About the Author

The author lives in an ostensibly carbon zero house with his two
cats amidst orchards of apples and poly-tunnels of strawberries.
A 3G mobile network mast stands camouflaged as a tree in an
adjacent field. When he isnt enjoying the Kentish landscape and
torrential rain, his mind is drawn to strange imaginings about
what lurks beneath the surface of the world around him. This is
his fourth novel.

Dedication
This book is dedicated to the next Jacob Ngali, who might well
hold the key to the Brave New World

David Graham

THE SCREAMING

Copyright David Graham (2015)

The right of David Graham 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 unauthorized 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 978 1 78455 956 4 (Paperback)

ISBN 978 1 78455 958 8 (Hardback)

www.austinmacauley.com
First Published (2015)
Austin Macauley Publishers Ltd.
25 Canada Square
Canary Wharf
London
E14 5LQ

Cover design by Adam Poe

Printed and bound in Great Britain

8

Acknowledgments
Paul Nagle graciously allowed me to borrow the lead character
from his novel Bogus Focus. The Dai Williams in my book is
still the same mixed up but really quite cool guy, although Ive
fiddled with his powers. A lot. Paul is also an amazing synth man
and his music is truly excellent.
The character of Granny Betty owes something to my Aunt
Maggie who lived in a remote farm house not far from
Pontypridd. I remember the smell of goats, the fug of a coal fire
and a wheezy harmonium in the corner. She was something of a
healer, too.
Michelle Williams, CEO of the excellent Dark Hollows
Press, kindly looked over an early draft and advised on speech.
Writing American dialogue is a dangerous endeavour for any
British author. If its anything like the real thing, I have Michelle
to thank for that.
The Manor is borrowed from my first, self-published novel,
Looks Could Kill. It was there that I found my enthusiasm for
somewhat sinister characters that exist on the fringes of reality,
but still have time to crack a joke or two.
James Bond and The Queen, London 2012 provided me with
an intriguing insight into life beyond the red carpet.
Henry Andrews, as ever, was there in the background
listening to my ideas as they went through the lengthy process of
digestion and regurgitation. Hes a real whizz on Sudoku, too.

10

Chapter One

The day was gonna be piss-awful. As soon as Brandon P

Marshall woke up, he could tell. For an eighteen-year-old
male with hormones running rampant, that wasnt exactly
new, but this time, the forewarning had seemed a whole order
of magnitude different. The headache hadnt helped either. It
had centred on his left temple with the combined tenacity of a
thundercloud and a nest of angry bees. Whichever way he
moved, the cloud blackened and the buzzing intensified. An
attempted tug on his morning woody had made the bees
fucking angry. It was also a Monday, which meant boring
classes and jerk teachers who treated him like shit. Even the
sunlight hurt. The sound of the Marshall family in the kitchen
rattled him, too.
At times like these, he contemplated revenge for being
brought into the frigging awful world. Hed devised a wide
repertoire to choose from, ranging from the teasingly
psychological to the daringly physical. To go downstairs
naked with his woody exposed wasnt something that could be
done often, but it was worth it for the look on his moms face.
His dad threatened him with a beating but hed chickened out
at the last moment. Such a fucking wimp. And Brandon had a
bigger dick than his dad anyway. Another favourite included
emptying a box of roaches on the kitchen floor. A plague of
locusts was also on his list but that was a tad too biblical.
Higher up the scale, it got seriously messy and terminal.
To be brutally honestas opposed to honestly brutal (hah!)
11

