Got 'Em Read online

  Got ’Em

  A. D. Spicer

  Austin Macauley Publishers

  Got ’Em

  About the Author

  About the Book

  Dedication

  Copyright Information

  Acknowledgement

  Chapter OneReality and Darkness

  Chapter TwoWho I Was

  Chapter ThreeA New Beginning

  Chapter FourWorking Things Out

  Chapter FiveThe Warehouse

  Chapter SixLost Recordings

  Chapter SevenRevealing Discipline

  Chapter EightBroken Link

  Chapter NineA Medicine No One Wants

  Chapter TenA Taste of Fresh Meat

  Chapter ElevenInsightful Compliments

  Chapter TwelveA Devil’s Deal

  Chapter thirteenMy Latest Inventions

  About the Author

  A young man with ambition to make the world we all live in a better, safer and more fun place. I want to share my stories with the world, to show everyone the world I live in. And together, we can make this world a better place!

  About the Book

  “You have got bucklies to get through to there, mate; trees have fallen all over the road, the fire is out of control, and we are doing the best we can to get it under control.”

  David butts in arrogantly, “Mate, we need to get through there! It’s urgent; someone important to me could be dying.”

  Just when he thought everything was under control, young David Gritford finds himself emotionally and mentally destroyed after a tragedy occurs with a close relative of his, igniting flashbacks, pain and trauma from his childhood. Will he speak out about what he’s experiencing? Or keep it a secret from those who mean the world to him? A series of events unfolds that determines which way life will take David, but will it be for the greater good?

  Dedication

  To all of those out there that may be experiencing a difficult time, going through the hardship of experiencing bullying or abuse, I want you to know: YOU ARE NOT ALONE!

  Copyright Information

  Copyright © A. D. Spicer (2019)

  The right of A. D. Spicer to be identified as author of this work has been asserted by him in accordance with section 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior permission of the publishers.

  Any person who commits any unauthorised act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages.

  A CIP catalogue record for this title is available from the British Library.

  ISBN 9781528905794 (Paperback)

  ISBN 9781528958097 (ePub e-book)

  www.austinmacauley.com

  First Published (2019)

  Austin Macauley Publishers Ltd

  25 Canada Square

  Canary Wharf

  London

  E14 5LQ

  Acknowledgement

  A special thanks to:

  Jeannie G., Joseph C., Carissa C. and Simona M. for sharing your ideas and thoughts with Got ’Em and bringing David’s story to life, thank you all!

  Chapter One

  Reality and Darkness

  At home, 104 Portland Lane, Ashfield NSW. My home, and only me in it. Here, sitting on the couch, I do not care what the weather is like outside. In fact, I am sitting in the freezing air conditioner in my tiger boxer shorts watching movies and eating my favourite popcorn with a tonne of butter. Looking around at what I have: the rusty old couch, and a fine pine TV unit with a 50‍ʺ TV—I’m not complaining.

  Then suddenly, one of my work mates, Andrew Ballas, who knows my Uncle Pete quite well, text messages me a photo of the news he is watching, mentioning that I have to watch it now! Whispering to myself in an undertone but frustrated voice, “I’m not really much of a newsperson.” I flicked the TV over to the news channel anyway, it shows there is a blazing fire up in and around Falconbridge, New South Wales.

  Taking a deep breath, I search through my contacts on my mobile phone, and call a good friend of mine; honestly, my only good friend. I press the call button for Amanda Heels, bring the phone to my right ear, and wait for her to answer. Hearing the annoying ‘ring, ring, ring, ring’ repeatedly. Then, her voice finally emerges after five rings. She answers with a gasp and says, “I know.”

  So, the call goes on, “David? How are we going to get there?” she asks, sounding concerned.

  “I don’t know, Mandy, I don’t have a car. I mean, I can always ask my work mate, Andrew, if he could take us,” I stutter out distressingly direct.

  “Give him a call, I mean, as you know Lucas is at work so he wouldn’t be able to take us… David?” Amanda says grievously.

  “Yeah righto, talk soon,” I reply pessimistically, then hang up.

  As the call comes to an end, I frustratingly throw my phone on the couch, placing my head in my hands then weaving my fingers through my dark brown hair. Getting to my feet, I shake my head in frustration. Turning around, I began walking, well slopping, into the kitchen, which is directly behind the couch. I place the kettle on boil, which is half full. Leaning against the bench, waiting for it came to come to a boil, my mobile begins to ring. Curiously, I begin walking over to answer it, I see that it is Andrew calling.

  In a bitter voice I answer, “Hello?” with my left hand on the back support of the left side of the couch, patting it in frustration.

  Concerned, Andrew replies, “David? Hey mate, so you got my message?”

  Distressed and worried, I reply, “Yeah man, just don’t know what to do.”

  Andrew comfortably states, “I’m on my way over man, grab your shit, meet me at the front of yours.”

  The call comes to an end as I confirm, “Okay man, I’ll be out the front.”

