Here is the exciting prologue to my newest book, “The Theophany.” Enjoy!
Jeremiah
***
The heavens opened as God wept.
Rain poured from the sky onto the city. It was not a major city. Population of around one-hundred thousand. The people who lived in the country surrounding it referred to it as “the city”, but those who lived there knew better. That title belonged to the bigger cities. The ones foreigners would know and come visit. The ones where movies were filmed.
This particular city street was empty. The weather had driven all sane people indoors. Even if it hadn’t been raining, it was late enough that all the shops were closed. Everyone was safely home by now. Well, almost everyone. At the far end of the street, city bus number “512” slowed and turned onto it, water splashing from its tires. As it came down the street and approached the corner, the bus came to a stop. The lighted sign on the front switched to “Out of Service” and the door opened.
Inside the bus, the few remaining passengers worked their way to the front to brave the downpour. They passed the bus driver without even acknowledging him. Their minds were firmly fixed on how soaked they were about to get as one by one they stepped out of the shelter of the bus. The driver, wearing a uniform with “Don” stitched on the left side, took no offense. His eyes were glued to his cell phone.
Don was in his late fifties with a noticeable, but not gigantic, beer belly. His receding hair was now more gray than black. He had a five o’clock shadow and a round face.
But none of that mattered to her. He smiled as he responded to her latest text message.
Don:
That was the dirtiest thing I have ever read. :)
555-3927:
It soon will be the dirtiest thing you evr did, big boy <3 Are you sure you can’t come tonight? I simply can’t wait until tomorrow…
Don:
Yeah, the misses will get suspicious. Don’t worry. We will have all weekend tomorrow after my shift. She thinks I’m going golfing with the boys. She said she was glad I was getting some exercise.
555-3927:
Oh, you’ll be getting “exercize” alright ;) ttyl, lover
Don smiled as he put his phone back in his pocket. Oh, Sheila. He had met her a couple weeks ago at a bar. They had briefly been high school sweethearts but parted ways after graduation and hadn’t spoken in about thirty years. He had met his current wife in college and had been married now for thirty-one years, four of them happy.
It’s not like he and his wife were unhappy, per se. Life just devolved into a monotonous grind. The kids came early in their marriage. The passion of their early relationship was slowly extinguished by years of diapers then school then kid’s sports then college then cycling through the baby birds returning to the nest. Don found himself unemployed when the factory closed seven years ago and got this job after a lengthy stint of unemployment. His wife stuck out her job teaching at the high school and was finally getting paid decent money.
Now with their youngest finally being out of the house, they were financially comfortable and primed to enjoy life.
But it was too late for Don. His wife had long ago lost that spark of youthful beauty. It had been snatched away by childbirth then motherhood followed by years on her feet teaching kids. He would never say it out loud, but on her best day, she was plain. It was a good word to describe their marriage, too. Plain. Vanilla. Boring.
Inertia and the fear of the unknown kept Don faithful for the last fifteen years. Until that fateful Friday night. He had finished his route and went to the bar to hang out with the boys. None of them happened to be there, but Sheila was. Her term of endearment “lover” was not factually correct yet. She had kept him at first base back in high school and they hadn’t had the opportunity to go further than that since rekindling their passion.
But that would change this weekend.
In the back of his mind, Don felt a small twinge of guilt. He knew this would hurt his wife, but when he was with Sheila, he didn’t care. Hell, even just thinking about Sheila was intoxicating enough to make Don believe he could get away with the affair. He hadn’t felt like this in decades. Damn the consequences, but it was good to feel alive again.
Don glanced up in the mirror to make sure the bus was empty. Something caught his eye. He looked more closely. Someone was still in a window seat about halfway back. It looked like they were asleep with their head resting against the window.
“Hey! Pal! Last stop. Time to get off,” Don yelled as the rain began to increase in intensity.
The person remained motionless. Maybe they couldn’t hear him over the rain? Don turned around and yelled again.
“Come on, pal! It’s the last stop!”
Nothing.
With a grumble, Don got up from his seat and started back towards the person.
“Come on, buddy. Don’t do this to me…” Don complained as he approached.
Moving closer, Don could see it was a man wearing a white sweatshirt with the hood pulled up obscuring his face. Leaning his head against the window, the man didn’t move a muscle. Don couldn’t even tell if he was breathing.
Great. He is probably passed out on booze or drugs. Don sighed and wondered how long this was going to delay him getting home.
As he approached, the rain intensified, like it wanted to break through the roof. Don felt a tingling sensation in his arm as well as panic rising inside him. Realizing he had been holding his breath, Don stopped for a moment and breathed in deeply through his nose. He ignored the slight buckling of his knees as he continued down the aisle. It felt like he was sneaking up on a wild animal that could wake and devour him at any moment.
Don wanted to stop, to turn and run, but amidst the pang of fear a much stronger force drew him closer. As if connected, the rain reached a crescendo, pounding the roof of the bus in rhythm with the thumping of his heart. Passing the final few seats, he remembered to breathe, but it came shallow and ragged.
Finally, Don found himself standing in the aisle, staring at the hooded man.
“You… you okay, pal?” Don softly asked the motionless figure.
Slowly and with great hesitation, Don inched closer then reached out to the man’s shoulder to try to shake him awake.
In a blurry flash of movement, the man turned and lunged towards Don. The hooded man’s left hand came around and held onto the back of Don’s neck. Shocked and stunned, Don looked down to see the hooded man’s right hand. It held the gold-colored handle of a knife.
A knife that was being pressed firmly into Don’s chest.
Right into his heart.
* * *
From the outside, if anyone had been around to see, the hooded man leaned forward and whispered something into the bus driver’s ear. He then gently guided the limp body down out of sight.
The hooded man reemerged to stand tall, putting his hands into his sweatshirt’s front pocket. He walked calmly to the front and exited the bus. Ignoring the downpour, he stopped and looked around briefly, as if to make sure there was no one to witness what just happened. Once satisfied, he moved at a steady pace despite the weather, he crossed the street and disappeared into the night.
When he was gone, a man emerged from the shadows of a nearby alley. His dark skin was only a shade lighter than the black clothing of his hooded sweatshirt making it seem as if he was formed out of shadow itself. Eyes locked onto his prey, he hurried to follow after the white hooded man.