Romance Update

First off, apologies for no update last week, been busy with Irredeemable research.

This week's short is a bit of a prequel to the Jeff and Deb short that I posted a few weeks back, a bit of how they met. I wanted to make it more "romancy" but it ended up being a bit more "plotty," if that makes any sense. I'm doing some serious work on the updated Irredeemable so hopefully I'll be working on that next week.


I just wrote this and haven't edited it, so please disregard any mistakes.

Jeff and Deb Meet
By Tim Harvey

Deb jerked her head forward, the rush of tequila sliding down her throat, warm and dangerous, made her eyes water.
“Woo!” Sally choked and threw her fist into the air.
Deb laughed at her friend and threw an arm around her shoulder, “best night ever?”
Sally nodded, coughing. A few other girls standing at the crowded bar of the nightclub exchanged glances, smirked and stepped away from Sally.
“Fuck em,” Deb whispered to Sally, noticing they were being made fun of. Sally nodded, trying not to cough, her throat burning with the tequila. She wasn't quite sure what Deb was talking about, but she smiled and nodded anyway.
“Hey, let's sit down... somewhere.” Sally's head was spinning, she had major trouble keeping up with Deb, who could drink her under the table on most occasions.
Deb nodded and grabbed Sally by the elbow, guiding her towards a booth near the dance floor. Deb slid easily through the crowd, she was used to navigating the flood of drunken elbows and feet flying around imitating dance. Her nostrils flared with the usual overpowering scent of sweat, cologne and perfume. Among those smells, her nose caught a whiff of something very sweet, something she had been looking for.
Halting abruptly and dismissing Sally, who had walked into her back, Deb stood still and surveyed the crowd, finally landing eyes on what she was after.
“There!” She exclaimed and Sally raised her head, nodding, her eyes closed.
Deb quickly sat Sally down in the nearest booth and made her way through the crowd again, back towards the bar. She had smelt this scent only once before and was determined not to miss her chance again. Deb twisted and turned as she made her way between people, all of them seeming to sweat profusely. Her high heels stuck to the floor as she walked, the soles of her shoes glued to innumerable spilt drinks. She felt if she stood still for too long she wouldn't be able to move at all. That's how she felt about most things in her life these days, she realised. Her skirt felt too short, she also realised. Her hairstyle felt... too young. She slowed her walk through the crowd. Her focus lost, she found herself waiting for people to move, instead of sliding gracefully past them. She felt old.
You're only twenty-three, Deb, she thought. What are you talking about feeling old? But as she looked around she got the eerie feeling that everyone in the club was younger than her. Hell, that guy over there couldn't be older than sixteen, she thought.
She realised that she was still deep inside her thoughts when she noticed that she was already standing at the bar.
“Finally,” she mumbled to herself. Finally, she could get what she was after. She could see it now, perfectly poised behind the bar. She had been waiting for this for quite some time.
Deb gave her best smile to the bartender and tucked her hair behind her ear. He looked over and smiled back, quickly finishing up with his customer, he headed straight towards her.
“Hey,” she said.
“Hey,” he replied. “What'll it be?”
She had been waiting for this for so long and now it was finally happening.
“I noticed you had that new vanilla and cherry vodka. I'll take a shot of that.” She had done it.
The bartender chuckled, “that's popular stuff.” He shook his head and grabbed the perfectly poised bottle from behind the bar. It smelt just as Deb had remembered, and it tasted better than she could have imagined.
“Oh yeah, that's the stuff.” She smiled and reached for her purse to pay for the drink.
The smile faded as she realised she had thrust her purse into Sally's lap when she seated her in the booth.
“Problem?” The bartender raised an eyebrow.
Oh shit, Deb thought. You look like real idiot now, Deb. What? You must look like a real piece of trash now, Deb. Where is this coming from? She stopped the rush of negative thoughts as soon as they had started. She had never thought about herself like that before, and she didn't like it.
Deb put on her best smile and was about to explain her predicament when a tanned, smooth hand slid a twenty across the bar in front of her. The bartender gave the guy a crude look but accepted the money and disappeared.
Deb went to thank the guy for the generous act but stopped cold, it was the guy who looked as if he was sixteen. He was taller than her by quite a bit, his ashen blonde hair in medium length spikes and his skin was tanned. But he looked ridiculously young, she thought.
“Thanks, kid.” She scoffed before quickly leaving the bar.
Catching a quick glance at the boy over her shoulder as she walked back to her booth, she couldn't help but feel like a bitch when she noticed his slumped shoulders and nervous glances at the bartender. He didn't look at me though, she thought.

