The Chosen

To Be Continued

2005-07-29T12:55:00.000-04:00

New chapters of THE CHOSEN will return at a later date. Until then, feel free to catch up on the first 18 stories in the archives.

PART I
1: Brock: Morning After
2: Levitt: Withdrawal
3: Weathers: Family
4: Brock: Debrief
5: Lang: Company
6: Cole: Invisible
7: LaRoe: Brothers
8: Washington: A Good Deed
9: Weathers: Returns, Part I
10: Weathers: Returns, Part II
11: Brock: History
12: Hale: One Print
13: Lang: Details
14: Levitt: Caught
15: Cole: Classroom
16: LaRoe: Verdict
17: Brock: Come Together
18: Washington: Survivor

By the way, if you're so inclined, you can leave your email address in a comment and I will let you know when new chapters will be posted.

Washington: Survivor

2005-06-16T15:40:00.000-04:00

Chapter 18

Robin Washington had started to doze off in front of the TV set. Her living room recliner was comfortable. Since Sal’s death she’d spent many nights in that chair. Sometimes the bed was too painful.

She used to go out with friends in the afternoon. But the few she had by now had died. She was afraid she’d be the next to end up with cancer. Ever since her husband died it had become difficult for her to make new friends. Her life became very public when the media got a hold of the information about how Sal died. There was a public outcry to have her imprisoned or at least placed in a psychiatric facility.

Only the police, lawyers and doctors close to the case knew that it was a simple accident, and there was no way they could prosecute her in good conscious. But a part of Robin wanted a trial. She wanted to know if people really did believe she was a killer. The district attorney never filed charges and eventually the media hype died down, but all of it left Robin very socially awkward and insecure.

She had had the news on but one shooting after another in Miami had made watching it almost repugnant. But she didn’t want to miss her lottery numbers.

“…We now go to Edgar Lopez in central Miami for breaking news,” Robin heard on the television. “Breaking news” came one rung above a shooting. But she opened her eyes and stared at it nonetheless.

“Thanks Ana,” the man on TV said. “Residents of this neighborhood are rocked on their heels at this hour. Earlier this evening, the nearby Central Miami High School went up in flames after multiple bombs exploded, nearly leveling the entire building…”

Robin took notice and sat up in her chair slowly. Her heart sank and she felt herself unable to move. She could only watch helplessly. “My God…”

“…Officials are telling us that there were less than a hundred people inside, students in night classes, and that no survivors have been found. With no warning and the building in this condition, they would be surprised if anyone made it out alive. Beyond that, needless to say, students won’t be in class tomorrow morning. We’re still getting more information and we’ll bring it to you as we get it. Ana, back to you.”

Robin forced herself to put on a coat. As warm as Miami usually was, the winter time kept it especially cool. She made it out the door and to her car. She drove the high school as quickly as she could. She could not fathom Tina being dead. Robin took her in mere months ago but felt like Tina was her own daughter.

It was Tina’s first night of classes. Robin had pushed her into it so she would eventually be able to get a decent job — maybe even go to college first if she got good grades. Tina resisted at first only because of the extra effort, but ultimately knew it was the right thing to do.

Robin got to the school. Firefighters were still trying to put out the fire that consumed the remains of the school building. Police lights flashed from every direction like strobe lights, practically blinding the old woman.

Robin stumbled out of her car and toward the crowds of officials. It was very noisy and there were people from the nearby neighborhoods all around. She saw the news crew and the man she recognized from TV.

She was caught off guard when she heard a firefighter shouting from the wreckage. She could not make out what he was shouting. But he kept repeating it.

“Some fire!” she thought. No.

“Sure rider!” No.

She followed the voice.

“Survivor!” he shouted. “We found a survivor!”

Robin was filled with hope. She ran toward the firefighter as he lifted Tina out of the rubble.

Brock: Come Together

2005-06-12T10:39:00.000-04:00

Chapter 17

Adrian Brock laid in bed staring at the wall. His wife Laura was in the bathroom brushing her teeth. She had dark hair and blue eyes. She was beautiful. Her parents tried to push her into modeling in high school, but she had more interest in books. She graduated from Stanford with a law degree and was now a partner in a small practice in Seattle.

“It’s not that I think either of us should quit our jobs,” she said. “All I’m saying is starting a family is a big deal. And we’re both in our thirties. Time’s wasting.”

“That’s helpful,” Adrian chuckled.

“We both love what we do. I mean, I’m not wrong here, am I? You’ve never said anything.”

“No, hey, it was just something I thought I’d mention. Looking at our friends and all…”

“No, it’s good. We should talk about it. But it sounds like you’re into some serious stuff at the agency since — you can’t talk about it. And I’m right in the middle of a case that could make or break my career.”

”Yeah, it was just something I wanted to bring up.”

“Yeah.”

Adrian paused and looked at her as she walked into the bedroom.

“You know I’d tell you if I could,” he said. “The case I’m working on.”

“I know,” she gave him an understanding gaze.

Adrian walked into the conference room at the DSR. At the other end of the room sat Grace Weathers and Porter Levitt. Adrian wanted to interview them together since they had never before met.

“Do either of you know why you’re here?”

Levitt scoffed and looked away.

“I asked for answers, Mr. Brock,” Weathers said, annoyed. “And you said you’d give them to me. I don’t even know why I’m here. And before I tell you anything else, I want— I need you tell me something.”

Adrian spoke softly. “I sincerely apologize, Ms. Weathers. And Mr. Levitt. I want to explain everything to both of you as soon as possible. But I have to wait until everyone is together.”

A man in a uniform escorted Jonah LaRoe into the room.

“Seven of you have been chosen,” Adrian made a slight emphasis on the word. He looked at Weathers, Levitt and LaRoe trying to come up with the right things to say. These were people who were important to the future of the world in ways they could not possibly understand at this point.

“We have three of you together now,” Adrian continued. “I’m sure you’ll find your stay here more than luxurious. Cable television, gourmet meals, fitness center. We hope to have the other four here within the week. At that point I’ll be able to explain everything, hopefully to your satisfaction.”

