Beginning of the Novel.

Chad Dawkins

Private Investigator

Chapter 1

Life

Alarms don’t make sense. No one ever wants them to go off, especially this morning. It’s a Monday morning. I slapped the snooze button and pulled the blanket over my head. The world can live without me for five more minutes.

What was I dreaming about? God, I hate alarms. Once your awake your dreams just fade. It’s almost upsetting. I might as well get up. Screw it, I have about three more minutes. What’s the use? I’m already awake. The warmth of the bed was enough to keep me in bed. My eyes slowly got heavy….

RAAAA RAAAAAAAA RAAAAAAA

I smacked the alarm and threw the blankets off of me. The morning chill greeted my body sending a shiver throughout my bones. Swinging my feet off the side of the bed, I sat for a moment looking at the apartment. My badge and ID displaying my name, Chad Dawkins, sat on top of the nightstand. Through the doorway I saw the beige trench coat lay sprawled across the sofa. Piles of dishes lay waiting to be cleaned in the kitchen sink, while a box of pizza with a few slices left could be seen on the kitchen table.

RAAAA RAAAAAAAA RAAAAAAA

WHAT THE HELL? Guess I had hit snooze again. This is just not my morning. After turning the alarm off for sure this time, I got up and headed to shower. A nice hot shower is what I needed. As the steam and warmth of the water wrapped itself around me, I began to relax and concentrate on what was on my mind. There really weren’t many cases as of late in the office. A few missing people reports and pick up and delivering items between broken couples. Low paying jobs, nothing special. Nothing like my father was known for. The water began to get cold so I turned off the water and headed out.

I returned to my room and opened my drawer. Only one clean pair of clothes left. Gotta put laundry on my to do list for tonight. After changing and grabbing my badge and ID I moved towards the sofa to pick up my coat. My father’s coat. The only possession of his I have left. Picking it up, I put it on and looked at the picture that sat on the shelf. It was a picture of my father and me. I took it off the shelf and held it for a second. He was wearing the coat in it.

James Dawkins never brought it with him the night he died. He had been working on a case involving the gangs of the Mantis. Dad received a call and quickly ran out the door without a word to mom or me. It wasn’t till I turned on the TV later that night when I learned what had happened. The Mantis police department had received a tip from an anonymous source about a meeting between all the cities gangs. Before the plan was set by the SWAT team, a patrol from one of the gangs had spotted the police and alerted the rest. A shootout was inevitable. Bullets flew everywhere. One struck an oil canister setting the place ablaze. The explosion alone killed many, my father included. My father died and yet the gangs still exist. So much for justice.

I put the picture back on the shelf and walked out the door. This started just as any other day in my life.

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