by C. B. Stone
Table of Contents
Copyright
Dedication
Synopsis
I
II
III
IV
V
VI
VII
VIII
IX
X
XI
XII
XIII
XIV
XV
XVI
XVII
XVIII
XIX
XX
XXI
XXII
XXIII
XXIV
XXV
XXVI
Epilogue
Rehabilitation Chapter I
Author Secrets
Connect with C.B. Stone
More by C.B. Stone
C.B. Stone Books
www.CBStoneBooks.com
Copyright © 2015 by InkedPlot Media
Copyright © 2015 by Author C.B. Stone
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Disclaimer:
This is entirely a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. Content and ideas do not necessarily reflect all of the author’s beliefs or opinions, and all stories are to be considered entertaining reading material only.
Printed in the United States of America.
This trilogy is dedicated my boys. Their flights of fancy constantly inspire me, and without their zany, sometimes random conversations, I would be a very sad gal indeed.
Romans 8:28
And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose.
Romans 15:23
May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace as you trust in him, so that you may overflow with hope by the power of the Holy Spirit.
SYNOPSIS:
I can’t believe I’m thinking of going up against the Ministry. But what other choice do I have? This world is in shambles because of them. I’m learning now that people need something to believe in, something to inspire them to act. When they have it, they’re capable of great courage.
And there is already talk of that something. That something is us. For the first time in probably their entire lifetimes, people have hope. The realization and enormity of it all, the weight of who I am and what my mission truly entails, sends chills down my spine. Noah and I, we are Chosen.
Still, this wondrous gift and this ability to restore life to a dying world, as amazing as it is, presents us with problem after problem. Where do we go? Where do we hide? Who is on our side? And the biggest question of all... will it be worth it?
Absence of Song III- Chosen
I
JAELYNN
Noah and I walk mostly through the cover of the night, hiding out in small towns during the day. Our powers are growing, and we have to be extremely careful. It’s hard though, not to shower the shining love of our Savior down on the world around us. The slightest touch to a dead tree makes it spring to life in an instant. The dry, desiccated bushes we brush against suddenly bloom to life in a riot of colors.
We have to be careful both in what we do and what we touch in order to make sure no one in the nearby towns can see what’s happening in our wake. The last thing we want is to draw unwanted attention.
This wondrous gift and the ability to restore life to a dying world, as amazing as it is, presents us with problem after problem. Where do we hide? On that front, we’d thankfully been blessed to wander across empty homes or caves every time shelter was needed. It’s like these hiding places are revealed from above, at the perfect time, in the perfect moment, when we need the rest the most. Perhaps they are.
Despite our discretion, word of the miracles we are manifesting spread like wildfire throughout the towns we pass through. Every now and then, we walk past a couple who have their heads bent close together, whispering of saviors bringing life back to the world.
Though we are confidant we aren’t being shadowed, I can’t help but look around nervously every time it happens. I notice Noah does the same. It’s as if we are afraid the mere mention of miracles, a word that is foreign to most of the tongues in the world these days, will alert the Ministry to our location.
“You said it has begun,” I grumble a few weeks into our journey, “but I haven’t seen much of anything.”
I’m tired. Bone weary. Utterly exhausted. And I’m worried about my parents back home. Did they survive? Will I ever know what became of them? I blink back tears that threaten to fall from my eyes, the same tears I’ve already cried time and time again. Now isn’t the time, I chastise myself. I’m walking around with a knot of fear in my belly every day, but if I’m honest, I’m more frustrated than anything. Frustrated that all of our hard work, all of our endless walking, all of our loss seems to be for nothing.
“Can’t you feel it?” Noah asks, looking toward the night sky as though he sees something in the distance.
I scowl, looking up and seeing nothing but the same old moon I’d been staring out now for weeks on end. I’d never realized before how much I love the sun and it’s warming light until I’d been forced to remain hidden from it.
Though I’m frustrated, I do grudgingly have to admit I feel something. An electrical surge has been running through my veins since my first encounter with Sanderson. I assumed it was merely adrenaline, but Noah keeps insisting it’s more. So much more.
“I’ve been feeling it for weeks,” I snap. “And nothing has happened.”
“Nothing?” Noah quips, glancing at me from the corner of his eye.
“Why must you always speak in riddles, Noah,” I huff, scowling again as my irritation boils to the surface. The look of hurt on his face in response though sends a dagger of guilt through my heart. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to say it like that. It’s just-”
“You’re frustrated,” he finishes for me, taking my hand gently in his. “Anyone would be.”
You never seem frustrated.