As she got back to the booth she gasped when she saw two guys hanging around Sally. Deb no longer felt like the oldest person in the club as she saw that one of the men was well into his thirties, and seated across from Sally. The other stood, leaning on the side of the chair, blocking Sally's ability to exit the booth. Not that Sally was in any position to make an escape, her head was in her hands and her elbows rested on the table.
“Heyyy... Deb-Bra!” Sally's eyes lit up as Deb rushed over to her.
“Hey I'm gonna get outta here, Debbb.” Sally slurred, the two men exchanged glances and chuckled.
“Yeah, okay let's go,” Deb quickly answered, her heart racing. She stood next to the table and grabbed her purse.
“Nooo, Deb. I'm... I'm going with these guys.” Sally waved her hand through the air, attempting to gesture towards the two men but instead indicating the entire club.
“No that's all right guys, I got this. Come on Sal, let's go.” Deb wanted to grab Sally but one of the men stood between them.
“No, don't worry about it Debs,” the seated man said. “We can give Sally here a ride.”
“We can give you a ride too, babe.” The other man said.
Deb took a step back from the man, just in case he went to grab her. He wouldn't want to grab you, Deb. Shut up!
“All right! Listen to me you fucking idiot. You'd better get out of here right now, or I'm calling a bouncer.” Deb stood, shaking, but with more than a hint of confidence in her voice. After all, what could they do to us in here?
The two men just laughed at her.
“Don't worry about that, Debs,” the seated man said, laughing. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a beaten leather wallet. Deb shook harder as he flicked it open and she saw his security identification sitting right above his driver's licence.
He was the fucking bouncer? Should have thought of that, Deb. Stop it, I'm thinking.
She didn't know what to do, she couldn't hurt these two huge guys. There was no way out of this. Maybe if they went with them? Maybe she could call the police once they were outside? That sounds dangerous, Deb. What else can I do?
“Fine, you win,” Deb sighed. “Let's go.”
The two men exchanged cautious glances but eventually shrugged, realising they had the upper hand. The seated man stood up and grabbed Sally's hand. Sally just raised her head and smiled, her eyes closed. The man standing near the booth started walking towards the door and that's when Deb chose to strike. She threw her arm towards the man holding Sally's hand, her fist connecting with the side of his face.
“Hey, shit.” He wasn't quite sure what happened but he let go of Sally and that was all that Deb needed. She threw her arm around Sally's waist and guided her towards the exit. The two men stood confused for a moment then carefully followed the two girls through the club.
What now, Deb? There is a taxi rank outside, if we're quick, we can get one before those creeps can make it out of the club.
Before they could get anywhere near the door Deb's ability to glide through the crowd was suddenly thwarted by a tall, awkward young guy, who had obviously not spent enough time in clubs before.
“Hey.” He looked nervously down at Deb.
“Jesus, get outta the way idiot!” She almost yelled at him.
“Wha- Oh... sorry.” He shuffled out of the way but it was too late, the two men had caught up.
“Hey thanks for finding our girlfriends buddy,” one of the men smiled at the blonde guy.
“Oh... Sure,” the guy nervously looked away and began to leave.
“Wait!” Deb screamed.
People began to move away from the five of them, not concerned with getting involved. Most people in the club didn't even hear Deb's scream over the music.
The blonde guy stared at Deb, then shifted his gaze to Sally.
“Don't worry about it buddy,” one of the men clapped the blonde youth on the shoulder and began to guide the two girls towards the exit.
“Stop.” The blonde murmured, causing the two men to pause.
“I said, don't worry about it.” One of the men said sternly, his face now inches from the blonde guy's.
“I don't think these girls want to go with you.” The blonde youth stood his ground.
Jesus, they'll kill him, Deb thought. You got him into this mess, Deb.
She stood, mouth hanging open, and watched the three men square off. Well, two men and one kid. The blonde guy was tall though, as tall as the two men. He must play a sport, Deb thought and caught herself there. This wasn't the time or place for staring at guys. You should be getting Sally out of here while they're distracted, she realised. But, she couldn't take her eyes off the three of them.
Suddenly one of the men threw a fist at the boy.
The impact caused her to jump, it looked as if there was no resistance at all. The man's arm flew and the boy's head flew back. He was on the floor before she could take a breath.
Deb wrapped her arm around Sally's waist and the two girls stared at the crumpled body of the blonde boy, lying on the ground. The crowd shuffled and there was a collective gasp, audible over the loud music. Even drunken Sally looked concerned.
Deb stood in shock as a Police Officer grabbed the man who threw the punch, and shoved him to the ground. The other man stood by, and Deb noticed he was talking to another police officer.
The man who threw the punch was being escorted away in cuffs and paramedics stood over the boy.
A woman led the two girls outside and Deb didn't let go of Sally's waist until her mother arrived to take her home.
Deb blinked and took a deep breath. The boy sat on a stretcher being wheeled past her.
Flashing blue and red lights echoed their reflections against the brick buildings of the main street in the city.
“Wait!” Deb called.
The paramedics stopped wheeling the boy and Deb ran over to him.
“What's your name?”
The boy slid the oxygen mask down, away from his mouth. His left eye was swollen closed but he managed a small, pained smile.
“Jeff. What's yours?”
“Deb.”
“Cool.”