DSR Seattle had been recently completed. There were now living quarters that were created to house The Seven while the research was done. It was more than comfortable. For them, the only thing it was missing was family and friends. However, as they were about to find out, there were not whole lot of people interested in being friends with any of them.

LaRoe: Verdict

2005-06-09T13:35:00.000-04:00

Chapter 16

Jonah LaRoe stood at the request of the judge. The jury sat on the opposite side of the room. He watched them. Hoping to see the verdict in their eyes before it was read.

Months with the lawyers. Months in a prison cell. Months wasted. But his entire life hinged on this one single moment. This very point in time would determine once and for all what kind of man he would be remembered as.

His knees felt weak, like they would buckle beneath him. He could not be sure they wouldn’t if the jury foreman read “guilty.” His lawyer stood beside him, confidently. But these lawyers, they always looked confident. That was their job. Were they to waver, a bad signal could be sent to the jury.

The judge was reading the verdict at his bench. Emotionless, he returned the paper to the bailiff, who walked it to the jury foreman. Time seemed to be at a standstill as Jonah waited to hear the judgment of his peers.

“Has the jury reached a unanimous verdict?”

“We have, your honor.”

“How do you find?”

Jonah was anxious.

“In the matter of The People vs. Jonah Malcolm LaRoe, on the charge of the murder of Derek Messer, we find the defendant… guilty.”

“Bailiff, please take the defendant into cus—”

Upon hearing these words, Jonah collapsed and passed out. The judge called for a paramedic to take a look at him, but when the doors to the courtroom opened, three men stepped inside. They were masked and dressed completely in black. The judge seized his gavel then, when suddenly, three flashbang grenades were tossed and detonated.

The sound was deafening and the bright flashes blinding. Smoke filled the room. No one could see a thing. The once-quiet courtroom was now filled with screams and panic.

One intruder restrained the bailiff with his own handcuffs. The two others grabbed Jonah, still unconscious, and dragged him out of the courtroom the back way. They carried him outside and into a dark van with no license plates. And sped off.

Jonah was laying on the floor of the van when he came to. When he looked around, he realized he did not know where he was. But when he tried to move, he could not. Each man still wore a mask and spoke through an apparatus that altered the sound of his voice.

“Where am I?” Jonah asked, not sure if he was actually speaking. He felt he had been drugged. He couldn’t see nor think clearly.

“Please lie still, Mr. LaRoe,” a deep voice commanded.

“Where the hell am I?!” he shouted, still unsure if he was audible.

He felt a needle go into his neck and an injection. He struggled to keep his eyes open. It was futile.

Hours later, Jonah awoke in what appeared to be a hospital room through his blurred vision. He heard the familiar beeps of a heart monitor. He felt safer. More comfortable.

The door opened and a man walked in.

“I’m glad you’re awake, Mr. LaRoe. I’m Agent Brock.”

Cole: Classroom

2005-06-05T23:22:00.000-04:00

Chapter 15

Tina Cole walked nervously into the classroom. She had not been in one since she was 12. That year her parents died and she had been bounced around seven separate foster homes. It was no way for a child to live. So she ran. But for a young girl, finding a place to make home was not easy.

She lived on the streets. She begged, and often people gave her whatever she asked for, not out of pity or a sense of charity, but out of some indescribable urge. It was like they couldn’t stop helping her. But as years passed, that sort of attraction she had began to fade.

She was cusping on her twenties and life was only getting more difficult. Until she met Robin, that is. Robin Washington had saved her life. In her bold attempt at stealing food from a grocery story, she was caught and arrested. But for some reason, this woman helped her. Robin took her in and gave her a home she could actually stand to live in. One where the head of the household actually liked having her around.

The classroom was small and gray with a cold atmosphere. Tina found a seat at the back and looked at the few other people in the room. They were all older people in their 40s, 50s, and even some 60s. People who, when they were young like Tina, never had the chance to go to school. And they were making up for it now so they could get decent jobs and make a living. Tina had the same goals in mind. But she was too old for high school.

Tina sat quietly with everyone else waiting on the teacher. The door opened and a very large man waddled in carrying two books. He approached the desk and relieved his burden with a heave onto the desk. The books crashed, startling everyone.

“Good, I have your attention,” the man said, clearly disgusted. “I’m David Park. During the day, I have 20 teenage geeks who absolutely love calculus, if you want to believe that. At night, I’m stuck with you people and I hate it as much as you do.

“You’re to be here by eight every weeknight. I take role. You got me on Mondays and Wednesdays for basic math. On Tuesdays and Thursdays, you got some poor soul beating basic grammar into you and on Fridays will be history and other social studies. Do your work and don’t irritate me. We’ll get along fine.”

His lecture concluded, Park took his seat behind the front desk and began talking about simple mathematical operations. The class scrambled to find their papers and began taking notes.

Tina was amused by Park’s ill-mannered nature. She always watched people and was intrigued by behavior. She wondered how he treated his high school students. He probably enjoyed them. But he clearly resented teaching night school. There were no uncertain terms.

Tina settled in and wrote almost down everything Park said. She was finally feeling— BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!

The building exploded. Three charges detonated simultaneously, leveling the entire high school in seconds.

Levitt: Caught

2005-06-02T11:42:00.000-04:00

Chapter 14

Porter Levitt read the morning paper, sitting in a booth in a Cheyenne diner. It was months after he had been tracked down in Seattle. His hair had been dyed a lighter color and the track marks down his forearm had almost faded. Like scars of past obsessions.

“Anything else I can get for you this morning?” the waitress asked, walking up to his table.

“Thanks, no,” Porter said with a smile. “I’ll take the check.”

The waitress walked off and another woman came and sat down at his table.

Porter nonchalantly looked up to see who his guest was. His eyes widened in utter shock—

“If I could find you, Porter, what makes you think they won’t?” she said sternly.

It was Sandra, Porter’s wife. She left him during the lean times after he left rehab but found his habit again. She couldn’t deal with the constant torment of loving and being married to someone who couldn’t be helped. She had been crazy enough to think that her leaving would be enough to get him to quit. And it was. Little did she know.

