Rapture: Where are our Children (A Serial Novel) Episode 3 of 9

Rapture: Where are our Children

(A Serial Novel) Episode 3 0f 9

By Gary Sapp

Copyright 2014 Gary Sapp

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Smashwords Edition, License Notes

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Table of Contents:

Our Story so Far

Chris

Roxanne

Xavier

Louis

Roxanne

Angel

Roxanne

Seth

Chris

Louis

Sneak Peak at Past Prologue

Dedication

Nest Egg Publishing Note

Nest Egg Publishing Presents Where are our Children

Where to find this author online

Our Story so Far:

While incarcerated as an inmate at Calhoun State Prison in southwest Georgia, Xavier Prince, the leader of A House in Chains, confronts Michael Davenport; a man that he believes has knowledge of what turns out to be the 411 attacks upstate in Atlanta. Serena Tennyson and her Pandora associates carry out the highly coordinated, highly lethal attacks weeks later against the Andrew Young Youth Center, The Fox Theatre and the mayor of the city itself, Ernestine Johnson. On her deathbed, rotting away from a yet to be identified poison, Mayor Johnson enlist the aid of Thomas Pepper, a freelance reporter, to find out the answers to the three questions that every Person of Color in America wants to know. The FBI recruits a renowned Clinical Psychologist, Dr. Angel Hicks-Dupree to consult on the crisis in Atlanta—and after a confrontation with her husband, Dr. Seth Dupree, she reluctantly agrees to help. Her childhood friend, Special Agent Christopher Prince, turns out to be one of the hostages being held at the Fox Theatre. Meanwhile, his half-brother, Xavier, is confronted with his own problems as a siege breaks out at Calhoun Prison on the eve of his scheduled release. In the meantime, Christopher Prince escapes the theatre alive, but immediately faces a new predicament when he receives a series of text messages that his 20 year old stepdaughter has come up missing.

Roxanne Sanchez, formerly of the FBI’s training program, is now a private detective and has been hired by Chris’ ex-wife Denise to find her daughter Erica. Roxanne can tell from her conversations with both parents that they are hiding a deep dark secret from their time together as a family. Serena Tennyson show up at Thomas Pepper’s townhouse looking to confess on his blog for her role in the deadly 411 attacks as well as present a new warning to a House in Chains and all People of Color: Xavier Prince and his organization is to stand down or face a new round of attacks centered at Atlanta’s children. The FBI, led by Agent Prince, capture her, but not before paying a high price in casualties. Xavier learns of a plot to kill him upon his exit from Calhoun Prison as a volatile siege and riot takes place. Serena sees a series of frightening visions including the much prophesized Whirlwind coming to fruition. Yet, it is in real life where she is traumatized after being nearly raped by an APD police officer. After she and Thomas Pepper give separate but hotly contested interviews with the bureau, she escapes in a series of daring synchronized stages that leaves Christopher Prince and the FBI befuddled. After celebrating her freedom with her closest Pandora agents Serena instructs an increasingly fragile Louis Keaton to begin rapturing Atlanta’s children.

Chris

Denise Prince:

She was a brown skinned Person of Color who had an hour glass shape. She had light hazel eyes, high cheek bones and wore her curly hair weave to her shoulders. He had always loved a how creative his ex-wife could be with her hair. Today she wore streaks of auburn and chestnut tinted strands that highlighted the color in her eyes. She was 35 years old, four years his junior, and was drawing her usual attention from male passerby’s, even dressed in hospital fatigues. He watched her slide into one of the last available booths inside Parker’s Real Soul Food Restaurant and then sat on the opposite side of her.

40 minutes later Denise was working on her last piece of today’s special, baby back ribs which had looked tasty and smelled better. Special Agent Christopher Prince stabbed at the one of his two chunks of grilled chicken from his salad. Parker’s had been around since he’d been a kid. No one in the Deep South did soul food better…but grilled chicken salad doesn’t quite fit the bill as soul food now does it? If the life and death episodes he’d faced at the Fox Theatre and the high speed car chase in pursuit of what he thought was Serena Tennyson through the streets of Atlanta didn’t motivate him to lose the extra pounds, then nothing would.

He had a pain in his gut. Damn. They’d been coming a little too often and to sharp in severity as of late for his liking. He tried to put his best face forward. He didn’t want to discuss any of his biological issues with Denise, though the alternative, the reason they had agreed to meet for lunch in the first place, wasn’t going to be pleasant either.

No Pork chops, Chris? She pointed a greasy finger at his plate before she wiped her hands with the wet naps. It took her several swipes to get her fingers clean for a final time. Now I truly know the world is coming to an end. Her hazel eyes found his glass of Ginger Ale warming in his hand. I guess you’ll be giving that up next.

He stopped picking at the chicken long enough to look up from his plate and forced himself into a smile. He seemed to always be doing that in the ten years they were married, gritting his teeth and trying to stave off another confrontation. Just trying to scale back a little bit, Despite his best efforts, he felt himself getting angry. Why don’t we talk about something else?

