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Old 10-08-2005, 04:24 PM   #1
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Wake Up Dead Man: Part 3

OK, here's part 3!

Disclaimer: Yes this is all a load of shite. Just a figment of my imagination.


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I shook my head and closed my eyes. When I opened them again, he was still there. It can’t be him. Must be just a look-alike. After all, my father had been missing for five years now; most people thought he was dead. What was I doing? Everyone thinks he’s dead. I don’t, but when the opportunity comes along to prove them wrong, I deny it’s him?

He still hadn’t seen me. He was looking to the side. He didn’t look good. His hair was still the dyed dark brown, but he wasn’t wearing any shades like he so often did. He looked tired. Was it really him? He slowly turned his head to face me. I saw a look of recognition flash across his face, but he turned and walked quickly away. Maybe he hadn’t been looking at me. I decided I would follow him, just to put my mind at rest. It wasn’t him. It just couldn’t be! I wanted it to be him though…

I strode quickly though the crowd and saw him whip round a corner. I broke into a jog and followed him. It was just no use. He was too fast. If he was running away from me, then maybe it was him and he didn’t want me to find him. But maybe he was running from someone else and it was a different person entirely I was running after.

I stopped and put my hand on a wall to steady myself whilst I gasped for breath. Once I recovered, I headed back to the hotel where Jack was awaiting me. Still shook up by my almost encounter with a man who remarkably resembled my father. Jack seemed to notice this and asked me what was wrong.

“It doesn’t matter,” I started off, but he raised his eyebrows.

“I know something’s up. I’ve been with you for five years. Don’t think I don’t know you well by now.” He was right. I should tell him. After all, he was the man (a boy then though) who had helped me after my father disappeared. I had met him about a week after it had all happened and we just clicked.

“Well, I was out getting your stuff, and I was on the way back.” I took a deep breath. “I saw someone who looked like my father. I ran after him and he disappeared.”

“What? You mean you saw him? Was it definitely him?”

“I don’t know! I kept denying it to myself, and I’m the one who still believes he’s out there somewhere.” James held his arms out, and I gratefully hugged him. Tears sprung to my eyes and pretty soon, Jack was drenched.

“Shh, it’s OK. Of course you wouldn’t believe it’s him. It’s been years since you saw him. It’s natural. He’s been out of your life for five years. Don’t worry.” He really comforted me.

We spent the rest of the day in the room, boring as it was, but Jack couldn’t go out and I was still a bit shaken.

Over the next few days, I had the feeling someone was following me wherever I went. But every time I looked around, I saw no one that reoccurred wherever I was. Occasionally, I did see the back of a dark haired individual, which freaked me out. But Jack was always there to comfort me. God, I don’t know what I would do without him! He was getting better. Still the odd feeling of nausea, but apart from that he was good.

We had three days left and we were in the hotel room, around nine. It was dark outside and I was glad that I was inside.

“Want some wine?” I asked Jack.

“Sure. I never turn down alcohol without a good reason,” he said, grinning.

I walked over to the fridge, opened it and found there was no wine. “Ah crap. There is none. No other alcohol either. I’ll go out and get some. The shop’s down the street.” Seeing his reluctance at letting me leave when it was this dark, I added, “I’ll be fine! I’ll scream if something happens OK?”

“Fine you can go.”

I got my bag and jacket and walked down to the shop. I bought two bottles of white wine and was on my way back when I felt a hard object thrust into my back. A hand muffled my voice and I was pushed into a nearby alley. Whoever it was turned me around, my back to the wall and shoved the gun in my stomach. I winced in pain.

“Give me your money,” a gruff voice said. My heart was beating a mile a minute. Holy shit! I was getting mugged!

“I-I-I don’t have any,” I stuttered, trying to keep the tears back.

“I just saw you come out of that shop, so you must have some.”

“I s-spent it all in th-there,” I answered. Needless to say, I was terrified.

“I know you didn’t. Now give me it.” I fumbled with my bag and I was so scared I didn’t notice someone coming down the alley towards us.

“OI! YOU! Leave ‘er alone! Feck off yer bastard!” That voice was familiar…

The mugger jumped and looked like a deer caught in headlights. He only had a dead end alley to make his escape. My ‘saviour’ came nearer to us and the mugger managed to get past the man who had helped me. Once he’d gone, the unnamed man came to me.

“You alrigh’?” he asked. I looked up at him and saw he was the man I had seen and chased after several days before. And damn was he a dead ringer for my dad.

“Yeah, I’m fine, thanks.”

“So what’s a lovely young lady doing down here on a dark night?” he asked, a mischievous glint in his eye. Feck, it was Da’!

“Dad, is that you?” I asked, shakily.

“I don’ know what yer on about. My name’s Paul, not ‘Dad’. Anywho, you didn’ answer me question,” he said, but I could tell he was uncomfortable.

“What question? Oh, I was getting some wine for me and my boyfriend.” Right then I broke down. Why wouldn’t he admit it was him? I’m his bloody daughter fer feck’s sake.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

I tried to control my tears. “Well… first of all, I’ve just been mugged, and second, me own da’ won’t admit it’s him when I haven’t seen him for five feckin’ years! I miss him so much and I know he’s not dead. He can’t be because he’s standing right in front of me!” Then I collapsed against him.

“What? But- but- but I don’t know who your father is! What you on about?” God he was a good actor.

“You feckin’ look like him, you have the Irish accent and- and- and I know it’s you! Please da’… You’re name’s Paul, as is my da’s.” I’m just telling this to a total stranger? But he wasn’t a stranger. He’s my da’ and I know it.

He sighed in defeat. He must have given up with this pretence. “I’m sorry Jordan. I’m sorry I ever left.”


-----------------------------


That's it until Part 4!
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Old 10-08-2005, 06:17 PM   #2
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BONO'S BACK!!!!

But will the band survive??????

PLEAZ!!!!!!
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Old 10-08-2005, 06:22 PM   #3
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I haven't got that far with my planning. They may, they may not.
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Old 10-10-2005, 04:14 PM   #4
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YAA!!! She found her Poppa!!! Did Bono lose his memory? Going to read Chapt 4....
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Old 10-10-2005, 04:21 PM   #5
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Lmao. Poppa.
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