he still preferred shock and awe rather than shots and gore.
After all, with dead people, there was no turning back.
Somewhere towards the top was cyanide gas, but getting
potassium cyanide out of the chem lab would take a lot of
planning. And then there was the hazard of crime labs and
toxicology, which would screw his chances once and for all.
But, something about that particular morning made him
think a final solution was required. Perhaps it had to do with
the noise that came from downstairs; Dwayne, Debra and
Rebekah, all aged one, were doing their best to out-screech
each other, with the occasional random, futile interjection
from his mom. Why the hell had she wanted more kids after
so many years? Then, to add insult to injury, out had popped
three. And three times loud is FUCKING LOUD. Somehow,
his dad just sat through it, as if hed gone deaf overnight. As
usual, hed be reading the Kansas City Star over his breakfast
cereal and pretending it was The New York Times. He was
such a fucking jackoff.
Brandons cell phone rang with its irritating wake-up call.
It wasnt just your usual cell phone, but a 4G quad core with
2x2 MIMO to ensure maximum coverage. Hed bought that
after months as a part-time cook at KFC, during which hed
put on thirty pounds. The phone was said to be state of the
art. Great, he thought, except when he tried saying that out
aloud just then, he heard it as fake of the fart, which wasnt
what he meant at all.
Shit, my brain is getting rambled no, no, scrambled.
What the fuck is going on? Brain humour tumour Shit!
Im dying! Nothing to lose, then.
Brandon pulled on a T-shirt and some sweats and crossed
the landing to his parents bedroom. His dumb fuck of a father
had made it so easy; there were loaded 9mm handguns in both
nightstands. Hed played with them before, when his parents
were out, and that had been fun. Praise the Lord for
Missouris relaxed gun laws! But first, some music: Nirvanas
Nevermind would do just fine. He jammed the earphones in
tight and cranked up the volume. That made the bees real
12

angry. Two guns were better than one. He checked that the
safety was on then they went into the pockets of his sweats.
He didnt want to blow his balls off, after all. His woody had
returned, so now he was triple-barrelled and all ready to blow.
Fuck, he felt great.
He walked down the stairs barefoot, quiet as a church
mouse, slipped the guns out and flicked the safety off. The
distorted guitars really wound the bees up. This was the big
one! Yay!
Brandon stood at the foot of the stairs, guns behind his
back, and took in the scene. A scene hed seen 6660 times
before. See, hed done the math and it was ten times the mark
of the beast! His mom had her back turned and stood frying
something on the stove. His dad sat hidden behind newsprint,
with the back page screaming THE ROYALS RULE!!
Dwayne, Debra and Rebekah were screaming, chucking and
generally agitating. Even Nirvana at a hundred decibels
couldnt block them out.
Where to aim first? That was the question. An
embarrassment of riches, as his faggy English teacher would
have put it. His mom turned without warning and dropped the
over easy egg and fatty spatula onto her right foot. The yolk
oozed onto the floor. Her gaze lowered to his crotch. It was
pretty damn magnificent, even if he said so himself. She
opened her mouth but didnt have time to say anything. The
first bullet went straight in her cavernous maw and out
through the back of her scrawny neck, after it tore its way
through her spinal cord. With the other gun, he fired at exactly
where one of his dads piggy little eyes peered at the last news
item hed ever read.
Capow! Capow! Bye, Mom, bye, Dad, its been swell
knowing you!
Dwayne, Debra and Rebekah were breaking through
Nirvanas force field. Do I kill them or dont I? Itd be so
easy. Three bullets for three noisy little mouths. Bam. Bam.
Bam.

13

But Brandon still had a smidgeon of humanity left in him.

