of nurture’s wildness: a novella (book 3, ch. 3)

by Tom Stuckey

3

On clear nights, when the moon glimmered in the still sea, the light would pulse once and then Billy would count 1,2,3,4,5 and then again it would throw its silver coins across the water’s surface. The clear, still nights Billy would listen and see if the treasure would make a sound, some nights he was convinced that it did. The calm ones were very rare though—most nights the moon and the silver were lost, and all that was seen and heard was violence and a heavy sky that seemed to want to hunt the land because it hated it.

*****

Since life had returned to James in the form of Love in Gloria, he had decided it was time to reconnect with his siblings, in a sort of pass-it-on that people in love tend to try. Things were becoming increasingly unstable in society, and although they were, and never had been close, he thought it best to carry out his elder brother duties. First he tried to call Lisa, and after a few rings with no answer hung up the phone. A few minutes passed and then his phone rang, and it was Lisa. “Why are you calling me?” Lisa sounded angry.

“I wanted to check to see how you were doing, and that you were OK.” James knew that she probably was—Lisa always was OK; it was more often that he was not, but roles were roles.

“Well, I’m not going into that now. If you want to talk, I’m in the city, and you can come and see me, 12 o’clock at the DOG, near our old house.” Lisa hung up the phone and James was happy that he was going to see his little sister again.

Next, he tried Ted, but the phone number he had entered was a dead line. He checked the number he had dialled against the one on his piece of paper, but it was correct, and that worried him somewhat. This issue would have to wait until later; otherwise, James would be late meeting Lisa.

The city had become a daily measure of its own decline. The Bruv party had, in its latest efforts made certain parts of the city off-limits to the ones they termed “the undesirables.” Now, if you wanted to move freely, you had to carry an electronic pass that was checked at various points through the city. These passes were also on a wealth status basis—for example, the road James was walking down was a Zone C area and because he was a C class he could access it freely. Other classes could access it if they were of a lower class, but only for work-related reasons, such as delivering fast food to a C class or above member. The “enforcers,” as the police were now referred to, looked more kitted out than in recent times. Their uniform consisted of matte, navy blue body armour and a helmet that was pointy at the front—a bit like one of those that you would wear for aerodynamics. But what James really noticed was a distinct lack of anything cultural: there were no posters advertising new films; no flyers informing him of live music; and, behind where these used to be, were the darkened faces of buildings, most of which were now empty. People prefer to meet online, James thought. Most of the city’s entertainment now lay at its centre district in the mega complex named The Golden Dawn, which you could buy nightly passes to. James had never understood politics and, furthermore, what it was that made people do the things that they do. He only knew one thing: It always seemed irredeemably fucked. He didn’t even consider it based on hate anymore, rather a love of power, or the fear of what their weaknesses would reveal.

The place was a pub called DOG; it had always been a rough place, a working man’s pub where many of the local working men gathered night and day. It had once been a place that Lisa, James, and Ted had been dragged to by their late farther who had finally succumb to the effects of the drink that he could not put down. Lisa was already there in a booth just away from the bar that was already filled with the men who had finished the morning shift and were drinking away into the day. Like all pubs like this, it was obviously run by gangsters, and those gangsters were now controlled by the new regime, who supplied the drugs that were also in demand here. James hated it in the DOG and was annoyed that Lisa’s continuing need for excitement, in the form of confrontation, had once again brought him into the line of fire. James stood out from these sorts of crowds as he was neither one of them nor wanted to be like them. He used to find them interesting to write about in his books, and even wrote about a few of the characters here, but now he found them boring, a sort of antithesis of the norm on the other end of the street. Both were dull.

“I see that you could not resist bringing me back here?”

“Hello, James, good to see you again after all this time. I see you still take yourself too seriously.”

“Not as seriously as the ones that are staring at us, well, you. Did you have to wear such a short skirt, or is that a part of your plan to antagonise me?”

“James, if I wanted to ‘antagonise’ you, I could think better ways.”

“Yes, I am sure you could.”

“You know the last time I saw you was in here, too, for his funeral.”

“Yes, I am aware of that.”

“Don’t you think he would be laughing, seeing us back in here?”

“Yes, I think he probably would.”

“Anyway, why did you want to meet?” Lisa had always been at odds with the world: It was what it was.

“I wanted to see how you were doing, and see if we could reconnect.”

“Well, I think that’s noble of you, James, but I don’t see how that is possible, especially the way things currently stand.”

“I have met someone, and I’d like you to meet her.”

“I’m happy for you.” Lisa didn’t look happy, just pissed off, and overly sexy for mid-day in a working men’s pub. Men looked at Lisa from the bar and began to stir like dogs who had picked up the scent of raw meat, until the alpha came over.

“I KNOW YOU.” A short stocky, bald man came over and sat down close next to Lisa. “WHERE DO I KNOW YOU FROM?”

“You don’t know me; otherwise, you wouldn’t have to ask. Now fuck off.” James lowered his head and knew that it was already fucked.

The man already feeling the shame turning into anger, grabbed Lisa’s hair and pulled her from the seat and threw her onto the ground. James attempted to get up was sharply told, “SIT THE FUCK DOWN! The alpha then turned to Lisa. “THAT’S WHERE I KNOW YOU FROM. YOU WERE FUCKING IN THE RAINFOREST WEREN’T YOU? LOOK HERE, LADS, WE HAVE OURSELF A CELEBITY!”

“Fuck off, you pig.” Lisa said in a gasp.

“WELL, THAT’S NOT VERY LADY LIKE, AND HERE IN THE DOG WE TREAT DOGS LIKE DOGS!” The man had one of the others hand him a leash and put it around Lisa’s neck and began to pull her around the bar on all fours. James, frozen to the spot was only moved when the rest of the crowd threw him out where he found himself stunned and on the pavement on all fours. A large, fat man with stains all down his front saying, “Don’t try to come back in here. You will be killed if you do. She is gone now and belongs to him.” Pointing his fat finger to the city's centre.

As he sat on the curb feeling powerless, a bus full of tourists went by on an armoured bus. They looked out of the window at the scene, and a man with a megaphone described the goings on the best and closest that he could.

*Read Tom Stuckey’s next installment of Of Nurture’s Wildness (Book III) on September 16, 2025, at 6PM CST.

Photo of Tom Stuckey

BIO: Tom is a writer from Devon in England.  His work can be found at A Thin Slice of Anxiety, Bristol Noir, Nut House Press, and Pulp Magazine. He is the author of The Canary in the Dream is Dead and The Sun Marches upon Us All. Learn more about Tom Stuckey at www.tomstuckey.com.