Beyond Distorted: Beyond Distorted, #1

By Justin Wade

Gilbert Larson is on the run and at his wits' end. His world resembles a desolate wasteland, lacking any sense of purpose or significance. He has spent years climbing the corporate ladder only to fail at life. A sense of impending doom is washing over him as he starts to understand the worst is still yet to come. The hidden acts of past deeds are emerging from the darkness, haunting him to his very core. Death, which was once a source of terror, had now become an object of desire. He will carry the indelible marks of the pain, torment, and everlasting horror inflicted upon him for all eternity.

The discoveries that he makes along the way will either propel him into a life he always longed for or drudge him down into the pit of despair and misery. The future holds mysteries that only he will witness in the end.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Justin Wade
• Release date: Oct 6, 2023
• ISBN: 9798215249635

Justin Wade

I hope that you find my books as enjoyable to read as they are for me to write. My inspiration comes from within. Knowing that even in our darkest times, we can find something to cling to, something that will keep us going, enduring until the end. We truly live and shine our brightest when faced with something that seems impossible to overcome. We get the chance to discover just how strong we really are. I want to portray characters that are relatable to any reader, no matter where they come from or where they might be going. I look forward to embarking on another journey with you, and being able to share more escapes, if only for a little while.

Book preview

Chapter 1: Time Is a Necessity

There’s not a moment to lose.

I need to be on that flight.

Time is running out.

Gilbert Larson needed to find the only plane leaving that morning out of Gulf International Airport. He would risk everything to catch that flight. Gil had packed light for the trip, limiting himself to a duffel bag and a gossip magazine that he had taken from his hotel, The Sandy Coconut. He was thrifty, booking three-star motels and taking any free items he could lay his hands on—it was his modus operandi when traveling.

Gil had left his small, cozy apartment on the lower east side of Toledo a week ago for a getaway trip to Florida. He had wanted to leave the brewing mess in that old northern steel town in the Buckeye state, and unwind by getting away and basking in the sun. The warmth of the salty breeze and change of scenery had been a wonderful escape from his current reality. Still, the chaos brewing in Toledo cast a shadow over his moment of joy, reminding him that nothing lasts forever. He realized the end was near and had to acknowledge it, regardless of the cost. No amount of sunshine could dispel the darkness and despair that consumed his life.

I’ve got to hurry.

Where is that boarding gate?

Gil sought for something to guide him. The small airport was inundated with signage advertising hotels and restaurants; however, there were few indications of scheduled plane departures, despite there being only a handful that day. The chaos and stress of finding his flight back to Toledo was unexpected, when it should have been a straightforward task. He had traveled dozens of times out of much larger airports with greater ease.

Why is this so hard?

Gil was like a mouse searching for a morsel of bread, scurrying about the airport corridors in a frenzied state. He reminded himself that impulsive behavior would only make matters worse, so he took a deep breath to refocus.

Flight 207 is now ready for departure, announced a garbled voice over the loudspeakers.

Gil glanced at his creased and perspiration-covered boarding pass and found Flight 207 in bold letters printed at the top.

Oh, no! I’ll never make it! It’ll be too late! Gil whined.

His fear and anxiety grew with every passing moment. Without hesitation, he ran toward the voice.

He mauled through waiting passengers to get to the counter in front of him.

Here! Gil slammed down his crumbled pass.

Looks like it’s your lucky day, sir. You’ve made it just in time. Any bags to check? The airline agent smiled at Gil.

No ma’am. Just this carry-on bag and a cheap tabloid I brought from the hotel.

Gil was embarrassed by the announcement he had made, realizing he should have omitted the part about the gossip magazine. He didn’t want to appear shallow. His cheeks turned red as the agent scowled at him. With nothing to say for himself, he hung his head in shame and shuffled down the hallway to the plane.