But Porter couldn’t go back to her. He felt he’d failed her. He decided he couldn’t go back until he’d fixed his life. On the other hand, he refused to go to prison. He couldn’t deal with being prosecuted. So he left to find some peace. He found it in the Rocky Mountains.

But he wasn’t just seeking peace. He was running. Last time he was in Washington, he was being hunted, he figured, for drug possession. He ran to as remote a place as he could find. He was only spending three or four days in a given down. But when he found Cheyenne, he stayed longer. It had been nearly 10 days. Now Sandra had found him.

“Have you been following me all this time?”

“Since the Black Hills,” Sandra said with a look. “I know why you’re running. But you’re crazy if you think they’ll never catch up with you. I managed it.”

“Sandra, why are you saying this to me?” Porter asked. She stared at him a moment.

“Because, more than anything else… I still care about you for some reason.” She put her head down to wipe her tearing eyes. “Don’t do this.”

Porter almost felt bad for her until he glanced over her shoulder and saw two men dressed in suits walk into the diner. They scanned the somewhat empty room. Porter knew the couldn’t create a scene so he made his getaway as quiet as possible.

He found himself next to a dumpster outside the back door and pulled a gun from his jacket. It was a revolver and he loaded the five bullets he had left into it. He held it in front of him as he walked to the front of the building looking for an escape.

He saw a large, black sport utility vehicle that the suit-wearing men must have been driving. He opened the unlocked driver’s side door and found the keys still in the ignition. He hopped into the seat, closed the door, and tossed his gun onto the passenger seat.

Suddenly, a man who had been sitting low in the back seat raised a gun to Porter’s head.

“Porter Levitt,” he said, “you’re under arrest.”

Lang: Details

2005-05-29T16:42:00.000-04:00

Chapter 13

Ava Lang’s mind raced. Her private investigator had seen her husband Greg going in and out of that hotel for three days straight. The same hotel his so-called client Jamie Rosen just said she was staying.

Ava rationalized and excused herself from the table for a moment as Greg sat back down. She had no reason to believe that Greg’s visits to Jamie’s hotel that week weren’t legitimate. Still, she couldn’t shake the feeling that something was a little off. Why wouldn’t they have their business discussions in his office?

First, she needed to be sure that the woman the investigator saw was, in fact, Jamie Rosen.

Ava walked to her bedroom and grabbed her cell phone off the night stand. She headed into the bathroom and closed the door behind her. She dialed the private investigator’s number.

“Novak,” he answered.

“Don, it’s Ava.”

“Hi, Ava,” Novak said. “I’m sorry, I don’t have any new information for you.”

“No, I just have to ask you something about the woman you saw with Greg at the hotel,” Ava told him. “Can you describe her?”

Novak’s description of the woman was a perfect match to Jamie.

“Oh, by the way,” Novak continued. “I need to clear up something I told you this afternoon. I said I hadn’t seen the two kiss. Ava, I’m sorry but when I reviewed the video footage I had taken, I saw they had kissed. It was unmistakable. I must have looked away for a moment.”

Ava was silent. “Ava, are you there?” Novak said. “I know this is difficult to hear. I’m working another job right now. Call me later if you need to talk.”

Ava opened the door and was startled to see Greg standing there.

“Is everything all right?” Greg asked.

“Of course. Why did you leave Jamie out there by herself?”

“I didn’t, she had to leave quickly. She got a call from her husband; one of their children is at the emergency room. She’s taking the next flight back home.”

“Oh no. That’s awful.”

“Yeah. Let’s go clean up out there.”

Greg walked out of the room in front of Ava. As she stepped out of her bedroom she felt a sudden blow to the back of her head. She was out cold on the floor.

Ava woke up hours later. She didn’t recognize her surroundings at first but soon realized she was in a hospital. She looked around for a doctor. She started pressing buttons on the side of her bed. One triggered a nurse to walk in.

“You’re awake,” said the nurse. “We weren’t sure if you’d—”

“Where am I?” Ava asked.

“You’re at Cook County General. You sustained a head wound but now that you’ve woken up, you should recover just fine.”

“How did I get here?”

“Um, I don’t really know,” the nurse said with a puzzled look. “Let me go get the doctor who admitted you.”

A few minutes later, a man wearing a white coat walked in the room. “Hi, I’m Dr. Townsend. Do you remember what you were hit in the head by?”

”I don’t remember being hit in the head,” Ava said.

“Hmm. Well, do you remember—”

“The nurse, excuse me, the nurse said you could tell me how I got here.”

Townsend stared at Ava and raised his head. “Ma’am, you were left here. Outside. Witnesses say a couple dragged you out of the backseat of a car, left you on a bench outside the hospital and drove off. I was admitting people at the time and you had a pretty bad head wound.”

“Who left me?”

“No one knows. What’s your name?”

Ava sat there a moment. Trying to remember. Everything seemed like a blur in her mind. She started to panic. She couldn’t even remember her own name. She couldn’t remember anything.

“I don't know.”

Hale: One Print

2005-05-26T15:02:00.000-04:00

Chapter 12

William Hale thumbed through the mail as he walked up the driveway to his house. One envelope made his heart sink. It was addressed to Lynette. She was the wife he’d made a home with for 20 years. William couldn’t believe she was still getting mail 10 years after her death.

He came across a letter from the AARP. Black and white proof of an elderly status that was quickly catching up with him. He stepped back in the house.

William went back to the envelope addressed to his wife. He couldn’t find a return address so he roughly tore it open. He skimmed the letter that was inside.

“Jesus,” he said not realizing he was audible. His jaw couldn’t have hung any lower. “This must be a mistake.”

William dialed the phone number he saw at the bottom of the letter. There was no indication whose number this was, but needed to speak with someone. It rang three times.

“Joey’s Pizza,” a voice responded.

“Hello, my name is William Hale. You sent a letter to my wife.” He paused a moment awaiting a response. “Hello? Are you there? Lynette’s been dead for 10 years. Who is this?”

The line went dead a dial tone was all William heard. He wrinkled his brow and set the phone down. He picked up the letter and redialed the number. He thought perhaps he had dialed it wrong the first time. Again, it rang three times.

