An Unchartered Life
by
Ellen Dudley .
A tale of the not too distant future; could be referred to as optional fiction, it being more preferable than the truth…
Britain.
Life in Britain has changed in 2028.
In 2015 on the 7th of May, the UK general election was held (the 56th parliament of the United Kingdom) The people of Northern Ireland, England and Wales chose to elect the UKIP as their government … at each general election, without fail.
Because of the devastating floods of 2014, the shores of Britain have been reinforced by a forty meter-high sea wall, made up of sand sewn with grass whose roots, deeply embedded, reinforced the barrier against high tides.
Sluice gates were constructed at every river estuary. River banks were raised and reinforced with concrete.
The return of the death sentence, by hanging, was reintroduced after a spate of murders by an ex-convict, shocked the nation
Rewards were handed out to those who denounced an illegal immigrant, a ‘fugie’ (fewjee) and anybody employing them. These were flown back to their country of origin, after five years imprisonment or communal work, such as road building and repair.
Despite the ‘extra powers’ given to police (not mentioned here – Official Secrets Act 129/45/2015 ) crime was on the rise. Special forces – ex-British army – were organized to support the police.
Hospitals (like the courts and prisons) were understaffed (some say because of the minimum wage law) as the better qualified doctors and nurses had left for better climes (and pay).
The newly organized medical insurance firms soon found out the number of chronically ill patients was rising faster than predicted and it was understandable that they sought options to solve this drawback. Unbeknown to the British public and privy to a chosen few, the medical insurance firms sought advice from all quarters and after viewing all options set the ball rolling…
Manchester 2016.
Grunts of lust, combined with squeals of protest, followed by repeated blows of bone on flesh, which resulted in silence brought on by semi-consciousness. The following sounds were ones of pleasure for one party and pain for another, while a third party laughed, hands clapping in time with the body slaps as a man took his pleasure, not stopping until he succumbed to ultimate gratification.
Mary Collins, sixteen years old, lay sprawled naked over her bed covers, her knees on the floor, her thighs apart. Her features, first contorted in pain, were now calm. Blood leaked from her nose and mouth, and her eyes stared blankly. The last thing she heard before her drunken stepfather closed her bedroom door was her drug-addicted mother, cackling in the hallway.
Two years later.
Her nose wrinkled as soon as she entered the squalid room. Mary looked down at her mother lying in a mixture of her own excrement and urine on the floor of her bedroom, the hypodermic needle still inserted inside the barely visible vein in her forearm.
Avoiding the mess, she stood astride her, squatted down and carefully lowered her posterior onto the other’s chest. The gentle breathing ceased; the head jerked a dozen times, mouth wide like a drowning fish, and then lolled to one side, and was still.
She rose up and left the room without a backward glance, closing the door quietly behind her.
At the local cemetery, Mary, dressed in black, stood next to her father at her mother’s graveside while an elderly vicar finished his eulogy with a prayer. “…ashes to ashes, dust to dust. Now let us pray. Our Father…”
She joined in, her lips moving silently.
Her father, swaying drunkenly, turned away and stumbled off.
Two days later, back home, upstairs; Mary’s inebriated stepfather accosted her as she came out of the bathroom wearing just a towel. The last time he tried to have his way with her she kneed him in the testicles; this time she head-butted him and pushed him down the stairs.
After she changed her clothes she descended the stairs, stepped over the inert body, took out her mobile and dialled. “Ambulance, please. Fatal accident I’m afraid. Male. No, no pulse. Drunk, fell down the stairs. Looks like his neck is broken. Yes of course, the address is…”
Mary, now free to live her own life, sought employment and she only had one thought in mind, revenge; but after careful thought, she decided to try an alternative way to rid herself of the pain and hate bottled up inside her…she joined the British Army…
…where she learned the trade of assassin.
***
Excerpt from: “An Unchartered Life” by Ellen Dudley, author of “The Package, A Tale of the Holocaust”, available on Amazon.com and co.uk – etc.
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