Charley Brindley - Sea Of Sorrows

Sea of Sorrows

Book Two of

The Rod of God

by

Charley Brindley

charleybrindley@yahoo.com

www.charleybrindley.com

Book Cover by

Charley Brindley

On the cover

Prija is the girl on the right

Siskit is on the left

Edited by

Karen Boston

Website https://bit.ly/2rJDq3f

© 2019 by Charley Brindley, all rights reserved

Printed in the United States of America

First Edition October 14, 2019

This book is dedicated to

Leo Alton Walker

Some of Charley Brindley’s books

have been translated into:

Italian

Spanish

Portuguese

French

Dutch

Turkish

Chinese

and

Russian

The following books are available in audio format:

Raji, Book One (in English)

Do Not Resuscitate (in English)

The Last Mission of the Seventh Cavalry (in English)

Hannibal’s Elephant Girl, Book One (in Russian)

Henry IX (in Italian)

Other books by Charley Brindley

1. The Rod of God, Book One: Edge of Disaster

2. Oxana’s Pit

3. Raji Book One: Octavia Pompeii

4. Raji Book Two: The Academy

5. Raji Book Three: Dire Kawa

6. Raji Book Four: The House of the West Wind

7. Hannibal’s Elephant Girl Book One: Tin Tin Ban Sunia

8. Hannibal’s Elephant Girl: Book Two: Voyage to Iberia

9. Cian

10. The Last Mission of the Seventh Cavalry

11. The Last Seat on the Hindenburg

12. Dragonfly vs Monarch: Book One

13. Dragonfly vs Monarch: Book Two

14. The Sea of Tranquility 2.0 Book One : Exploration

15. The Sea of Tranquility 2.0 Book Two: Invasion

16. The Sea of Tranquility 2.0 Book 3: The Sand Vipers

17. The Sea of Tranquility 2.0 Book 4: The Republic

18. Do Not Resuscitate

19. Ariion XXIII

20. Henry IX

21. Qubit’s Incubator

Coming Soon

22. Dragonfly vs Monarch: Book Three

23. The Journey to Valdacia

24. Still Waters Run Deep

25. Ms Machiavelli

26. Ariion XXIX

27. The Last Mission of the Seventh Cavalry Book 2

28. Hannibal’s Elephant Girl, Book Three

See the end of this book for details about the other books

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

I watched a girl strolling along the street, avoiding the crowds of people.

Most of them were young men, in groups of two and three, sometimes more.

Many young women lined the sidewalk, showing as much skin as possible, enticing the men to come inside their tiny rooms for a few minutes of pleasure.

It was past 2 a.m. on Saturday night, but the street was filled. Mostly pedestrians, but some on motor bikes. A few cars were parked along the curb, but no one tried to drive through the mob of people.

A few solitary middle-aged men browsed through the women, even one or two old men, like me. American, British, Australian…? I couldn’t tell unless they spoke.

The girl walked past me again, watching the people. She seemed out of place in her pressed baby blue blouse and tan skirt reaching below her knees.

I stepped away from the curb, trying to get a better look at her face. She ignored me.

She’s not working? Then what’s she doing in Ladprao, Bangkok’s busiest sex district? Waiting for someone? Young, maybe eighteen or so.

A group of four Thai men stopped her, asking something.

She shook her head and turned away.

One of the men took her arm, asking again.

The girl jerked away and hurried along the sidewalk, passing close by me. Obviously frightened.

The man who’d taken her arm yelled at her, “ Hi taw nan ca mi kin xeng! ”

It wasn’t a pleasant remark.

The four men laughed.

I turned the other way, watching the women work the street. This was my fifth night on the street.

What do I expect to find?

A girl in a pink bikini touched my arm. “You American come with me five little bit minutes?”

I smiled and shook my head.

How do they always know?

I’d left my suit and tie in the hotel room, trying to dress casual. Of course, my face gave me away as Caucasian, but why not British or Canadian?

I just can’t shed this American aura .

I started walking down the block, and several more women offered me their wares before I reached the end of it, then turned back to walk on the opposite side of the street.

The magnetism of the beautiful Thai faces drew me like a kitten’s dream of a room full of toy mice. The girls who offered themselves—almost pleading for my attention, or rather my money—repelled me. But the ones who stood back, crossed their arms and dismissed me with a haughty, slow turn of their heads; they were the fire I craved. I loved the arrogant attitude, but none had the right features: Her full lips; impish nose; and the small, almost childlike shape of her face. And her eyes were dark, glowing embers, ready to flare up and burn anyone who came too close. Long black hair thrown back with a flick of her fingers, as if brushing me away. That was how I saw her when we first met.

None could ever match that sweet image, but I wandered on, in search of someone who might.

Maybe, someday, just maybe—

“Leave me alone!”

It was a woman’s voice, behind me. I turned.

The girl!

A young man gripped her biceps. He said something I couldn’t hear.

“No!”

His buddy took her other arm. “Come on. Just for an hour,” he said in Thai. “We’ll pay you.”

It was the same four tormentors from earlier.

She struggled against them.

The other two of their group stood before her, laughing and pointing at her panic-stricken expression.

Many men walked by, glanced at the confrontation, then went on.

“I don’t want to!” she yelled.

The two men pulled her toward a doorway. The other two looked around, then followed.

She cried out for help.

“She said she doesn’t want to,” I said.

The man gripping her right arm glared at me. “Beat it, old man,” he said in English, “before you get hurt.”

“Let her go.”

He shoved me backward, and his pal put out his foot, tripping me. I fell on my butt, hard. The four men laughed while the girl looked around for help.

I stood, grabbing the man’s wrist. “I said, let her go.”

He swung at me with his right fist, but I caught it and twisted his arm over his head and behind his back. When he let go of her arm and lifted his elbow to deliver a blow to my solar plexus, I tightened my stomach. He was apparently surprised to hit hard muscle, and he tried to squirm away, but I hooked my toe in front of his ankle and tripped him. He went down hard.

Two of the others came at me. I sidestepped and slugged the first one’s temple, stunning him. His pal pushed him out of the way and came at me, swinging wildly. I ducked under his arms, spun, and gave him a sharp kidney punch.

The first guy then came off the cement, with a knife in his hand. He grinned at me, flourishing the long blade.

All right, I can handle that knife .

I crouched low, my arms spread apart. “Come on, asshole, let’s dance.”

A crowd had formed around us, and now they backed away, giving us room. The girl stood at the edge of the crowd. She glanced over her shoulder.

I hope she leaves. This may not be pretty.

The knife-guy circled, looking for an opening. I turned, keeping my eyes on his. He made a move to his left, and I went the other way. He lunged for me. I spun on my left foot, bringing my right foot up in a kick to his ribs. The blow staggered him, but for only a step or two.