The World of Hek, Book Two: Savior

Prologue

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Prologue

 

     I’m often asked how or where I think the whole thing began.  Did the whole mission begin in a church?  Perhaps it was in some foreign country like Jerusalem?  But, no, it was at home, in Saint Laurel.  Our city overlooks the Atlantic Ocean and is beautiful year-round; mostly beautiful, anyway.  Saint Laurel, like any other big city, has its share of rough spots, crime, and slums.  For the most part, however, it is a nice place to live.

     Except for one time in particular.

     It happened a year ago, during the fall.

     My family was at the park for a picnic, celebrating my sister’s birthday.  Peyton had made it another year and we were so proud of her.  She had been battling leukemia all her life and the doctor gave her permission to leave the hospital for lunch.

     We had all of her favorites: hotdogs, chips, Capri Sun, and a white cake with thirteen candles.  We also had tons of balloons hung up everywhere: tied to trees, plants, the picnic table, and our cars.

     She was so surprised, and so happy.

     Mom’s tired face was in tears the whole time; the woman who never slept had become a concoction of sadness and joy that afternoon.  Quite the opposite, Dad was strong and quiet.  He was always good at holding it all in.  I use to admire him for that.  He would rarely get upset, but, then again, he would rarely show happiness, either.  As a teenager I learned that he tried to control his emotions for fear of a heart attack; they ran in his family.  Dad had his first when he was just thirty-six years old.

     Dr. Griffin let Peyton leave the hospital that day because he believed it would be her last.

     He was all too right.

     Sometime during the course of our outing Peyton wanted to go play with a small dog near the playground.  We saw that the dog was with its owners, a young couple out for a picnic as well.  My parents did not see any problem with it as they were not that far away.

     After that, it gets kind of hazy.

     We seemed to be in discussion, my parents and me, and my girlfriend, Bev.  We didn’t see the dog run away.

     We didn’t see Peyton chase it, either.

     We heard the calls but it was too crowded to see clearly.  We thought we saw her through all the kids running around but we had been mistaken.

     Witnesses said she chased the dog into the bushes.  They said a man in black followed her and some thought it was the dog’s owner.  They ignored her.

     Then came the screams.

     Our hearts sank deep within our guts and our bodies tingled with numbness in an instant as the terrified cries tore us from our conversation.

     Peyton!

     Another hazy blur occurred in the instant or so it took us to race from our table to Peyton’s location.

     Oh, God!

     I put my hand over my mouth and dropped to my knees at the sight of her…remains.  God, how can I describe what I saw?  It was unreal, inhuman, and all together horrifying and unbelievable.

      My sister, my Peyton.

     It was as if she had been burned from the inside out.  All that remained were her charred bones, white with dark ashes and burned fabric from her clothes.

     We screamed and cried, trying to figure out if what we were looking at could actually be our Peyton.  How could this have happened so quickly?  Who could have done this?  Why would anyone do this?

     We were all on the ground, holding on to one another.  Dad gripped his heart, another attack beginning.

     Someone murdered Peyton.

     Someone murdered my sister!

     A policeman was at the scene in an instant.  He was already at the park for a break.  He hushed and moved the crowds of bystanders out of the way in a very professional, yet hasty manner.

     Sergeant Hekridge tried to console us as he called for backup.  I was, we were, in hysterical tears.  I said something along the lines of wishing that someone could do something to make this world a better place.

     Sergeant Hekridge patted me on the shoulder with a firm hand.  “Don’t worry, Chuck,” he promised, “it’s gonna get better real soon.”

     Little did I realize how serious the policeman was or how he was soon to become my personal angel.