Slow Goings

This week's update won't be for Irredeemable, as it should be. While doing some research I recently stumbled upon this terrible, terrible thing and realised I have to do some serious thinking if I want to make Ray Douglas work as an original story. If you read the plot to that series of books in the link it is pretty similar to some stuff I had going on with Ray. I think that I have to really take him back to the basics and work on themes etc to build it up from the ground again with a clear vision for a unique and dynamic character. In the meantime I've whipped up something hopefully dryly comedic to take my mind off of it. Hopefully more Ray Douglas and Irredemable when I can get some ideas down on paper and a clear plot outline that I can follow and be happy that it hasn't been done before.

Also, Josh Pyke - Eat Me Alive is giving me some really good ideas for short stories, and some longer ones. (This is becoming more like an actual blog with each post.)

John Young
By Tim Harvey


John Young's left eye began to twitch as he sat limply on a medium sized office chair that felt too big for him. Drowning in his brown suit, surrounded by layers of musty cotton that hadn't been worn for years, John wondered if Principal Wright would notice his failure to control his twitching eye.
“Mr. Young, if you can't control your own eye, how do you expect me to hire you to teach these teenagers?” John looked up at Principal Wright in a panic and realised that he hadn't said anything, he was still busy reading through John's references. Blinking rapidly, he tried to disrupt the nervous flinching of his facial muscles. He felt they were flinching in preparation for the books and stationary that would presently be hurled at him at any moment.
Shifting in his seat John Young felt beads of warm sweat trickle down his forehead and drip into his left eye. 'Oh hell, just kill me now!' He exclaimed to himself.
“What was that?” Principal Wright flicked his attention to the small man seated across from him. 'Did I say that aloud?'
“Sorry... What?” John spat the words out, his pitch shifting as he forced a painful smile onto his face, awaiting an answer.
“I thought you said something.”
“When?”
“Just then,” Principal Wright answered quickly.
He was a man of action John thought as he shook his head; “No, I didn't say anything.” His pained smile stretched wider and he shifted his position again.
“Oh... Sorry then,” Principal Wright's face flushed and a wave of confusion flowed across his features, followed by a disinterested shrug as he continued reading.
“Oh, that's quite all right,” John Young answered, despite Principal Wright's shift in attention from the confused stuttering conversation to his reading.

John raised a shaking finger to loosen his tie and realised it was already hanging slackly around his neck. Stifling a cough, John yanked his tie up until it was choking him.
Principal Wright raised his eyes and from behind his glasses saw John sitting rather awkwardly, and smiling expectantly at him.
When Principal Wright's eyes settled back onto his reading, John loosened his tie marginally. He felt too cold whenever the oscillating desk fan faced him, chilling his sweaty forehead, and too hot whenever it neglected him. Reaching to turn the base of the fan slightly, John's arm shot back to his lap when he noticed Principal Wright was still looking at him.
“I... ju-” John's mind searched for words to explain his actions but halted when he realised he didn't know what or why he was trying to explain anything.
Principal Wright's eyebrows scrunched up in accusatory confusion, the rest of his face remained calm, but his eyes appeared to protrude from his head.
John felt his face flush; “Yeah, when...” He raised a limp finger at the fan and let out a nervous, undecided giggle; “And I just... With the- uh.”
Principal Wright glared at John, his eyes only shifting to the fan that John had weakly indicated after he managed to decipher the mumbling before him. Shifting the base of the fan so that it faced John, Principal Wright inquired; “Better?”
“Muc- Yes much... Thank you,” John stifled another cough as he forced the words out.
Principal Wright held his gaze, his eyebrows raised now. John held his gaze awkwardly and smiled at the Principal until he resumed reading.

