by M. S. Willis
BECAUSE OF ELLISON
By M.S. Willis
This is a work of fiction and any resemblance to any person, living or dead, any place, events or occurrences, is purely coincidental. The characters and story lines are created from the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
Because of Ellison: Copyright © 2014 by M.S. Willis
All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced, scanned, distributed in any printed or electronic form or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
ISBN: 978-0-9894479-8-0
[email protected]
www.facebook.com/mswillisbooks
OTHER BOOKS BY M.S. WILLIS
Control Series
Book One – Control
Book Two – Conflict
Book Three – Conquer
Novella - David
Estate Series
Prequel – Joseph Fallen
Book One – Madeleine Abducted
Coming in 2014
Hope Restrained (Estate #2)
Captured (Control #4)
Changed (Control #5)
Honor Bound (Estate #3)
Grace Restored (Estate #4)
This book is dedicated to all those who will fight, who are fighting, or who have fought. This is dedicated also to those who battle beside the ones they love.
Table of Contents
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Epilogue
Prologue
- 2064 -
The light clinking of wine glasses and hushed coughs and murmurs filled the room as Hunter McCormick stoically walked a path to the front podium. Every step that he took resonated through his old bones while the droop to his shoulders reminded him of how exhausted he’d become over the many years of his life.
Reaching the steps leading up to the stage, Hunter mentally prepared to give his speech as he lifted one foot in front of the other and ascended the stairs to give his speech. It was here that he was determined to reveal the inspiration behind his accomplishments. He intended to lie to his audience, to feed them useless medical information, and a grand vision for his achievement because he knew that no person in the room would believe that a simple girl from an impoverished town had unknowingly brought about the greatest medical achievement of the century.
Memories of sundrenched days spent hiking and fishing rebounded in his thoughts and battered at his wearied soul as he gradually scaled the stairs. A smile so bright it could illuminate the darkest of nights was seared into his memory and he smiled back. His old lips cracked at the motion, but there was no way to prevent smiling in return when it came to her.
Reaching the podium, Hunter placed the tattered pages of his speech on the smooth wooden surface. The audience became motionless and silent, almost impassive in their tension as they waited to hear what he had to say. Scanning the typewritten letters, words and sentences of standard and acceptable medical dribble, he shook his head quickly before crumpling the pages and tossing them over his shoulder. Focusing once again on the audience, Hunter cleared his throat and remained quiet while he readied himself to tell the entire room about the person who’d inspired everything that he’d done.
“I had a prepared speech.” His voice fractured; age taking its toll on his once sturdy vocal chords. “In that speech were the ramblings of a physician who’d found a cure for one of the cruelest diseases known to man. They were carefully arranged words about science, about the pursuit for the cure, about the ravages of an illness and how it affects the vitality, well-being and life of a patient and that patient’s family.” Pausing, Hunter gathered his strength, steeled himself to keep from breaking down when discussing her. “But … those words weren’t what mattered. None of those things were the reason I labored and fought as hard as I did all these years.”
The audience sat in reticence as Hunter laughed to himself, remembering back to a blonde haired girl who glowered at something he had to say; one who always watched him with blue eyes as boundless as the sky. Turning his attention back to the audience, he commenced his speech.
“Her name was Ellison James … and she was the biggest bitch I’d ever met in my life.” He paused, waited for the collective gasps to quiet throughout the room before continuing.
Waiving their reaction away with his hand, he said, “Don’t be shocked by my candor, if El was standing in this room with us right now, she would agree.” He laughed again, not able to keep a straight face while thinking of the woman he’d loved. “She had an answer for everything, and most of the time, I didn’t like it. But she was an unbelievable person. She cared about humanity, she was dedicated to nature, and she believed strongly that people should use their talents to not only benefit themselves, but to benefit others around them.”
His face straightened, his brows furrowed, but he was determined to tell the story. His voice cracked again as he confessed, “If you want to know the reason why millions of people will now be saved, I’ll be honest with you and I’ll tell you that there is only one simple answer … ”
“It was because of Ellison.”
Chapter One
Fifty Years Earlier
My eyes peeled open to discover horrendous tentacles of sunlight somehow intruding around the edges of the blackout curtains in my bedroom. A headache pounded at the back of my skull and I questioned whether someone had hit me with a baseball bat when I’d been too fucked up to notice. The slumbering body of my girlfriend, Tiffany, weighted down my right arm and her body heat was causing the skin between us to become sticky with sweat. Looking away from the obtrusive light, my eyes located the slowly spinning blades of the ceiling fan with clumps of dust clinging to the blades as they spun. The room was stifling and my mouth was hot and arid as a desert. Sitting up, I pulled my arm out from under Tiffany, callously dumping her to the floor.