My thought is petulant, and I know it, but can’t seem to help it. Noah never seems anything but calm. It’s a little maddening at times. He always behaves as though he has everything under control, and sometimes, that expression of peace and tranquility that appears to be a permanent feature of his face drives me absolutely crazy. I want to see something else from him. I want to see anger. Frustration. Vexation. Exasperation. Something. I want to see some emotion other than his normal state of serenity that clearly I do not share.
But then I back pedal a bit and realize that in a way, his steady nature is probably the only thing keeping me grounded and sane right now. Without him, I’d no doubt have run back home to find my parents, and gotten myself killed in the process. Though a small part of me readily admits that wasn’t a fate I n
ecessarily minded, if only it weren’t for Noah.
I look back at him and desperately want to reach out and touch his face. I want to feel his skin against mine. I crave feeling human contact again, but even hand holding between us produces an electrical charge that’s dangerous and could attract unwanted attention.
Besides, I’m unconvinced he’d even welcome my touch in the first place. The thought of the potential perils and his possible reaction are what keep me from acting on my impulses. Even though we are close, we aren’t yet that close. At least he isn’t. I sigh inwardly.
I can’t deny the fact that I feel something, and it’s not just the electrical surge, although that’s undeniable. I feel something else too, unlike anything I’ve ever experienced before, and it keeps twisting my insides up in painful knots. Just looking at the handsome man that walks beside me induces an ache of longing in my heart. But then a dagger twists, because every time I look into his eyes, I see nothing on his end other than concern for a friend. Or maybe for a sister. My lip curls. Sister.
I’m jolted from my thoughts when Noah speaks again, and I hastily rearrange my features, hoping my thoughts weren’t written all over my face.
“We are pretty far from the city, Jaelynn,” he comments, giving me a nudge. “We don’t see what’s going on there. But haven’t you heard them talking?”
“They talk of us, yes,” I respond. “But there’s no revolution. There’s no sign that the people are even thinking about rising up.”
Noah looks over at me, studying me. I keep my eyes forward, trying not to flush beneath his gaze. “What are we, if not the revolution?” he asks, looking down to kick a rock with his foot.
The rock flies across our pathway and hits a tree nearby. It bounces off the bark of the dry, dying trunk with a hollow sound, once again reminding me of everything wrong with our world.
“You mean to say we’re the revolution?” I scoff. “Aren’t revolutions supposed to be about fighting and killing and all of that?”
“Unfortunately, yes. Many times it comes to that. And I fear that in the city, the Ministry has already begun its killing, though they will undoubtedly call it a ‘cleansing’. But we are far away from them. The news wouldn’t spread this far, not yet, for fear of a backlash.”
“A backlash?” I sniff. “From what? Farmers with nothing but dirt and dead weeds to farm and houses full of starving children?”
“Those are the perfect people to rebel, and the people the Ministry fears the most, Jaelynn. They are people who have nothing left to lose. And there are far more of them than there are Ministry guards, believe it or not.”
I look up at the velveteen night sky above our heads as we walk, letting Noah’s words sink in. I’d never thought of it all that way before. All these towns we’ve passed through have people living in them, people who just need something to believe in, something to inspire them to act. And there is already talk of that something. That something is us. For the first time in probably their lifetimes, they have hope. The realization and enormity of it all, the weight of who I am and what my mission truly entails, sends chills down my spine.
“It really has started, hasn’t it?”
Noah nods, smiling up at the sky as he begins to softly hum a tune.
******
Marcus
I stand at attention, staring down at the ground. I know better than to meet her eyes when she’s in a mood like this. Leora Blackwood is seething, and the reason for her ire is that once again, my daughter has slipped through her grasp. She stands before me, filling up my entire field of vision so I can see nothing but her.
“Mr. Rose,” her icy tone wraps a tendril of fear around my stomach and squeezes it tight, “tell me again why you don’t know where your daughter is?”
“She slipped out of the house,” I respond, my tone cautious.
“While you weren’t there, is that right?”
I nod, that icy tendril squeezing ever tighter, making my insides feel frozen. I shift my gaze slightly, trying to see what’s behind her, but all I can see is the looming figure of Leora.
“But your wife, one of our”- she pauses as though trying to find the right word, “lesser guards, was there. Again, I am correct, yes?”
I swallow and find my throat feels parched. The words stick and do not want to come out. Not this time.
“Yes, m’am.”
Leora steps aside, her actions purposeful, to allow me to see what’s behind her. My wife, Sierra, is sitting at a table, bound and beaten. Blood seeps from a wound on the side of her head and drips down onto her shirt, which is spattered with crimson droplets. Her eyes are black and blue, and a painful looking welt stands out on her cheek in sharp contrast to the paleness of her face.
