Necessary Sin

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Necessary Sin Page 1

by Brian W Casey




  Necessary Sin

  Brian W. Casey

  For my wife Tina , her confidence keeps me writing

  Necessary Sin Copyright © 2018 by Brian W. Casey. All Rights Reserved.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the author. The only exception is by a reviewer, who may quote short excerpts in a review.

  Cover designed by Brian W. Casey

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Brian W. Casey

  Visit my website at www.BrianCasey.com

  Printed in the United States of America

  First Printing: November 2018

  In Appreciation

  Teresa Bryant

  Michele Ruth

  Casey Nowakowski

  Lynda Smith

  " truly necessary sin of Adam, destroyed completely by the Death of Christ! O happy fault that earned so great, so glorious a Redeemer!

  Taken from The Exultet, New Roman Missal 3rd edition

  Contents

  Necessary Sin

  Part One

  What Goes Around

  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

  Part Two

  What Goes Around

  Comes Around

  chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  chapter 11

  Part Three

  Necessary Sin

  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 31

  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 79

  Chapter 80

  chapter 81

  Chapter 82

  Chapter 83

  Chapter 84

  Chapter 85

  Chapter 86

  Chapter 87

  Chapter 88

  Chapter 89

  Chapter 90

  Chapter 91

  Chapter 92

  Chapter 93

  Chapter 94

  Chapter 95

  Chapter 96

  Chapter 97

  Chapter 98

  Chapter 99

  Chapter 100

  One week later

  Chapter 101

  Chapter 102

  Present Day

  Watercreek, Nebraska

  Sheriff August Hawk walked over to the yellow tarp spread out off the road in the grass. Flashes of lightning lit the night casting blue light over the puddles formed in the valleys of the tarp mimicking the body underneath. Bending down on one knee, August pulled back the canvas.

  It wasn’t the woman he expected.

  Even with the bruises and twisted disfigurement to the body from the wreck, August knew he was not looking at the woman he was to meet tomorrow. Her body was contorted like the dead deer he passed on daily patrols. Standing up and looking back at the responders August could read their lips. He knew what happened down below was spreading through their radios and whispers like a bunch of cackling women sitting around Trish’s Beauty Shop on a Saturday morning.

  Thirty-five years earlier

  North Philadelphia

  Francis Stratton connected with the ball. It nicked off Mrs. Roster’s clothes line pole and into the waiting glove of Sister Alice Margaret. She was the boys sixth-grade teacher and current first baseman. Francis thought about ramming her off the base but then remembered he still owed her homework. He slowed to a walk as he approached her.

  “What’s the matter Mr. Stratton. If I was a boy, you would’a run right over me. The problem with you city kids, you ain’t got no guts.”

  The boys liked when she talked like that. Francis liked Sister. She was holy and tough. He would do anything she asked. That usually meant out of the house before sun up to serve

  As he ran back to home plate Francis spotted the mailman through the narrow walkway between the row house. Today was the day the letter should come.

  “Guys, see you in school. Sister, nice catch.”

  “Francis don’t you forget you owe me a report yet.”

  Thumbs up from Francis as he turned the corner just in time to see the mailman step off the porch.

  “Sorry Francis, nothing for you today.”

  Part One

  What Goes Around

  Chapter 1

  Amazon Jungle, Brazil

  Two men squatted in the tall grass cover surrounding a jungle lake. There is a faint metal on metal slide then a click as a shell is loaded in the chamber of a handgun. Four men work their way to the right of the two men. Every eye is fixed on the naked couple swimming in the lake. They watched as the couple wrestled with each other and splash back and forth like a couple of kids. The leader signals the men to stay low and quiet. His prize was right in front of him and he doesn’t want to miss this opportunity.

  The man came out of the lake and grabbed a towel to dry off. A few snickers escaped from the men on his little “manhood.” They were more interested in seeing the woman do the same thing.

  The leader passed a stern look at the men clos
e to him knowing their lust could blow the whole mission. He had too much was riding on this.

