June Bug and the Devil (Book 9)

By Charles Wells

Book 9, "June Bug and the Devil," shines brightly as the newest addition to the growing family of the Whispering Pines suspense/paranormal series. This latest adventure is one of the most matchless of the growing series from author Charles E. Wells.

"June Bug" captures the reader inside a plausible world of paranormal tinged suspense, bone jarring excitement, and nail chewing drama.

The plot challenges mainstream theological beliefs about life beyond death and the ability of evil to control the living. The plot lets the reader decide and find their own unique personal conclusion without starting a war between the factions of heaven's promises and hell's consequences. The bottom line argument is whether a good soul suffers when an evil presence lives inside the same body.

As with all Whispering Pines stories, each book stands alone. There are no cliff hangers to create confusion for the reader no matter where in the series they start. One can follow their fancy to pick any title as a starting point because their uniquely constructed layout and plots pays special attention in each book to make sure that no readers left behind in confusion.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Charles Wells
• Release date: Jun 28, 2012
• ISBN: 9781476348391

Charles Wells

I was asked why I'm a writer and responded with the following. I didn't choose writing, it chose me. I've spent the better part of my life (and I'm 60 years old) writing, but I still hesitate to call myself an Author. I've written and published seven books, six are fiction, and still I don't feel like a writer because I don't fit my mental image of one. I don't feel compelled to be the next Mark Twain or Tom Clancy. I don't want to get filthy rich from my writing and I don't care for the glory of being recognized while walking down the street. All I want to do is entertain people and hold that wisp of power and control knowing I can make you laugh, or make you cry. I can take you to heaven or send you straight to hell, all with a few words placed appropriately. I can do in one paragraph what God needs seven days to accomplish. Best of all, I can make you think great thoughts or I can help you dream in a reality that I create. A reality you can enjoin or not with the flip of a book cover or press of a digital reader button. All of this isn't writing, it's insanity and escape for the sake of entertainment.http://www.charleswells.usBefore turning to fiction writing, Wells spent most of his career as a newspaper reporter and journalist in middle Georgia. He covered everything from high school sports to front page news stories. During the last fourteen years of his career he worked as Managing Editor for “The Robins Review” a military town’s 25,000 weekly edition publication. The city’s mixed population of civilian and military called for a unique brand of writing skills that Wells found comfortable supplying. The highlight of his career was in 1988 when a sharply written article was picked up by the national wire services and republished around the world. The topic was the advance of technology in the Air Force’s electronic warfare division and aptly titled “Stone Age to Star Wars.” Copies of the article made it to the desk of then President Ronald Regan who had initially emblazoned the term into the minds of the world.The article also caught the attention of an NBC News Producer as well as ABC’s nightline’s Associate Producer, Terry Irving. The sad news through it all was that just as Wells’ writing career was taking off, his personal world was “going south and silent.” Plagued since childhood by an ongoing progressive hearing loss, Charles Wells lost all usable hearing and went completely deaf. When the handicap peaked, Wells found it impossible to function for the newspaper any longer and resigned at age 38. He fell back on his original “day job” returning to work as an electronics technician at the same military base where he once “entertained the troops.” When his hearing problems also unraveled his efforts there, he threw in the towel, took a disability from service and dropped out of sight for three long years.During that time he switched his writing presentations from the “pomp and ceremony” of print to the more open and space filling approach of the www. The writing needs of that medium grew to an insatiable level as more and more quality articles and information was needed to fill the millions of web pages springing up online. Best of all, those markets offered Wells a “deaf friendly” environment in which to work. He began his new career using old skills after refocusing his talents and adjusting them to the new technology and class of readers it presented. By swapping pen and paper for a keyboard and mouse, he positioned himself on the cusped of the informational highway. Still, he needed to crack the shell and get inside the medium which meant calling on his reputation as an old print writer and trying to capture the younger audiences of the internet.Normally bashful about self promotion, Wells shamelessly flaunted his accomplishments from the newspapers and soon gained the attention of higher ups in the news organizations that were testing the waters to see if there really was an audience online. All those “loud noises” made during his print career opened the doors for Wells and landed him a “digital online” job with CNN News of Atlanta. His “computer based” job description became one of the first “telecommuter” jobs in the world and for the next year he worked from home full time.CNN’s bold move to the internet was followed by a joint venture between computer software giant Microsoft and television’s NBC network. The two companies formed what is today MSNBC and then took CNN’s internet/TV interactive format and ran it deeper into the digital realms of society. Both networks quickly discovered the power behind having instant viewer response taken from “online news chat rooms.” MSNBC realized it faster and quickly moved the concept deeper passing CNN’s online presence during the second year of operations. After that, MSNBC became the envy of every news operation on earth especially to those wanting to work for them on the computer. Wells, still with CNN when MSNBC went flying past, watched and waited, trying to gauge the right moment to attempt a jump over to MSNBC. That moment came when MSNBC hired ABC’s Terry Irving and put him in charge of the “Don Imus in the Morning” simulcast show on the network. Irving’s first order of the day was to start an online interactive chat room and the man he wanted to operate it was Charles Wells. He had quietly spent a lot of time online in the CNN chats and had watched how well Charles had interacted and inspired comments from the users, comments that quite often made it to the bottom of any given news show’s TV’s screen as well.Wells enjoyed the interactivity and fun dealing with regular people online and relaying their questions and responses over to the on air television people. Best of all, his handicap wasn’t an issue or a problem. It never interfered with his work because one didn’t need to hear the words spoken. His computer scrolled them across his screen flawlessly. Still, Wells was a writer at heart and the tug to write fiction adventure stories was still strong but dormant.During the year he stayed at CNN he was constantly asking for web space in which he could write short journalistic features, a concept that today is referred to as “Blogging.” Wells idea was simply too far ahead of the times and his idea fell on deaf yet hearing ears at CNN. When he persisted and then demanded the space, his manager made it clear that CNN was not interested and to not mention it again. They felt that online readers would never sit still long enough to read a thousand words of personal opinions and commentary.Frustrated at the lack of insight shown by his employer, Wells resigned and almost gave up entirely on his attempt to join the web. He was on the verge of unplugging the computer when Terry Irving heard about his departure from CNN and dropped him an email asking if he was interested in opening a new chat room for radio personality Don Imus. Wells agreed to do so on the condition that he would get a small spot on the MSNBC website to write his daily commentary feature. Irving loved the idea and six weeks later, Imus in The Morning on MSNBC took to the air on the same day that “The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly” by Charles Wells hit the MSNBC web pages. It lasted over eight years and Wells never missed a deadline.The highlight, if one cares to look at it that way, of his career at MSNBC happened on that fateful morning of September 11, 2001. Wells was in charge of the morning Imus chat and assisting another host working in the news room chats. Between the two, there were over 150 visitors in the two chat rooms when the first aircraft hit the World Trade Center. His steady and cool handling of site visitors as they flooded in for the latest information, established his reputation as being one of the internet’s top hosts controllers after he juggled a staggering 2400 chatters solo for almost an hour until help could arrive. He then stayed on duty for a solid twelve hours straight.Even with such public exposure under his belt, Wells did not feel quite ready for prime book publishing especially since he was switching from factual reporting to fiction mystery as his genre of choice. After MSNBC ended the chat room days and let Wells and a dozen others go, he stayed below the radar for several years until 2009 when his first fiction novel hit the markets under the name “Sand Hill Estates the Murders.” That book, one of the first classes of digital only books offered online, trudged along quietly with modest sales but drew few raves or reviews outside the mystery community. In 2010 he took the characters and plots and reworked them, then expanded into today’s “Whispering Pines.” From one book grew a six and counting series of fast paced suspense thrillers geared for all age groups. Book seven has a tentative release date of January 2012.On several occasions during interviews, Wells was asked if he had plans yet to eventually wrap and end the series. “I haven’t told all the stories yet so no. At this time I’ve still got one story in progress and two more in mind waiting.”

