by Joy Ohagwu
He rose as well, sliding on his gloves after handing Zendel his business card. “Sure, I’ll wait to hear from you soon. For the time being, I will inform the Towers accordingly. Meanwhile, I would like to say, I enjoyed your church service. That which I met, anyway. I hope you stay on this path. It’s a much easier life.”
Light entered Zendel’s eyes. The semblance of a smile stretched his lips. For a guy who doesn’t smile, that was huge. “That means a lot, Detective. Thank you for stopping by. Here’s my card in case you need to reach me before I call you. I’m only a phone call away if your team needs my help.” He waved a hand toward the door. “I need to meet with some visitors who are waiting in the outer office.”
Charlie gave a nod and bowed out of the office, then made for his cruiser out in the parking lot, zipping up his winter coat. He was glad Robert had him make this trip. He had struggled with understanding why the Towers were ready to assist Zendel in erecting this church building, especially considering their past encounters with him.
He recalled that Ruby had even been insistent on financing staffing for him with a paid secretary. But this church service encounter changed his mind. The man hadn’t needed to tell him about the tracker he had planted on The New Rulebook program’s machine, but he did. Even yet, revealing such information could get Zendel in trouble.
For the first time, Charlie stopped seeing Zendel as a criminal, but rather, as a converted man and a regenerated soul. He chuckled as he climbed in, shut the door, and revved the engine. “There really is hope for the lost,” he muttered and drove off the church premises, hoping Zendel called soon. He could hardly wait to see what this new chapter unveiled for Zendel, and for them all.
THE END!
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PROLOGUE (DELIVERED)
“Call upon Me in the day of trouble; I will deliver you, and you shall glorify Me.”- Psalm 50:15
AQUA, NEW MEXICO
Patricia Kelsey-McKnight entered her office as the sun was setting, shut the door, and leaned against its wooden frame, untying her neck scarf. Another scuffle with the town’s governing council over their plan to shrink the school’s academic calendar had ended—just like the last meeting—in limbo. At least, they didn’t throw her out this time before the meeting was over.
She sighed, brushed her auburn hair back with a hand, and approached her desk, hoping to clear it before heading home. As an assistant school principal at Aqua High school, the unconventional schooling system in Aqua had her quite frustrated more times than she could count.
Exacerbating matters, the Parents Teachers Association (PTA) was on the governing council’s side, and that baffled her. Why did she need to fight to show parents that their kids needed quality education—in commensurate daily time?
Or rather, why would a parent choose relative ignorance over knowledge? It was one thing if a child clearly had no aptitude for learning or had proficiency in handwork and crafts instead. Then she would gladly encourage them to pursue their area of talent.
But this? This was a communal resistance. She had no problem with their 1800s attire. What to wear was their choice. However, living in an increasingly globalizing world required participation—or being left behind. Something she didn’t want for her beloved town.
She rubbed her stiff neck and sat, peering out the window at the colorful display of ancient attire worn by residents going about their daily business. Why did she return here? Why didn’t she remain in downtown Clayton, just a stone-throw from Oklahoma, where a cappuccino was a short hop downstairs from her apartment or a ready sandwich was often reachable at a shop across the street?
Here, if she lacked one ingredient for cooking at home, she’d need to take a fifteen-minute trip to the Super Store—a glorified grocery store, in her opinion—to get it. Attempts to make Aqua more like a civilized town had put her at odds with the mayor—and the entire town.
In Aqua, she was an outcast. Persona non-grata, yet she looked out for their children’s interests.
Switching her attention to the tasks she had to finish, she pulled her cell phone out of the pocket of her jeans and unlocked her phone. Being a single mom in these quite conservative parts was another rule she’d broken, further removing her from the community.
Patricia didn’t mind being ostracized anymore. Her son was her pride and joy. And today, she wouldn’t approve of how she’d gotten pregnant by the football quarterback in high school, but after that happened, she chose to stay the course. Her son, Ace, had changed her life, made her a mother, and she determined not to look back at what might’ve been.
Becoming a Christian in college wasn’t in her plans either. But her roommate off-campus had assisted her countless times by babysitting Ace when she had to go for classes, exams, or run errands. The woman’s kindness drew her to question her motives. Then the lady preached Jesus to her.
Patricia was resistant enough, especially considering that no one did anything for her without having a motive. But she came around in their third year, realizing her deep spiritual need as time wore on and the loneliness got to her. It had been no secret that she needed Jesus when life’s pressures mounted. She was scorned by her hometown, left to figure things out on her own, and feeling out of her depth without a means for adequate caregiving for her son.
When she was led by the Lord to return to Aqua, she had resisted for two years. She was a professional in the academia. Two years from a professorship in Physics at Langston College in Clayton, she wasn’t thinking of quitting. Matter of fact, she intended to stay there for good.