Dwayne, Debra and Rebekah hadnt chosen to be born and
they werent making such a racket to annoy him deliberately.
And then there was that biblical shit that seemed to be stuck in
his head: the meek shall inherit the earth. Yeah, like right on,
meek dudes! Brandon removed his earphones. The triplets
were even louder than Nirvana. Strangely, it was music to his
ears. The bees still buzzed away, but an ebb and flow ran
through all the noise that was almost soothing. And it made
him hornier than a three-balled tomcat. He placed the guns on
the counter and slipped off his T-shirt and sweats, then stood
bollock naked in the kitchen. It felt so fucking good. He
stepped over his moms lifeless body and walked over to
where his dad still sat just about upright, with his right eye
socket all raggedy red. Bullseye popeye shuteye an
open and shut case Shit, Im the man!
Hey, daddy-o, look at me now. Aint I a bad
motherfucker?
But his dad just continued to stare into space with his one
piggy eye and head all lolled back.
Brandon swept everything off the breakfast table with a
couple of swipes from his hands. Dwayne, Debra and
Rebekah didnt like that. Clitter-clatter, skitter-scatter, pitterpatter, matter, tatter Oops, Im doing that again. Not long
then.
He dug out his phone and put it on the countertop, next to
the stove, with the camera set to record widescreen video.
Hed set it to upload automatically to YouTube. This was
gonna be a good one. Fuck, it might even go viral. He got
onto the table and stretched himself out. Dwayne, Debra and
Rebekah sat all lined up down the side like the three wise
monkeys, except theyd see and hear everything. Hell, theyd
be cheering him on, too. He turned and gave a beaming smile
to the camera. The bees surged against the containment of his
skull. So, too, did his woody, and the purple head was some
exotic plant ready to burst into flower.

14

But this needed careful planning. He had to time things to

perfection. This had to be the spurting of his seed to end all
ejaculations. He also had to imagine a dick inside his mouth
and it had to be the biggest, baddest cock he could think of.
Shit! Where did that idea come from? My minds really
playing tricks today. Suddenly, he realised what he had to do.
It came like a blinding flashor as if all the gazillion bees
had plunged in their stingers at the same time. Weirdly, the
triplets had stopped bawling at exactly the same time, but now
their efforts were redoubled. So, with one hand on his dick
and the other on the trigger, he embarked on his final journey.
Destination: Oblivion, USA, population one.
And it felt real good in his mouth. He wrapped his tongue
around the long black shaft, so smooth and cold, so fucking
awesome. He pumped away at his woody; he was so, so close.
He glanced sideways at his smartphone, thinking of all those
lucky people who were soon to witness his tribute to the
mighty, combined power of his dick and the gun.
Oh, Christ. Here I come!
He shot his seed. Bam. Bam. Bam. A split-second later, he
pulled the trigger.
Bam!
Fuck. That was a maz i n
***
The Marshalls next door neighbours were first on the
scene. The feeding time dawn chorus of the triplets wasnt
exactly foreign to them, but being good, God-fearing citizens,
they held their tongues and put up with it. This mornings
cacophony had been different, though. Theyd thought the
rapid succession bam-bam must have been a car backfiring,
although if theyd checked theyd have found their neighbours
cars still parked on driveways. The single bam that followed
a few minutes later sounded different and could really mean
only one thing: a gunshot.
15

The elderly couple stood outside the Marshalls front

porch. Theyd already called 911. The triplets were crying
their heads off. Their distress felt visceral and the pair
shivered despite the warm sun on their necks.
Elmer, you go round the back and look into the kitchen,
Nancy Spurgeon said, aged seventy-three and still in her
rollers, pink housecoat and slippers. Ill try the front.
Elmer did as he was told and pushed his bulk through the
narrow side gate behind the carport. The wailing got louder.
He tried to convince himself there was an alternative
explanation for the noises theyd heard earlier. As a Vietnam
vet, he did his level best to forget that firearms had ever been
invented. The kitchen window came up on his left damn,
the blinds were still down. That was strange in itself, as Lorna
Marshall always raised them once shed served breakfast. The
back door loomed up next, but knowing his luck, it would be
locked. His heart thump-thumped away, and it occurred to
him he hadnt felt so anxious since well, a long time ago
that hed tried to put out of his mind. He put his hand on the
doorknob. Shit. What if the gunman is inside waiting and
using the kids as a lure?
A scream came from inside. It wasnt an infants scream.
Elmer threw caution and past training to the wind, wrapped
his sweaty hand around the knob, and charged at the door. It
wasnt locked and his weight propelled him skidding across
the floor and then he slipped and slid in a pool of blood
and what had been Brandon P Marshalls brain. Somehow, he
hauled himself to his feet and stood shakily, trying to
comprehend the scene of carnage that assaulted every sense.
The triplets howls had turned into a lacerating, high-pitched
keening. Blood and gore was everywhere, apart from where
Lorna Marshalls body lay in front of the stove all crumpled
up. A combination of the smell of burning fat, the metallic
odour of blood and the fetidness of sphincters relaxing,
assaulted his nose.
His wifes normally rosy face shone deathly white and she
stood immobilised near the entrance from the hallway.
16