  Deliberately forgetting about making my coffee, from behind the couch, I run to my room which is to the right of the kitchen. As a typical man, my clothes are everywhere: scattered over the bed, over the floor—and undeniably there is an empty clothesbasket with my mixed dirty and clean clothes in it. Rustling through the clothes, turning my room into a bigger mess, I find a clean pair of light grey trousers and a half-cut two-tone blue and brown long sleeve shirt. Throwing them on as I make my way out of my bedroom, I turn left, walk two metres, then turn left again, which brings me to the front door. Turning the doorknob, I open the door.

  Outside, there is a half-length veranda starting from 30 centimetres left of the front door from where I am standing, continues 2.5 metres to the right of the door and proceeds 1.5 metres out from the door. On the veranda, to the right is an outdoor circle glass tea table with two polyester outdoor chairs, and a set of three stairs after the veranda in front of the door that joined to a path which leads to the main footpath of 104 Portland Lane.

  I get a ‘bright’ shock of glare from the sun as I walk out to my outdoor setting to take a seat on the chair closest to the front door as I wait in anticipation for Andrew to arrive. Looking around at the blue sky with small partial bits of cloud here and there, I hear a 2015 manual, VF-worked SV6, orange Holden Commodore come thundering down the street and pull up in front of my house. It’s Andrew.

  The lanky driver with short brown hair, slicked back with gel, opens his door to get out of his car, but stands between the driver’s door and the cab, calling out to me in a rushed, demanding voice, “Aye, Dave! Come on man, let’s go!”

  I shout back appreciatively, “Hey, yeah, yup, I’m comin’! Cheers for this, hey,” as I sprint off my veranda onto the path and to his car. Opening the front passenger door on the VF, I hop in,
seating myself as I reach for the seat belt. I draw it over myself to buckle in, as Andrew hops into the driver’s seat, closing the door and proceeding to do the same.

  Andrew puts the car in first gear, releasing the clutch and applying the accelerator to perform a U-turn down Portland Lane. After successfully making a U-turn, he begins driving to the end of the road. Flicking on his left indicator, he travels east on Railway Street. Keeping our eyes on the road, we follow the signs to get onto the motorway to head towards the mountains.

  Zig-zagging through the streets of Sydney’s west, finding Parramatta road, Andrew and I find our way to the motorway. Chugging along, we merge onto the motor way and set cruise to Falconbridge. Along the way, we start chatting about the ‘what ifs’ and stones that life sometimes throws at you.

  Andrew begins talking doubtingly, “So, if… uh… Let’s say something has happened.”

  I question apprehensively, “Yeah?”

  Andrew cautiously says, “I don’t mean to get you thinking man… uhh… I just want to let you know I’m here for you if something has happened and I’m willing to help out as much as I can… as you know, the fires up there are blazing and getting worse with the wind. Don’t get mad at me, I’m only weighing options.”

  I reply instantly, realising, “Hold that thought! I almost forgot! We need to go and pick a close mate of mine up! Her name’s Amanda, and we are pretty tight, aye.”

  Andrew inquisitively responds, “Oooh, is she single? Is she hot? Where does she live?”

  I reply, “Nah man, she has a man. Hey, she is gorgeous though—and we have to take the next exit, then make a right and follow it right to the end—”

  Andrew cut me off impulsively, “Wait, wait, wait—sheesh! I’m good with directions, but man, I’m not holding my thoughts to that—one thing at a time!”

  I end up having a bit of a stunned moment and I think, or better, say to myself bluntly, Sometimes you wonder what goes through a person’s mind when someone starts with the ‘what ifs’. Sometimes it’s obvious by their reactions, then other times you just don’t know, maybe in this case it’s a bit of both… Giving that not everyone knows what to expect, that everyone has a past.

  We merge off the motorway to head towards Willmott, a cute little place in the outer western suburbs of Sydney. So far, Andrew remembers the way, turning right and following along. Going through the first roundabout, Andrew questions, “Were we meant to turn right there?”

  I reply, “Nah man, we could’ve, but ehh… just follow this right till the end then turn left onto the Great Western Highway.”

  Andrew just replies with, “Hmm, okay.”

  Approaching the set of traffic lights where we had to turn left, Andrew decides to be a bit of an ass and hops into the right lane to turn right.

  “I said left, you nun-skull, not bloody right.”

  Andrew sarcastically replies, “I’m just fuckin’ with ya man.” As he swerves into the left lane, a huge Kenworth blows its horn at Andrew, which scares him to swerve back into the right. The light goes green and we cannot merge into the left lane to turn left. As a result, we are forced to turn right instead of left onto the Great Western Highway.

  Unfortunately, because of the right turn, we must take the longer route. It would be a hassle to turn around now, instead I advise Andrew to take his next left at the set of lights and follow that up for a bit. Approaching the set of lights to turn left, Andrew asks, “So you know where you’re going right?”

  I reply, “Yeah man, I’ve accidentally turned right there before and had to take this way, but bear with me as I only vaguely remember my way around.”

  Driving away, the minutes went by, we crossed a few sets of lights and a roundabout. After leaving the roundabout, I recall turning left at the next one, so I give him the heads up, “Hey man, I think this is the roundabout we turn left at.”

  Andrew replies frustrated, “If you’re not sure, man, I can put it into the GPS.”

