it be? Had the Amazon man raised all the dead in Cotter? Oh God, no.
He turned around away from her, so he wouldn’t have to look her in the eyes when he said goodbye.
Gardenia closed the door behind him. They were going to hunt him down like a dog. And in her heart, she knew it was the right thing to do. They may have killed him for the wrong reasons. But now they had no choice. This time they would kill him for the right reasons.
She turned around, her back to the door and collapsed to the floor. He wasn’t human anymore. He was a man awake from the dead.
Project Lazarus was a success. A disaster. It also was the death of her only close friend. He was in her soul. And now she was just a lonely soul. He was a dead soul walking around with nowhere to go.
She sobbed into her hands. She knew it would be best if they found him and not her.
Being helpless wasn’t her strong suit. She grabbed her coat and flew out of apartment 9 at the Golden Break Bridge Complex. If Travis was out there, maybe she could find him first. No, that was the wrong thing to do. Maybe she could find him after he died again and help him to the other side. God was that possible? Wait a minute what about God? Where was he in all this? Did this finally end her debate about faith with God? Or had this simply answered her faith?
For a moment, heading down the stairs, she thought about the miracle of seeing Travis Hill one more time. A miracle of God. The smile quickly washed off her porcelain face. This was no miracle. It was evil. She wanted to find Travis. But she needed to find the Amazon man first.
Chapter 9- Revenge Served Cold
Amanda Cole woke up in a quarry. Her jeans bloody, her plaid check red and black shirt stained with blood too.
She ran her fingers through her hair, blood there too, matted. It was a gruesome ugly scene but her death was much the same.
She climbed up from the hole she dug herself out of, her hands clawing at the dry dirt, almost clay-like. She definitely looked like something out of a horror movie.
Her killer left her callously in that shallow grave over two years ago, when he killed her. When Jake Mustarn killed her. Yes, that was his name. Somehow, it burnished through her very alive mind now.
Jake Mustam. Jake Mustam. Jake Mustam. The name kept whirling through her mind like a broken record. She was tuned into some odd radio station. And that station demanded its listener for revenge.
Crawling now through the wet grass, her legs unable, unwilling or unknowing how to walk. She took it slow. Using her hands, as anchors, she lifted her body slowly through the weeds and grass until she was upright. Walking.
This was deserted forest. This was unfamiliar territory. All of it. Her mind focused back on that radio station and it kept playing….Jake Mustam.
A stream of consciousness fought her unconsciousness. It begged for her attention. She was dead. She was alive. She was gone. She was back. She wanted it all at once- the peace of death and the redemption of living.
She fell to the ground, grasping her head, which felt like an ever tightening noose gripping around her. She rested in the grass. How did she get there? She couldn’t remember.
Oh yes, she woke up from being buried alive. No, she was buried dead. The facts were a blur. She was alive again.
She got up with a new fervor for the living part of her. Jake Mustam was on her mind again.
She had to find him. He was the one that left her there to die in that handmade grave. He left her all alone. He knew why. She knew too. But that wasn’t important. All that mattered now was the song playing on the radio. It was telling her to kill him. Kill Jake Mustam. Exact her revenge. Kill the man that killed you.
But how? She was out in the
He turned around away from her, so he wouldn’t have to look her in the eyes when he said goodbye.
Gardenia closed the door behind him. They were going to hunt him down like a dog. And in her heart, she knew it was the right thing to do. They may have killed him for the wrong reasons. But now they had no choice. This time they would kill him for the right reasons.
She turned around, her back to the door and collapsed to the floor. He wasn’t human anymore. He was a man awake from the dead.
Project Lazarus was a success. A disaster. It also was the death of her only close friend. He was in her soul. And now she was just a lonely soul. He was a dead soul walking around with nowhere to go.
She sobbed into her hands. She knew it would be best if they found him and not her.
Being helpless wasn’t her strong suit. She grabbed her coat and flew out of apartment 9 at the Golden Break Bridge Complex. If Travis was out there, maybe she could find him first. No, that was the wrong thing to do. Maybe she could find him after he died again and help him to the other side. God was that possible? Wait a minute what about God? Where was he in all this? Did this finally end her debate about faith with God? Or had this simply answered her faith?
For a moment, heading down the stairs, she thought about the miracle of seeing Travis Hill one more time. A miracle of God. The smile quickly washed off her porcelain face. This was no miracle. It was evil. She wanted to find Travis. But she needed to find the Amazon man first.
Chapter 9- Revenge Served Cold
Amanda Cole woke up in a quarry. Her jeans bloody, her plaid check red and black shirt stained with blood too.
She ran her fingers through her hair, blood there too, matted. It was a gruesome ugly scene but her death was much the same.
She climbed up from the hole she dug herself out of, her hands clawing at the dry dirt, almost clay-like. She definitely looked like something out of a horror movie.
Her killer left her callously in that shallow grave over two years ago, when he killed her. When Jake Mustarn killed her. Yes, that was his name. Somehow, it burnished through her very alive mind now.
Jake Mustam. Jake Mustam. Jake Mustam. The name kept whirling through her mind like a broken record. She was tuned into some odd radio station. And that station demanded its listener for revenge.
Crawling now through the wet grass, her legs unable, unwilling or unknowing how to walk. She took it slow. Using her hands, as anchors, she lifted her body slowly through the weeds and grass until she was upright. Walking.
This was deserted forest. This was unfamiliar territory. All of it. Her mind focused back on that radio station and it kept playing….Jake Mustam.
A stream of consciousness fought her unconsciousness. It begged for her attention. She was dead. She was alive. She was gone. She was back. She wanted it all at once- the peace of death and the redemption of living.
She fell to the ground, grasping her head, which felt like an ever tightening noose gripping around her. She rested in the grass. How did she get there? She couldn’t remember.
Oh yes, she woke up from being buried alive. No, she was buried dead. The facts were a blur. She was alive again.
She got up with a new fervor for the living part of her. Jake Mustam was on her mind again.
She had to find him. He was the one that left her there to die in that handmade grave. He left her all alone. He knew why. She knew too. But that wasn’t important. All that mattered now was the song playing on the radio. It was telling her to kill him. Kill Jake Mustam. Exact her revenge. Kill the man that killed you.
But how? She was out in the
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