Directly ahead, she would have had a side view of Brian

Marshalls good eye, but everything else about his head was
bad and spreading across the floor. To her left, Brandons
white flabby body lay stretched out on the kitchen table, with
his right hand still wrapped around his penis. Streaks of semen
spattered all over his abdomen and chest. Brandons face
would once have been described as handsome, but there was
no evidence of that now. The grip of a handgun stuck out of
his mouth, but the muzzle seemed to have been forced into the
soft palate.
Fuck! Elmer took a big breath in. He could have said
more but that single expletive summed it up. His wife would
normally have told him to wash his mouth out with bleach,
but she remained silent. All at once, he became aware of the
chirping sound of the smoke detector. That galvanized Nancy
into action.
Right, Elmer, dont be standing around like some ninny.
There are things to be done before the police get here. You put
the fire out on the stove. Im gonna take these littleuns into
the next room. And mind where you put your big feet.
Nancys ability to take charge in a crisis was one of the
things that still amazed him. It must have been all her years
working as a nurse. Elmer moved gingerly to the sink and
drenched a towel with water. Nancy was in the process of
gathering up the triplets from their highchairs next to the
kitchen table. He stepped over Lornas body and turned off
the gas, and then placed the towel carefully over the burning
pan.
Freeze! Stop right there! A police officer burst through
the hallway door with his handgun in firing position. Another
officer followed closely behind, handling his handgun with
marginally less authority. Their macho stance didnt last long.
Elmer watched as their casual gum chewing transformed into
open-mouthed shock. The second officer ran back the way he
had entered with a hand over his mouth. Elmer suspected it
was to expel a hastily consumed Double Sausage and Egg
McMuffin.
17

Shit! the first police officer said. What the hell

happened here? he asked, without appearing to address
anyone in particular. Then he noticed Nancys infant
gathering activity. Sorry, lady, youll have to stop what
youre doing. Youre disturbing evidence and theyre
witnesses.
Nancy drew herself up to her full five foot four height,
excluding rollers, and looked the young officer full in the face.
Young fella, Ill have you know I was charge nurse in the
Misericordia Childrens Hospital She made the sign of the
cross with a spare hand, and I know damn well when some
younguns need my TLC, so Im gonna take these poor little
mites to the front room and remove them from all this blood
and gore and God knows what else.
Elmer wanted to applaud her. The police officer just stood
open mouthed and stepped aside to allow her to pass with the
triplets firmly clasped to her maternal bosom. The other police
officer returned from outside, looking even greener than the
kitchens walls.
Shit, Sarge, I know that guy. He was the ace pitcher in
the Staley Falcons. He dropped out of the team six months
back and put on a ton of weight. Fuck, look at him now.
Elmer could see the sergeant was wishing he didnt have
to look at the one-time high school baseball star splayed out
on the kitchen table like a lump of whale blubber. He was
probably also thinking of half-a-dozen jokes that were in
monumentally bad taste and would have offended more than
just his rookies upset stomach. But Brandon was definitely
spunked outthere was no doubt about that. He reached for
some kitchen wipes to deal with the blood and whatever else
was on his shoes.
Hey, whats that phone doing? the sergeant asked,
spying the cell phone on its side on the countertop. Shit. He
wasnt recording, was he? He stepped over the pool of blood
and Lornas body to inspect the phone, and pulled some latex
gloves on as he went. Fuck, he was. What a sick fucker. He
stabbed at the screen to stop it recording. The sergeants
18

