Prologue

Year: 2003




It would have been the military, had they not found out about his condition. Law school would have been paid for then. Jesse got in though...Cecil’s best friend out of high school. He later died after laying past out in the front seat of a car. The driver fell asleep at the wheel after leaving a bar one Saturday night off a narrow tree lined road outside of Rohr, Germany. He could have lived, Cecil was told, had his body not shifted. ‘...as the breathing pattern stabilized, his semi-conscious state tried to make sense of the incident.’ It was speculated. ‘The blood dripping from his forehead pooled beneath him, and his own weight dragged him back atop the blood coupled in the crevice of the crumpled metal, as he lay on the hood of the car, engulfing his nose and mouth.’ Cecil’s dreams of law died then, as well.



Cecil King left his cubicle and headed out of the office, as twenty or so other rat like creatures walked their way out of the maze as well, complaining of rude people on the phone, sick children at home and on and on. And as he looked around it struck him, he was the only male in the common area and like a good fantasy gone astray most of the others were fairly obese and didn't care much that he was there.

Still, as Cecil's wife reminded him, even though he made only half of what many of his lawyer friends were earning now, many others he knew were unemployed.



Cecil took the one remaining empty seat on the bus across the aisle from what appeared to be a homeless man or at least a man in dire straights. Cecil could not help but to notice that the destitute man was hopelessly fidgeting around with something in his shirt. Desperately trying to ignore the man but being too curious not to glance, Cecil quickly turned his head so as not to be rude for staring. But as Cecil turned back once again he noticed the man moving toward his side of the bus in a rapid motion. There was only three feet between the rows of seats and no time for Cecil to react. Before he could even draw a new breath of air, there was a gun being pressed to his right temple and the hammer of the pistol being pulled back ever so slowly.

Quickly the gravity of the situation set in as people scurried to put as much distance between the gunman, Cecil, and themselves. The bus driver reacted by pulling the bus off the road in a woody part of Connecticut and continuing down a dirt road filled with branches and leaves but not well traveled by motor vehicles. During the commotion Cecil did not realize the bus driver had not pulled off the road to reduce the tension of the situation, but was on a pre-defined course.

A woman near the back of the bus yelled with a shaky voice, "Where are you going?! What's going on?!"

The bus driver, however, was unresponsive and continued at a high rate of speed down the narrow dirt road with the bus swaying left to right as it tried to remain with all wheels on the ground, rising and dropping over small hills and valleys in the road and finding every pothole and crevice.

Sweat started to roll down Cecil's forehead as he tried desperately to stop his hands from shaking. He slowly clenched his fists, then opened them in an attempt to relieve his anxiety. Cecil hoped the gunman wouldn't notice how frightened he really was. He had never remained so still in his life.

Cecil searched his mind for any means of escape. He thought of adventure books he had read and movies he had watched where heroes had escaped from impossible situations. But this was real life and no escape was feasible. What could he do? Every event in his life flashed with intensity before his eyes and with them bringing more fear that the feelings each memory carried would never be felt again. His wife's eyes...so beautiful, gazing through the memories of his consciousness, desperately calling him to come closer; but would he ever be able to again? Would he ever be able to hear the sounds of his soon to be born child calling 'Daddy'.

"Why, why are you doing this?" demanded Cecil.

"You will find out soon enough if you cooperate," the gunman stated.

Cecil now realized this was not an act of random violence and that he was the intended target. He felt himself searching for reasons why an unknown gunman would want to abduct or kill an accountant. But, at least by speaking, Cecil felt he had broken some ground.

He said with a continued growth of courage, "Are you out of your..." Cecil said before everything went blank as the butt of the pistil found the back of his head. His body then lost all muscle control, dropping his forehead directly into the metal hand rest of the seat in front of him. A small amount of blood dripped down his head along the ear and across his check. There was a scream from the front of the bus, and then silence. The driver quickly pulled off to the side of the dirt road where only grass and no trees had grown. He slid out from under his seat a sawed off shotgun and fired off two rounds into the radio. Several people screamed.

"Let's go Larry," yelled the driver.

"Get the gas tanks," Larry yelled back.

The driver quickly ran off the bus and within ten seconds two blasts could be heard from behind the bus. A woman broke down into a whimpering sob.

"Oh, my God," said a male passenger.

As Larry dragged Cecil off the bus, he yelled back at the passengers, "do not leave the area for one hour or you will be killed. Is that clear?"

Several passengers nodded in acknowledgment, without saying a word. Fear had sent most of them into temporary shock. Some were visibly shaking.

*****

With every movement he took in awakening to the world, the discomfort, unknown in origin, became more intense. The simplicity and fruitless folly that he had experienced in his unconscious state was now dissipating with every gasp of breath, with the light becoming that much more noticeable. Cecil could feel a touch and hear some voices.

"Cecil, can you hear me?" asked Nancy. She turned to the others in the room. "Why did you have to strike him so hard?"

"Larry carried out his task perfectly," Patrick explained. "The sequence of events occurred just as planned. Most importantly, his disappearance was absolute. No clues could be left behind. My objective must be achieved no matter what the cost."