it could do, and how it could be improved. Their theme was that disease was a corruption of the human form, an unnatural altering of the natural order. Both of them were of the same mind: if you change the body for the worse, then you could change it for the better; the body was merely a canvas, a starting point.
Of course, their small local community of Blasvik did not share their views.
The small isolated fishing town was steeped in religion, one that neither scientist had much time for, given in their eyes the lack of proven data to back any hypothesis.
The locals were friendly enough, but the 20th century had yet to find them here. Perhaps not even the 19th century had found its way here either. In fact, perhaps not anything from after man tamed the darkness with fire had arrived.
It was a difficult place for two forward-looking scientists to live and work given the locals’ proclivity for living in a deep-rooted past that worshipped the old gods.
They had tried to fit into their surroundings ever since they had moved into town some three years ago when little Olaf was barely one year old, at Astrid’s behest, of course. Erik had little time for insincerity, or even other people’s feelings, especially when he was working.
The abandoned research post had stood empty for years, but they had bought it at a steal, and the large open space, with adequate power and far from prying eyes, had been too perfect to pass up.
The town’s entire population attended church on a Sunday morning, religiously you might say, but even Astrid, while fully intending to go along to get along, had found the fire and brimstone teachings a little too ‘Old Testament’ to swallow.
The townsfolk seemed to be stuck in a different age, their value system ruled by their religion, a lost tribe left behind to exist outside of the world.
As a result, they had retreated back to their lab and, save for the occasional sojourn into town for supplies, they largely kept to themselves.
Little Olaf enjoyed the journey into the populated area, such as it was, his face beaming as the snow mobile bounced along through the picturesque countryside.
The locals all took an immediate shine to little Olaf, his ruddy face and almost-permanent smile melting hearts despite the freezing temperature. The locals, of course, were less welcoming to the scientists that they viewed with naked suspicion.
As was the way in any small and isolated communities, rumours rather than facts held sway over the townsfolk, and the scientists were the subject of much in the way of drunken gossip and speculation on a Saturday in the town’s only tavern.
Their work was the main subject of conversation, with many of the older folks seeing any kind of scientific research as an affront to God. Man was made in The Almighty’s image, and God was omnipotent; that simply meant that you didn’t go monkeying around with the big man’s plans.
Astrid had felt the hard stares of the locals intensifying over the past few weeks, which had worried her greatly. The irony was that she had expected things to change ever since Erik had saved Freja Olsson’s life.
The owner of the general store had been the one person in town to actually show them any signs of friendliness since they’d moved into the old research station on the outskirts of town. Erik had told her that the woman simply wanted their money, but Astrid was sure that the older woman was genuine, especially from the way that she played with Olaf whenever she saw him.
One clear, blue-sky morning, the three of them had been in town. Erik had come along for a rare ride out, a ride that Astrid has insisted upon, given his – at times – unhealthy work ethic and time spent in the lab.
As per usual, Freja had greeted them at the door, snatching the toddler up in her arms and swinging him around amidst a wave of loud, gleeful giggles. Only this time, she had stumbled mid swing, her face suddenly stricken with paralysing fear before she dropped to the ground.
Astrid had spotted that something was wrong and rushed to the woman’s side. It was only pure luck or perhaps divine intervention that Freja had landed on her back, clutching young Olaf to her chest and protecting him as she hit the ground hard.
Townsfolk in the street and nearby had come rushing over while Astrid had pulled Olaf free. Erik had knelt down quickly at the storekeeper’s side and quickly ascertained that she wasn’t breathing.
The local butcher had rushed over in anger as Erik started to perform CPR, his hands intertwined and pumping up and down rhythmically on Freja’s chest. The butcher had no medical training or understanding of such things and only saw a stranger physically assaulting his friend.
Erik had viciously shaken off the attempts to pull him away and continued his actions. Other residents had now joined the fray and were yelling at Erik to stop, right up until Freja started to breathe again.
The sight of the woman literally coming back to life in front of their eyes shocked all of the locals into stunned silence, a silence that soon drifted not into wonder and awe but naked suspicion and fear.
Astrid had felt the mood of the crowd change, while Erik had been more concerned with his own efforts, as Freja started to look around with blinking surprise.
Erik had finally stood up and asked the crowd where the nearest doctor was, but he had been met with silence and hard stares.
Astrid had quickly pulled her husband away from the growing crowd and had shoved him towards their snowmobile as she could feel the people changing slowly from an audience into a mob.
Erik had been unable to comprehend the anger that was building towards him and had started to insult several people who were watching on. Erik demanded to know where the doctor was and wondered just what the hell was wrong with the backwards locals, as he called them and worse.
Astrid had forced Erik into the snowmobile and with great reluctance had driven her family away, leaving the storekeeper behind with her people. She’d had to prioritise her own family; her husband and son were the only things that mattered as she felt the mood growing increasingly ugly.
Over the next few weeks, they had returned to town for supplies, and while Freja still welcomed them with open arms, the rest of the town was now full of sullen stares and accusatory glances.
Freja had assured them that the locals would come around, that they were just shocked at Erik’s medical knowledge, but when Astrid had returned to her snowmobile to load the month’s supplies into the trailer, one word had been scratched into the paintwork: WITCH.
Her own upbringing had included an awful lot of religion; her mother was especially devout, but she had never witnessed anything like the residents of Blasvik. Their devotion bordered on the obsessive and their teachings were full of blood and rage from a vengeful old god. Erik’s lifesaving actions had obviously been interpreted as some kind of devil worship, and they had all been marked as such.
As scientists with rational minds, they had, at first, found the locals’ traditions amusing, but as she had stared into the faces of the townsfolk while Erik had been saving a woman’s life, nothing about them seemed all that humorous anymore.
Erik had soon written off her fears, saying that she had caught something from the town, a religious infection he’d laughingly called it, but a knot of fear had started to grown in her belly.
Over the next week or so, the feeling hadn’t gone away. She had tried to speak to Erik about her unease, but he hadn’t been open to discussion on the subject. His work was
progressing, and she could already tell that the man was quickly retreating into himself as the work consumed him whole.
She had taken to standing watch at the window once the sun went down. It was a hard feeling to shake that they would be coming for them soon. Normally, such immaturity would be quickly silenced by her intelligence, but out in the middle of a desolate frozen landscape, it had become impossible to shake the notion that they were being watched.
There was a hunting rifle that she had insisted on bringing, despite their shared total lack of interest in firearms.
She had grown up in the country, although in nothing like the isolation of their current home. As a girl, her father had taught her to shoot and hunt. While she had no taste for the supposed sport, she was a dutiful daughter and believed her father when he’d told her that it was a necessity to country life.
The wildlife out here was teeming with danger, and with a husband and young son, she had wanted to be prepared. Now, the once unused rifle was cleaned, oiled, loaded and hanging off Astrid’s shoulder as she stood watch.
The past couple of nights, she was almost certain that something or someone was moving out there. Erik had assured her that it was probably just wolves making their way past the old building, but it didn’t feel like animals to her, not one little bit.
Little Olaf was sleeping with the usual strange smile that played across his lips as though every dream was a happy one. Astrid looked down at him now, his face open and pleasant, his cheeks chubby with a rosy healthy glow.
She leaned the rifle against the wall and moved to her son’s bed. Watching him sleep would always slow her own mind down, his peacefulness flowing outwards to her.
Capes