xabalba
Bluelighter
WARNING SOME PARTS ARE GRAPHIC
but hey thats the way i write if its to bad feel free to remove it mods
hey bluelighters im a 27yr old writer from Australia and ive nearly completed my first novel THE BOOK OF THREE, its been a work in progress for two years and i believe that i shouldnt charge people to read my book thats why i have decided to post the first chapter here today and hopefully you guys will enjoy it and if you do like it than i will post a new chapter every week and you can follow this twisting crime thriller as i put it to page.
CHAPTER 1
The white ford transit van rumbled up the quiet Brooklyn Street, pushing its way through the early January snow.
The vans payload consisted of eight agents, seven from the FBI’s tactical response unit and a one Behavioral
Science Unit Federal agent, the six agents in the back were equipped with silenced MP5 sub machine guns, black
Kevlar body amour with FBI stamped across their chests, Kevlar helmets with earpieces and throat activated
microphones, Sig Saur P229 9mm side arms, cargo pants, military boots and black balaclavas covering their faces.
“Kent, turn up the heat we are freezing back here”. One of the agents called.
“What do you think this is? Your stripper girlfriends apartment, harden up and stop being a pussy,” Kent’s
voice called from the driver’s seat.
“You’re telling me to harden up, at least I get to see some action, unlike you, a glorified taxi driver with a
badge” Mike shot back sardonically.
Hey screw you Mike” Kent replied with pain in his voice
You could cut the tension in the van with a knife.
“Would you two children cut the whining we are nearly there” A gruff voice ordered.
“Sorry, Avery” Kent said to the team leader.
“Brown noser” Mike said under his breath.
“Mike” Avery Barked.
“Sorry, Avery” Mike replied.
Kent pulled the van over to the side of the road behind a gray Taurus, killing the engine. Kent turned to Avery for instruction.
“Aliester can you fill the team in about the suspect, seeing as you have decided to ride along” Avery said
sarcastically.
Do you have a problem with me riding along lieutenant Littlefield?” Aliester said to Avery
“I have a problem with lone wolf agents searching for glory in arresting these monsters.”
Avery barked at Aliester.
You are but a minor part in this investigation lieutenant. I’ve been tracking him for six months, his crimes are burnt
into my memory, if you were in my shoes then you would want to be there when he is arrested, so if your done
complaining, I’d like to brief your team before they break his door down,” Aliester snapped from the passenger seat.
Avery had a greater respect for the short stocky agent.
Silence filled the van, the men turned to Avery expecting a comeback: “please proceed”
Avery said, the men deflating with the team leaders answer.
“The suspect is one James O’Hara - A.K.A. “The Highway Man”, nineteen confirmed kills, all the victims are
between the ages of 14-25yrs, all dismembered and discarded at rest stops along the I-5 highway, his last victim
twenty- one year old Susan Watts found four days ago at an abandoned truck stop by a Japanese tourist who stopped
to take a piss, but instead found Ms Watts outside the toilets, she was stabbed eighty six times in her face, chest and
genitals, all done while she was alive, the suspect is ex national guard. Meaning he is proficient in firearms and
unarmed combat” Aliester said.
“How do you know he killed them, because you said: nineteen confirmed kills and, why didn’t he dismember the
last victim?” Avery asked.
“First off, we collected his DNA through his semen found at the scene and secondly we think he was interrupted
with Susan, causing him to flee before he was finished” Aliester answered.
“So the victims were sexually assaulted” Avery asked.
“He masturbates on the bodies after he kills them” Aliester replied.
“How did you match his DNA?” Avery asked.
“He is a registered sex offender, it’s what got him discharged from the National Guard, and he raped a fellow
female solider and was convicted to five years imprisonment at
Leavenworth and we came up with him as a suspect because his Nissan Navara was caught on CCTV at a gas
station, filling up just days before a new body was found, so we traced the plates back and cross referenced his DNA
to what we had on file” Aliester replied.
“Suspect entering the residence.” A voice crackled over their earpieces.
