Crouching, glad there were no snakes or rats, Alric ran his hand over the brick, using his fingers to dig into crevices for loose spots. Exclaiming in triumph when part of a brick crumbled a bit, he wriggled it, feeling it give.
“I think I found it!” he yelled, prying the brick out and tossing it down to work on the next one. Several bricks later he was able to grasp the box inside of the gap and work it free. It was bigger than he had expected, and wasn’t going to fit in the bucket. He’d have to hold it.
Putting the flashlight away, he pressed one foot and one leg against the well wall and shouted up for Lance to start pulling. Clutching the box with one arm, he used as much of his strength as he could to help Lance with his weight. Going up took far longer than going down had.
Breathing hard and sweating from the exertion, Alric let Lance grasp his arms to haul him over the edge to the ground.
“You mind filling me in on what this is we’re dropping you into wells for?”
Alric handed Lance the box. Lance didn’t handle it long before he handed it back. “Must be important,” Lance commented, indicating the front of the box. “It requires a fingerprint ID. I’m guessing yours.”
“Come on,” Alric snorted, accepting the box back. His suspicion that Eron was a genius was continually reinforced.
He’d heard of the technology somewhere during his early years of research. The slide securing the box had an imprint of his finger and unless an exact match lined up, it wouldn’t open. No power needed, no one else got in, and highly effective. It was a one-time use lock, but it nearly ensured that no one but Alric would access the contents of the box.
“I want to know how Eron got an imprint of my fingerprint.” Alric pressed his right thumb between the two black slim lines that were just barely visible, remembering that the right thumb was the most commonly used finger for imprinting. He slid his thumb in tiny increments in all directions until he heard a quiet click as the lock released.
“I already had high respect of the dude, but it’s just gone up,” Lance stated. “That there that just happened? Way cool.”
Lifting the lid, Alric held the box out to Lance. The box held far more vials than he had anticipated. “Each one of these hydrates for twenty-four hours.”
Carefully removing one, Lance held it up close to his face. “It looks like plain old water.”
“Well, it is,” Alric agreed. “It’s just modified to deliver an extreme surge of hydration to the body quickly and for a long period of time.”
“One of these little tiny tubes can do that?” Lance gingerly placed the vial back in the box, grasping a small tab and lifting it. “There’s a lot in here.”
Alric hadn’t noticed the second layer. “Sixty. That’s thirty days of hydration for both of us if we have zero access to water.”
Lance stared at him, his face unreadable. Seconds ticked by while Alric endured the blank scrutiny.
“What?” Alric finally demanded, brushing at his face. He looked away, feeling awkward.
“I’m just feeling like a dud. You got Eron, who’s like, stellar genius. Then there’s you, making little tubes of stuff that look like nothing but are like crazy… cool. I mean, I don’t even know what to say. Guess I should have stayed in school.”
Closing the lid on the box, Alric stood up. “You have street smarts. Don’t underestimate your own abilities, Lance. This is all we needed from this place, so we can move on.”
“So there are more of these?” The dry grass wisped beneath their feet as they walked back to the car.
“Yes, there are. As well as some different formulas too. I had Eron send them all over the world on the off chance there would be a need for them. Hopefully we can collect some more of them.”
“What are the others?” Lance asked as he climbed back behind the wheel.
“Protein Packs and Vitamin Surges. I was able to amass a lot of the protein packs, but the vitamin surges are significantly lower in number. Unless I can find a way to get them away from Xis, and I don’t see that happening.”
The long stretch of road welcomed them back onto its monotony. “So tell me about the others, then, dude. What do they do?”
Alric held up a hand, lifted one finger. “The hydration pod will keep you hydrated when there is no access to water.” He lifted a second finger. “The Protein Packs will sustain you when there is no food.” He raised a third finger. “The Vitamin Surges provide enough nutrients and minerals to help your body function. Think about taking a daily vitamin every day. These are better, more exponential. It’s absorbed directly into the bloodstream and has a full spectrum of what our body needs to function well.”
“And Afion knows about all of these things?” Lance shook his head, his knuckles going white on the wheel. “That makes things worse than I thought. You’re very important. You’ve basically created all the factors needed for life if the world falls apart.”
“He doesn’t need me any more,” Alric disagreed. “He has all three.”
“Does he have the means to create more?” Lance circled a hand in the air.
“Not the Vitamin Surge, but the others, yes.”
“What about testing? Has the success rate of surviving on all three alone been done? If he needs the third for full function and no one can figure it out, he won’t stop until he’s found you.”
Alric had no idea how far Afion had gotten in his testing. He would have liked to have known the success of his formulas as a trio. It was possible that Eron could access the trials, but he was starting to feel like he was overusing the man. He didn’t want to alienate his resource, especially if the prediction that had been made was true and things were going to get more difficult.
Lance was not satisfied with his lack of knowledge on Afion’s progress, and he continued to express concern about Afion’s involvement.