Book preview

June Bug and the Devil (Whispering Pines Book 9)

Copyright @ Charles E. Wells

Published by Smashwords

From Wellston Publishing Dublin, Georgia 31021

www.wellstonpublishing.com

This book is a work of fiction. References made to real places are intentional but names, characters, incidents and immediate locations are from the author's imagination.

Published at Smashwords for Wellston Publishing

Dublin, Georgia 31021

www.wellstonpublishing.com

First published June 2012

"This book is dedicated to those who can talk religious theology without resorting to guns and knives to force their beliefs down your throat.

Table of Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

About The Author

Chapter 1

(9 years earlier, Savannah, Georgia)

Ron Delaney left the Church that evening feeling unsure whether he would get the job as Youth Director of Savannah Holiness Church or not. The interviewing board had not argued his salary request, which seemed odd, so he assumed they could afford him easily enough. After all, they had 780 dedicated, tithe-paying members of the congregation, which added up to a lot of money, ten percent of each family's income. Nonetheless, Ron knew his being hired rested with the decisions made and conveyed by the two dictators perched atop the hierarchy of the eleven-member board he had just faced for an hour.

The majority of the board would not decide so much as rubber stamp the decisions of the two members that held the true and hidden reins of power. The board was a dictatorship masquerading as a democracy and it did not take Ron long to realize it. He had picked out two quickly during the first question and answer round.

Do you, Mister Delaney…, the youngest member on the committee asked, …accept Jesus Christ as your only lord and savior?

After his affirmative response and testimony, nine sets of eyes snapped to the two men at the head of the conference table and through some unspoken language they conveyed their reactions to the others looking. That is when Ron realized they were puppets waiting on the two marionettes to pull their strings, or issue guidance one might call it, to hand Ron a thumbs up or thumbs down approval reaction to his answer.