colleague joined him to check out the phone. Elmer stepped

over a congealing pool of blood to take a closer look.
Christ. Thats the 4G quad core Brandon had been
talking about non-stop, the rookie said. I bet its got some
really cool features. Amazingly, his enthusiasm for hi-tech
gear had momentarily suspended his disgust.
The sergeant pressed the play icon and the video started
playing from the beginning. Initially, all the three of them saw
was the kitchen table and the triplets lined up as if waiting for
something to happen. And then, suddenly, it did. The gunshot
sounded so inconsequential played through the phones tiny
speaker, and the kids wailing nothing more than a distorted
shriek. Then they heard themselves. When the video finished,
a message informed them it had been successfully uploaded
and also reminded them: more than one billion users visit
YouTube each month. Elmer felt his vast stomach sink into
his pants. The sergeant dropped the phone back on the
countertop as if it had shown teeth and was about to bite him.
Fuck, there goes my promotion, the sergeant said with a
bitter scowl.
Is there anything that can be done to stop people from
seeing it? Elmer asked, shaking his head.
Ill check it out, the rookie said. Theres supposed to
be a way of removing material if its offensive.
Well, its certainly that! Elmer shook his head. Christ.
How could he have done that? Whats happening to the
fucking world? And in front of those kiddies I mean, fuck

Anyway, Ill bag the phone and call for back-up, the
sergeant said, in an attempt to take control of the situation.
We need to do everything by the book from here on in.
Steve, you go with Pops and check to see how the kids are
doing.
Elmer and the rookie left the sergeant to make his call.
They found Nancy in the front room, in full nursing mode,
caring for the toddlers who whimpered softly from time to
19

time. Weirdly, there wasnt a drop of blood or brain spatter on

them. But they were hungry and were zeroing in on Nancys
breasts as an alternative to their usual breakfast cereal.
Elmer, go see whether you can find some jars of baby
food in the kitchen. Ill need a spoon as well.
The rookie handed Elmer some gloves as he left to return
to the hellhole of a kitchen. Second time round, the stench
seemed worse than ever. At least the blood had stopped
spreading. The sergeant was busy taking photos, using the
camera from the crime scene kit. Elmer discovered a cupboard
full of baby food just next to the stove and he grabbed a few
jars without checking the labels.
How are you doing, Pops? the sergeant asked.
Its Lieutenant Colonel Elmer Spurgeon, 9 th Infantry
Division, sonny, Elmer said without even looking at him.
The sergeants mouth dropped open. Sorry, sir, he said
with a crisp salute. Im Sergeant Dale Franklin, by the way.
Good to meet you, Sergeant. Elmer shook hands
briskly. So, wheres the cavalry?
On their way, sir, but theres gridlock around East Ninth
Street. He shrugged the usual apology for the traffic.
So hell could freeze over before they arrive?
Something like that, sir. Do you mind me asking
something?
Fire away, Sergeant.
Did you see anything like this when you were serving in
Nam?
Worse, Sergeant, much worse, although this is still pretty
bad.
What makes people do something like this? The
sergeant looked around, and raised his handspalms upto
shoulder height. I mean, fuck, he was just a kid.
I wish I knew. Perhaps drugs? I dont know. Elmer
sighed. Youngsters seem to spend all their time with these
new-fangled things. I mean, theyre always on their cell
20

phones, even when theyre on the sidewalk. He shook his

head. And then theres all that pornography. In my days,
youd buy it in a brown paper bag from behind the counter.
Now its piped into your home and even discussed in
elementary school. I just dont get it.
Wheres the food, Elmer? Stop your dilly-dallying!
Nancy shouted from the other room.
Sorry, my love, Ill be right there, Elmer called out, and
grinned at the sergeant.
Shes quite something, your missus, the sergeant said.
Yup, shes got more balls than I have, Elmer said, and
negotiated his way around the remains of his neighbours
brain.
***
Roughly ten minutes later, what felt like the entire world
descended upon the clapboard house that had once been the
Marshall family residence. Predictably, social services were
responsible for most of the hustle and bustle, and had a field
day emoting about what the triplets had been through. In fact,
once Dwayne, Debra and Rebekah had been fed, they
quietened down and seemed happy enough to watch all the
toing and froing. Nancy Spurgeon readily offered to look after
the trio until more permanent foster care could be found. An
expedited criminal records check confirmed ex-Charge Nurse
Spurgeons suitability and the triplets were moved next door
within the hour. In the meantime, more police officers,
paramedics, crime scene investigators and the coroners
officers went about their business as methodically as possible
in the small kitchen. The KCTV5 news crew had still to
arrive, but with three gunshots chalked up in a respectable
suburb, they wouldnt be far behind.
Dale Franklin escaped at just the right moment. Hed left
rookie Steve behind to learn about crime scene investigation,
but he had given him strict instructions to keep him posted.
21

