Escape From The Country - CHAPTER TWO

NEW CRIME FICTION

Hello Readers. Thank you for joining me on The JasonWard Creative Substack. Every two weeks I will post another chapter of my crime novel Escape From The Country which looks at the recent race riots in England. Take out a paid subscription to be the first to read every chapter in its entirety and get access to over one hundred articles, interviews, short stories, podcasts and playlists. Enjoy the story and please let me know what you think. Cheers Jason

Stuart felt like he had been hit in the head with a shovel. His phone’s alarm was screeching at him to get his arse out of bed and off to work. He shuffled barefoot across the dirty off-grey carpet and got to his toilet and sat down without closing the door. While waiting for his bowels to function, Stuart checked his phone. There were 27 WhatsApp messages and 143 X notifications - more than he usually got in a month.

He opened the app and went straight to a Sky News video shared by ‘TheGingerPatriot’ with the caption “Hampshire Police hate British people!” It showed Stuart being knocked down by the WPC and then getting up to tell the bitch what she needed to hear. TheGingerPatriot had tagged NotWokeWhiteStuart1985.

“Fuck yeah.” He murmured. Yesterday had really happened because under the video was a shit ton of comments telling him what a great man he was. There were a couple of fucking lefties saying he should be locked up. But fuck them and, anyway, the White English Warriors, like Tommy would have his back. And the posh bird on GB News had said “Everyone should join these brave men and women who are fighting for the future of their country just like our Grandfathers fought Hitler.” She was right and she looked like she’d be a great fuck - posh girls are known for being dirty aren’t they? She had posted “Go get them Rotherham” and the lads had responded by burning down that fucking hotel full of Pakis.

After finishing in the toilet Stuart took the three steps to his kitchen and pulled a can of Monster from his tiny fridge. He opened the GB News app on his phone and took his first drags of the day on his vape. The posh bird was on again, this time he caught her name: Roberta Warren. He searched for her on Google, typing in ‘Roberta Warren Hot photos’. She definitely was fucking hot, especially in her white bikini that showed the shape of her pussy - and proved his theory about posh girls.

He was about to have a wank over Roberta Warren in her swimwear when his phone buzzed and he realised that he’d forgotten his WhatsApp messages.

The first message was from his cousin, Squaddie Dave. “Great work Stu - fucking legend!” Stuart replied with a thumbs up and flag of St. George.

The second message was from his boss. “Hi Stuart, We saw you on the news this morning . Please come to work to drop off your pass and get your timesheets signed. Your employment is terminated with immediate effect. You will be paid electronically and your P45 will be sent by email. Tx Peter Redmile”

Stuart cut up his last bit of coke into two fat lines and took a couple of big deep snorts. He felt ready now. His blood was racing, the baseball bat was in his hand, his pulse was raging so hard it made his temples throb, and he was off to fuck up his boss, the fucking traitor.

“Fuck you Redmile, you cunt!” Stuart swung the bat at the door of a mobile office building that stood inside the PR Cleaning Services warehouse.

There were muffled shouts coming through the door. Redmile and his foreign wife going on about the baseball bat and calling the Police.

“Fucking bring it on Redmile. I’ll fucking have you and your scabby foreign missus!” Stuart was fucking angry now. He’d posted a photo of the PR Cleaning Services sign with the caption “These f***king tw*ts hire immigrants and sack British people.”

There were two company vans parked just outside the warehouse. With one swing Stuart smashed the windscreen on the first one. He felt strong like last night and didn’t the posh bird say ‘It’s time for patriots to rise up.’ ?

Inside the second van there was a bloke from the Philippines called Edwin, who looked frightened. Edwin got out of the van and in his stupid fucking accent said “Hey Mr Stuart. What is wrong?”

“You’re fucking wrong you foreign cunt!” He swung the bat at the Philipino’s legs and watched the man collapse to the floor crying.

“Get back to your own country and fucking work there!”

There were shouts from behind him to put the bat down and step away. He turned round and saw two coppers staring at him. A normal white man and a fucking black woman who was holding out some kind of black plastic toy gun in front of her.

“Step away and put the bat down NOW! Or I will taser you!”

Stuart heard a faint buzzing sound like someone had left their vibrator on.

“You fucking traitors!” He raised the bat above his head and saw the immigrant piss his pants. Then his whole body stung, his nuts leapt up into his body and seconds later he was on the concrete floor with a smell of engine oil in his nose and two coppers on top of him forcing his wrists and ankles into metal cuffs.

They asked him if he understood why he had been arrested.

“Fuck the Police!” As his right cheek scraped along the cold rough floor.

Superintendent Francesca Rossi was in the Hampshire Police Major Incident Room. She was reviewing videos, photos and social media posts of the ongoing far right violence with her team when Stuart Hill was bundled into Custody downstairs.

She had been planning her first weekend with Andrew’s teenage daughters when this shit had broken out. The oldest of the two daughters, Lucy, had seen Francesca on TV and sent her a message saying how proud she was. This was definitely progress.

The relationship with Andrew had moved on from sneaky afternoon shags. Now that he was divorced, they were talking next steps which they agreed would not involve marriage and, at 47, Francesca was unsure if it would involve kids but she was sure it would involve him changing his car from his current beige Citroen Berlingo .

Francesca opened the flask of proper Italian coffee that she had prepared at 5:30am and poured herself a cup of joy. She turned to DS Georgie Sutton “What the fuck is happening?”

Thank you for reading Chapter Two of Escape From The Country. Chapter Three will be along in two weeks. Likes, shares and comments all help get my writing out to more people and are much appreciated.

Many Thanks

Jason