“Roger that” Avery said holding the button down on the throat activated microphone.
“Mike, Abbot and Miller proceed to the front door, Abbot your on the Ram, Anderson,
Johnson you’re with me, we will cover the backdoor in case he tries to flee” Avery ordered.
The van echoed with the clicking of magazines as they were ejected from the MP5’s, the men checking their clips
were full before inserting the back into the MP5.
The men piled out the van and assembled on Baker Street, a frigid cold wind descended upon Brooklyn, sending a
chill down Aliester’s spine.
The anticipation of the end game in this hunt for the killer, the excitement filled Aliester’s body knowing that he
would soon be speaking to the killer.
Aliester watched as the six-armed men disappeared around the corner, Aliester turned to
Kent. “So what is the deal with you and Mike?” Aliester asked.
“My problem with Mike is the reason why I’m guarding the van and not storming the duplex, I hit Mike in the heat
of the moment and as a result I’m on van duty” Kent replied.
The tactical response unit moved quickly and quietly in the early morning hours, across from 187 Abercrombie
Street was a second white transit van holding the two surveillance agents; their van was navy blue with Lachlan
plumbing in white lettering on the side.
The six men stopped out front of the dilapidated ground floor duplex, the white boards that covered the duplex
where rotting and some boards where missing, the grass was overgrown and full of weeds, Avery pointed to the
front door, Mike and Miller fell in behind Abbot with the metal ram, Anderson and Johnson fell in behind Avery.
Moving up the driveway - Avery’s team moved past a dark green ford bronco with ladders on the roof, paint cans
littered the side of the house giving away James’ profession, the backyard was worse than the side, more paint cans
and a rusted ford pick up truck.
“Entry team in position” Abbots voice crackled over the radio.
“Second teams in position, Abbot when you’re ready, knock that bitch down.” Avery ordered, the light from the
neighbours porch illuminating his face.
The early morning quiet, was replaced by crunching of wood as the door exploded inward and the FBI shouting,
announcing their presence, Abbot dropped the ram - raising his MP5 to his shoulder, they entered a hallway which
ran the length of the duplex, their boots echoed on the wooden floors, Abbot stormed into the first room on the right,
the doorway arched high with no doors, the adrenaline coursing through his body as he swept with the MP5.
The room was cluttered with stacks of bondage magazines, the green wallpaper was peeling back from years of
neglect, “clear” Mikes voice called from somewhere in the house, Abbot snatched up one of the magazines, the
cover depicted a naked Asian woman elaborately tied up with rope, she was suspended above the ground, a red
bondage ball in her mouth there were tears streaming down her cheeks.
“Sick bastard” Abbot said to himself.
“Clear” Miller called.
Abbot swept the rest of the rooms finding more bondage toys, pornography, handcuffs and a collection of swords
and knives - but no suspect.
“Avery, we’ve got nothing,” Mike said as Avery, Anderson and Johnson came in the back door.
“Bullshit. He has to be here.” Avery responded.
Mick flicked the kitchen light switch - adding some illumination to the search. The fluorescent light sparked,
igniting the black powder that filled the tube, it exploded sending shards of glass through the air like shrapnel, the
blast threw Mike out the back door onto the snow covered grass, leaving shards of glass embedded in his throat and
face, his ears ringing from the explosion, unconsciously he removed the shard imbedded in his throat, warm blood
flowed freely and uncontrollably, Mike clutched his throat in a vain attempt to stop the bleeding, then the world
went white and Mike slipped into the afterlife.
James was hiding in the cellar tending to the girls when the shouting started, his mind was awash with fear, fear of
being caught, and fear of spending the rest of his life in prison, fear of his dirty little secret being exposed.
Than came the explosion, one of the idiots must have turned on the kitchen light, a new sensation filled him, the
sensation of freedom; James reached beneath his workbench grabbing his trusty Benelli 12 gauge shotgun, seizing a
handful of shells from a tattered box in the top draw of the workbench, James loaded eight shells into the Benelli
and pocketed the rest of the shells for the escape.