Gil found his seat, which was in the third row next to the window. He shoved his duffel bag into an overhead bin and set down his reading material on the empty seat next to him. He then sat and fastened his seatbelt. Whenever he traveled, he preferred a window seat. It comforted him, being able to gaze out into open space.

How’s it gonna go down?

Will they know I’m innocent?

Questions kept flowing into Gil’s mind. Questions that had answers. Even if he didn’t know the answers, he still had to accept them. That is the part of the unknown that makes us anxious. His life was going to change. His senses were heightened as he felt his world being disrupted. Almost missing his flight from Florida was an indication of what was to come.

With the engines roaring, the plane commenced its journey down the runway, accelerating rapidly, but it soon lost speed and came to a halt.

This is your captain. We are experiencing some mechanical issues. Please remain seated, crackled the intercom.

Great, just what I needed, Gil complained. I have to get to Toledo! I can’t wait!

His frustration rose as he thought about his current situation.

What next? I thought this was an international airport. I didn’t realize I booked a flight for a local pony show!

Sir, the captain said to remain seated, barked the flight attendant.

Gil’s rage boiled inside him. He didn’t have time to be stuck on the runway of a backwoods airport. But what other options were there? Take his one carry-on, throw a fit and then what? The outcome of that would be a visit from the air marshal and being escorted off of the plane. Gil sat back down, composed himself, and stared out his window. The thought of not reaching Toledo in time consumed his mind.

Attention all passengers, this is your captain speaking. We apologize for the delay, but we are going to remain grounded. We will taxi back to the boarding gate.

Gil was at the end of his rope.

This isn’t good.

How long will it take to get on another flight?

An infinite amount of time seemed to pass before the jet finally taxied back to the gate. Gil kept pondering the unfolding events in Toledo, aware of the consequences the delayed departure from Florida would cause.

Was this trip down south useful or a hinderance?

Was it even worth taking the time to regroup?

I should’ve stayed in Toledo and hid like a rat in the basement.

Why am I scared of my own shadow, fleeing at every sound?

Gil was determined and never shied away from tough challenges. His fighting spirit grew stronger whenever he found himself in a difficult situation. He had a fierce resolve to push through any obstacle.

Worried about his circumstances, he had reached a level of intensity he had never experienced. He had become unhinged, worried about the consequences if he failed to address his troubles in Toledo. With every passing minute, the surrounding walls were closing in, his world becoming smaller and more restrictive. He welcomed the end, but also feared it. He found no solace in his tumultuous life.

Gil had no choice but to wait, so he started reading The Buzzstar to pass the time. Editorials about celebrity scandals were too insignificant to impact his life, but he read them, nonetheless. The grip of hopelessness was so strong that he would welcome any distraction, no matter how cheap the content was.

Standing tall in the face of adversity is never a simple task. The only way to succeed is to persevere until the very end.

Chapter 2: No Sleep Until Toledo

H ow long until we can take another plane to Toledo? Gil shouted.

Sir, please calm down. We are working on that. Seems it won’t be until an arrival comes from Pocatello. This will be in about sixteen hours, the flight attendant informed him. We are sorry for the inconvenience.

Ridiculous, simply ridiculous! growled Gil. I need to speak to the captain!

Sir, that’s not possible. Now if you don’t control yourself, I will be more than happy to introduce you to the air marshal! the attendant threatened.

The cancellation of the flight to Toledo and a sixteen-hour wait were not part of Gil’s plan. He had to reach Toledo as soon as possible, not a day later. He needed to come up with a one-of-a-kind strategy to escape from the airport. With time running out, he felt his patience slipping away, replaced by a growing sense of frustration.

Ladies and gentlemen, please take your belongings out of the overhead bins, and any other items you brought with you. You may now exit the plane, a voice announced over the loudspeaker.

Gil stood up and retrieved his bag from the overhead bin. He then put away The Buzzstar and moved into the aisleway, glowering at the attendant.

Enjoy the rest of your evening, sir, and thanks for flying Big Valley Airlines, she said to him.

