THE SPIRIT SURVIVES
Thriller by Gary William Ramsey
Kindle: 978-1-58124-318-5
ePub: 978-1-58124-319-2
©2012 by Gary William Ramsey
Published 2012 by The Fiction Works
http://www.fictionworks.com
[email protected]
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced without written permission, except for brief quotations to books and critical reviews. This story is a work of fiction. Characters and events are the product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
Table of Contents
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Chapter 53
Chapter 54
Chapter 55
Chapter 56
Chapter 57
Chapter 58
Chapter 59
Chapter 60
Chapter 61
Chapter 62
Chapter 63
Chapter 64
Chapter 65
Chapter 66
Chapter 67
Chapter 68
Chapter 69
Chapter 70
Chapter 71
Chapter 72
Chapter 73
Chapter 74
Chapter 75
Chapter 76
Chapter 77
Chapter 78
Chapter 79
Chapter 80
Chapter 81
Chapter 82
Chapter 83
Chapter 84
Chapter 85
Epilogue
About the Author
Dedicated to
Joyce and Joe Andrews
And to the memory of
Johnsie and B.J. Jary.
You accepted me in your
family, and gave me a
place in your hearts.
“The Silence of the Night”
“I need you for my spirit to survive”
The silence of the night fills my mind with fright
When hopes not with me and you’re not with me.
The silence of the day is so loud that I can’t pray
For God to find you so I can have you.
Without you the stars are blinding
Without you the day has no light
Without you life has no meaning
I can hear you in the silence of the night.
In the silence of the night I hear your breathing
If the silence of the night I feel your life.
In the darkness of the night, you are the brilliant light
Your soul haunts the silence of the night.
As I wander and fly with the black dove
The king of the sky and the night
You wander and fly with the angels
They keep love and me from your sight.
Prologue
The spirit and the soul are the two primary immaterial characteristics that are ascribed to humankind. It’s hard to understand the differences between the two. Human beings have a spirit, although we are not spirits. We live in a body, and we posses a soul. However, the real person inside all of us is our spirit.
Our bodies are what we live in while we are here on earth. The soul and the spirit are connected but separable within that body. Furthermore, the soul is the essence of a human being, it is who we are. The spirit is the aspect of humanity that connects with something higher than we can truly comprehend. The soul is the breath of life. The spirit is the driving force of that life.
A person’s spirit can be marked by a large range of characteristics, evil and good, including unfaithfulness, sincerity, strength of character and humility. A strong spirit can fortify a person’s mental and emotional condition. The spirit of a human can be broken and crushed, but it can also be revived and refreshed. A strong and passionate spirit can take us through almost impossible times when strengthened by love for other human beings. When the spirit is given a compelling reason to survive, it can reinforce the resolve and desire to live.
It’s hard to know for sure if the strength of the spirit is inherited or built by the feelings and experiences in life. I do believe that the soul and the spirit are united at death and face together whatever comes after life.
Some humans possess a strong and passionate spirit. When this spirit is combined with unconditional love for another it is refreshed and given the strength to survive the almost impossible events in life.
The spirit is truly the driving force of our lives here on earth.
Chapter 1
August 18, 2005 actually started out as a nice sunny day. Low hanging clouds failed to obscure the sun and the lingering pleasant breeze softly ruffled the sage green leaves on the trees. Having recently moved to Green Bay with my fiancée, Leah, I’d come to Lookout Mountain for a few days of rest and relaxation. Not pleased to have left my comfortable life in Chicago, my nerves were frayed from the move, so we decided to give each other some space. Loving the mountains, I rented a cottage on Lake Nokomis in Tomahawk, Wisconsin, packed a backpack, and drove my Lexus to Lookout Mountain for a day of hiking.
I started up the first trail I found, looking for trees that I love to observe. The mountain maples, which have beautiful green leaves and flowers with narrow erect panicles, had been heavily browsed by deer because the flowers had formed dense clumps of small stems. Higher up the mountain, the ashleaf maples had taken over.