Eron gave them their next location for another pick-up. The path that stretched out before them was foggy and dangerous, the visibility short. There was no way of knowing what was ahead.
Chapter Thirty
“Today, Russian military head Afion Heth gave orders for troops to move into Kazakhstan. President Lyova Morozov’s death has sparked considerable debate on whether an uprising by the people will happen. A statement issued by Afion assures that he has only the best interest of the people at heart, and will by any means necessary create a better future for them.”
Alric glanced at Lance. A contemplative look was on his face as he continued to watch the news report on the corner television in the diner. He was settled back and seemed at ease against the seat, but the fingers of one hand drummed slowly on the table and his jaw was set.
Alric picked up their bill and took it up to pay. They were on their way to meet someone that Lance had contacted. He wasn’t sure of the purpose.
Afion was playing his game, moving his army of chess pieces in preparation for whatever his next step was.
“Let’s go, dude. I’m feeling antsy.”
Swallowing hard, Alric set his cup down and followed Lance out the door. He wondered how much Eron knew that he wasn’t telling either of them.
He also wondered how many of his visions he should be reflecting on. He didn’t think they were specific premonitions, but Makar had died just as he’d been shown. That was one instance.
He supposed he could twist many of his visions and conclude that Afion was going to bring war. That much seemed to be confirmed, if Eron was correct. The man had been in many, all of them, dark and foreboding. All God had been saying was that the man was evil. Warning him to be wary. Right?
Half in the car, Alric sucked in a startled breath as another horrific thought occurred to him that he couldn’t seem to push back out. Alric felt dizzy.
He slumped, reaching out to grasp at the dash for support, his fingers pressing hard and gripping the hard plastic.
“Yo, dude, you all right?”
The visions came back to him in a suffocating wave. Afion with dark angels hove
ring all around him, the world exploding into nothing. A symbol of a snake on people’s foreheads. More angels, light and dark, fighting over the earth as the ground split, soldiers fighting to the death. Blood flooding over all of the earth.
And the war. The American flag severed and floating before it sank out of sight. That was only the first thing they would have to deal with.
He had seen the war. God had showed him.
“Eron isn’t wrong,” Alric said, his voice low, hoarse. “There will be war on American soil. I don’t know when it will get here, or how, but Afion is heading it all.”
“Afion is in Kazakhstan, not the US, dude,” Lance shot back. “If it’s coming here, it won’t be any time soon. He’s busy over there.” A hand clapped awkwardly on Alric’s shoulder a couple of times. “You have another one of those visions?”
Straightening slowly and slamming his door shut, Alric looked out the window. Across the street stood a large warehouse, its concrete walls stained with marks left by rain and rust mixing. “Not a new one. I’m just remembering what I’ve already seen.”
Industrial buildings and empty warehouses walled them in as they drove. For how much longer would they stand, Alric wondered?
A chain link fence protecting broken down cars and trucks stretched along the road. The car slowed and Lance turned in at a gap in the fence, the dirt drive a web of potholes. Lance maneuvered through them at a slow pace, the car rocking from the jar of tires over ruts.
“Well, this is our pick-up point, dude, so you can relax. We’re in good hands. We’re going under.”
It wouldn’t matter. The war would reach them. God had been trying to tell him all along. Even without Alric’s acceptance, He had been preparing the way. The formulas. The money. Eron. Lance. It was all part of a bigger picture. None of it had been without reason.
Alric understood as they climbed out of the car to meet the three men that waited that they would need the formulas to survive the coming days. That he would need Lance. That they would all need God to guide them.
Because after the war, the end of the world was coming.
Afterword
Don’t miss the next part of the journey!
The series continues on Amazon.com
Chosen Angels Series, Seal Two available November 1st!
The End has begun…
Ashar leaves home to save himself, not knowing that his newfound freedom is about to be threatened by something dark and sinister.
War strikes America and he finds himself the shepherd of a group of survivors. Learning to survive and accept that life may never return to what they knew, Ashar struggles to find his identity and purpose in a world that is self-destructing.
Ashar’s faith will be tested as he learns that he has a purpose greater than any he could ever have imagined.
Battling evil at every turn, Ashar must make the choice to trust that he has been chosen and hold on to the faith that is his only hope.
CHOSEN ANGEL SERIES
SEAL TWO
ASHAR
“When the lamb opened the second seal, I heard the second living creature say, “Go!” A second horse went out. It was fiery red, its rider was given permission to take peace away from the earth and to make people slaughter one another.” Rev 6:1-2
ISV
Chapter Thirty-One
The sun was shining, a brilliant sheen of promise that glimmered off the black metal of his car as Ashar stowed everything he could call his own in the trunk. It wasn’t much. A couple of bags of clothing, some personal items, and bedding.
He slammed the trunk shut, the sound a final clunk to commemorate an ending, and a beginning. Ashar paused, one hand on the warm metal, staring at the house that had never been a home, examining his feelings. Should he be feeling more, he wondered? Fear, loss, anxiety?