“Hang up the phone William, and burn the letter,” a gruff voice said.

William was stunned and perplexed. “What?! How do you know my—”

“Burn the letter now.” Dead line. Dial tone.

William switched into detective mode. His curiosity was more than piqued. He needed to know why someone sent his dead wife a letter with a phone number and who it was that answered and how they knew his name.

He clutched the letter and took it to his study. He pulled out an old-fashioned fingerprinting kit. He laid out all the pieces then spilled a bunch of black powder onto the letter. He curled the paper and drained the powder back into its original jar. He tapped it twice.

He brushed away the extra powder from the bottom right corner. A clear fingerprint began to emerge. He opened his desk drawer and removed a digital camera. He snapped an image of the print and attached the camera to his computer.

William picked up the phone and dialed an old friend who still worked at his precinct. If anyone could help him, he knew it was Jack Hamilton.

“Hamilton.”

“Jackie, it’s Bill, I need a favor.”

“Everything all right?”

William realized his voice sounded strained and tense. He calmed himself.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” he said. “I need you to run a print for me. I’m e-mailing it to you now.”

“All right,” Hamilton said. “Give me just a minute.” He paused a moment. “I have it. Which databases?”

“Everything.”

“No problem,” Hamilton told him. “While it’s running, you mind telling me what all this is about, man?”

William stammered a moment. “I got a strange letter in the mail today. It was addressed to Lynette. There was a phone number and something strange happened when I called. I just want to know who sent the letter.”

“Okay,” Hamilton said. “I have a match, but— wait, this is unusual.”

“What is it?”

“It’s a 96% match with an FBI agent.”

Brock: History

2005-05-22T21:15:00.000-04:00

Chapter 11

Adrian Brock stared out the window of his Gulfstream, gazing at the clouds surrounding the plane. He was stuck in his head working up ideas. He didn’t know how long he had to find The Seven, but for sure he had less and less time every day.

The plane was bound for Baltimore, Maryland. Adrian’s team had decoded the time one of the people they were searching for would be at a certain location. They had a limited window to find her.

A few weeks earlier the team had discovered the whereabouts of Dr. Porter Levitt. According to the documents the crew found in Greece, Levitt was one of The Seven. And so was a nun named Grace Weathers.

Levitt had slipped through the cracks again but Adrian was sure his team would be able to pick up Weathers. The plane touched down at Martin State Airport just after 9:00 P.M. Adrian gave final preparation instructions to his team and the operation was underway.

Adrian got in a car and paged Harris, who had been undercover at the bar where Weathers worked for several weeks. He told the agent to drive to St. Paul’s while he waited for Harris to call back.

Sean Harris was Adrian’s second in command at the DSR task force they ran. Adrian did not trust many people. Harris was one of the few who made the cut.

They did their CIA training together and Harris was on the fast track to becoming an agency director. Adrian had become fascinated with the work he had done for Special Research and was granted his request for a transfer to Las Vegas. For three years he did research and analysis.

Meanwhile, Langley sent Harris in to take over as Deputy General Director of the Department of Special Research. Adrian knew Harris was not particularly thrilled about the promotion, though no agent could turn down a job like that. Ungratefulness ranked with incompetence in the minds of the higher-ups. Not only that, but Harris knew the position would give him more freedoms.

Adrian never complained, however. Harris was his friend and some things mattered more than his career. But more than that, Adrian enjoyed the field work he was doing. He was not ready to move up the ladder quite yet.

Adrian and Harris renewed their friendship while working together at the DSR and were assigned on many operations together. A unique bond formed between them. They discussed their career aspirations often.

Harris preferred field operations to desk work while Adrian had more of an interest in the big picture as opposed to individual assignments. So when DSR General Director Tom Shalek initiated the task force to find The Seven, Adrian was appointed director of it so that he could oversee the entire project. Things were falling into place for everyone.

When Harris called in, he told Adrian that he was in pursuit of Weathers and she was driving erratically. Adrian was surprised to hear Harris’ level of agitation rose during the conversation from the car. Harris was calmer than anyone.

Adrian heard screeching tires on the other end of the phone and a second later the call was disconnected.

“Step on it, Robby!” Adrian shouted to the agent driving.

Weathers: Returns, Part II

2005-05-19T17:52:00.000-04:00

Chapter 10

Grace sped out and the man sprinted to a red car in the parking lot. He pulled back his coat and unhooked a crowbar from his belt. He smashed in the window of the car and had the motor running in seconds.

It was sprinkling earlier in the evening but now the rain was pouring heavily. Grace windshield wipers were going full speed. She drove to nowhere in particular. She did not want to go home in case the man was still following her.

She could hardly see where she was going and never used her blinkers when she turned. She was scared but she had to be sure to lose him.

Suddenly a red car with no headlights bumped her from behind. Her heart raced. She laid on the gas pedal. She barely kept her car on the road. Grace prayed no one was in front of her. She prayed.

She kept driving. Every time she thought she lost him, she turned. Moments later he bumped her again. A pair of headlights came at her from the front. She swerved right and slid down a 20-foot embankment. At the bottom was a paved road. She regained control of the car and kept driving.

Grace came to a familiar building and stopped. She no longer felt like she was being followed. An inexplicable feeling of comfort came over her. The rain continued to fall heavily on her as she stepped out of her car. She looked all around her. Not a single person or other vehicle was anywhere in sight.

She was at St. Paul’s. The cathedral was massive. Fate or something had brought her back. She hesitated before walking up the steps. The doors were unlocked. She walked inside and it was pitch black. No light.

That was the last thing she remembered before waking up alone in a hotel room, still wearing her wet clothes. She was groggy but she looked around the room. Out the window, she could see the sun peeking over the horizon.

Then she was startled when someone knocked on her door. Still trying to make sense of her surroundings, she debated in her head whether or not to answer it.

She heard a click, the door unlocked and began to open. She reached for the bottle of champagne on the table. She held it behind her back ready to swing.

“Ms. Weathers?” asked a male voice as he entered the room. “I’m Agent Brock and I’d like to explain all of this to you.”