I try to bury any emotion that threatens to show in my eyes, lest they betray me. And while I’m usually good at masking my feelings, seeing my wife before me, and not reacting is the hardest challenge I’ve ever had to face. I choke back my rage and let my gaze fall back down to my feet.
“Look at her,” Leora insists, her tone nasty.
I steel myself inwardly and do as I’m told, looking back up. I feel tears threatening to well up in my eyes, but I know how to force them back. I do so, ruthlessly. I stare straight ahead at Sierra, my beautiful Sierra, seeing her but not really seeing her. I can’t see her. I pretend I’m staring at someone else, a complete stranger, and not at my precious wife. Not the mother of my beautiful daughter.
Sierra stares back at me, stone-faced as ever, and in her eyes I imagine I can see her imploring me to be brave, to stand strong, to not give in. I keep my expression unreadable, composed. If she can handle this, so can I. I can’t smile or give any indication that I acknowledge who she is, let alone that I love her, and it just about kills me inside.
“Do you still love this woman?” Leora asks.
It’s a deadly question. I’m a high-ranking official, and technically my loved ones are supposed to be safe from execution. But admitting I love her might put her, as well as Jaelyn, into even more danger.
“Part of me does, yes,” I answer slowly. “But as you know, my first love is to the Ministry.”
“Good,” Leora says, turning to stare down at the woman in the seat. “She’s lucky she’s your wife, or I’d have killed her already. But now it begs the question- are you still worthy of being my right-hand man? Considering everything that is going on, considering the fact that we are now hunting your daughter?”
None of this is new information to me, but it tugs at my insides to hear her speak the words out loud. I’ve feared the arrival of this day for a very long time, and it’s now upon me. I need to choose sides, and in that moment, I need to convince Leora my loyalty belongs to the Ministry and to her alone. It’s the only way I know of to protect any of us.
“I’ll do whatever it takes to stand at your side during this battle, Ms. Blackwood.”
“Marcus, no!” Sierra yells out. “You know they’ll kill her!”
“I know,” I say flatly, shoving all fears and the meaning behind them from my head with determination.
But they won’t catch her, I reassure myself silently, hoping it’s true. Otherwise, I’ve just given the Ministry permission to execute my daughter.
I just don’t see any other way. I have to stay by Leora’s side, I have to be in control of the Ministry’s forces arrayed against Jaelynn if I have any hope of saving her.
A guard grabs Sierra by the hair, pulling her head back hard enough that I fear it might snap.
“You, shut up,” Leora snarls. “Another word from you and I’ll cut your tongue out and serve it to you for supper. Just because I can’t kill you doesn’t mean I can’t maim you a bit, am I right, Marcus darling?”
I remain unflinching. “Yes, m’am.”
Seirra scowls at me then and hatred fills her eyes. It hits me like a cold slap in the face. Suddenly I realize she doesn’t understand I’m only playing my part, that I don’t mean what I’m saying, and
that I’ll do whatever it takes to protect my family. Sharp pain pierces my heart, and I wonder if we will ever be able to repair the damage I’m doing right now, if she will ever believe that I’ve been playing a role within the Ministry ranks, and nothing more.
Those thoughts however will have to wait. The first order of business is making sure we both get out of this alive. I need Sierra to stay quiet, and not merely to keep her tongue intact. I need her to stay quiet so she doesn’t give away my plans. I can’t let her know anything I am thinking or intending to do. And I need to keep her safe. But a part of me wonders if my job at the Ministry, the one that has provided my family with so many benefits over the years, might very well cost me the two people I love most in this world.
Don’t think about that. Not now. Stay strong, Marcus. You are needed.
The voice fills my head and I instantly feel relief. A sense of calm. Reassurance that I am doing the right thing. I have a mission to complete and that mission requires me to stay here, at Leora’s side, as repugnant as that may be.
Straightening my spine almost imperceptibly, I speak again, my tone without inflection or feeling. “I rescind my kinship to Jaelynn Rose from this day forward.”
A mild look of surprise crosses her features, but then Leora Blackwood smiles, a glint of satisfaction in her eyes, obviously pleased by my display of loyalty.
“Why, I never doubted you for a second, Marcus darling. You are mine.”
II
NOAH
The sky in the distance is beginning to lighten, showing the first faint streaks of purple and pink of the impending dawn. I know the two of us need to find a place to hide and sleep the day away before the sun breaks the horizon. I can see a small town up ahead of us, but I know it will be well after dawn before we reach it. I look around as we walk, but see no cover, no caves, no dilapidated or abandoned homes anywhere around us. Guess we better just take our chances. I grimace, glancing over at Jaelynn.