John Young was too cold now. He wanted to leave, this was too much. Scanning the room for quick exit strategies John's mind created a myriad of excuses for a swift escape.
“If you'll excuse me, I have to use the bathroom, Principal Wright.”
“Certainly Mr. Young.”
“I'll be back in a tic!”

“Are those lilies over there?”
“Yes”
“Sorry I'm deathly allergic, I'll wait in the hall, okay?”
“Sure thing Mr. Young.”

“How old is that fire extinguisher, Principal Wright?”
“Well, I'm not sure.”
“It appears to be a pre-war model XT-3. They had a notoriously high malfunction rate, you know?”
“My God, I had no idea! We should wait in the hall Mr. Young, should a fire break out in here.”
“My thoughts exactly Principal Wright, you can thank me later. Let's go!” John Young declared as they ran dramatically to the door, pausing only for a moment before diving into the hall.

John Young noticed he was biting his nails now. The sweat on his forehead felt icy and his left leg was twitching along with the eye.
“Do you mind?” Principal Wright declared, indicating the nail-biting.
John's hand again shot into his lap.
“Thank you,” the Principal answered, returning to the list of references.
How many references did I have anyway, John asked himself. This is taking forever, and it's going nowhere, John groaned.
“Excuse me, Mr. Young. Would you prefer to wait in the hall?” Principal Wright asked, distracted by the deep, depressing groan that poured out of John Young.
“Wha- I... No, no, no. I'm here,” John struggled as Principal Wright eyed him suspiciously.
“I mean, I'm good... I'm all good... in here.” John fumbled with the words, before staring at Principal Wright, smiling, as always.
“All right then, could you please sit quietly, this will only take another minute.” Principal Wright glared at John and returned to his work.
John mentally slapped his face and continued to fidget and twitch, breathing heavily as he waited.

“All right Mr. Young.” Principal Wright declared suddenly after countless hours of scrutinising John's reference list, a list which only contained six names.
John snapped to attention, leaning forward in his seat eagerly; “All right!” He declared, also.
“Yes, well... I've checked through this list and your references appear to be in good order.” Principal Wright eyed John.
“Ah- Aha... Yes, good.” John nodded with sharp jerking movements.
“Yes...” Principal Wright nodded slowly, took one last look over the papers spread before him,sighed and offered his hand to John; “Well it looks like you've got the job.”
John Young raised his arm to shake Principal Wright's outstretched hand, but felt a sudden and violent tremor move through his body.
Principal Wright stood suddenly, his face flushed and he was clearly alarmed; “Are you all right, John?”
John Young nodded, slid off his chair and was dead.


NOTE: If the ending seems abrupt it's because I didn't really have a plan for the story and it wasn't really going anywhere...

More Words

Howdy, a few quick words, before the update. I'm totally getting into researching this story, using Google Maps, Wikipedia, etc. Baltimore reminds me of Adelaide, if Port Adelaide was much more prominent and wrapped itself around the city. A big image used in the following passage, which is Chapter 2 Part 2, is the USS Constellation, a civil war ship docked at Baltimore and used as a museum. Here's a great photo I found on Flickr by a guy called Steve, so full credit for that. Without spoiling too much, this is a great image and for the first time writing Irredeemable I totally stole a childhood memory for the story. Also this update is longer than the last, I was on a roll and hopefully all future updates can be about this length.