Why don’t we? Denise powdered her nose and cheeks and applied a very light shade of red to her thin lips. She’d gone from nine and a half on the beauty scale to a perfect ten in an instant. An instrumental jazz tune blared through the speakers that Chris knew his brother Xavier would have appreciated it more than he did. But this high paced horn solo with the dark overture served as a perfect theme song for the woman who sat across from him. Yes, you can be jazzy can’t you, Denise? "I haven’t heard from Roxanne today. It’s 12:30pm and so far she’s given me a daily report no later than noon. Would you happen to know anything about that, sir?"

Sir was Denise’s code word to Chris that she was on the fringes of being particularly irritated or being particularly playful with him. He always braced himself for the former until it was proven otherwise. I spoke to her this morning. Chris sucked the last of his drink from his glass and sat it down with some emphasis near her hoping that she his subtle message that Roxanne would be going through his channels first, from this point on.

"What do you mean you spoke to her?"

Yes, I spoke to her. Chris said without hesitation. I was going to bring that up here, today. I believe that Roxanne should report directly to me twice a day until Eric is found. She’ll be calling me again around 10pm tonight. Denise rolled her hazel eyes at him, but so far all he could hear was Parker’s noisy patrons and the Jazz music that had moved on to a piano solo now. I wrote her a check yesterday. I know you have a lot on your plate that includes a ton of bills. If and when she finds something I’ll let you know. I promise.

Something won out inside Denise and her face softened. She nodded her head and rubbed her hands together, silently sending the message to him that he would take his advice and lead in this—at least for right now.

Does she have your full confidence?

Scotty recommended her to you, Denise. Even if I didn’t already know her from her stint in the FBI’s Training Program, his recommendation alone would be enough for me. Chris said. Benjamin Scott had worked 37 years for various law enforcement agencies. More importantly, he along with Angel’s father, Tyler Hicks, was the two men on the planet that Chris’ father trusted explicability. In fact, Roxanne told me that she had scheduled an interview with a source tonight.

Denise sipped at her lemonade through her straw until she found the bottom of her glass at last. Scotty told Chris that Denise didn’t give him any particulars about why she needed to hire a private detective when she sought his advice. Whatever the matter was, his mentor and friend had said to him last night, I felt she deserved someone who would work hard for her, who was honest and wouldn’t rip her off. And when Chris asked him why he didn’t share this information with him after she came to him for the recommendation he smiled tightly and said, because you two are still at point beyond dissolution if I recall. Her business is not your business, Old Man.

When Denise put her glass down at last the room had quieted enough for him to get on with his unpleasant business with her. He had already picked his ex-wife’s brain about the when’s and the where’s of Erica’s whereabouts and so far they’d come up empty. Now, he wanted some answers to the next obvious question rattling along in a parent’s brain. Why didn’t you come to me directly when you thought Erica turned up missing?

Denise shrugged her shoulders once. "Look, Chris, I know how you feel about my daughter."

Chris felt a new wave of anger wash over him. How I feel about her? Chris exhaled threw his nostrils. "I want you to remember that I felt enough for her to help raise her since she was like six or seven years old, Denise. I care about what happens to her."

But you don’t love her, Chris. You never have loved her.

Of course I… Chris’ words lost their traction and they fell off a cliff.

You see what I mean, Denise’s laugh held no humor. You can’t even lie to me and say it. Damn you, Chris, Erica didn’t mean to hurt you the way she did.

Chris leaned in close. The barbecue sauce on Denise’s ribs had been spiced in honey and he could smell it on her breath. Then what other name would you have for it? He asked her and noted that they’re little exchange had brought on some curious glances from the other the patrons whose tables and booths were closest to theirs. Chris stood up to wave the attention of the teenaged waitress down while flashing his bureau shield bright and shiny to anyone who might pay too much attention to their private conversation. Check please,

They walked the half a block necessary to reach their parked cars. A strong gust of smoky, cold wind hit both of them in the face. Chris tried and failed to distinguish whether this particular whiff was from Parker’s grill or from one of the dozen forest fires that continued to plague the metro area. No matter what you say, Denise, it took a well thought out process to attempt to pull what that girl—

Denise pressed a breast against his shoulder when they reached her Civic. I prayed for you the other night.

Did you?

Denise frowned and he knew it wasn’t because of the smoke or the cold wind. Why wouldn’t I, Chris? She folded her arms over and planted her butt on the Civics’ driver side door. My God, you work for one of the most high profile agencies in the country, Chris. Between the explosion at the youth center and the hostages being held at the theatre, I knew that you were involved in all that somehow. Denise’s gaze softened once again. Of course, I had no idea you were one of those people being held inside Fox until after it was already over.

I’m sorry, Chris put his hands on her shoulders. I couldn’t have been easy for you not knowing where Erica was and then adding all of that madness to your life that involved me as well.

"And we opened the Triage Center at Atlanta General for the first time since