Hangman 2.0

Prologue

Thebeginning of the end...

The world had seen so many Ages: the Age of Enlightenment; of Reformation; of Reason. Now, at last, the Age of Desire. And after this, an end to Ages; an end, perhaps, to everything.

CLIVE BARKER

In an age when mankind enjoyed the greatest version of itself since the fall of the library at Alexandria, an undercurrent raged and threatened to sweep everything away.

Terror, unthinkable violence, unspeakable acts and a society determined to destroy itself one stabbing at a time dominates the news outlets and social media.

Flowers on every street corner, blood in every alleyway and danger at every turn.

Welcome to 21st Century Britain.

Gary hurriedly packs a black hold all. His actions move a lonely photograph up and down as it rests on the bed next to the bag. The photograph, of a little girl at the park, means the world to him. In this age of digital images instantly accessible from any device anywhere, he enjoyed the feel of the printed photograph, like they used to do it when he was a child. The girl is Grace, his daughter. She is smiling, the sun is shining, and the park is vibrant and active in the background. The man picks up the photograph and looks at it quickly. The glance, brief as it was, fires off synapses in the brain that trigger the memory of that day. The sun was warm on the skin, especially when the spring breeze dropped.

Gary places the black bag on the middle seat, only a hand brake lever between Gary and it. He looked at it, the blackness of its material reflecting the cloud that hung over him since the park. Since he went to get Grace an ice cream and came back to an empty swing. Since he felt his estranged wife's fists pounding at his chest when he finally made it to her and told her what had happened. Since the policeman knocked on the door and the strength in his legs had left him and he collapsed under the weight of the news.

Since they took her right from under his nose.

No arrests were ever made. Early in the investigation it was claimed that the mosque near the river was connected somehow, that people had reported seeing a little girl with two Muslim men but when those lines of inquiry were investigated, no proof of anything was ever found. As quickly as she was there, she was gone, and no one knew why.

That was five months ago, and Gary had never got over the loss or the anger. Gary hears the metal chains of the swing swaying in the wind. It's all he hears. It keeps him awake at night and on edge all day.

Gary presses the start button and the almost brand-new engine fires up first time of asking. Without fastening his seatbelt, Gary accelerates away in a rented white Ford Transit van.

The van bounces as the two wheels that were on the curb drop level with the others on the tarmac. As the van begins to gather speed, sweat begins to bead on Gary's forehead, his mouth dry and his heart pounding. The van is silent as the journey winds through the streets. The city is awash with bright white LED streetlights making the streets lighter but the shadows all the darker as he passes by. He crosses a bridge passing over the Thames and it's black as night water, the lights from the embankment dancing on the ripples. He is three minutes from his destination, confirmed by a brief glance at the digital face of his watch. The clocks face showing the minute and second hands over a picture of his little girl. His heart leaps as she smiles back at him in that way she always does... Always did. He smiles a little to himself, but it is tempered by the prickly feeling of tears on his eyelids. He blinks them away and his heart blackens, he looks out of the windscreen and sees his destination; his target.

Gary plants his foot to the floor and the van accelerates up to 70mph in a matter of seconds. It was quick, even with the extra weight in the back. Gary simply closes his eyes and waits for the noise.