TRUMPER: Journey Into Darkness

TRUMPER JOURNEY INTO DARKNESS A R COOKE A.S.S.C. Enterprises Inc. (LLC) Maple Ridge, British Columbia This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance of names, places, characters and incidents to actual persons, living or dead, events past and present, and locales is purely coincidental. Certain existing institutions and public offices are mentioned, but the characters involved and the operations of those institutions in this story are completely imaginary. The Hope Clinic in this story, set in Chula Vista, California, is entirely fictitious and has no connection in any way with factual organizations by the same name located in other areas in the United States, Canada or elsewhere. The behaviour and opinions expressed by the characters belong to them and should not be confused with any characteristics of the author. TRUMPER: JOURNEY INTO DARKNESS, © Copyright registered to Adrian Cooke, with A.S.S.C. Enterprises Inc. as claimant, on January 11, 2023 with the Copyright Registry of the US Copyright Office, Library of Congress. Certificate Registration Number TXu 2-354-177 All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce or distribute this book or portions of this book in any form whatsoever. ACKNOWLEDGMENTS This book is dedicated to my long-time friend, Barbara Jamieson, whose faith in me and endless encouragement provided the incentive that has resulted in this story being published. I am grateful to Margaret Graham whose suggestion to eliminate as many “He said/She said” references as possible made all the difference to the flow of the dialogue passages. Thanks to my son, Chris, whose IT expertise and patience with my reluctance to learn new tricks has brought this work to the world of internet publishing. Also, his help with designing and setting up a website has been invaluable. And to Phyllis Ngo and 100 Covers for their artistry in designing the cover of my novel and following my directions, I am indebted to their professionalism. Finally, to my lovely wife, Sandy, who has quietly encouraged me to follow my dream since she bought me a copy of Roget’s Thesaurus for Christmas many years ago. Thank you for supporting me every step of the way, Bubba, even though you have never read any of my novels. Now that it’s official, it’s time you started. Coming releases by A R Cooke When Freedom Dies Trumper: Beyond the Darkness The Presidium The Seduction of Marshall Clarke Trumper: New Horizons Visit chatabox.online for updates on new releases. TRUMPER JOURNEY INTO DARKNESS CHAPTER 1 He had been casting his fly for a half hour without any real conviction when he heard several shots in the distance. Probably some hunters stealing a march on the opening of the season, he presumed. Experience told him that the shots were far enough away to be confident that he would suffer no disturbance from that source. He could not have been more mistaken. His life was about to change. Forever. His concentration was on his daughter and her mother, and he was thankful for the lack of distraction until a fish unexpectedly struck. He wasn't particularly excited, but he played the trout for several minutes and finally netted it without so much as a respectable struggle. Both fish and fisherman were in a lazy mood, which suited the man for now. It was a good-sized trout that would feed him well for two meals, maybe three. He could relax for the rest of the day, and maybe tomorrow as well. After cleaning the fish by the river, he made his way back through the bushes to his truck. The afternoon was spent collecting firewood and digging a pit. His movements were slow and relaxed and he felt the tension beginning to seep out of his body. It made him feel tired and he set up his hammock to relax and think of Lexi. He didn't want to try to figure out what time it would be for her, but he knew it would have to be at least early afternoon. 'She's probably carving something with the Maori,' he told himself. Her mother would be in her element, convincing herself that she was discovering something earth-shattering about a culture that was so bastardized by crossbreeding that it was unlikely there was a true, full-blooded Māori still walking this planet. His half a trout was beginning to sizzle in the pan when he heard what sounded like the crack of a branch breaking. He reached for the pepper spray, hoping it was a black bear, rather than a grizzly or a mountain lion. His rifle was still in the truck. He cursed himself for being so careless. The smell of the frying fish had probably brought half of Montana's big game sniffing around his campsite. He waited for the animal to show itself. Nothing stirred. Picking up the fry pan containing the fish he carefully moved to the far side of the fire and placed the pan on the ground. He could have thrown the fish into the brush and let the animal find it, but he was reluctant to part with his dinner. If he could get to his rifle before the bear devoured the fish he could have meat for the rest of his holiday. Slowly he backed up to his truck and took the rifle out of the rack above the back window. Loading six shells into the breach he moved back into the middle of his clearing. He could sense that something was lurking in the bushes, but he saw nothing. "Come on, you son of a bitch," he yelled, "show yourself!" There was a rustling to his right, He leveled his rifle at the spot. "Don't shoot, Mister," the girl's voice cried. "I'm unarmed." "Come out where I can see you." A young girl, still in her teens, he guessed, came slowly out of the woods with her hands above her head. "I'm not armed, Mister," she repeated. She looked terrified. "Who are you?" "I'm Cassie. My name's Cassidy." "What are you doing out here, Cassidy?" "I'm trying to