He didn’t. Ashar felt nothing but anger. He clenched his jaw and breathed in slowly, taking several deep breaths as he stared at the deceptive clean white lines of the house that had sheltered him for his entire life. Ashar pivoted sharply, turning his back on all that the house represented: a caged life of lies and false pretenses.
He sat behind the wheel of his car, the seat warm from the sun, the world waiting for him to decide what it had to offer. Tightening his hands around the steering wheel, he took a moment to allow himself to change his mind, to find a reason to stay.
Cars drove by, a jogger passed. The lady of a neighboring house stepped out onto her porch. He watched her peruse everything around her with disapproval, her dissatisfied faded eyes clashing with his through the windshield, piercing straight to his intent, reminding him of his reasons for needing to leave. His knuckles turned white as he stared back, his eyes narrowing to slits.
Ash turned the key, listened to the rumble, the catch, the spark ignited by the familiar rush of self-loathing the neighbor, and others like her, inevitably made him feel. He, the freak child, she whispered to her like-minded companions. Ashar swallowed hard remembering her incessant questioning of his parents about whether they had found a ‘cure’ yet. How many times had she voiced her brutal opinions of his fate to his parents while he hovered in the background feeling exactly like the labels she had pasted on his heart?
He signaled into traffic, his jaw tight, chin rising in defiance as he drove past her with eyes straight ahead. No more.
Ashar refused to allow anyone to make his choices for him now that he knew the truth. He couldn’t. He shoved down the surge of pain that tried to take hold as he remembered his parents’ pats on his shoulder. He had thought it sympathy as they explained the latest bout of dead ends or the next round of tests. He had been wrong.
They hadn’t hurt for their child. Their only son. No, they had seen him instead as a source of pride, with a twisted satisfaction that he was an anomaly. His differences had given them gratification without good intentions. They had allowed them to soak in the attention like a greedy plant in the rain.
The hurt of learning the truth was sharp, too recent to keep buried. Home recently from yet another round of blood draws, x-rays, and tests, from another room with endless questions and strange faces staring at him, he had been tired as he always was, and had sought solace in his room, surrounded by his own things.
Lying awake, he had suffered a bout of despair at the thought that his life would never change, so he had climbed out of his bed and sought out his parents to tell them that he didn’t want to do it anymore, and instead, had discovered the truth.
His mother and father had been sitting together at the kitchen table, discussing how to disperse the check that lay like a neon flag between them. He had learned that it was payment for the privilege of the chance to explain his uniqueness. He had listened from the hallway, horrified, sure that he had misunderstood.
The pain had struck deep. Bitterness had wet Ashar’s eyes. The following confrontation had ended with both of his parents looking at him not as their child, but as though he was a strange creature to be analyzed. Something to be examined, and the results recorded. His behavior to them had been simply another piece of the puzzle they were attempting to complete.
He had needed to understand. He had asked every question he could think of to gain some sort of legitimate reason for why. In the end, he had retreated, ripped to pieces, numb, left alone to stare out his window at the broken illusion of his life.
Today, he was taking back control. Today, he was driving away without an explanation and without their knowledge. Searching for his purpose. Not theirs for him, but one that he could claim for himself. It was time for him to decide who he was and what his life would be.
Some day, he hoped he could come up with answers that would explain it all. Make the years of testing, experiments and pain worthwhile.
Now, driving away from everything he knew, he grasped tight to the promise of a new life that he could live that was not held back by looming appointments that kept him home or secured in a bed. He was eighteen, just barely an adult in the world�
��s eyes, but his age didn’t matter.
He no longer wanted the life he had been living. The one that apparently had been determined for him the night the four thick bones had pushed up beneath the skin on his back, and his screams had brought his parents to his door.
Ashar rolled his shoulders just thinking about it. His fingers found the hem of his jacket and began to roll the fabric. That night had been the first of many trips to see various doctors to explain the growth of bones that did not belong. One night of physical pain had led to years of so much more than he could process.
He could look back now and see that his parents’ obsession with his anomaly had probably taken root that night and had eventually allowed him to become nothing more than a rat in a cage. Ashar could remember just trying to breathe, clutching at his back, writhing to relieve the gripping pain.
He had not noticed then that there had been no fear or concern on his parents’ faces. Instead there had been a curious fascination that he had recalled only when he had seen it again as they’d seemed to mentally document his reaction to the reason for the check. Like a slide projector, clicks of scenes had surfaced. Instance after instance of zealous attention to x-rays, research findings and test results.
What had it gotten them? Money, apparently. A sense of power. Attention. Ashar wasn’t really sure, since they hadn’t fully explained their viewpoints.
The young Ashar had thought they were trying to help him, had believed their worry that the floating bones were dangerous and could kill him. That the bones could shift and pierce one of his organs, as he had been told. So he had learned to sit quietly as nurses and doctors examined him, and had endured the pain of the procedures they had deemed necessary. He’d spent hours alone in ‘recovery.’
Seal One Page 16