Grace lowered the bottle as Brock walked in the room. She felt relieved to see him though she didn’t know why. She didn’t know him yet she felt comfortable.

Brock sat down in the large chair on the other side of the room. Grace slowly lowered herself onto the edge of the bed.

“We left dry clothes for you in the bathroom if you’d like to change,” Brock told her.

“After you explain what’s going on,” Grace said.

Weathers: Returns, Part I

2005-05-15T23:39:00.000-04:00

Chapter 9

Grace Weathers topped off another round across the bar. She turned up the volume on the TV behind her at the request of a burly, unshaven man.

Cassandra came from the back room and told Grace that she could go home. Grace glanced at her watch. It was just past 2 A.M. But she didn’t want to go home. There was nothing there. It was so empty and cold.

Grace stood outside the bar facing the highway. She watched the cars pass by for a few minutes before pulling a pack of cigarettes from her pocket. She lit one and took a deep breath.

She thought about her life. She was doing that a lot these days. It’s why she didn’t want to go home. Her house only reminded her of her family.

Whenever they would visit, her father would raid the refrigerator and reprogram her TiVo to record the Ravens game, then never come back to watch it. Her mother would nervously and unknowingly pick at the fabric of Grace’s favorite chair with her fingernails. Later visits would always bring complaints about how Grace needed new furniture.

Then there was Jake. Born with autism, he was unable to live on his own. He was a burden to his aging parents but the didn’t love him any less. For the last five years, he had a cocker spaniel to keep him company. He named him after the president’s dog.

When Jake was old enough to understand, Richard Nixon was President, and from that point on he referred to every president as Nixon. It was one of his many quirks.

Grace had been taking care of Checkers for the last six months, though at the moment all he had was some cheap dog food and old copies of the Baltimore Sun. She had had the dog since her family died in a plane crash over the Atlantic en route to London to see a doctor for Jake. After it happened, Grace became depressed and lost her faith.

She left the church where she had spent 15 years of her life and resisted pleas from her friends to return. She decided she needed to find herself. Instead she found the back of a bar, serving drinks until the late hours of the night.

Grace tossed her cigarette to the ground and pressed it out with her toe. Then she went back inside to get her tips from Cassandra. She walked out to her car and caught a glimpse of someone following her. It was the burly man who had asked her to change the channel earlier. He was a regular at the bar as of late and usually did not leave until closing time.

Grace got in her car and started the engine. The man was walking toward her car now. It was a dark and thunder warned of a coming storm. The windows were slightly tinted so the man could not see Grace looking at him. He slid a knife out of his coat and flipped it open and kept walking toward her.

To be continued…

Taking A Break

2005-05-10T21:55:00.000-04:00

While I'm on vacation this week, I won't be posting new chapters. New chapters will begin Sunday, May 15. In the meantime, catch up on the previous eight chapters and prepare yourself for a huge two-part story from the perspective of Grace Weathers.

Washington: A Good Deed

2005-05-05T19:36:00.000-04:00

Chapter 8

Robin Washington held the small cup of pills while her husband sipped from a tall glass of water.

“How many more?” Sal’s voice boomed quietly.

“Just these two.”

Robin handed her husband the last two pills and watched him gulp them down. She took the glass to the sink, rinsed it, dried it and put it back up in the cabinet. She placed the empty cup on the mat next to the sink. She filled it with the next day’s pills and pressed the cap on tightly.

Suddenly, Robin was jolted by a thud from behind her. She turned and saw Sal lying on the floor in an awkward position. Blood seeped from underneath his head. She shrieked and ran to the telephone. But it disintegrated in her hands. She shrieked again. Then woke up.

Robin groggily gazed around the dark room. She awoke to a cold sweat and flailed around searching for her blanket. She figured she must have tossed them to the floor and weighed waking herself up at 4 A.M. against going back to sleep still cold.

The alarm clock was deafening at the crack of dawn. Robin struggled to pull herself out of bed. It had been seven years since Sal died, but still every morning she looked for that lump on the other side of the bed. It made her sad every time.

Robin looked in the mirror and straightened the name tag she wore over her blue apron. She left a bowl of water for her cat. Flicked the lights off. Locked up her apartment. And headed to work.

As Robin waited at a red light, she recalled the dream she’d had the night before. They were always so vivid. And always the same. It was the most horrifying scene of her life and it kept playing over and over. She felt responsible for what happened to Sal, but the rest of the world did not agree.

Robin parked and made her way through the back of the grocery store so she could clock in. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught a glimpse of a young girl slipping something beneath her sweater.

She punched her time card and stood at her register. Robin saw the girl nonchalantly toss a loaf of bread underneath the cart of a woman passing by. She ignored it and rang up her next customer.

The next man in the line caught Robin off guard. He bore a striking resemblance to her late husband. She almost called him Sal when asking for his preferred customer card.

“Having a good morning Robin?” the man asked as he handed her his card.

“How do you know my name?”

“Your name tag.”

Robin felt silly for a moment and waited for the man’s receipt to print.

“Take the girl,” the man uttered eerily. She stared at him, confused. “Take her, Robin. She needs you.”

“Who?”

“Move the line along, now.”

The man left the store and walked to the parking lot as Robin caught a glimpse of the young girl snatching the bread from underneath the woman’s cart in the parking lot. Robin shouted for a manager and dialed 911 on her cell phone.

LaRoe: Brothers

2005-05-01T22:22:00.000-04:00

Chapter 7

Jonah LaRoe studied the small handgun placed on the table before him. He refused to touch it. He stared at it, fear swelling within him.

“Jonah, take it,” Messer demanded. “Pick up the gun.”

“Derek, when you said you needed a f-favor,” Jonah stuttered, “I thought you meant a procedure or an operation.”

“Take the fucking gun Jonah!”

Jonah felt helpless. He was the first black Chief of Thoracic Surgery at Clark Hospital. For years, he rose through the ranks to become one of the premier surgeons in Atlanta. Now he felt helpless.

“I’ve spent my life saving people’s lives—”

“I won’t say it again!” Messer shouted. He waited and watched Jonah, who wouldn’t budge. Messer snatched the gun from the table and pressed it against Jonah’s forehead.