- 2 -
Part 2 of 4


By nine o'clock, Ray had exhausted the Expressway and crossed onto South President Street, well and truly in the heart of Baltimore. A few blocks to his right Ray knew the USS Constellation was moored in the docks. He remembered his father taking him and Rachel there when they were only little, he was about five or six and Rachel was still in the stroller. It was a magnificent old civil war sloop, probably about two hundred feet long and immediately Ray thought it looked like a pirate ship.
“No, not pirates, Ray. The Constellation sailed around the Mediterranean and Africa stopping slave ships and setting the slaves free, during the Civil War.” His father's voice echoed around his head and he took a deep drag of his cigarette.
“It was the good guys sailing this ship, son.” His father beamed proudly up at the rigging, his infant daughter nestled in his arms and his son by his side as they stood on the deck, waiting for the tour guide to usher them along.
“But Daddy, aren't pirates good guys?” Ray looked up at his father, blocking the sun from his eyes with his hand.
Ray's father looked down at his son, a brief wave of confusion sweeping his face, then he let out a big chuckle. “No Ray, the pirates are the bad guys. Don't you remember Peter Pan?”
Ray scratched his head, deep in thought. “Oh yeah...”
His father got down onto one knee, his head level with his son's, so he wasn't looking into the sun. “Pirates steal, and kill, and... and drink rum, Arrr!” He let out a mighty pirate roar that made Ray giggle. “They're definitely the bad guys,” his father said as Rachel began to squirm, horrified by the noise her father had made. “See, kiddo, even Rach doesn't like pirates.” His father smiled and stood up again, rocking Rachel gently until she calmed.
Ray took a deep drag of his cigarette as he turned a corner in the rain. After driving for a few more minutes, the rain cleared slightly and Ray caught a glimpse of Baltimore, a sight he hadn't seen in five years. The rows of brickwork buildings that lined Boston Street looked different, but to Ray they felt the same. He got a pang of nostalgia, like a punch to the gut, the unmistakable feeling of working-class, East-coast America swallowed him in waves, like an anaconda. The docks were only a block over, the ghosts of steel and rail-road men haunted his senses. The Stars and Stripes hanging from a tidy business-front held his gaze through the storm. This is what had been missing in Ottawa, stupidly, he hadn't realized it. America was missing from Canada, in Ray's eyes. Sure, not for everyone else there, but for Ray, who woke up every day, an expatriate, an ex-patriot. The urge to pull-up at a pub and order a shot and a brew, flew through his mind. The urge to eat hot dogs at an Orioles game at Camden Yards, even thought the Orioles weren't the team they once were, when he was a boy. Ray even had a sudden urge to do a U-turn and head back to the Constellation.
His memories of the Constellation however threw him into the future of those two kids, on the deck with their father. In his mind the image of baby Rachel shifted to an image of grown-up Rachel being showered in glass, screaming at him.
“Get out!” She screamed, pointing at the door of the apartment. His eyes fixed on hers, his gaze endless and never shifting, but she didn't flinch and she didn't back down.
“Ray, seriously get the fuck out! Now!” She lowered her voice but remained in her position, arm outstretched towards the door.
“Sure,” Ray nodded, getting up off the couch. While he couldn't scare her with his eyes alone, she began to visibly shrink as he stumbled towards her. He stopped only a foot from where she was standing and she cupped her elbows in her hands, across her chest as she looked to the floor. Her thin frame engulfed by his solid build, heavier then ever because of the booze, she stood a foot shorter than him.
“I'm fresh outta bourbon, anyway.” Ray growled into her ear and she shuddered. He held his gaze, inches from her face, his head swaying with the drink. It made him appear to her like and animal sniffing its next meal.
Suddenly, after what seemed too long to be anything but a nightmare, Ray stumbled back from his sister, tripping on his own feet, laughing at himself.
“Bitch,” he mumbled as he fell out of the door and disappeared into the street.
He didn't know it at the time, but she had cried as she swept up the broken bourbon bottle that had hit the wall inches from her face. He didn't know that she had waited the entire night for him to come home, sitting in her bed with a kitchen knife shaking between her hands. She told him this later, in an email to Iraq, although he barely remembered the details as this was when he was still drinking.

Ray's eyes shot open and he saw the police-issue Glock in his hand, a pile of ashes resting on his thigh. He jerked his head up, he was sitting in the Cadillac, parked awkwardly out the front of a Tavern on O'Donnell Street that he knew well. He quickly hid the pistol and scanned the side-walk for anyone who might have seen him, but was relieved when he saw the rain had kicked up again and the streets were deserted. Checking his watch provided more relief when he saw that it was only nine-thirty in the morning, he couldn't have been asleep for longer than fifteen minutes. Wiping his eyes, Ray lit a cigarette and forced the caddy to life, he was close to where he needed to be.