  Chapter 2

  Jack Stratton pried the lid off a can of sardines and tore open a tube of crackers pulled from a wooden box marked BOOKS. Still inside the box were little cakes he squired away without his wife Monica knowing. Jack had slowly been building up supplies for this day hoping to keep them secret from Monica and surprise her with a little picnic.

  The Jesuit missionary in the village suggested this spot. Its canopy of trees over a hidden lake made it a perfect getaway spot. Surrounded by all the lush foliage and tropical birds flying everywhere, it was hard to remember the poverty and persecuted conditions they left behind in the village.

  Monica splashed Jack from the edge of the lake forcing him to turn around. As she emerged from the lake he took in her dripping naked figure. Her white figure against the green of the lake gave her the appearance of a forest nymph in a fairytales. All she needed was gossamer wings to finish the picture.

  Jack grabbed a rolled towel and tossed it to her as if he was throwing a football to their son Francis back in the states. With one hand she pulled it out of the air. She slicked her short-cropped hair back with her fingers then wrapped the towel around her waist leaving her boyish breast exposed. She adjusted the small wooden cross hanging around her neck on a thin leather strap, a gift from Francis their son. Giving it a soft kiss before she let it drop between her breasts.

  fingers then wrapped the towel around her waist leaving her boyish breast exposed. She adjusted the small wooden cross hanging around her neck on a thin leather strap, a gift from Francis their son. Giving it a soft kiss, she let it drop between her breasts.

  As Monica walked up to Jack she spotted the picnic spread he arranged on the grass. This was the first time in years they could do anything special for their anniversary and for Jack to remember, made it even better. She reached for him to meet her halfway.

  When they met she dropped the towel and pulled him to the lake with her. Before they reached the edge of the lake, he threw his shorts and shirt back to the shore and joined her.

  Naked and embracing they sank underwater.

  The men waiting in the grass moved closer.

  Chapter 3

  After another hour of swimming and soaking up their little bit of paradise, the two decided to dry off. Their time away from the village was limited and they didn’t want to be this far away when nightfall came. Jack was beginning to get a little uncomfortable. He always imagined eyes looking back at him in the deep jungle. He’d heard stories of jungle animals stalking humans from the cover they knew best and leaping out at the right time. The Amazon jungle was no place to be without any kind of protection especially at nightfall.

  Monica could sense Jack’s suspicion. Trying to get him to lighten up a little,

  “Jack, come on. We’re alone out here, there’s nothing to worry about. Father said no one really knows about this place except him. Relax for once will you. If you’re a nice boy, I’ll take you for another swim and you know what that could lead to.”

  “You’re right. It’s just what I do, you ought to know that by now. Thank God I have you to keep me in line, I’d probably jump at every little noise.”

  Jack popped the cork on the small bottle of champagne he bought the last time they were close to any real civilization. He passed the bottle to Monica.

  “Sorry, no champagne glasses in the jungle.”

  She took a drink like she was chugging a bottle of beer and wiped her lips with the back of her hand like a teenage boy sneaking a gulp from a bottle. This was one of the many things Jack loved about her. One minute she could be all proper and the next let out a belch like a sailor.

  “Jack, before we leave this place, let’s write our letter to Francis. I want to tell him all about this while we can see it. I want him to know there is more in this jungle than poverty, drugs and bugs the size of airplanes.”

  Francis was staying with Monica’s parents until they finished this last tour with the Peace Corps. They were proud of him. Unlike many eleven-year-olds, he understood their mission. They often commented there were who could make a life for themselves only seeing their parents a couple of times in the last year. Monica’s mother was close with Francis and made sure that he never forgot what his parents were doing and why.

  This lifestyle made Francis an independent boy for his age. His individuality was tempered by his deep religious convictions. Much of this was due to the influence of his grandmother and the nuns teaching him.

  Francis was the boy who served Mass every morning before school and stopped in the church after school just to pay a visit. He was also the same kid that questioned the teachers and at times pushed their limits of patience.

  These habits didn’t go unnoticed by the parish priest and more than once he dropped the hint to Francis that he ought to consider a life as a priest. Francis however had other desires. He wanted to see the world like his parents. He often told his grandmother he wanted the adventure of the prophets but not the responsibility of the apostles.