Slowly and cautiously James crept up the cellar stairs, using the Benelli’s barrel he pushed the trapdoor open slowly,
peeking through the gap James could see two FBI agents laying still on his white kitchen tiles, blood pooling
beneath them.
Ascending out of the darken cellar two more bodies came into view, not wanting to take any chances with the
escape? He emptied two shells into the still bodies, satisfied they were dead James climbed into the kitchen closing
the trap door behind him, tiles had been attached to the top on the trap door so that when shut, they sat flush with the
rest of the tiles making it impossible to see unless you new it was there.
Moving into the hallway James found another agent trying to crawl away on bloody stumps were his legs should be,
grinning to himself at the wounded prey, James walked up behind the injured agent, pressing the Benelli to the back
of his head, the thrill took him over, the same thrill he got when he was with one of his girls, the thrill that made him
good, the thrill gave him the power over life and death.
“Please I have a wife and children” Abbot begged.
“Then why did you enter my home if you have a wife and children?” James replied coldly.
“Please don’t.” Abbot said rolling over to face his antagonist, removing his balaclava and helmet to reveal a chubby
middle aged man with black mustache and graying hair.
“You are pathetic, have some dignity before I kill you.” James spat, staring into the blue eyes of the injured agent.
“Please, no.” The words muffled as the Benelli bucked, the shell disintegrating the contents of Abbot’s head
sprayed the floor with blood, gray matter and skull fragments.
Moving back to the kitchen James placed the Benelli across the sink and turned the gas knobs on the stove to high.
“Let’s see if they like some militia magic” James said cranking the egg timer to three minutes.
“Help.” Avery’s voice called over the radio.
The sound of the shotgun blast and Avery’s plea forced Kent’s hand, reaching into the van he retrieved his MP5 and
made a break to the suspect’s house, turning left onto Abercrombie, Kent ran straight into the butt of the Benelli, his
body collapsed and the world around him went dark.
Aliester moved to intercept the fleeing suspect.
“FBI drop the weapon Mr. O’Hara” Aliester called, his Sig trained on the suspect.
James stopped several feet from Aliester who now blocked his escape route.
“So this is how it ends - I bad guy you good guy, facing off, like an old western high noon sheriff.” James laughed
sardonically.
“There is only one problem with that scenario Mr. O’Hara” Thomas responded.
“Yeah and what’s that pig?” James said tapping the Benelli on his leg.
“I have my Sig pointing at you heart and one flinch from you and POW one less sick bastard in the world, now drop
the shotgun Mr. O’Hara” Aliester ordered sizing up his opponent who stood at ‘6”11 and weighted 300 pounds of
muscle, even if he disarmed him, then what, ask him to play nice while you restrain him. James dropped the shotgun
and raised his hands.
Then they started softly at first but gradually got louder always calling Aliester, always wanting the same thing and
someone had to suffer for them to stop, he had left his medication on the bench at his apartment, now he was
suffering the consequences of this lapse of memory, the voices in his head screamed at him to kill the unarmed
suspect, he closed his eyes and the victims faces stared lifeless, decayed, pleading, their disembodied heads needed
vengeance for their deaths.
“Stop it. Please make it stop.” Aliester dropping to his knees clutching his head trying to make the pressure subside.
“My pleasure Mr. FBI” James said removing a .45 colt 1911 from his belt and pointed at Aliester’s chest squeezing
the trigger he shot Aliester twice one bullet collected him in the chest the other hit him in the right side of his face
above the right eyebrow, his body flew backward.
Aliester felt the warm spit hit his face, his vision blurred from the pain, he could make out the broad frame of Mr.