It begins...

Ok, it's on! More Ray Douglas coming up. Hopefully I'm over a recent slump in motivation, probably due to finishing uni recently.

Just a few quick notes on the first chapter of Irredeemable posted already. I'm not sure if it's the formatting of the Blogger site or what, but the paragraphs and dialogue etc are supposed to be indented but I'm not sure how I can do that, hopefully I'll figure it out, if not, oh well.
Also after extensive research (Wikipedia) I found out that the Pennsylvania State Police, which is what the character Officer James is, actually don't carry "service revolvers." Maybe it's just the nostalgic noir image of a revolver that I was drawn to, but in actuality they carry a .45 Glock 37 pistol. This has been changed in the draft saved on my PC and all future references to that pistol in the story will have it as a .45 Glock.
I probably should take this opportunity to mention it was probably fairly reckless of me to set the story in Baltimore as I've never been there. So far I'm using every scrap of knowledge I learned from HBO's The Wire and whatever I need from Google Maps to make it work but for a Baltimore native it may be pretty unrealistic.

The following is Part 1 of 4 for Chapter 2, I find that this format makes the word count quite manageable for weekly updates.




- 2 -
Part 1 of 4


Violent raindrops pounded directly onto Ray Douglas' windshield as he drove along the Jones Falls Expressway into Baltimore. The large swooping gusts of wind outside the vehicle propelled the rain intermittently at Ray, while rocking his car around in the black storm. Ray could barely make out the dilapidated brickwork of the Baltimore skyline through his furiously swaying windshield wipers which did nothing to clear the rain. Occasionally a bright blue pulse of lightning would illuminate the road ahead, otherwise Ray relied on the busted headlights of the caddy to see his way. Checking his watch, Ray felt a pang of confusion as he realised it was only eight-thirty in the morning. Ray blinked, rubbing his eyes, trying to remember where he was. The lack of sleep was getting to him, affecting his concentration. That, and the lack of sunlight today was making Ray's mind scramble to make sense of what was happening. Ray lit a fresh cigarette with the one dangling from his lips and flicked the old butt out of the tiny gap in the window. Despite the occasional raindrop shooting in, Ray left the window wound down a crack as an exhaust for his smoke.
Digging around in his pocket Ray felt the crumpled letter he had received two days earlier. 'Douglas, little sis needs fifty grand before midnight. Friday. You know the deal. You know who this is. You know what happens if you don't.' Rachel was in trouble. While the letter was deliberately vague, it was accurate, Ray knew exactly what it meant.
He remembered how happy Rachel looked as she saw him off at the airport, when he went to Iraq. The image surprised Ray, not because Rachel never appeared happy, but because of how drunk he was at the time. Iraq changed both Ray and Rachel; while he swore of booze over there, she lost her job at an inner-city accounting firm due to the downturn in the economy. She soon found herself with another job though, working to books for a local businessman named Bryan O'Reilly. Ray knew the name from his time as a cop and through their back-and-forth e-mail exchanges, pleaded Rachel to quit. The guy was dangerous and allegedly linked to several drug-related murders in the Baltimore Projects. Ray's new-found sobriety gave him a sense of duty to his family and he knew he had to put a stop to this before Rachel wound up in trouble. Rachel saw it differently however, Ray wasn't sure what her issue was, but he remembered getting the vibe that Rachel hated the idea of taking advice from a brother which she had taken care of for so long. A brother who never listened to her and threw empty bottles of bourbon across the room when she yelled at him for living on the couch. Eventually Rachel stopped contacting him and when he finally got home the first thing he did was confront Bryan O'Reilly.
Ray lit another cigarette with the one in his mouth and again threw the butt out of the crack in the window. He rubbed his eyes, which burned and itched from waking life. Catching a glance of himself in the rear-view, Ray noticed that his swollen and bloodshot eyes looked as if they would drop out of his skull with the next bump in the road.
Outside of the car, Ray noticed a bird flying into the wind. The bird appeared suspended in the air, not making any progress, it's life put on-hold as it repeated the mistakes of the past. Ray shook his head and slapped his cheek, repeating the mistakes of the past. Ray Douglas lost his train of thought as he blinked wildly, focussing on the road ahead.