”Wait!”

“It’s you or him!”

“Okay… okay,” Jonah surrendered.

Jonah put his hand out and Messer placed it in his hand. Jonah stared at it again but couldn’t fathom pulling the trigger. He moved on from all of that. As a teenager growing up in Chicago, Jonah was sucked into the criminal life. But being a member of a gang gave him a sense of pride. A sense of belonging. A sense he no longer needed. He was a prominent member of the Atlanta medical community today. Who would he be tomorrow?

“Derek, he’s your brother.”

“Just do it, Jonah,” Messer said angrily. “You wanted in. We let you in. You took a break to make a career for yourself. That’s respectable. But you don’t get to just walk away from us. Donnie was my brother. But he turned against all of us.”

Messer left. Jonah dropped his head into his hands. He rubbed his eyes but he wasn’t dreaming. He wished it had been a nightmare.

The hours passed slowly. When it got late, Messer returned. He told Jonah that his brother would be along soon. And to prepare himself. Jonah felt sick to his stomach. He thought the feeling might kill him. That would be the easy way out.

There was a knock at the door. Jonah’s 43-year-old body felt like it was 97. He couldn’t make his legs stand up. Messer waited in the kitchen. Jonah didn’t want him to shout again so he summoned the strength to stand. He let Donnie in. They walked to the kitchen.

Donnie walked over and greeted his brother. He got an icy reception. It pained Jonah to watch.

“You said we had business to discuss,” Donnie said to his brother.

“Yeah,” Messer replied. “But you’ll be dealing with Jonah, here.”

“That’s fine.”

Messer looked Jonah in the eye and growled, “do it!”

Jonah brandished the gun from the back of his Dockers and pointed it at Donnie, whose eyes suddenly looked as if they would pop out of his head.

“What the f—”

“Pull the goddamn trigger, Jonah!”

Bang! Bang!

Donnie dropped to the floor. Messer was stunned. Jonah’s eyes filled with fear. Donnie peeked over his shoulder. Messer fell to his knees and grabbed his chest. Blood trickled between his fingers from the two holes beneath his heart. It stopped beating. He plunged face-first into the tile floor.

Donnie looked at Jonah. In Donnie’s eyes was the gratitude for his spared life. He watched the pool of blood expand around his brother’s body.

Cole: Invisible

2005-04-28T18:16:00.000-04:00

Chapter 6

Tina Cole slipped between the aisles of the grocery store without hardly being noticed. She was a girl of 19 years in ragged clothing and a generally disheveled look. She watched people.

She swiped a package of turkey and slipped it under her sweater. Then she waited until no one was looking. Until everyone was occupied. They were all always too busy to notice her.

Tina snatched a loaf of bread from the shelf and tossed it onto the bottom rack of a shopping cart that was being pushed out of the story. The woman pushing the cart had not even noticed.

Tina coolly walked out of the story. The woman was unloading her cart into the back of her gas-guzzling SUV when Tina saw her opportunity. She grabbed the loaf of bread from under the cart and took off.

She walked around the corner and sat down by the wall of the store. She cracked open her bread and turkey and feasted. Food was hard enough for her to come by. This was unbelievable. She had never tried a theft so bold before.

Tina heard footsteps moving quickly and keys jingling. She clutched her new food and started to stand up when a short, stocky woman shouted at her.

Robin Washington turned to the police officer who she was leading and pointed to Tina as the girl took off. The officer chased after her.

Tina ran as fast as her legs would carry her. She thought no one was watching. As she ran, she contemplated turning back if for no other reason than to meet the woman who actually noticed her — regardless of her now criminal status.

Suddenly another officer on foot cut her off and shoved her into some bushes. She didn’t struggle. She was handcuffed and led into the back seat of a police cruiser.

At least she got to eat, she thought.

Tina sat in the police station for hours. Even as a criminal no one noticed her. It wasn’t like she was desperate for attention, but it seemed like eyes of people walking by would dart away upon a mere glimpse of her.

“You’re being released,” an officer said to her.

“But I don’t have any family to be released to.”

“Mrs. Washington has agreed to take over as your temporary guardian.”

Mrs. Washington? Tina thought. Who was she?

Washington rounded the corner. Her accuser. Tina demanded to be placed in jail right away. But the police ignored her. She followed Washington out to her car.

“Girl, you ain’t gonna talk to me?” Washington asked.

Tina was silent. She sat in the passenger seat waiting.

“Fine. At least tell me what you want for dinner. McDonald’s?”

Tina looked at Washington. She nodded and even started to grin.

Lang: Company

2005-04-24T11:41:00.000-04:00

Chapter 5

Ava Lang was very methodical about her work. Even meal preparation involved a level of accuracy usually found only in her laboratory. She grew up in a very strict household. Her parents grew up in China and they had passed their childhood on to her.

But as she got older she grew out of the restrictiveness. She even married a white guy much to the dismay of her parents, who moved back to China shortly after she announced her engagement.

During the day, Ava was a researcher at a the University of Chicago. Her team worked in association with major pharmaceutical companies in designing and testing new drugs. She was an expert in how different chemicals interact with the human body. And she was paid a lot for it.

Ava loved her job. The process of discovery was a rush she could get nowhere else. But on this particular night she wasn’t so cheerful. Goddard Morgan had just pulled a large percentage of its funding from her research department. They had been one of the chief sponsors of the university’s pharmaceutical work for several years.

But her day only got worse. She had sent her staff home early that afternoon so she could unwind a little before dinner. Her husband Greg was having a client over and Ava had agreed to make the meal. But she wasn’t really in the mood for company.

On her drive home, Ava got a call from the private investigator she’d hired the week before. Greg’s business partner Clive Murray had been killed in a car accident just two months prior and Greg had not taken it well. Greg and Clive had been friends since elementary school. Ava was worried Greg might slip back into his old drug habit since he refused psychological help.

Unfortunately, the investigator came across something that was even more detrimental. Greg had been slipping away from his office in the middle of the day to meet with a woman for three days in a row. They went to a room in the Allegro, a luxury hotel in the middle of downtown.

