(28DW) Fiction: Faith Part 1

Following the last experimental piece of fiction I wrote, this is my first attempt at writing a short story in 4 Parts. Parts 2-4 should be published as part of 28DW over the next few days.


Peter’s nerves were on edge. He hated the wait, it always made him worry. And sweat, God he hated the sweat. It was a warm day, it always was. His wife said he looked good in a dark blue shirt. He found out a year ago in England that people trust you less if they can see you sweating.

This room was around the same size as a racquetball court, because that was what it was. The smell of stale exertion still was present and the shoes of Peters entourage squeaked loudly on the floor. The group in the court consisted of Peter, his wife Elizabeth, Lance his right hand man and three security goons who Lance said were “Good Guys”. Steve the largest of the goons, had a neck as thick as one of Peters thighs to support his shaven head and his huge black hands dwarfed the radio receiver he was holding.

“You know the drill by now.” He said. “Where do you want this stuck?”
“I dunno,” Peter said. “Somewhere where it doesn’t stick out I suppose.”
“I told you if you wanted a un-detectable one you’d need to spend money but Oh no. Now I have to hide some thing the size of a house brick.”
Lance interrupted “Stevie, just stick it on and shut up will ya.”

Surprisingly considering the difference in size between the two men, Lance clearly 2 feet shorter, Steve, complied to this direct instruction with little more than a shrug of his very broad shoulders. Taping the radio receiver into the small of Peter’s back.

“Ok. It should be good to go now.” Steve said, stepping back almost admiring his handy work.
“Thank you.” Peter replied, pulling on his shirt. The bulk of the receiver still showed but would later be covered by his jacket. “Lance.. How long we got?”
“Around 10 mins,” Lance said. “Long enough for you to take a leak and then maybe test to see if Steve has not lost his skills with radios”
Steve shot Lance a disgusted look.

Peters wife joined in on the radio tests. All of which went without a hitch. Peter’s suit of gunmetal grey did it’s best to conceal the radio equipment and assorted wires. One of which led up to Peter’s left ear. Peter did as Lance suggested and headed out of the racquetball court and into a dimly lit bathroom. It stank as though it hadn’t been cleaned since 1987.

Peter brushed his over dyed jet black hair backwards. It was cut short and receding slightly at the front temples which made him look slightly like a vampire. This was lost on Peter, who assumed his looks had not departed with age and that everyone was in no doubt his hair was naturally dark.

Now he was alone the nerves hit him again. His mind wandered at a million miles an hour. What if the wire was discovered? What if they ran out of supplies? What if they were infiltrated again by those troublesome groups and that awful conjuror.

“Calm down.” He said aloud to himself. Gazing into the mirror. Everything would be ok he told himself, internally this time. Steve and the rest of the security guys would check everything out. The radio was working and hidden. He had done this before.

Peter flushed some of his adrenaline away and walked back into the racquetball court. Elizabeth and the security guards had left to take up their posts. Lance held open a door to the far end of the court and handed Peter a small package.

It was showtime.


Please check out the work of my 28DW friends at The Resident Weeble and A Piece of Pandemonium or I’ll not let you see part 2.

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(28DW) Fiction: Faith Part 1

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