“That’s right,” his beady-eyed, bat-faced cohort said. “Boy, I’m gon’ whup you so bad, you gon’ beg the Ancient of Days to make you human, so you can go on and die.”
Nathan laid his charge down, praying that he wouldn’t become a casualty of 9-11. But if he didn’t spank Bif’s and Bof’s fang-extended behinds, he wouldn’t get Kenneth out of here anyway. Nathan took off his construction hat and a bright light shone above his head. The demons green-eyed it and got fidgety when he pulled off his workmen’s clothes. They really got mad when they had to behold his massive wings and white garment trimmed in gold. “Yeah, you miss this gear, don’t you?”
Jaundice eyes told him, “We’re going to beat it off you, then we’ll wear yours.”
“Never again will you wear the Lord’s armor,” Brogan said.
The demons turned their intimidating stares on Brogan. “That’s all right,” Nathan said. “They talk like those big-bad fallen angels that got their wings clipped, but they fight like Sodomites.” Nathan pulled out his golden sword. “Come on with it.”
When the ruckus exploded and the fight was on, friction from the heavenly and hellish blows caused fire to spring up as rubble and debris were kicked out of the way. The fire fighters got busy extinguishing the flames, while the rescue workers pulled countless half-dead and lifeless bodies from the ruins. None of them were aware of the struggle at Ground Zero, but a certain tension hung in the air.
Nathan and Brogan gave as good as they got. One blow after another was dealt to the adversary. Nathan was feeling pretty good about his performance, considering he hadn’t been in battle in at least a century. Then he saw one of the rescue workers kneel down by Kenneth. The rescue worker looked at another guy, then said, “I don’t think this one is going to make it.”
Nathan swerved around his opponent. He knelt down at Kenneth’s side and whispered in his ear, “You’ve got to make it. You’ve got too much to live for. Don’t give up now.”
Jaundice eyes grabbed Nathan by the back of the neck and threw him into a pit of rubble. Brogan soon followed. Nathan shook his head and looked at his comrade. “Come on, we can’t let these monkeys whup on us like this.”
Brogan stood, and stretching his wounded body. “I know, man. They’ve gotten stronger since we last met.”
“Don’t look now, but here they come, and they brought friends.” Nathan looked around the pit for something to knock off the heads of those demons. Several steel beams had been tossed into the rubble when the buildings collapsed. Each beam was already constructed in the form of a cross. That was all the sign he needed. He stood up and grabbed one of the beams. “You slice ‘em and dice ‘em with your sword and I’m going to have some batting practice with these beams,” Nathan told Brogan.
The demons descended upon them. Bif, Bof and friends, lived through the night, but by morning they regretted their folly. Nathan picked up beam after beam and smashed one rotten skull after the next. Brogan then drove his sword threw their hell-possessed bodies. The demons that Brogan didn’t get with the sword had steel beams driven through them. The beams were firmly planted in the ground. The deed took all night. Nathan and Brogan wearily ascended from the pit, too tired to notice the construction worker that walked into the World Trade Center looking for any sign of life and found hope. The man stood in front of the crosses that Nathan had erected, and bellowed, “Abba, Father! You are here!”
He ran past Nathan and Brogan as he spread the word of what he had found. Fire fighters and rescue workers followed him back to the sight. He carried a can of spray paint, and with it he wrote “God’s House,” and drew a directional arrow. The fire fighters looked at the shards of steel that formed crosses standing in perfect symmetry. In a place where everything else was in complete disarray, they bowed down and began to weep and pray to God.
“Where is he?” Nathan asked.
“I don’t know,” Brogan replied.
Nathan lifted his head to the heavens and asked, “Where is he, Lord? Please give me some direction.”
The heavens were silent.
Nathan fell to his knees, snatched gray debris from the ground, and threw the ashes on his head. “Not again. Oh, God, no, no, nooo!”
***
Covered in soot and ashes, Elizabeth Underwood opened her eyes. She spent the night amongst the rubble and debris at Ground Zero, waiting for news of her husband. When none came, she stood up, and ran her soot an ash stained hands through her tangled hair. She tried, unsuccessfully to wipe some of the dirt from her clothes as she walked to one of the firemen. “How long is this going to take? I need answers. I need my husband! she demanded.
He turned away, unable to meet her pitiful gaze. “We’re working hard. We’re going as fast as we can.”
She walked away. She wanted to tell him that today was her tenth anniversary, and that she and Kenneth had plans. But God had conspired against her. She woke up to a world that did not contain her husband. She was forced to inhale and exhale without him. She could now answer the question Jesus asked, “Oh, death, where is your sting?” The sting was felt by loved ones. The people left behind. She, Elizabeth Underwood, had been stung.
She spent four years of college dating Kenneth, another ten years of marriage, loving and adoring him. Making him her world. Even through their bad times, she had loved that man.
Forget all the waiting, she would find her husband herself.
“Ma’am, you can’t go in there,” one of the firefighters told her.
Elizabeth kept walking.
“Look, lady,” he said, grabbing her arm. His grip was tight. “This is not a safe area. Just let us do our job, okay?”
