Hater - Softcover

Moody, David

Softcover

ISBN 10: 0955005167 ISBN 13: 9780955005169

Publisher: Infected Books, 2006

Synopsis

Society is rocked by a sudden increase in the number of violent assaults on individuals. Christened 'Haters' by the media, the attackers strike without warning. Their attacks are brutal, remorseless and extreme. There are no apparent links between the Haters or their victims and no obvious reason for their violence. In seconds rational, controlled people become vicious killers. Everyone - irrespective of race, gender, age, sexuality or any other imaginable difference - has the potential to become either a Hater or a victim. This is a terror which knows no boundaries. You can no longer trust anyone, no matter how well you think you know them. You can no longer trust yourself. By the end of today you could be a killer. By the end of today you could be dead. HATER - a new nightmare from the author of the AUTUMN series.

About this title

About the Author:

DAVID MOODY had originally self-published Hater online. With the official publication of Hater, he is poised to make a significant mark as a writer of farther out fiction.

Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.:

Chapter One

LUNATIC. BLOODY HELL, I’VE seen some things happen in this town before but never anything like that. That was disgusting. That made me feel sick. Christ, he came out of nowhere and she didn’t stand a chance, poor old woman. He’s in the middle of the crowd now. He’s outnumbered fifty to one and yet he’s still trying to fight. This place is full of crazy people. Fortunately for that woman it’s also full of police officers. There are two of them down with her now, trying to stop the bleeding. Three more have got to the guy who did it and they’re dragging him away.

Damn, it’s three minutes to nine. I’m going to be late for work again but I can’t move. I’m stuck in this bloody crowd. There are people bunched up tight all around me and I can’t go backward or forward. I’ll have to wait until they start to shift, however long that takes. There are more police officers arriving now trying to clear the scene. It’s pathetic really, you’d think they’d show some respect but people are all the same. First sign of trouble on the street and everyone stops to watch the freak show.

We’re finally starting to move. I can still see that guy being bundled toward a police van on the other side of the street. He’s kicking and screaming and crying like a bloody baby. Looks like he’s lost it completely. The noise he’s making you’d think he was the one who’d been attacked.

I know I’m a lazy bastard. I know I should try harder but I just can’t be bothered. I’m not stupid but I sometimes find it difficult to give a shit. I should have run across Millennium Square to get to the office just now but it was too much effort so early in the morning.

I walked and I finally got here just after quarter past nine. I tried to sneak in but it was inevitable that someone was going to see me. It had to be Tina Murray though, didn’t it? My sour- faced, slavedriving, unforgiving bitch of a supervisor. She’s standing behind me now, watching me work. She thinks I don’t know she’s there. I really can’t stand her. In fact I can’t think of anyone I like less than Tina. I’m not a violent man—I don’t like confrontation and I find the very idea of punching a woman offensive—but there are times here when I’d happily smack her in the mouth.

"You owe me fifteen minutes," she sneers in her horrible, whining voice. I push myself back on my chair and slowly turn around to face her. I force myself to smile although all I want to do is spit. She stands in front of me, arms folded, chewing gum and scowling.

"Morning,Tina," I reply, trying to stay calm and not give her the satisfaction of knowing just how much she bugs me. "How are you today?"

"You can either take the time off your lunch hour or stay late tonight," she snaps. "It’s up to you how you make it up."

I know I’m only making things worse for myself but I can’t help it. I should just keep my mouth shut and accept that I’m in the wrong but I can’t stand the thought of this vile woman thinking she’s in control. I know I’m not helping the situation but I just can’t stop myself. I have to say something.

"What about yesterday morning?" I ask. I force myself to look into her harsh, scowling face again. She’s not at all happy. She shifts her weight from one foot to the other and chews her gum even harder and faster. Her jaw moves in a frantic circular motion. She looks like a cow chewing the cud. Fucking heifer.

"What about yesterday morning?" she spits.

"Well," I explain, trying hard not to sound like I’m patronizing her, "if you remember I was twenty minutes early yesterday and I started working as soon as I got here. If I’m going to make up your fifteen minutes for today, can I claim back my twenty minutes for yesterday? Or shall we just call it quits and I’ll let you off the five minutes?"

"Don’t be stupid. You know it doesn’t work like that."

"Maybe it should."

Bloody hell, now she’s really annoyed. Her face is flushed red and I can see the veins on her neck bulging. It was a stupid and pointless comment to make but I’m right, aren’t I? Why should the council, the city government, have it all their own way? Tina’s staring at me now and her silence is making me feel really uncomfortable. I should have just kept my mouth closed. I let her win the face-off and I turn back around to sign on to my computer again.

"Either take it off your lunch hour or work late," she says over her shoulder as she walks away. "I don’t care what you do, just make sure you make up the time you owe."

And she’s off. Conversation’s over and I don’t get any chance to respond or to try and get the last word. Bitch.

Tina makes my skin crawl but I find myself staring at her rather than at my computer screen. She’s back at her desk now and Barry Penny, the office manager, has suddenly appeared. Her body language has completely changed now that she’s speaking to someone who’s higher up the council pecking order than she is. She’s smiling and laughing at his pathetic jokes and generally trying to see how far she can crawl up his backside.

I can’t help thinking about what I’ve just seen happen outside. Christ, I wish I had that bloke’s umbrella. I know exactly where I’d shove it.

 

Sometimes having such a dull and monotonous job is an advantage. This stuff is way beneath me and I don’t really have to think about what I’m doing. I can do my work on autopi lot and the time passes quickly. It’s been like that so far this morning. Job satisfaction is non ex is tent but at least the day isn’t dragging.

I’ve been working here for almost eight months now (it feels longer) and I’ve worked for the council for the last three- and- a-half years. In that time I’ve worked my way through more departments than most long- serving council staff manage in their entire careers.

I keep getting transferred. I served time in the pest control, refuse collection, and street lamp maintenance departments before I ended up here in the Parking Fine Processing office or PFP as the council likes to call it. They have an irritating habit of trying to reduce as many department names and job titles down to sets of initials as they can. Before I was transferred here I’d been told that the PFP was a dumping ground for underperformers and, as soon as I arrived, I realized it was true. In most of the places I’ve worked I’ve either liked the job but not the people or the other way around. Here I have problems with both. This place is a breeding ground for trouble. This is where those motorists who’ve been unlucky (or stupid) enough to get wheel- clamped, caught on camera violating a traffic rule, or given a ticket by a parking warden come to shout and scream and dispute their fines. I used to have sympathy with them and I believed their stories. Eight months here has changed me. Now I don’t believe anything that anyone tells me.

"Did you see that bloke this morning?" a voice asks from behind the computer on my left. It’s Kieran Smyth. I like Kieran. Like most of us he’s wasted here. He’s got brains and he could make something of himself if he tried. He was studying law at university but took a holiday job here last summer and never went back to class. Told me he got used to having the money and couldn’t cope

About this edition

• Publisher: Infected Books
• Publication date: 2006
• ISBN 10: 0955005167
• ISBN 13: 9780955005169
• Binding: Paperback
• Number of pages: 244