Some People Deserve to Die by Colin Knight

Author:Colin Knight
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: intense, international action adventure, revenge and retribution, justice and closure, contemporary adult suspense
Publisher: Colin Knight

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Acceptance, and enthusiastic participation for "all things according to Jock," led to friendships with all of the drill team, particularly Derek, Sven, and the captain: Derek, my initial mentor, was an easy friend. Undemanding, non-judgmental, and cheerful we soon developed a jocular, even paced relationship. Sven and I shared common ground: single, early twenties, raised in cold climates, enjoyed hunting and ice hockey. We had lots to share. The captain, older than Derek and Sven, seemed to like me for some reason. In some loose, undefined way, he became a kind of cool fatherly figure who provided life advice based on a liberal and contextual interpretation of the British Army's Code of Conduct book.

With a veritable "drip feed" of alcohol and marijuana, my off-shift time focused on video games and music; activities which complemented drinking and smoking. Games of choice included StarCraft and Turok 2. StarCraft allowed me be a master strategist, playing one alien, or sub-human race, off against another. In Turok 2 I blasted the shit out of everything and anything that moved. StarCraft with marijuana, Turok 2 with alcohol; my alter egos competed for dominance.

Music. Loud and continuous, edged out the monotonous game sounds. The Eurhythmics, Pet Shop Boys, and David Bowie supported StarCraft. On Derek's advice, The Stranglers, The Clash, and The Jam provided the required pulsating, screaming, and frenzied background for the indiscriminate, first-person killing machine I became in Turok 2.

Finally, like the others, my shore-time became drink and drug binges enabled by plentiful supply, and more than adequate money. Jock's friend, Gregor McTavish, was more involved, and connected, than I imagined. After he heard about my Christmas shift and my participation in the New Year's Eve activities, he readily provided me with all the alcohol and marijuana I wanted. Jock informed me that McTavish played a large role in the supply of alcohol and drugs to off-shore platforms. This explained how he made a living from a small pub, in a small town, in the inhospitable backwater of Scotland's northeastern shore.

Compromised by booze and drugs, my nightmares seized their opportunity. My mother, Julie, Fred, and the victims of my "Handy Man" work, became distorted characters in the video games I played. Helpless scapegoats in StarCraft, recurring prey in Turok 2. Even though I understood the connection between my nightmares, the stimulants, and violent games, I was unable to stop playing: trapped in twisted self-flagellation.

Punctuated with bi-monthly helicopter rides, ten day binges, and festive antics, this was my life, until, in late January 2003, death came to the rig.

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