Until there was a change in leadership and she didn’t like the man or his style. Professor Emeritus Victor Nealy was a man of few words—and even less respect for women in the academia. He didn’t like her either and became a hindrance to her rise. So she obeyed God, packed up, and returned to Aqua, now her home for three years.
Here she was, trying to coordinate the local community and working to promote education in her hometown, and all she got for her efforts was resistance. Frankly, at thirty-five, she was tired and running out of the energy to keep up the fight with them. Her phone buzzed, and she picked up. “Jeremy?” She frowned at the caller ID. Her son’s best friend rarely ever called. She listened for a moment, her eyebrows perking at his question. “What do you mean? No, he’s not here. I should be asking you where Ace is since you’re usually together.”
“I couldn’t reach him.”
She clutched the phone. “Where was the last place he said he was headed?”
“He said the river.”
Jeremy had best be joking about her son not picking up his calls.
“The river? I told him—”
“Why?” A sigh escaped, and silence met her question. How many times had she warned her son to stay away from that river? She swiped a hand on her brow. “Never mind. I’ll head there now. Thanks for calling.”
She hung up, gathered her coat, and left her office, locking the doors and praying that Ace was fine.
As she arrived at the footpath leading toward the only river in Aqua, the wide, protective tree shade on both sides was scantier than she recalled from a decade and a half or so ago. If memory served her correctly, huge trees with wide lush green branches used to cast their reach from one end to the other, meeting at the center of the path.
Most couples her age went out on dates when they were yo
unger here, and lots of love stories sprung from beneath those huge tree trunks. A few old trees still had names and hearts carved into their sides.
Patricia chuckled. Long ago, once you got your name carved into one, you were made as a couple. Of course, that was not the case with a few she knew, including the mayor—Jeremy’s father—who also didn’t like her.
Was the path always this small? She knew it shrank halfway then widened closer to the bridge, but she couldn’t recall it being this narrow. Fast footsteps hurrying toward her reached her ears, and she slowed. Jeremy emerged, jogging at a good pace, with an ashen face, waving her backward. “Get back, Ms. Patricia! Please get back. It’s coming. I’m so sorry!” His voice cracked.
Her feet rooted on the spot. She twisted and looked around, but saw nothing, heard nothing besides a hushing sound. “What is ‘it’ that’s coming? Jeremy, what are you sorry—” A gasp escaped her throat at the sight behind him.
The river water, cloudier than usual, rushed forward, stopped near her feet, and washed back. Her son’s sneakers floated on it. She let out a loud scream and covered her mouth. Large deep-water fish—with shapes she’d never seen before—thudded to her feet, flipping and writhing as though agitated while Jeremy swept her backward.
She lunged forward, resisting his arms. “I need to help him. He’s my son. Aceeeee!” Another cry shredded her heart, and Jeremy gripped her harder.
“The bridge is gone, ma’am. I saw him dive in to rescue someone. That’s why he died.” Jeremy’s eyes were reddened, so were his cheeks, like he’d been crying.
A burning sensation tingled her feet. She hopped back a step and looked down. The area surrounding her shoes smelled like it was on liquid fire. Jeremy followed her eyes, pushing her further back. But the onslaught was coming again—stronger this time.
Jeremy maintained a firm grip on her. “Ace dove into the river to save someone. He didn’t know something was wrong with the water. He couldn’t make it out. I’m so sorry.”
Her heart felt like it had just been torn out of her and cast into the roiling waves. It broke with sorrow, and she ached to dive into the water to go with her son. Another cry freed itself from her lips, and Jeremy held her as she sobbed bitterly.
He pulled her backward forcefully. “Ms. Patricia, Ace was my best friend, but we really have to go. The next wave is coming, and people in town have no idea what’s going on.”
Though torn with grief, she knew that the kid was right. She couldn’t allow her son’s demise to be in vain. Shedding her scarf, she grabbed his lone black sneaker—wrinkled and bent out of shape—resting closest to her feet, reversed, and ran back the way she had come.
Jeremy followed, and they managed to jog just far enough back before the toxic water swept up and overtook the place they’d been standing. Judging from the increase in force this time, the next rush would be bigger, stronger, and potentially more destructive.
What was in the water? What made it toxic enough to kill her son? She continued running as tears blinded her. She jogged a few steps behind Jeremy, but he kept her moving forward with a hand around her elbow. A chill breeze fanned through her skin from the winter blast, and she hugged her jacket tighter, making toward where she’d parked, while tears kept tumbling down her cheeks.
She needed to warn the town. She would do it. She would save the lives of those who had scorned her for ages—for Ace’s sake. She would save Aqua.
But she also had one giant obstacle—she knew they wouldn’t believe her.
*END OF PREVIEW*
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