Just a Taste – of Divide & Rule LTD book 6



Sneak preview of Divide & Rule…


“No, please, no!”

Will Burton held the gangling frame of his teenage son’s body so tight that his hands shook. His pride and joy, his future… All these years he’d been working to provide his son with a legacy, an inheritance, a name and a face to be proud of… but as he knelt in the electric light holding his son’s limp body, he could think of nothing else but his fading legacy. His son, Jerry was far more athletic than Will Burton had ever been. The body was heavy but he wasn’t letting go. The boy’s eyes were open but rolled back, exposing only the whites. Blood seeped from an inch wide gash immediately beneath the hairline on his son’s pale face and pooled on the tiles. The blood was a glistening black slick, pulsing over his closed eyes, his nose and lips. 

“Jerry…? Please…” 

Will remembered Jerry helping on the campaign trail, following his father’s political speeches and  watching the television interviews on the local news. Jerry had even started showing up at his press conferences. They had never been close in the last few years, but the election battle had changed things. Yes, the boy was becoming far more like him. Will foresaw the potential for a Burton dynasty. Far-fetched, maybe a fantasy even. After all, he hadn’t been elected yet. The by-election was set to contest the provincial seat of Southend East after the sitting Conservative MP quit Parliament citing ‘family reasons’ sparking a by-election. Family reasons? No. The man dropped his trousers on and posted photographs on Twitter and the images made the national tabloids. In autumn 2014, anything was possible. Politics was a strange territory. This was the time of the Right. The Middle East Jihadists stoked nationalist debate with their machete wielding decapitations posted on the internet. The Scots roused all kinds of questions about nationhood among the English with their referendum on leaving the United Kingdom. The country seethed with ill-feeling and suspicion everywhere towards men and women with dark skin or foreign tongues. The press emphasised a theme: money was tight, and foreigners were soaking it up in excess. The opinion polls had Burton a clear winner. Even the national red-top newspapers said the election was a done deal, with Burton set to be the first ever Member of Parliament for UKFirst. And once the people listened to what Burton had to say, it was only a matter of time until the second, third and fourth UKFirst candidates got elected. Yes, government beckoned and Will Burton was going to be the triumphant pioneer. Burton was media savvy, and everyone knew it. He was slick. The country had taken its fill of namby-pamby do-gooder politicians content to draw a wage while they let the place go to rack and ruin. This era was ready made for UKFirst. The nation needed UKFirst. Now was the era of patriotism, the Union Jack, and send ’em back. This was Burton’s destiny, scary, and beautiful and perfect… Was. Until this stark and terrible moment, with blood leaking from his son’s head, and the terror he had brought this upon his own family. The anarchists. The left wingers, the trashy leftists who hid behind balaclavas and threw rocks through McDonalds windows… this was their kind of act. The bastards. They would try to ruin him, try to destroy Will Burton and UKFirst before the party even got started on their democratic revolution. Unmanly tears poured down Will Burton’s face. He struggled to breathe, like he was stuck in a bad dream. Will Burton put his fingers into the mess of blood, around the split on his son’s head and pinched the flesh back together, yet the blood flow would not cease…