“What the fuck, Hunter?!” With her piercing, high-pitched voice screeching in outrage, she pushed herself up into an unsteady standing position, rubbing at her elbow to lessen the sting from its impact with the ground.
Cautiously, I turned my head to look at her, in no way attempting to hide my disgust with the irritating sound of her grating voice. The scowl on her normally perfect face deepened at my obvious contempt. Her mahogany brown hair was matted from sleep and the makeup she still had on from the night before was smeared across her features. When I failed to respond, she turned towards the bathroom, giving me the finger before entering the room and slamming the door closed behind her.
It was the summer after I graduated high school and I lived in a guesthouse on my parents’ sizeable estate. I had a fast, ridiculously expensive car, a hot girlfriend, and a full-ride scholarship to an elite college that I had absolutely no
interest in attending.
And to be straightforward with you, I couldn’t have cared less about any of it.
Ennui with life had instilled itself in me by the time I was 13 years old. School was too simple because I was a genius. When the school decided to test my IQ at the ripe old age of 10, the administrators and teachers danced themselves around in confidence that I would be a testament to their ability to … well … administer and teach. But it wasn’t their accomplishment; it was simply nature. I’d always been superior in my intelligence; most of the time it served as a detriment to my wellbeing. It’s what led me to the lifestyle choices I made as I grew older. Those choices started with alcohol. By the age of 14, I’d found a comfortable numbness inside the blanket with a twelve-pack or bottle, but, eventually, I grew bored with that as well. By the time I was 16, I’d progressed to drugs and girls in a quest to test the boundaries of a mundane existence.
For the majority of my life, I had absolute freedom. Except for the once a month lecture on responsibility I’d been forced to endure, my parents were typically too busy to pay attention to what I was doing with my time. They looked to my grades as an indication of my progress and a scale upon which to base their success in parenting. When I’d finally figured out their non-attention, I was delighted to find that as long as I aced my classes and endured the lectures that accompanied my major screw ups, I could get away with just about anything else. Technically, I moved out of my parents’ house and into their guesthouse by the time I was 15; they didn’t notice until two years later.
Forcing myself out of bed, I snatched my jeans from the floor, pulling them on my body one uncoordinated leg at a time. My balance was off and it took several attempts to perform a function as simple as dressing. The room would spin every so often and the pounding headache that was pulsing in my head only grew more intense as blood coursed its path through my body. After finally donning my pants, I had to immediately sit down again.
Grasping my head in my hands, I attempted to control the headache that ceaselessly battered at my skull. The only noise in the room was the light whistle of wind from the revolving blades of the fan and the clattering of objects from Tiffany blowing off steam in the other room. My phone chirped while I waited patiently for her to emerge from the room so I could ask her to leave. Was I an asshole for kicking her out immediately? Yes. But I couldn’t help that the sound of her voice was like torture when I was hungover. Refusing to open my eyes, I reached to the side table and my hand fumbled over several objects before finally finding the phone. Still cradling my head in one hand, I brought the phone down and flicked the side button to reveal a text from my mother.
“Get your ass over here this instant, Hunter!”
“Fuck.” A single syllable utterance, and my water starved throat screamed with burning pain. Forcing myself from the bed once more, I staggered to the bathroom door and leaned on it heavily while banging my hand against the white painted wood. Tiffany opened the door so quickly I almost fell into her from the loss of balance. She stared up at me with brown eyes filled with disdain, her tanned arms crossing themselves over her fake breasts and she bent one leg forward, waiting for what I had to say.
“You need to go, my mom wants to see me.” Although, I was annoyed at having to cross the grounds of the property in vivid sunlight to answer my mother’s call, I was pleased to have an excuse to get rid of my girlfriend.
“Whatever, asshole. I know you wanted me out anyway.” Straightening her spine, Tiffany pushed past me, knocking me back into the frame of the door. I ignored her. Rolling my eyes, I stumbled towards the sink, flicked on the water and stuck my head under the faucet. I felt all ate up — like something had scratched away at my insides all-night long — reduced to a thirsty dog. I managed to turn on the facet. My tongue lapped at the water hungrily, desperate to reintroduce moisture into my dehydrated body. After taking my fill, I turned off the water and looked up into the mirror above the sink. My normally clear blue eyes appeared hazy and my light brown hair was sticking up in a typically messy style. While perusing my haggard state, I realized that my bladder was demanding relief. I must have pissed for 15 minutes before finally shaking myself dry and meandering back into my bedroom.