The investigator had been unable to track down the woman’s name but said he’d continue to work on it. He was clear with Ava though, that it was possible the woman was just a business associate. He never saw them kiss or even embrace. Ava took some comfort in that, believing the woman could have even been a therapist that Greg didn’t want to see in the office.

Ava would have to put it out of her mind tonight. She had to help Greg impress a new client. She had the table set when he walked in with a woman. He introduced her as Jamie Rosen. She was a very attractive woman. Her eyes were a piercing blue. Her company was looking to have software customized so they sent her to meet with various representatives — one of which was Greg.

The three chatted away the evening. Even Ava, who was somewhat skeptical at first, found Jamie to be good company. They even wore the same perfume.

As the evening was winding down, Greg excused himself from the table to answer his cell phone. Ava and Jamie continued talking.

“So where are you staying while you’re in Chicago?” Ava asked.

“The Allegro,” Jamie said. “It’s beautiful inside.”

Brock: Debrief

2005-04-21T11:04:00.000-04:00

Chapter 4

Adrian Brock hated the debriefing room, though he was quite familiar with it. After every operation, he’d be forced to sit in an uncomfortable aluminum chair recounting minute-by-minute events to whatever CIA lackeys Langley had sent in that week. It was monotonous and he always felt like they looked down on him.

Adrian did take some solace in the fact that this was the last time he’d ever have to do it. His mission to track Porter Levitt hadn’t gone as planned, but his reassignment was inevitable. It had already been signed off by Director Shalek. Adrian continued describing the events of the previous night to the agents even though it annoyed him severely.

“He walked out of the store carrying what I assumed was a candy bar. It was actually an M9. He fired five rounds at me, including one that hit the engine of my vehicle.

“I chased him into the woods just south of the road we were on,” Adrian said. “I followed him for about seven minutes before I lost his trail, at which point I was hit in the back of the head.

“The next thing I remember,” Adrian continued, “it was roughly 40 minutes later and I had a massive cut below my eye. I immediately went to the hospital to have it stitched…”

The agents jotted notes down as Adrian spoke. He couldn’t wait to finish the story and get out of that room.

An hour later, Adrian sat down in Shalek’s office. Tom Shalek was the director of the Department of Special Research and he was opening up a new branch of study to be operated by the man who gathered the initial intelligence for it — Adrian Brock.

About two months before, an old associate of Adrian’s contacted him with information about an item the DSR has been searching for every since it was created. Gilbert Carlock had discovered the Patmos Music Box which was actually a tool for finding a set of writings hidden by John, famous for writing The Book of Revelation in the Bible.

Adrian had traveled to Miami to retrieve the box and the cipher that was built into it. The week before he tailed Levitt, Adrian had led an operation to Greece where John had hidden the scrolls. They had been submerged in an underwater cave wrapped in a special wax to keep the paper from getting wet and being destroyed. Adrian and his team found the cave at the center of a triangle created by the islands of Patmos, Levitha and Leros.

The writings were mind boggling yet in perfect condition. There were over 50 pounds of parchment scrolls after the wax was removed. Analysts were still translating and studying the documents when Adrian has his meeting with Shalek.

Adrian had been telling Shalek about what they knew so far from the text. “Basically, director, we need to find these seven people and bring them together.”

“Does the text tell us how to find them?” Shalek asked.

“Not really,” Adrian responded. “What it does say is that before these people are ready to fulfill their purposes, they will experience major cataclysmic events in their lives. They’re still studying the scrolls, but right now, that’s all we know.”

Weathers: Family

2005-04-17T11:30:00.000-04:00

Chapter 3

“Gracie, you gotta feed Checkers for me, okay?” Jake said. “He’s not tall enough to reach the cabinet that his food is in by himself. He’s just a puppy now but one day he’ll grow big and …”

Grace Weathers smiled and nodded along while her brother spoke. He seemed to be looking out the window behind her at the airplane. But it wasn’t his fault. Jake was never good at making eye contact. It was a symptom of his condition. And even though he was three years older than her, Grace had helped take care of Jake for most of her life.

She assured him Checkers would be well taken care of. Jake was grinning from ear to ear as he followed his parents to the gate. Grace had already said her goodbyes to the rest of her family. They were flying to see a doctor in London who they believed would be able to help Jake become more self-sufficient.

As Jake got older, taking care of him kept getting harder on his parents. They loved Jake, but he was 35 and they weren’t getting any younger. Grace loved her brother deeply too and it pained her that she could not make the trip with them.

Grace left the airport and headed back to St. Paul’s church. The sisters were still setting up for the annual dinner. They were taking inventory of the items that had been donated for the auction. The event was usually the biggest fundraiser of the year for the parish. Not that money had ever really been an issue for them. But this was the reason she couldn’t be with her brother on the trip. She was in charge.

“Sister Grace!” Father Ustorf walked briskly down the hall as Grace headed to her office.

Ustorf was a new priest fresh from Russia. He was still learning English but he knew enough to get by. “Seesta Grace, do you know vere is Fazzuh Simon?”

“Yeah, Ivan, he’s reading out by the Prayer Garden,” Grace smiled.

“Sank you.”

Grace walked into her office where she found Sister Andrea waiting. Andrea was Grace’s second in command. Together they took care of managing every aspect of the parish. They were dedicated and they were best friends.

Grace greeted her. “How’s everything going with the dinner?”

Andrea didn’t hear the question. She was staring at Grace, nearly ready to burst into tears.

“Andrea, is everything all right?”

Andrea shook her head and masked the lump in her throat as she spoke. “Your family was on Oceanic Flight 749, right?”

Grace nodded but didn’t notice Andrea’s gloom. “When did the plane leave?”

“About two hours ago. Jakey was in good spirits.” Grace smiled.

Andrea could hold back no longer. She broke down and began crying. Grace was baffled and embraced Andrea. She didn’t know what was wrong.

Just then Father Simon showed up at her office door with Father Ustorf behind him. “Sister Grace. Something terrible has happened.”