O’Hara as he fled, raising the Sig, Aliester took aim and opened fire, emptying all thirteen rounds into James
retreating back, James’s body faltered, then collapsed, dead on the pavement, Aliester knew there would be hell to
pay for his actions but he didn’t care because the voices had stopped, he was free once again from their malicious
calling, his secret was safe once again.
hope you guys enjoyed it please post and give you opinions and hopefully if you do like it ill bring you chapter 2 next week.
cheers XABALBA
but hey thats the way i write if its to bad feel free to remove it mods
hey bluelighters im a 27yr old writer from Australia and ive nearly completed my first novel THE BOOK OF THREE, its been a work in progress for two years and i believe that i shouldnt charge people to read my book thats why i have decided to post the first chapter here today and hopefully you guys will enjoy it and if you do like it than i will post a new chapter every week and you can follow this twisting crime thriller as i put it to page.
CHAPTER 1
The white ford transit van rumbled up the quiet Brooklyn Street, pushing its way through the early January snow.
The vans payload consisted of eight agents, seven from the FBI’s tactical response unit and a one Behavioral
Science Unit Federal agent, the six agents in the back were equipped with silenced MP5 sub machine guns, black
Kevlar body amour with FBI stamped across their chests, Kevlar helmets with earpieces and throat activated
microphones, Sig Saur P229 9mm side arms, cargo pants, military boots and black balaclavas covering their faces.
“Kent, turn up the heat we are freezing back here”. One of the agents called.
“What do you think this is? Your stripper girlfriends apartment, harden up and stop being a pussy,” Kent’s
voice called from the driver’s seat.
“You’re telling me to harden up, at least I get to see some action, unlike you, a glorified taxi driver with a
badge” Mike shot back sardonically.
Hey screw you Mike” Kent replied with pain in his voice
You could cut the tension in the van with a knife.
“Would you two children cut the whining we are nearly there” A gruff voice ordered.
“Sorry, Avery” Kent said to the team leader.
“Brown noser” Mike said under his breath.
“Mike” Avery Barked.
“Sorry, Avery” Mike replied.
Kent pulled the van over to the side of the road behind a gray Taurus, killing the engine. Kent turned to Avery for instruction.
“Aliester can you fill the team in about the suspect, seeing as you have decided to ride along” Avery said
sarcastically.
Do you have a problem with me riding along lieutenant Littlefield?” Aliester said to Avery
“I have a problem with lone wolf agents searching for glory in arresting these monsters.”
Avery barked at Aliester.
You are but a minor part in this investigation lieutenant. I’ve been tracking him for six months, his crimes are burnt
into my memory, if you were in my shoes then you would want to be there when he is arrested, so if your done
complaining, I’d like to brief your team before they break his door down,” Aliester snapped from the passenger seat.
Avery had a greater respect for the short stocky agent.
Silence filled the van, the men turned to Avery expecting a comeback: “please proceed”
Avery said, the men deflating with the team leaders answer.
“The suspect is one James O’Hara - A.K.A. “The Highway Man”, nineteen confirmed kills, all the victims are
between the ages of 14-25yrs, all dismembered and discarded at rest stops along the I-5 highway, his last victim
twenty- one year old Susan Watts found four days ago at an abandoned truck stop by a Japanese tourist who stopped
to take a piss, but instead found Ms Watts outside the toilets, she was stabbed eighty six times in her face, chest and
genitals, all done while she was alive, the suspect is ex national guard. Meaning he is proficient in firearms and
unarmed combat” Aliester said.
“How do you know he killed them, because you said: nineteen confirmed kills and, why didn’t he dismember the
last victim?” Avery asked.
“First off, we collected his DNA through his semen found at the scene and secondly we think he was interrupted
with Susan, causing him to flee before he was finished” Aliester answered.
“So the victims were sexually assaulted” Avery asked.
“He masturbates on the bodies after he kills them” Aliester replied.
“How did you match his DNA?” Avery asked.
“He is a registered sex offender, it’s what got him discharged from the National Guard, and he raped a fellow
female solider and was convicted to five years imprisonment at
Leavenworth and we came up with him as a suspect because his Nissan Navara was caught on CCTV at a gas
station, filling up just days before a new body was found, so we traced the plates back and cross referenced his DNA
to what we had on file” Aliester replied.
“Suspect entering the residence.” A voice crackled over their earpieces.
“Roger that” Avery said holding the button down on the throat activated microphone.