  In a sarcastically serious tone I reply, “Nah man, I’ve got this down pat. I’ll get us there don’t worry!”

  Andrew replies sternly, “Righto man, whatever you say!”

  He proceeds to turn left as I instruct him, “Just stay on this road for a little while. I’m pretty sure it runs into Willmott.” The car goes into silence, so Andrew decides to put on some music, AC/DC in fact—the good old favourite, ‘Hells Bells’.

  Andrew starts singing along to it: "Hell’s bells, yeah, hell’s bells, you got me ringing hell’s bells. My temperature’s high, hell’s bells, I’ll give you black sensations up and down your spine, if you’re into evil you’re a friend of mine, see my white light flashing as I split the night, Cause if god’s on the left, Then I’m stickin’ to the right!"

  Turning it down a little, I practically yell, “When you get to the ‘Willmott’ sign, it’s your second right at the roundabout!” Andrew, not really listening, being in the zone singing along to AC-DC, just agrees with me, “yeah okay,” as he nods his head.

  Coming into Willmott, he passes the first right, then coming up to the second right he doesn’t seem to slow down. So I bluntly yell, “You turn right here!”

  Andrew replies aggressively, “Why didn’t you tell me that before?” We then miss the street we are meant to turn down.

  I shout acerbically, “I did fucking tell! You just didn’t pay attention!”

  Andrew calmly replies as he makes a U-Turn to turn left down the street we had missed, “Hey, hey, okay, okay… Relax man, I didn’t mean to get you revved up.”

  Annoyed at him, I calmly reply, “Okay, I’ll be cool. Umm… take your third left, then your second right.”

  Paying attention, Andrew takes the third left and second right. Driving down the street, I point at Amanda’s house excitedly, “Yup, yup it’s that one there! With the white fence! Oh look, she’s out the front. I’ll yell out to her to come and get in!”

  Shouting excitedly, “Hey, Mandy! Sorry I didn’t reply, you ready though?”

  Amanda replies candidly, “Yeah mate, I’ll just grab my bag and shit. I’ll be right out!”

  Amanda rushes inside to grab her bag, phone and her house keys. Then tattle totes to the car whispering to herself, have I got everything? I think I have everything. Opening the passenger rear door of the Commodore, she seats herself in the back, pulling her seat belt over her and placing it in the buckle as Andrew starts taking off.

  Driving out of her street, Andrew puts on his left indicator, immediately, Amanda speaks up in an obnoxious voice, “Oh, you’re not goin’ that way, are you? Turn right, then turn left down your next main road. That’ll take you to the Great Western Highway, then turn left.”

  I respond, “Mandy, Andrew isn’t too good with directions, so I don’t think that is a good idea.”

  Amanda, feeling a bit stunned, replies, “Oh, okay, well I guess I’ll just have to direct you back to the motorway then, huh?”

  Andrew replies sarcastically, “Sure thing, darl’.”

  With that all said and done, we have no troubles making our way back onto the motorway to start the short journey into the mountains and to Falconbridge. After about half an hour or so of travelling, we enter into the little town of Valley Heights. Little do we notice that the road up ahead is blocked by emergency services as the fire is blazing its way across the road and trees have fallen with ambers everywhere; and said to be so hot, that touching your windows would burn you. So, the emergency services blocked the road and were advising the detour route back into Penrith, or to take the detour route around to Lithgow if that’s where anybody is heading—and so this is how it went for us.

  Approaching the traffic controller of the emergency services team, Andrew asks inquisitively, “Hey mate, how can we get through to Falconbridge? Someone important lives there and we want to know if that person is okay.”

  The traffic controller responds seriously, “You have got bucklies getting through to there, mate. Trees have fallen across the r
oad, due to the fire, but we are doing all we can to get it under control.”

  I butted in arrogantly, “Mate, we need to get through there! It’s urgent! Someone important to me could be dying!”

  The traffic controller responds to me, “Look, mate, I’m sorry if you have friends or relatives up at Falcon, but we can’t let anybody through, it’s too bloody dangerous. You’re best off backtracking to Blackheath or somewhere and setting up camp for the night, because you aren’t getting through here, bud.”

  I grumbled angrily, yelling, “Fuck!” as I punch the dash of the Commodore and slam myself back into the seat three times. Andrew replies to the traffic controller, “Righto, thanks mate, we’ll make do.”

  Andrew winds up the windows and slowly takes off, turning around to back track, to the find nearest hotel or motel. Along the way, Andrew and Mandy try calming me as I am extremely worried and scared about what may have happened.

  Coming into Blaxland, Amanda points out the Ibis on the left just up on the hill, and says suggestively, “Hey, look guys, the Ibis hotel up on the left there, it’s cheap and will accommodate the lot of us, what do you think?”

  Andrew replies happily, “Sounds like the cheapest place we will probably find around this joint.” Pulling up into the Ibis at Blaxland, the three of us hop out of the car and head towards the office. Opening the door, we walk in and are welcomed by the gentleman behind the counter.

  The gentleman greets us, “Hi guys! What can I help you with today?”

  Andrew replies instinctively, “Ah yeah, hey bud, we just need a room for three, tonight, please.”