I didn’t fly anywhere! That’s a false statement and they should investigate you for being crooks! Gil shrieked.

Upon disembarking from the aircraft and making his way back to the airport terminal, Gil had to adjust his demeanor and accept the unexpected delay. He considered the sudden turn of events.

What a joke of an airport.

What a joke of a company.

The attendant should have just thanked everyone for taxiing on Big Valley Airlines.

Just when it appeared impossible to leave the airport, Gil stumbled upon a car rental sign. An idea popped into his head.

I could drive straight to Toledo.

That would be way quicker than waiting on another plane.

The rental counter was straight ahead, and he hurried to be first in line.

I need a car, and I need it now, Gil told the agent.

Okay, let me see what we have in stock. Looks like we have a small economy available. Would you like that?

Sure, I don’t care if it’s a moped, Gil snarked. He had no preference in vehicle make or model, as long as it got him from point A to point B so he could finally leave Florida behind.

That will be three hundred seventy-six dollars and fifteen cents. Will you be paying by cash or card?

Just stick it on this here, Gil said as he handed him his North Bay company credit card.

The agent handed over the key fob and sent him off with his rental agreement. Here you go sir, it’ll be parked out those doors over there and on the left.

With the airport being quaint, he only had to walk fifty yards to reach the car staging area. After a few moments of searching, Gil found it—a compact silver car. He was struggling to fit himself and his luggage inside the tin can, with little room to spare. There was no other choice for him than to make his transportation work. He threw his carry-on in the passenger seat, climbed in, and hit the ignition. The sound of the engine was more like an angry lawn mower than horses. He would make do, no matter what. He needed to return up north. The sacrifice of spending long hours in a cramped vehicle was worth it.

Lucky for him, the car came equipped with a GPS to help him reach his destination. Reaching Toledo was imperative. He made it his mission to streamline this trip to the greatest degree, stopping only at gas stations and the occasional rest area. He would have to settle for vending machine snacks and other convenience food since he was in a hurry. Because of his love of junk food, he rationalized that chocolate bars and chips wouldn’t be that bad after all. He had a powerful motivation to return to Toledo as soon as possible.

Gil was heading north, but still felt stuck in time’s quicksand. The trip would have been less of a hassle if he had caught the Pocatello plane. He needed to get going, and quick. After about five hours of driving on I-75, he heard a rumble in his stomach and felt the onset of hunger pains. In his haste, he had been so eager to catch his flight that morning that he had rushed out of The Sandy Coconut. As a result, he had missed out on the hotel’s free continental breakfast.

Oh, what I would do for a cinnamon roll or even a piece of toast with some outdated jelly!

There was a sign off to the right. Welcome to Georgia, read Gil. Unfamiliar with the state, he was clueless about dining options. He had to guess which city off the freeway had something suitable for him. The GPS showed a town named Warner Robins a few miles ahead.

Let’s see. Looks like this exit will do the trick.

A gas station and a mom-and-pop diner greeted him as he pulled off the road.

Perfect. I can refuel, grab a sandwich, and be back on the road in no time.

Gil parked at a gas pump and got out of his tiny car. He then swiped his credit card and topped off the tank. Luckily, he only needed ten gallons of gas.

This thing must run on hot air.

Gil never spent money on things he didn’t have to. He had a knack for saving, and he would always seize any chance to do so. The style of the car matched his personality: cheap and hassle-free.

With the car’s gas tank filled, he turned his attention to satisfying his belly. The little diner and gas station were connected, but each had its own separate entrance. He squeezed back inside the car and navigated it to an empty parking spot outside the diner. Gil got out, stretching and yawning as the warmth of southern air filled his lungs. He paused to admire the restaurant sign. Someone had decorated it with a portly-looking cartoon character holding a tall stack of syrup-drenched pancakes. After a slight chuckle, he entered the quaint diner. Bells tied to the handle jingled as the door closed.