Andrea continued to cry as Grace asked, “Was it Andrea’s mother? I know she’s been sick for—”

“No, Grace,” Father Simon interrupted. He spoke unevenly. “Grace, your family’s plane. The news is saying that an Oceanic flight lost an engine over the Atlantic and …”

Grace stared at him in silence.

Levitt: Withdrawal

2005-04-14T11:51:00.000-04:00

Chapter 2

Dr. Porter Levitt was a sturdy six feet tall. As he stood up in the front of the lecture hall droning on about Mill and Socrates, he found he bored himself. He tried to count just how many times he’d said the same words to hundreds of uninterested faces before. He knew they were daydreaming too. Only they weren’t the ones talking in front of an auditorium full of people.

He wondered if he was on topic. Did it matter? Were they paying attention anyway? He tried to tunnel back in and noticed he was sweating a lot at this point. Not that it mattered, but he told the class he’d continue the lecture on Monday. They filed out of the room.

Porter walked to the desk at the corner of the stage as the auditorium emptied. He sat down and felt the beginnings of another fever coming on. Withdrawal was painful. But he was doing it for his wife. As if there could be another reason in the world.

Porter barely made it back to his office without passing out. He felt like he was dying. It just kept getting worse. He stared at the bottom drawer of his filing cabinet for what seemed like hours. He weighed the pain he felt against the love of his life. What would she do if he shot up again?

He opened the drawer and pulled out a small box and put it on the desk. He opened the lid and stared a while longer. He got an impression of footsteps slowly coming down the hall. He tried to push the box into the trash can next to the desk, but all of his papers and books went too. Someone knocked at his door and walked in.

“Dr. Levitt,” the girl said as she thumbed through a bunch of papers in her hands. “Could you help—” She was caught off guard by Porter’s appearance.

“Dr. Levitt are you all right?”

Porter struggled to make eye contact with her. He tried to assure her he was fine and told her to leave. Porter knew she would call someone. If she didn’t know the signs of heroin withdrawal, then she at least knew there was something wrong with him.

Porter peeked out his door and didn’t see her anywhere. He struggled to make his way to the parking lot. He found his car keys and started his car. On the way out of the parking lot, he saw an ambulance pull in.

There was a Circle K on B Street where Porter used go before he cleaned up. It was close to the campus so it didn’t take him long to get there. He walked in for the first time in weeks. The clerk knew him well and pointed him to the back.

Porter spent the better part of half an hour in and out of consciousness. He hadn’t even removed the needle from his arm. When he was ready to leave, the clerk told Porter to watch out for a car he’d seen sitting in an adjacent parking lot. The clerk handed him a gun from behind the counter.

Brock: Morning After

2005-04-10T16:25:00.000-04:00

Chapter 1

Adrian Brock stood over the sink in his bathroom. He inspected a large cut under his left eye in the mirror. It was kept closed only by seven stitches. A quarter-inch higher and he would have been blinded, he thought.

The night before he was pursuing one of The Seven. Porter Levitt may have been a 34-year-old college professor, but he could run like no one else. Adrian had been on him all day. From the moment he left the campus, Levitt’s actions were suspicious.

Levitt stopped off at a convenience store three miles down the road. Adrian pulled into an adjacent parking lot and watched, waited. Adrian watched the door for 20 minutes. From his vantage point, he couldn’t see inside the store. Thirty minutes elapsed and finally Levitt exited with no more than a Snickers candy bar. In the previous 30 minutes, no one had entered or exited the store. No one. What could have taken Levitt so long? He was not just buying a candy bar.

As Levitt walked toward his car, Adrian started his engine, spurring a nearby dog to start barking. Spooked, Levitt turned around and noticed Adrian’s car through the trees. He put his key in the door, then suddenly turned and ran in the opposite direction of Adrian’s car.

Adrian started to jump out of his car. Then Levitt stopped for a moment, turned, brandished a gun from his coat and began firing in Adrian’s direction. Adrian jumped back in the car and ducked below the dashboard. The shooting stopped and he could hear footsteps running in the distance. He tried to turn the car on, but the engine had been hit by a stray bullet. Adrian took off on foot.

He had an idea which way Levitt went but he couldn’t be sure. Adrian ran into the woods nearby. He pulled the gun from his belt when started to get closer.

“Levitt!” he shouted.

Adrian fired two shots in Levitt’s direction. It was dark so it was difficult to aim precisely. He ran and ran, trying to catch up with Levitt. He could not do it. He began to slow down so he could catch his breath. He walked quickly through the woods tripping on a fallen tree branch every few yards. He realized he hadn’t seen Levitt in quite some time. He had lost his trail completely.

Suddenly, Adrian felt a blunt object hit the back of his head, then black.

Adrian finished applying a gauze bandage to his cheekbone over the stitches. His phone rang.

“Brock.” He listened. “I’ll be there in 15 minutes.”

Adrian tied his tie firmly around his neck and grabbed his identification badge off the dresser. It read, “Adrian Michael Brock, Department of Special Research, United States of America.”

He locked the house and walked down to his driveway as he remembered waking up the night before, after chasing Porter Levitt.

Description

2005-04-09T22:03:00.000-04:00

I'm about ready to start writing. I'm planning twice weekly posts with a serialized story that will continue week to week. I plan have the first entry posted no later than Sunday night. From then on, the schedule should have new stories on Sunday nights and Thursday nights. Now, the official description of the series:

In the days of the tyranny of Rome, John of Patmos encountered frightening visions in his dreams. He was instructed by God to write down these revelations as prophecies for the world to come. And so he did and the Book of Revelation was added as the final chapter to the Bible. But in the years leading to John's death, God came to him again and told him of seven people who would be able to prevent suffering in the world and see to everlasting peace. John wrote down those foretellings in another book which he was instructed to hide. It would be found almost 2000 years later — the Book of Peace.

Now, 2005 years after the birth of Christ, seven people named by God will be assembled together. But their task will not be easy as each is exceedingly flawed. They will have to learn for themselves their purpose on earth and defend the world against a horrifying end of days.

Coming Soon!

2005-04-07T23:32:00.000-04:00

Description for THE CHOSEN coming soon.