“All right,” she said. He released her arm and Elizabeth took off running.
“Grab her!”
Two men in gray T-shirts and jeans grabbed Elizabeth and tried to pull her away from the rubble. “No!” she screamed. She dug in her heels and fought against their grip. “Please, please let me go. I’ve got to find my husband.”
They finally managed to pull Elizabeth out of the way. They sat her down on a piece of the Tower that had flown a hundred feet away from the building. “It’s for your own safety, ma’am. We don’t want you to get hurt.”
Both men were white, young and athletic. One of them had a mustache. The other was clean-shaven.
“But it’s my anniversary,” she whimpered.
The clean-shaven gentleman said, “Aw, dag. Just hold on. We’ll find your husband.”
Her shoulders slumped. How could she hold on? Didn’t he know that her world had collapsed?
Why have you done this to me Lord? We were faithful to You. My husband loved You – I thought You were supposed to rebuke the devourer? Two firemen pulled a man’s body out of the rubble. She put her hand to her mouth and gasped. Kenneth? Well, she couldn’t just sit on this rock and wonder.
She watched them lay the body on the ground. Elizabeth barreled through the on-lookers and workers. She fell after tripping on a rock, got up, and didn’t bother to brush the dirt from her clothes. She ignored the, “You can’t go in there,” and “Ma’am, come back,” pleas. Nobody was going to stop her.
By the time she reached the body, tears had welled in her eyes. She collapsed to her knees. As she looked in the face of this dead man, she let the tears flow. He wasn’t Kenneth, but someone would miss him. She cried for that person, another victim of the sting of death.
“Ma’am, is this your husband?”
She shook her head. The workers bent down to pick the man up.
“Wait!” Elizabeth screamed.
The clean-shaven man she had talked to earlier said, “We have to move his body. I’m sorry.”
“But, but – his family. They shouldn’t see him like this.” The man’s shirt and pant leg had been torn. She reached over and buttoned the jacket of his navy blue suit. They took the body into a building that had the word “Dead” spray painted on one side and “Aliv
e” on the other. Had Mr. Navy Blue Suit also trusted in the Lord for his safety?
Brogan stood over Elizabeth, desperately trying to find a way to comfort her. Nathan was out scouring the city in search of Kenneth. Brogan looked toward the same building at which Elizabeth was staring, and prayed that Kenneth was not in there. At least, not on the same side they had just laid Mr. Navy Blue Suit.
He put his hand on her shoulder. Elizabeth looked around, immediately feeling a change in her environment. She shrugged, shifting away from this comforting feeling that was trying to overtake her and moved back into her state of misery. A night’s sleep on the hard dust-covered ground had not changed anything for her. She still prayed for lightning to strike, or for a bulldozer to run her over. Funny how death ignores you, when you crave it.
End of Excerpt
Forsaken
Forsaken
Vanessa
Miller
Book 1
The Forsaken Series
Publisher’s Note:
This short story is a work of fiction. References to real events, organizations, or places are used in a fictional context. Any resemblances to actual persons, living or dead are entirely coincidental.
Vanessa Miller
www.vanessamiller.com
Printed in the United States of America
© 2008 by Vanessa Miller
No part of this ebook may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical—including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system—without permission in writing from the publisher.
Acknowledgments
Anyone who reads my books knows that I write restoration stories. In order to write about restoration, I have to deal with sinful characters. However, this is the first book that I dared to have a fallen pastor as my main character. As I prayed about writing Forsaken, I became convinced that this was the restoration message God wanted to get out to His people. I began to test the waters at book club meetings, telling everyone who would listen about a wayward pastor’s path back to God. Each member of the book clubs I told JT Thomas’s story to encouraged me to hurry up and finish the book. So, I would like to thank all the book club members who took the time to listen and offer their input into JT’s struggle to make amends for all his wrong doing.
A special thanks also goes out to my agent, Natasha Kern. I appreciate all the time you spend on my projects, and thanks for getting Forsaken sold! I would also like to thank my editor at Urban Christian-Joylynn Jossel. As always, your edits help me to rethink certain aspects of the novel and make it a better product altogether, you’re the best. The graphic artist at Urban-Christian does such a great job on my book covers that I have to take a moment to acknowledge that fact. Natalie Weber, at Urban Books, has been a great help to me also. Whenever I have a question or need to get something done, she has always been there for me. Thanks, Natalie, I know that you are very busy, but I wanted you to know that the extra effort you put in hasn’t gone unnoticed.
Finally, I cannot forget to acknowledge my family. A special thanks to my daughter Erin and my grandbaby, Amarrea, whose presence brings me so much joy; to my mother, Patricia Harding, for traveling the world with me while I promote my books. I would also like to thank my sister Debra, cousins, Kim and Schilala for believing in me and helping me to accomplish my dreams. At times this has been a hard journey, but family makes the difference.
This book is dedicated to my nephew, Eric Leon Epps, Jr.
May you always know the love of family and the God who forgives us all.
PROLOUGE
“Your husband is cheating on both of us.” Those happy home stealing words ricocheted through Cassandra’s mind as she drove to Faith Outreach Church to confront her husband, Pastor JT Thomas. She willed herself not to cry. Not to think about the five wonderful years of marriage she’d experienced with JT.