A flying squirrel prompted me to raise my binoculars for a better look. I removed my backpack to get the digital camera that Leah had given me for my birthday. I particularly wanted pictures of the ashleaf maples and maybe could get lucky and snap a picture of the flying squirrel, which Leah would enjoy seeing. I searched through my entire backpack but the camera was missing. I must have left it on the seat in my car. Since there was plenty of time for pictures, I decided to go back later to pick it up. I was beginning to relax and admire the beauty and the mystery of nature.
I began searching with my high-powered binoculars for a path to the mountain’s summit and then I scanned the mountain to see if there were any more classic trees.
As I studied the mountain’s face, I noticed movement through the trees. I refocused my binoculars to get a better look. About a hundred feet below in the valley, in a clearing, a man was straddling a woman. Her skirt was hiked up over her hips and her blouse had been tor
n off. She struggled and kicked wildly, while another man restrained her arms. The man on top slapped her twice as he fumbled with his zipper.
I yelled to try to stop them but was too far away to get their attention. Frantically I looked for a trail down the mountain to the valley. I spotted a rough trail leading down. It would be dangerous getting down there without falling, especially with my heavy backpack, but I had to try.
After another look, the man who was straddling the woman turned, revealing his face clearly. He was thirtyish with coal black hair, worn long and in a ponytail. He wore sunglasses, but the struggling girl knocked them from his face. An ironic blasphemy, he wore a tattoo of an angel on his neck. His face reddening, he struck the girl again. Her nose and mouth were bleeding. She looked no older than eighteen and her long blonde curly hair was tangled and matted with blood, her frail body shook. Her mouth opened in a silent scream.
The other man who had been holding her hands had moved and was now holding her feet apart as the other man raped her. The man holding her feet was fiftyish, very tall, six-feet-eight inches or more. He had short gray hair and a muscular build. I’ll never forget his maniacal grin. He seemed to enjoy watching the young girl’s agony.
Moving as fast as I could down the rough trail, it wasn’t long before I slipped and fell. After struggling back to my feet, I noticed that my leg was bleeding.
A martial artist, my plan was to do a number on these bastards. I didn’t yell again, even though I was close enough for them to hear me. I was counting on surprise to even the odds. When I got to the bottom of the path the two men still didn’t know that I was behind them.
The black-haired man got off the girl. He was buckling his belt and zipping his jeans when the girl kicked wildly and hit him in the groin. He yelled, grimaced and bent over holding his nuts. The big guy ran around and kicked her in the head twice, and she didn’t move. He was concentrating on the girl, or he would have seen me.
I yelled, charged and both the men turned toward me. I was ready to attack when the big guy reached behind his back and pulled a gun from his belt.
Then, to my surprise, he turned and shot the girl in the head. The impact of the bullet hit her head with a crimson spray of blood and her brains splattered on the ground. I recognized the Colt .45. He quickly turned and pointed the powerful weapon toward me.
Martial arts or no martial arts, I am no match for a gun, especially a Colt .45. I veered rapidly to the left as he fired and the bullet missed me.
As he prepared to fire again, the most dreadful noise I had ever heard in my life almost ruptured my ear drums. It sounded like an out-of-control freight train and was thunderous, causing the ground to quiver. Caught off-guard, the two killers turned to see what was causing the ruckus. When they turned, I dashed back to the trail. Another shot rang out, but I didn’t feel any pain. The shooter must have missed again.
One of the men screamed over the loud noise, “He saw us kill Veronika. Get him. Don’t let him get away
The other man yelled in reply, “What’s that damn noise?”
The noise was too loud for me to hear an answer. Regardless, the man with the ponytail ran after me, but the big guy remained where he was standing, still holding the gun.
I sprinted up the trail, keeping my balance with my hands in front of me. The sound of the freight train got louder. I quickly turned and looked. A twister!
Something grabbed my ankle. The guy with the ponytail was hanging on, and I fell on my face. I kicked his arm as hard as I could and his grip loosened. I kicked again and was free, but he cursed and kept coming.
I reached the top of the trail and looked around just long enough to see that he was about five feet behind me. I started to go back and give him a side pivot kick to the head, but the twister was closing fast. What the hell is a tornado doing at Lookout Mountain in August? I couldn’t believe that my choice of death was a tornado or a couple of guys with a Colt 45.