A weak smile pulled at the corners of my mouth when I discovered that Tiffany had left. I knew I would hear from her within the hour and that she would lay into me as only she knew how, but I couldn’t help but feel gratified by the momentary break. I didn’t love her - didn’t even know what love was - but I played a part in the relationship anyway for the easy ride and status of dating the hottest girl in school. She was your typical popular girl. Her beauty was a thing to be admired, but her intelligence was laughable and being around her was only beneficial when I was too fucked up to notice. I tried talking to her once about this fleeting idea I had that there was more to life; this feeling I had that something was lacking, that we, as a society, were missing out on something much bigger than us. She laughed in response, flicked her hair back and told me to get over it before reminding me that we were wealthy and had it all. I never tried talking to her about much else after that.
Shaking myself of sluggishness, I quickly pulled on a wrinkled t-shirt and a pair of sunglasses before exiting my dimly lit house out into the garish light of day. Crossing the property swiftly, I noticed an unusual detail out of the corner of my eye, but brushed it off without considering it further. The guesthouse stood atop a hill behind my parents’ house and I was thankful for the downward slope that made the dreaded journey much easier to manage. The steep incline would be a bitch to climb on my return trip, but I put that thought out of my mind when I finally reached the main house. Moving through the back yard, I located my mother staring into the pool. Her hands were on her hips and the grimace on her face was a warning that something was amiss. Slowly, I made my way over, noting how the bushes that lined the pool had been knocked down and long trails of leaves and dirt were strewn out from the shrubs in the direction of the water. My mother’s head turned towards me before I reached the pool deck and her hand instantly pointed down.
“Care to explain, Hunter?”
Looking towards the water, I noticed the leaves that were floating along the reflective surface; swirls of dirt wound their way through as the jets circulated the water. Shrugging my shoulders, I looked up at my mom. “Explain what? I didn’t knock the fucking bushes over.”
Her face contorted into an agonized frown and her hands came up to pinch at her temples as she responded. “Look IN the water.”
Taking a few more hesitant steps, I glanced down into the deep end of the pool. My eyes bugged out and my body lurched in reaction to what I saw.
“Fuck.”
One would have overlooked it if he or she had simply passed by without taking a look into the depths of the water. The black paint of my BMW blended perfectly with the lagoon-colored stone surface of the pool and bits of chrome shimmered as sunlight reached through the water, barely brushing against the silvery accents.
My heart leapt into my throat and I swallowed hard to keep it down with my stomach.
“As I was saying: Do you mind telling me why your CAR is at the bottom of our POOL, Hunter?!”
My mouth fell open so that I could respond, but no sound came out and my jaw was left dangling open in utter and humiliating shock. Spinning on my heel, I peered up the hill towards the guesthouse and determined what oddity had caught my attention just moments before. My car was not where I normally left it. Tire tracks shredded the grass where they had voyaged down the steep incline, apparently gaining enough speed to power the vehicle through the shrubs until finally landing at the bottom of the pool. My eyes blinked … once … twice … before I turned back to the intimidating glare of my mother.
I spun my cognitive wheels as quickly as I could and spit out a load of bullshit, hoping it would appease the quivering beast of a woman that stood in front of me. “Well, holy shit! I can’t believe the engineers and architects that design
ed this place didn’t consider the placement of the pool. Clearly, designing a driveway to sit at the top of a slope that leads down towards a pool was poor site planning. You should call them immediately and demand compensation.”
We both crossed our arms over our chests — me in indignation and my mother in absolute and unadulterated fury. “Don’t give me that shit, Hunter! How did this happen? Cars don’t just roll forward by themselves. Did you even bother placing the car in Park when you came home last night?”
I didn’t know. My memory of the night before was foggy at best. I’d taken Tiffany to Ethan’s house for a party. There were red solo cups and party favors consisting of any drug a person could want. I had a blast — I thought. But in reality, I wasn’t even quite sure how I’d gotten home. Had Tiffany driven? Or was it me? It must have been Tiffany. I would have never done anything this moronic.
“Tiffany drove us home last night, she must have parked the car too close to the ridge. Again, better site planning would have prevented this event. I mean, what type of professional would place a … ”
“That’s it!!” Throwing her hands up, my mother growled before turning and stormed towards the French doors at the back of the house. Motioning towards me, she indicated that I was to follow her inside. Kicking at some loose dirt with my foot, I shoved my hands in my pockets and paced behind my mother before being led into the living room. My father was on the phone glancing over some paperwork that was scattered haphazardly across the cherry wood sofa table. His eyes shot up as my mother and I entered the room and he excused himself curtly before throwing the phone to his side and standing up.
“Hunter, this is the last fucking straw, son. When your mother and I discovered that car in our pool this morning, I almost marched up to your house to beat your ass for such an irresponsible fucking stunt! Do you have any idea how much this is going to cost me? That car was brand new, not to mention what damage it did to the surface of our pool! What the hell is your problem?!”