She pulled into the first lady’s parking spot, turned off the engine, and put her hand on her swollen stomach. No, she couldn’t even think about the child growing inside her. If her life with the magnificent pastor of Faith Outreach Church had been nothing but a lie, and if the woman that had the audacity to telephone her was telling the truth, then JT was going to admit it to her face.
Pressing her hand into the small of her back she ambled her way through the fellowship hall. The lower the baby dropped, the harder walking became. But Cassandra loved every minute of being pregnant. This was her second pregnancy. Their first child was a girl and she had died after only a few precious moments on earth. It was hard to deal with, but she and JT made it through; now they had other problems.
JT’s office was toward the back of the building, right across from the sanctuary. Another ten steps and she would see what the good pastor had to say for himself.
“First Lady, can I get you something?”
Cassandra smiled as she weebled around to greet Deacon Joe Benson, the almost seven foot, solid built man who didn’t take down to anybody, but still managed to treat her gently. “No. I’m okay.”
“Well, just let me know if you need anything,” he told her.
I need a faithful husband, Cassandra thought, and wanted to beg Deacon Benson to go get that for her. But it wasn’t Deacon Benson’s fault that JT was one way behind the pulpit and quite another at home. So she patted him on the shoulder and said, “I will, Deacon Benson, thank you.”
Opening the door to JT’s office, she walked in without bothering to knock. Pastor Jerome Tyler Thomas was regally holding court behind his mahogany desk, while Carl Johnson and Deke Smalls poured over the drafts for the reconstruction of the sanctuary with him. JT was being groomed to become the next great televangelist, and the sanctuary was being renovated to accommodate all the equipment that would be needed to bring his vision forth.
She looked down at this muscular built, honey toned, greenish-grey eyed man that she adored and planted her feet firmly, which was hard for a weeble to do. “I need to talk to you, JT.”
JT was focused on the plans before him. He glanced at his watch. “Can’t right now, Sanni.”
Sanni was JT’s pet name for her. She loved the sound of it as it fell from his lips. It made her feel special. Every time he said it she was reminded of that sweet Bible passage that said, “I am his and he is mine.” But not today. Today, she was fat, pregnant, and married to a cheater. She stomped her foot. “Will you look at me?”
JT straightened and caught a glimpse of the tears bubbling over the lids of his wife’s eyes. Carl grabbed the plans and rolled them up.
“We can review these after this morning’s service, Pastor,” Deke told him as he and Carl left the room.
Coming around the desk, JT’s leg stiffened. He stopped, straightened it out and continued moving toward Cassandra with that slight limp that was characteristic JT. It was also the bone of another contention between them. JT wouldn’t talk to her about the one physical imperfection he had. Whenever she asked about the limp, he would just grunt and say it was nothing, but nothing didn’t leave a scar on the upper left thigh. And nothing didn’t call her house claiming to be sleeping with her husband.
He hugged Cassandra, and then walked her over to his black leather couch. “Sit down, honey. Is something wrong with the baby? Are you having contractions?”
“No, nothing like that,” she told him while sliding into her seat.
Looking at his watch again, he said, “Well, can it wait then? I’ve got to be in the pulpit in less than five minutes.”
When they were first married, JT never allowed anyone in his office five, ten, or even twenty minutes before he had to preach. That was his time with the Lord. JT used to say that he couldn’t rightly give direction to his congregation if he hadn’t heard from God first. She’d admired and respected him for that. But that was then.
Today, she pulled herself off the couch and sneered at him. “Thought you’d get away with it didn’t you? Thought I’d never fi
gure it out?”
He grabbed his Bible off the desk. “I don’t know what you’re rambling about, Cassandra, but I have to go.”
As he opened the door to step out his wife yelled, “Your woman called me this morning. She says you’re cheating on both of us. Is that true, husband?”
JT closed the door then advanced on his wife. “Why would you say something like that in the house of God?”
At five foot three she was no match for JT’s six foot physic, but she stood in his face and challenged him anyhow. “Why would you do something like that in God’s house? I mean, come on, JT. The Deaconess? Guess we know who she’s serving, huh?
“No baby, you’ve got it wrong. I could never do that to you.” He tried to put his hands on her shoulders, but she moved away.
She wiped the tears from her cocoa cream face, then ran her hand through her bob length hair. “Not just me, JT. You’ve done this to God, too.”
Turning away from her, JT lowered his head. “I’m not perfect, Sanni, but I do love you. If you believe nothing else, please-”
She shook her head. “No, I’m not listening to a word you have to say, not anymore. You’re going to pay for what you’ve done to me. I’ll go out there and let this congregation know what the good pastor is really like.”
He grabbed her as his eyes dilated with rage. “Oh, no you won’t. Do you hear me? Just shut your mouth and listen.”
“Let go of me, JT.”
They struggled. She tried desperately to pull away from him. JT inched her backward until he had her against the wall. “I’m not cheating on you, Sanni. All I ever wanted was to be with you. I moved heaven and earth to make it happen.”
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