A waitress came to greet him once he was inside.

Come on in, grab a seat wherever you’d like. I’ll be right with you, hun.

Gil took the menu from her and read over his options. The variety of dishes at the Georgia restaurant were classic southern. After a couple of minutes, the waitress came back to get his order. He had taken a table near the front, next to the windows.

What can I getcha, sugar?

I’ll take the BLT with a lemonade, Gil replied.

The server walked back toward the counter and handed the order ticket to the kitchen staff. Gil delighted in the warm sunlight shining through the window by his table. Soft country music was playing in the overhead speakers. He relaxed and took in the scenery.

After ten minutes, the waitress reappeared holding a tray with a tall glass of lemonade and the sandwich Gil had ordered. With a warm smile, she put the drink down on the table first, followed by the BLT, and looked at him.

Here you go dear, is there anything else that I can get you?

No, ma’am, not right now. Thank you.

In no time, he had eaten his sandwich and followed it up with the refreshing glass of lemonade. With his hunger satisfied, he grinned a crooked smile, content for the moment. He thought about the need to continue his travels as soon as possible. He had a desire to stay longer, however. The reason eluded him, though.

Was it the lemonade or just the state of Georgia that brought on this desire to hang around?

He took a moment to clean his hands and wipe his mouth before getting to his feet and heading to the counter to pay for his tab.

The waitress was now stationed near the register. That will be ten sixty-three, darlin’.

He had gotten excellent service, so he handed her a twenty. Keep the change.

Gil left the diner and decided it was time to return to Toledo. When he climbed back into his hatchback, the GPS showed he had eleven more hours to drive. He decided to take a brief break before continuing his journey northward. With a sigh, he stretched out his arms and put his hands behind his head. As his eyes closed, he let his mind wander. The sunshine through the windows created a cozy and relaxing atmosphere, like in the restaurant. What harm could there be in resting his eyes for a bit?

As he drifted off into a light slumber, the distant sound of a train grew louder until it jolted him awake.

What the—

Where am I?

Gil realized he was no longer in front of the diner, but parked on a gravel road near some railroad tracks. The GPS said it was now six-thirty in the evening, and he was twenty miles away from the diner. Somehow, he had driven with absolutely no memory of doing so, and lost some three hours to boot!

How on earth did this happen?

I closed my eyes for only a couple of minutes.

Now even more behind on his trip, drowsy and aggravated, he chalked it up to bad luck. There was no time to reflect on mistakes. There wasn’t any time to think about this Bermuda Triangle phenomenon in rural Georgia. He had to get to Toledo. Nothing else mattered.

Coming to his senses, Gil shook himself awake and then typed into the GPS his home address in Toledo. He revved up the car engine and then slammed the gas pedal to the floor.

I’m losing control.

I’ve got to pull myself together.

Time loss was a recurring experience for him. There had been similar incidents where he would drift off to sleep and wake up hours later in an unfamiliar location. Unable to wrap his head around these eerie phenomena, his focus shifted toward what he had read on one of those online medical symptom sites that would diagnose anything from schizophrenia to whooping cough, often inaccurately. His ailments were never well-timed.

Am I suffering from sleep apnea or narcolepsy?

Determined to stop only for gas for the rest of his trip, deviating from his course was not an option. It wasn’t feasible to view roadside attractions or anything else. He needed to stay vigilant if he wanted to get back to Toledo. No more deviations, even if unintentional. Destined for an overnight drive on the highway, he turned on the radio, allowing some music to break up the sounds of the road.

The car was filled with static as Gil searched for a clear frequency by flipping through the radio dial. Driving through the South, it was no surprise that there were several country music stations to choose from. After a few moments of scanning, his ears picked up on a familiar tune. He turned up the volume and began to hum, then softly sing, while rhythmically tapping his fingers on the steering wheel as if playing the drums. In no time, he was full-on belting out the lyrics. He realized he had first heard the song while in college.