  Monica started to pen the first lines of the letter,

  “Dear Francis,

  Your father and I miss you so much. We have taken a day away from the village to have a little picnic and cool down around a lake in the jungle. The local Jesuit priest, Fr. Demetrius told us of this little hideaway.

  I hope you are behaving for your grandparents. They tell me you are doing well in school. The young children here are eager to learn just like you.

  When we get home…

  The pen dropped away. The letter fell between her legs as the first attacker charged out of the surrounding thick cover.

  Chapter 4

  When the men came out of the heavy growth surrounding the clearing the Strattons had no chance of escape. Jack jumped up and stepped in front of Monica as one man rushed her. Another attacker slammed a fist deep in Jack’s stomach, doubling him over. The blow was followed by a knee that caught Jack square in his jaw. Jack dropped to the ground gasping for air as he watched two men grab Monica and bend her arms behind her back. Jack managed to get to his knees only to be kicked back down by one who appeared to be the leader of the group. He was giving others orders in a dialect not common to the people of the local village.

  Jack didn’t need to understand the words to know the orders being issued to the other men.

  Two men pulled Jack to his feet. Blood filled his mouth from loosened teeth. One eye was swelling shut from the repeated blows. One of the men pulled Jack’s arms tight behind him and bound them together with twine. Jack could feel his hands turning cold. Another kick in the gut sent him to the ground. Landing on his side he struggled to at least get back to his knees.

  Jack watched Monica dragged by her arms behind her back. It wouldn’t be long before her arms either broke or separated from her shoulders. Monica was crying for Jack which only made the attackers laugh and mock her. The leader picked up the half-finished letter and stuffed it in his shirt acting like he found a treasure map. The same man reached for the wooden cross around Monica’s neck. He fumbled with the cross then began to laugh letting it fall back on her neck.

  As the band of attackers started to leave the clearing with Monica, Jack made one last effort to get to his feet and charged towards them.

  A shot ripped through the tall grass.

  Chapter 5

  The bullet found a home in Jack’s side. The force of the shot pushed him off his feet striking his head on a rock at the edge of the pond. Jack layed unconscious, his head dangling backwards submerged up to his nose. It was only when a bird landed in the water and sent ripples did the water lap up to his nose and shake him conscious. Jack didn’t feel the pain in his side right away. For a brief period, he didn’t even remember he was in a jungle. Then the pain bent him in half. His hands throbbing behind him, gut burning and one eye all but gone he gave in and passed out again on the bank of the lake.

  When he came
to, he had a little more sense what needed done. Rolling, he reached the tall soft grass. Not sure what he was doing, working only by feel, he pulled long stems out, ripped them in half behind his back. Grabbing a handful of the shredded grass he rolled back to the muddiest portion of the pond and shoved the grass in the mud behind his back. Resting for a minute to gain some strength, he rolled back over the same spot with his stomach pressing his side against the mud and grass patch.

  Rolling back around to his back, the mud patch came with him and stopped the bleeding.

  There was little feeling in his hands.

  He knew his jaw was broke judging from the pain he was experiencing when he tried to opened his mouth. He was barely hanging on himself and knew Monica was not nearly as strong as he was.

  She couldn’t last long.

  He had to find her.

  Jack lost even more hope when he was finally able to get to the jeep they drove to the lake. The attackers flattened all the tires and the steering wheel was broken off. Even if he was in good condition it would take hours for him to walk back to the village.

  In his current state he would be lucky if he even made it back at all.

  Chapter 6

  Monica’s arms were limp from the torture they endured. No longer bound behind her, now they hung useless at her side like arms on a rag doll. Both arms ripped from their sockets they moved only by gravity. Pain shot through her with each little twitch.

  The attackers continued to question her. She still had no idea what they were asking. They passed the letter picked up by the leader back and forth acting like it was their ticket to wealth and fame. It was obvious they had no idea what it said.

  Monica tried to keep the image of Francis in her head, happy and safe with her parents in Pennsylvania. She was sure Jack was dead. She saw the last man of the band, turn and shoot towards Jack and didn’t hear Jack call out for her after that. She was alive and planned to stay that way for Francis.

 

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