“Mike, Abbot and Miller proceed to the front door, Abbot your on the Ram, Anderson,
Johnson you’re with me, we will cover the backdoor in case he tries to flee” Avery ordered.
The van echoed with the clicking of magazines as they were ejected from the MP5’s, the men checking their clips
were full before inserting the back into the MP5.
The men piled out the van and assembled on Baker Street, a frigid cold wind descended upon Brooklyn, sending a
chill down Aliester’s spine.
The anticipation of the end game in this hunt for the killer, the excitement filled Aliester’s body knowing that he
would soon be speaking to the killer.
Aliester watched as the six-armed men disappeared around the corner, Aliester turned to
Kent. “So what is the deal with you and Mike?” Aliester asked.
“My problem with Mike is the reason why I’m guarding the van and not storming the duplex, I hit Mike in the heat
of the moment and as a result I’m on van duty” Kent replied.
The tactical response unit moved quickly and quietly in the early morning hours, across from 187 Abercrombie
Street was a second white transit van holding the two surveillance agents; their van was navy blue with Lachlan
plumbing in white lettering on the side.
The six men stopped out front of the dilapidated ground floor duplex, the white boards that covered the duplex
where rotting and some boards where missing, the grass was overgrown and full of weeds, Avery pointed to the
front door, Mike and Miller fell in behind Abbot with the metal ram, Anderson and Johnson fell in behind Avery.
Moving up the driveway - Avery’s team moved past a dark green ford bronco with ladders on the roof, paint cans
littered the side of the house giving away James’ profession, the backyard was worse than the side, more paint cans
and a rusted ford pick up truck.
“Entry team in position” Abbots voice crackled over the radio.
“Second teams in position, Abbot when you’re ready, knock that bitch down.” Avery ordered, the light from the
neighbours porch illuminating his face.
The early morning quiet, was replaced by crunching of wood as the door exploded inward and the FBI shouting,
announcing their presence, Abbot dropped the ram - raising his MP5 to his shoulder, they entered a hallway which
ran the length of the duplex, their boots echoed on the wooden floors, Abbot stormed into the first room on the right,
the doorway arched high with no doors, the adrenaline coursing through his body as he swept with the MP5.
The room was cluttered with stacks of bondage magazines, the green wallpaper was peeling back from years of
neglect, “clear” Mikes voice called from somewhere in the house, Abbot snatched up one of the magazines, the
cover depicted a naked Asian woman elaborately tied up with rope, she was suspended above the ground, a red
bondage ball in her mouth there were tears streaming down her cheeks.
“Sick bastard” Abbot said to himself.
“Clear” Miller called.
Abbot swept the rest of the rooms finding more bondage toys, pornography, handcuffs and a collection of swords
and knives - but no suspect.
“Avery, we’ve got nothing,” Mike said as Avery, Anderson and Johnson came in the back door.
“Bullshit. He has to be here.” Avery responded.
Mick flicked the kitchen light switch - adding some illumination to the search. The fluorescent light sparked,
igniting the black powder that filled the tube, it exploded sending shards of glass through the air like shrapnel, the
blast threw Mike out the back door onto the snow covered grass, leaving shards of glass embedded in his throat and
face, his ears ringing from the explosion, unconsciously he removed the shard imbedded in his throat, warm blood
flowed freely and uncontrollably, Mike clutched his throat in a vain attempt to stop the bleeding, then the world
went white and Mike slipped into the afterlife.
James was hiding in the cellar tending to the girls when the shouting started, his mind was awash with fear, fear of
being caught, and fear of spending the rest of his life in prison, fear of his dirty little secret being exposed.
Than came the explosion, one of the idiots must have turned on the kitchen light, a new sensation filled him, the
sensation of freedom; James reached beneath his workbench grabbing his trusty Benelli 12 gauge shotgun, seizing a
handful of shells from a tattered box in the top draw of the workbench, James loaded eight shells into the Benelli
and pocketed the rest of the shells for the escape.