Hed also discovered Brian Marshall had been more than just
an upstanding member of the community and had, in fact,
worked as a lawyer at City Hall. So, politics would make the
case even messier. With fallout in mind, Dale decided to make
a detour from his journey back to KCPD, to see the principal
at Staley High School. It was a school day and Brandons
absence would be noticed sooner or later. And, if he didnt
inform the school now, theyd be wondering why the KCTV5
van was parked outside the gates. He needed some
background information, too.
Principal Ed Davies had a reputation for running a tight
ship and for taking a personal interest in his students. It was a
new school, so he couldnt afford to take any chances. Bad
publicity wouldnt go down well with the Board of
Governors. Ed Davies had also recently announced his
intention to run for city mayor. His PA looked at Dale sternly
when he walked into the outer office. The sign on her desk
read Virginia Ironside, which didnt augur well for a fruitful
interaction.
May I help you, Officer? she asked with a raised,
painted eyebrow that would have done Bette Davis proud.
I very much hope so, Virginia, Dale answered with a
winning smile. He flashed his ID card before her speckled,
horn-rimmed glasses. In fact, I was hoping that Principal
Davies might be free to see me right now.
The stare she gave him was evidently well honed on
thousands of previous visitors. He felt he was right back in
high school and almost shuffled his feet reflexively. He was
sure she was counting to ten before responding.
Well, Officer, that might be difficult, she said in a
measured voice, as the principal is currently taking morning
announcements. We are a school, after all.
Ill wait, then, Dale said, then sat down on a hard chair
that was clearly designed to make students feel
uncomfortable. His cell phone ringing broke the equally
uncomfortable silence. Virginia glared. It was Steve.
Yeah, Steve. Hows it going?
22

Er, its taking time, Sarge. He sounded uneasy. Its

getting crowded here. KCTV5 have just arrived and theyre
setting up their gear. CSI are going over the perps room. His
laptops full of stuff and he didnt use a password.
Any sign of drugs? Dale asked. He noticed that caused
Virginia to raise her other eyebrow even higher. She looked a
tad lopsided.
It all looks clean so far but theyre doing a search, Steve
said. How are things at your end?
Ive just stopped by to see the Staley principal. Hes at
morning announcements. His PA is keeping me entertained in
the meantime. He could have sworn Virginia gave a snort.
Ah, the lovely Ms Ironside, Steve said. Watch out for
her acid tongue. I hear its worse than Alien blood.
Dale laughed and just about avoided catching Virginias
eye. Just then, Principal Davies walked into the office. He
looked taken aback when he saw Dale.
Sorry, Steve, I need to go. Principal Davies has just
arrived. Keep me posted. And dont say anything to the
press.
Dale stood up and extended a hand to greet the principal.
He stood at about five foot eleven with blue eyes and probably
in his mid-thirties. Better looking than most school principals
hed come across. Sorry for the intrusion, Principal, but Id
appreciate a minute of your time.
His handshake was brisk and cold. Is it about the careers
fair later in the month? I thought thatd already been
confirmed. I believe you offered to bring along a K-9 unit as
well.
No, sir, its not about the careers fair. Can we go into
your office, sir?
Beads of sweat formed on the principals brow. Shit, this
man was anxious. What was he hiding? The principal closed
the door behind them reluctantly, as if he realised hed been
caught with his hands in the till. And they were shaking, too.

23