The Book

My husband and I have been working on this book idea for quite awhile.  I added a little character building today in chapter one. I have written and re-written this thing countless times, have added and subtracted portions until I've come to this...   Hope you enjoy!!!

THE CHOSEN

Prologue:

Out of breath and, even worse, out of time, Beau began to think escape was unfeasible.  Even free, what would they return to?  It had been almost twenty-four hours since the homestead’s perimeter was breached by the Trenton clan and, by now, it was undoubtedly raped of its loot and burned to the ground.  The enormous reserve of grains, dried meats, munitions, and fuel were likely being consumed by this rebel brigade of marauders, who knew nothing of hard work and true survival in these dark times.  Plunder and obliteration of anything in their paths was their preferred course of action. 

Two years ago, at the genesis of the epidemic, the thought wouldn’t have even occurred to Beau that the “norms” would pose more of a threat than the infected.  Sure the infected were violent when provoked or cornered, and could spread an inexplicable blood born virus that destroyed most every human quality, but they mostly kept to their packs for their own survival purposes.  It was these pillaging bands of norms; these self-indulging, wasteful, soulless groups that posed the chief threat to the rapidly decreasing numbers of the human race.

Perhaps born from the desperation of these ominous times, human beings had changed drastically.  The business tycoons, who once ruled the world, with the money and the power that accompanied it, were now at the mercy of a market run by barter of necessary goods.  No amount of stock shares or Leer Jets could save them now.  These were the first to fall victim to the times.   Much of the middle class were the next most greatly impacted.  Becoming complacent in their lives was their tragic downfall.  As long as work, kids’ soccer practices, cable TV, Church on Sunday, and the occasional backyard barbeque remained intact, they were safe, or so they thought.   Normalcy, blending in, and keeping up with the Joneses was the modus operandi.  The problem lie in the fact that lack of preparation, and/or lack of struggle in their quaint suburban lives, left them susceptible to anything; particularly an epidemic of such apocalyptic proportions.   The ones who faired the best were once considered the lower echelon of the social stratum.   The farmers, the factory workers, the mechanics and the machinists, to name a few.  If you could build, grow, fix things and possess the luck to find barter for those items you didn’t have, your odds of survival suddenly increased exponentially.  Most importantly, one had to possess the testicular fortitude to trudge on.    

“Trudging on” was what Beau had early in life become habituated to.  It was when things were running smoothly that he began to experience intense anxiety; a tendency that his wife had tried relentlessly to break him of.  Beau wasn’t exceptional in any of these “now-a-days” necessary trades, but he had dabbled in them all at various points in his life.  He was a bit of a free-spirit, some would say, but mostly it was necessity that brought him either here or there, allowing him to learn these handinesses.  It was preparedness, his ownership of a pawn shop with many useful treasures, and his avocation for all things guns that allowed he and his wife to make it out before the worst of this disaster.  All in all, Beau was convinced it was luck, after a lifetime of having none (with the exception of finding and marrying his loving wife, Jessi).

 All rules of engagement were now absent, Beau had known that, but to kidnap, enslave, rape, and even consume other human beings was far more brutal than he was prepared for.  Now his pregnant wife, lie imprisoned somewhere in the metal confines of Trenton’s fortress, and the rest of his tribe enslaved or worse.     

“Hey! Boss!” a familiar voice said from behind him.

Beau spun on his heels, tightening the grip on his K-bar, before loosening it again in relief.

“Shep!  How did you…?”

“Easy!  Found a weakness in the fence and pried one of them metal panels off.  They’re all too busy looking for you to worry about all us worker bees.” Shep said, clearly proud of his feat.

The metal panels that Tom Sheppard was referring to were sections of corrugated steel ripped from many of the old farm houses in the area, and repurposed to produce a twenty foot tall steel wall that was originally intended to keep the infected out, but now operated mainly to keep the enslaved in.   Only hours before, Beau had been a member of the unlucky horde.

“Why are they after you anyways?” Shep said, cocking his mountain of a melon.

“I killed Bobby Trenton.” The words tasted sugar sweet spilling from Beau’s busted lips. “Did everyone make it out?” he said, not completely willing to know the answer.

Shep hung his head and placed his big calloused paw on Beau’s shoulder.

“Well boss… I’m pretty sure everyone in the slave quarters got out.  You shoulda seen it boss!  I freed ‘em all!  Mary, Sam, Catherine and the baby are out for sure!  I made positive of that!”

That left Jack, Wes and Jessi unaccounted for.

“I’m so sorry boss… I looked for her, I promise.”

“Are the others meeting you at the rendezvous?” Beau said, trying not to let the fire within consume him.

“Yes boss.  There already headed up river I’m sure… Hey boss?  We may not see you again, right?  I mean… You’re going back for them… For her, aren’t you?”