I ran again, not from the man, but from the tornado. I jogged around a curve in the trail, not knowing if the twister or the ponytailed man would get to me first.
Abandoning the trail, I just ran up the mountain. It was steep and the rocks cut me as I balanced myself with my hands. I thought about ditching my backpack, but there was no time to stop. Looking over my shoulder again, I saw that Ponytail was still behind me, but more importantly so was the twister. He was not running after me anymore, but was running to get out of the path of the tornado.
I heard a sharp crack. The noise coming from the tornado was deafening and the ground shook violently. Looking back again, I saw rocks and trees flying through the air.
I looked around wildly for some cover and kept running.
Between two boulders just to my right was what appeared to be a dark hole. As I approached the hole, it looked like some sort of cavern or a cave. Dirt and small rocks cut into my back, but the backpack shielded me a little from the ravages of the tornado. I made it to the hole, dived in, and crawled to the back of the cavity as rocks and earth flew through the air. Something must have hit me on the head because I blacked out.
Chapter 2
As Leah Hamilton was getting dressed for work, her thoughts drifted back to the wonderful times she and Ben had together when they were in Chicago. From the first day they met, she felt a connection to his spirit. His intelligence and sense of humor disarmed her. She smiled when she thought of his infectious laugher, closed her eyes and pictured his tall muscular frame, dark brown hair and twinkling light blue eyes. Leah’s favorite old movie was Gone with the Wind and in her eyes Ben looked like a young Clark Gable. He truly filled the vacant place in her heart.
Leah felt guilty about the sacrifice he made for her. She knew that Ben was depressed when he left for Lookout Mountain and that worried her. She also was aware that he had deep regrets about leaving the job he loved. At this moment she just wanted to hold him and tell him that she loved him. He had shown her how much he loved her by giving up his position of Executive Assistant Chief of the Investigative Operation Division of the Houston Police Department, to move with her to Green Bay Wisconsin.
Ben had been one of six Executive Chiefs in the Department who answered directly to the Chief of Police. He was the youngest man to have ever held that position. In February, 2005, Ben was put on loan to the Chicago Police Department to work on a major narcotics case involving Mexican cartels. This drug problem involved a cartel in Houston with connections in Chicago. The Attorney General in Washington had made a personal request of the police chief in Houston to work with the Chicago police in this case. To honor that request Ben was sent to Chicago to coordinative the efforts between the two police departments.
Leah met Ben through a mutual friend on the Chicago police force. There was an immediate connection between them. After a few weeks of dating, they were inseparable. She felt she had finally met her soul mate and knew Ben felt the same.
Leah had been working at a small private firm in Chicago as a corporate attorney when an executive search firm contacted her. The position they were searching was Lead Attorney for Shopko Stores, which was a large discount store chain headquartered in Green Bay, Wisconsin. She interviewed well and was given a job offer. The offer was simply too good to turn down. This was a major step forward in her profession. She really felt that her career had been stalled for the past three years. The only problem was that she loved Ben Harris, and he was very happy living in Houston and was looking forward to returning when his assignment in Chicago was finished.
After many heart-wrenching discussions, Ben had agreed to move to Green Bay with her. He said he simply could not stand the thought of not being with Leah every day. He reluctantly resigned from his position with the Houston police.
Their plan was for Ben to open his own security consultant firm. He would have his home office in Green Bay, but would travel anywhere in the USA, when necessary. They agreed to give this experiment two years. At that time, they would rethink all their circumstances
and decide whether to stay in Green Bay or move to Houston.
On this morning, August 18, 2005, Leah continued to be worried about Ben as she finished dressing for work. He had left the evening of the seventeenth after they had celebrated his birthday with a lobster dinner. The move to Green Bay had not gone well. They found a house, but the moving company had delays in packing their things in Chicago and Houston. They were staying at the Resident Inn waiting for their furniture to arrive. Ben was also having difficulties getting all the licenses and approvals required to open his new business. He was very frustrated, so he decided to take a trip to the mountains for a few days to settle down.
Chapter 3
“Record Tornado Outbreak, August 18, 2005”
That was the Headline in the Green Bay Press Gazette on August 19, 2005. The Green Bay population and the people from the state of Wisconsin called it the “Day from Hell.”
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