Slowly and cautiously James crept up the cellar stairs, using the Benelli’s barrel he pushed the trapdoor open slowly,
peeking through the gap James could see two FBI agents laying still on his white kitchen tiles, blood pooling
beneath them.
Ascending out of the darken cellar two more bodies came into view, not wanting to take any chances with the
escape? He emptied two shells into the still bodies, satisfied they were dead James climbed into the kitchen closing
the trap door behind him, tiles had been attached to the top on the trap door so that when shut, they sat flush with the
rest of the tiles making it impossible to see unless you new it was there.
Moving into the hallway James found another agent trying to crawl away on bloody stumps were his legs should be,
grinning to himself at the wounded prey, James walked up behind the injured agent, pressing the Benelli to the back
of his head, the thrill took him over, the same thrill he got when he was with one of his girls, the thrill that made him
good, the thrill gave him the power over life and death.
“Please I have a wife and children” Abbot begged.
“Then why did you enter my home if you have a wife and children?” James replied coldly.
“Please don’t.” Abbot said rolling over to face his antagonist, removing his balaclava and helmet to reveal a chubby
middle aged man with black mustache and graying hair.
“You are pathetic, have some dignity before I kill you.” James spat, staring into the blue eyes of the injured agent.
“Please, no.” The words muffled as the Benelli bucked, the shell disintegrating the contents of Abbot’s head
sprayed the floor with blood, gray matter and skull fragments.
Moving back to the kitchen James placed the Benelli across the sink and turned the gas knobs on the stove to high.
“Let’s see if they like some militia magic” James said cranking the egg timer to three minutes.
“Help.” Avery’s voice called over the radio.
The sound of the shotgun blast and Avery’s plea forced Kent’s hand, reaching into the van he retrieved his MP5 and
made a break to the suspect’s house, turning left onto Abercrombie, Kent ran straight into the butt of the Benelli, his
body collapsed and the world around him went dark.
Aliester moved to intercept the fleeing suspect.
“FBI drop the weapon Mr. O’Hara” Aliester called, his Sig trained on the suspect.
James stopped several feet from Aliester who now blocked his escape route.
“So this is how it ends - I bad guy you good guy, facing off, like an old western high noon sheriff.” James laughed
sardonically.
“There is only one problem with that scenario Mr. O’Hara” Thomas responded.
“Yeah and what’s that pig?” James said tapping the Benelli on his leg.
“I have my Sig pointing at you heart and one flinch from you and POW one less sick bastard in the world, now drop
the shotgun Mr. O’Hara” Aliester ordered sizing up his opponent who stood at ‘6”11 and weighted 300 pounds of
muscle, even if he disarmed him, then what, ask him to play nice while you restrain him. James dropped the shotgun
and raised his hands.
Then they started softly at first but gradually got louder always calling Aliester, always wanting the same thing and
someone had to suffer for them to stop, he had left his medication on the bench at his apartment, now he was
suffering the consequences of this lapse of memory, the voices in his head screamed at him to kill the unarmed
suspect, he closed his eyes and the victims faces stared lifeless, decayed, pleading, their disembodied heads needed
vengeance for their deaths.
“Stop it. Please make it stop.” Aliester dropping to his knees clutching his head trying to make the pressure subside.
“My pleasure Mr. FBI” James said removing a .45 colt 1911 from his belt and pointed at Aliester’s chest squeezing
the trigger he shot Aliester twice one bullet collected him in the chest the other hit him in the right side of his face
above the right eyebrow, his body flew backward.
Aliester felt the warm spit hit his face, his vision blurred from the pain, he could make out the broad frame of Mr.
O’Hara as he fled, raising the Sig, Aliester took aim and opened fire, emptying all thirteen rounds into James
retreating back, James’s body faltered, then collapsed, dead on the pavement, Aliester knew there would be hell to
pay for his actions but he didn’t care because the voices had stopped, he was free once again from their malicious
calling, his secret was safe once again.
hope you guys enjoyed it please post and give you opinions and hopefully if you do like it ill bring you chapter 2 next week.
cheers XABALBA