Beau nodded his head and put his bloodied palm on the shoulder of the man who had saved his life, and that of his wife’s, more times than he could count.

“Thank you for everything Shep.  You’ve been a good friend…”

Chapter 1:

It was the searing pain in his leg that, at last, jolted Beau from his sleep. He did a quick check for blood, swiping a hand down the inside of his sweat pants. “Thank God.  Just a dream,” Beau said wiping the sweat from his furrowed brow. 

It was the third night in a row Beau’s dreams had awakened him abruptly and violently from sleep.  The doctor said it was RBD and parasomnia, but to Beau it was simply a hindrance to a good night’s snooze.  Night terrors and uncontrollable flailing about in his sleep had plagued him most of his life, eventually leading to his troubles with insomnia. A cocktail of Ambien and Klonopin were prescribed for the symptoms only weeks ago, but the side effects of the drugs, in Beau’s mind, seemed equally alarming as the disorder itself.  His dreams now seemed more vivid, more tangible, and even more difficult to wake from.

“That’s it babe.  I’m not taking that stuff anymore.”  

Beau shook his head groggily and stretched an arm out to his wife’s side of the bed, only to make contact with a dense coat of fur.  The sleep meds always left him feeling too slow and disoriented in the mornings for him to distinguish fact from fiction.  Yet, this particular morning, his dreams quickly gave way to reality.

“Delilah!!! Get down!!!” shouted Beau, embarrassed by the loving caress he had just given his Labrador; one that was rightfully intended for his wife.

Delilah let out a powerful yawn; tongue extended and curled.  Displeased, and still a bit groggy herself, she reluctantly leapt from the comfort of the bed.      

Beau vaguely remembered Jessi kissing him goodbye before she left for work, but he couldn’t be positive.  As he inched his way to the side of the bed, and slid his feet over its edge, he caught a glimpse of the digits on his bedside alarm clock.

“Ten forty five!” Beau said, stunned by his ineptitude to wake up on time.

Frustration building, he darted for the bathroom and started a hot shower.  Ten minutes later, Beau emerged, steam wisping from his body.  While hurriedly toweling off, he caught a brief glimpse of himself in the mirror, and preceded to pinch a fold of skin at his midsection.

“Ugh… What happened to you buddy?”

As the mirror began to fog with the escaping steam from the open shower door, Beau was snapped back into the present. 

“Late.  I’m so freakin’ late!”

He emerged from the bathroom feeling slightly refreshed, but not quite the cliché “new man.” 

Samson, Beau’s male Labrador (Delilah’s male counterpart), lie blocking the entry to the closet.  Beau gave him a quick nudge in the rump, which Samson responded to with a grunt before unobstructing the doorway.  After dressing into a pair of jeans, black t-shirt, and leather work boots, Beau made his way down the hall to the kitchen, with Samson and Delilah falling into formation behind him.

Beau plucked a travel mug from the cupboard and reached for the glass carafe full of lukewarm java. “Damnit,” he said aloud as he slammed the empty mug onto the old Formica countertop.  Beau stood, staring at the electroluminescent display of the automatic coffee maker that now displayed the word “off.”  His oversleeping had exceeded the two hour brew timer.  Unwilling to acquiesce to defeat so easily, he poured a cup and microwaved it for a minute and a half, until it was lava hot; just how he liked it.

Beau fed and watered Samson and Delilah, and let them out in the back yard to do their “morning business” before making his daily five-mile commute to work. 

            Beau pulled into the parking lot of Quinlan, Texas’ sole pawn shop at 11:20 a.m.  A rusty brown 1978 Ford Bronco was the lot’s only other occupant, and belonged to the shop’s only other employee, Tom Sheppard. 

EZ 4U Pawn, was originally owned by Paul Prideaux, and under its original proprietor was aptly named Paul Prideaux Pawn & Go.  The pawn shop was not the only business in the small East Texas town that was adorned with the Prideaux name.  Mr. Prideaux was considered by all who knew him a shrewd business man and, even more so, as a “mean son-of-a bitch.”  Not only did he own a great deal of the town’s commerce, but was said to also own many of its local officials.  As a result of his father’s questionable business and political dealings, Beau thought it best to remove his surname from the building’s sign once he had inherited it.

Beau’s mother had left his father when Beau was only four years old.  After a twelve month messy matrimonial court battle, it was Paul Prideaux that ended up with sole custody of their son.  Lacking the love and affection of a mother, Beau spent an inordinate amount of his youth attempting to please his father, in hopes of filling the void.  He was a straight A student, a top notch athlete (in both football and baseball), and a young entrepreneur; starting his own lawn mowing business at fourteen years old.  He would often tell his father his plans of following in his footsteps; graduating from Southern Methodist University with a major in business management, followed by a career in business acquisition.  In the end, Beau’s attempts at receiving his fathers’ praise, or even some sign of warmth and adoration, were alternatively met with utter indifference.  It wasn’t too far into his teen years that Beau had finally given up on ever experiencing a real life father son bond, and so began the rebellion against Paul Prideaux and everything he, and men like him, represented.   

Beau graduated high school and left the small town of Quinlan, Texas in hopes of blazing his own trail, without the help of his father’s pocket book.  Instead, he found work as an auto mechanic in Dallas, busting his knuckles against Detroit iron for eleven dollars and fifty cents an hour.  When he had saved enough money, he traveled west in search of adventure, only to end up working as a ranch hand in El Paso for a couple of years.  When the ranch was bought out by a west Texas beef producing tycoon, Beau found employment as a rough neck on an oil rig in the Gulf of Mexico.  At the age of twenty-three, Beau grew tired of his rambler lifestyle and decided to pursue a career in law enforcement; which, he would later claim, might have been a subconscious attempt to bring all of the Paul Prideauxs of the world to justice.

It was while attending the Eastfield community college Criminal Justice Academy in Mesquite, Texas that he met Jessi.  Beau and a handful of his male cohorts from class were congregated in the campus’s west parking lot, the petite brunette lugging a camera case and an oversized backpack shuffled past.   A form-fitting white tank and cut-off jean shorts showcased her firm, yet delicate body.  He wasn’t the first of the group to notice the attractive, yet seemingly clumsy, young woman.

“Hey gorgeous!  Need some help there?” hollered one of the shaven headed criminal justice students.

“No, I’m fine thanks,” she retorted, aware of, but paying no attention to, the high-fives and lude gestures taking place behind her.

Attempting to one-up the last guy, another called out, “Hey!  Do you work at Subway? Because you just gave me a footlong!”  Beau cringed, as the young woman spun on her heels and stomped towards them.  Her long dark pony-tail swung from side to side in rhythm to her swift stride and to Beau’s ever-increasing heart beat. 

            “Oh yes!  That’s such a turn on!  Please take me back to your place!” Jessi said, quickly approaching the bad-mannered young male, before stopping only inches from him.  “Common! Does that actually work for you?”

            The cat-caller’s smile gave way to a grimace, as he braced himself for the inevitable slap.  Instead, the fiery, slight, brunette pat him on the head and bitingly whispered in his ear, “Manners go a long way with members of the opposite sex, ok Casanova?”  She turned, flashing a breathtaking smile at Beau, and went on her way.

            Beau couldn’t escape the thought of her all through class.  He had dated many girls, but she was without doubt different.  She appeared sure of herself and confident of her place in the world.  She was beautiful, yet seemed blissfully unaware of the fact.

            After the three hour lecture on concepts of interviews and interrogations, Beau left the building and headed for the lot where he had parked his truck.  To his surprise, the bottom half of a petite, jean–shorts clad, brunette dangled out from underneath the hood of an old VW bug convertible.  Again, Beau’s heart began to palpitate.

            “Uh, you need some help with that?” Beau asked trying to mask his nervousness. “Wait, let me guess… No thanks, your fine?”

A chuckle came from beneath the hood, as her grease-smudged upper half emerged.

            “I should’ve known better than to wear white!” she said, wiping her hands on the cut-offs and flashing the same captivating smile as before.  “Actually, some help would be nice.”  Beau extended a hand, “I’m Beau Prideaux.”  She laughed again, this time tossing her head back.

            “That sounds like the name of a car dealership owner, or some heir to a Louisiana plantation!” she said playfully. “How did you end up with a name like that?”

            “Yeah, I get that a lot.  I was named after my great-grandfather, who, I’m embarrassed to admit, owned a plantation in Louisiana.”

            “You’re kidding!” she taunted, soon realizing that Beau was quite serious.  “Huh… Weird!”

She squinted into the light of the fading sun.  He hadn’t really seen her eyes until now, he had only known they were bright and lively.  Now he could see their brilliant emerald hue.   Beau smiled, “I didn’t catch your name.”

            “Oh! Sorry!  I’m Jessi… With an ‘I’.” 

“Nice to meet you, “Jessi with an ‘i’.”  They both laughed.

Beau repaired the blah blah blah on the 1975 saffron yellow Volks Wagon Beetle, as the two exchanged stories of their pasts, family, future plans, favorite movies, and so on.  Jessi pulled out a portfolio of various pictures she had taken, explaining the difference between the rule of thirds and the golden mean, and why she had chosen to pursue a career in photography.

            “It’s the most beautiful way of capturing little slices of life.  It’s my own way of interpreting everything around me; the order, the disorder, the happy, the sad, the idiosyncrasies in the world that make it such a beautiful place.”

She paused, “So what about you?  Why law enforcement?”

            “Couldn’t find anything better to do I guess.  Plus, it would feel pretty good locking up scumbags.”

The conversation turned into a date over burgers and fries, leading to a second and third date, until the pair were inseparable.  They married a year later.