That is how it went for the entire interview. A question asked would receive a heartfelt sounding reply, and then all eyes turned to the masters for appropriate reactions. Now that it was over, Ron walked away from the meeting hall knowing who held the power which was a good thing to know in case he got the job.

Standing on the curb by the street, Ron glanced at his watch and read 8:49 PM. A three-hour drive home meant he would get little sleep before time to head off to his day job outside of religion. He hated the idea and considered calling in sick in the morning and then going back to sleep. Right then, he wanted to go home and start packing instead of rise at 6 AM and heading off to work at the Auto Parts store on Main Street. His heart had been telling him for years that God had things planned for him that didn't include chasing down the correct part number for a distributor cap to go on a 350 Chevy Engine.

Ron glanced across the street at a beat up old car parked there and whispered, Come on God, give me this one thing so I can get started doing your work with the young people.

Reaching up to his necktie and loosening it, he checked the street both ways for traffic and stepped off the curb heading for the car. He was less than ten feet away when something dark and huge, lunged out of the nearby bushes, sprang into the air and then landed on top of his car with a metallic thud. He had to force himself not to scream for help, at least, not yet. He needed to identify the threat and then decide on screaming, running, wetting his pants, or all three of the above.

Such a reaction was not totally out of character for a person like Ron. He was standing in a dark, big city street that was almost wider than his hometown Main Street was long. He was a small town boy with little experience about the realities of such metropolitan areas of Georgia. He read the papers that showed how crime and corruption in such cities seemed rampant. When one would go there, it left them expecting to find crime and corruption on every avenue from the Mall to River Street. Such places, in the minds of small town citizens, were horror chambers filled with street muggings, murders, and illegal drugs.

So Ron's first reaction when something large and black suddenly leapt out of the darkness onto the roof of his car, was that he was about to be mugged, possibly shot and killed, for the eleven dollars he had folded up in his pants pockets.

As he stood frozen, motionless, the thing on the car raised its head and suddenly two bright red eyes were glaring straight at him. This thing wasn't human, it was animal and in the shadowy outline, Ron could tell that it was a cat of some type. A large cat, too large to be domesticated but not large enough to be a lion escaped from the zoo. Either way, the cat was wild but the color of its night eyes were wrong. House cats or otherwise, gave off a greenish glow in reflected lights while this cat had eyes of intense red. Evil eyes like none he had ever seen from man or beast.

The rear of the animal suddenly rose upward on its two hind legs and locked those red eyes on Ron like a gun laser. It was going to attack and he knew it, he felt it, he saw it, yet no amount of panic and fear could force his body to follow the commands of his instincts to turn and run. The animal's eyes kept him from doing anything but standing there, waiting for the attack to take place. The cat suddenly sprang off the car's roof into the air, landing paws first on Ron's loose tie. The force drove his body backwards but not to the ground.

The next morning he awoke lying in bed, listening to the angry buzz of the alarm clock. In his thoughts, he had left the interview the night before and driven home, gone to bed, and fallen asleep. There was no memory of the cat, the attack, the merging of the cat's body into that of his own. To Ron, the night before was nothing but an uneventful, three hour drive home in a car that almost didn't make it due to a fussy alternator bearing.

(Present Day and Time)

Deputy Sheriff, Randy Williams, almost didn't get there in time. The patrol car had barely stopped rolling when he slammed the gearshift into park and jumped out. Fidgeting with the zipper on the front of his pants, he glanced up and down the deserted road and then took several steps forward away from the car. His head felt like it was about to explode from holding back the demands of his bladder.

Finally, after barely clearing his pants safely, the flow was immediate and super strong, much like releasing a high-pressure garden hose. Oh man, he cried aloud into the darkness around him.

The release sent chill bumps up and down his body causing him to shiver several times and his eyes watered slightly. The Georgia night air was humid, sticky even at such an early hour, and the tee shirt underneath his uniform was soaked in sweat from the strains of the last call in which he had responded . That call, one of the most dangerous for a police officer, was a domestic call where he had to separate fighting drunks who were also husband and wife. Since neither wanted to press charges, he put them on opposite ends of their mobile home and warned them to stay that way until the next morning. They probably wouldn't, but he didn't have time to arrest them. He had to pee and that was that.

As he pulled out of the trailer park, he knew he would never be able to hold on for the twelve mile ride to the truck stop by the interstate. His mind searched for a safe place then remembered the old Stanley Church dirt road a half mile away. He spun the steering wheel hard right and pulled out on the highway. He could go there because it was a narrow, clay topped side road unused at night for anything except teenagers parking.

As his eyes stopped watering from the relief, his ears started picking up the sound of footsteps on the hard topped clay surface. They were alarmingly close and sounded as though the person was coming up behind the car. Randy quickly cut off the flow and zipped up his pants. Who's there? He said aloud as he squinted into the darkness.

A male voice said, Oh, it's nobody of any concern to you, Deputy. You just go on about your business there and I'll stand back a ways until you are finished.

Randy stepped back to the door of the patrol car, leaned inside and removed a flashlight clipped to the dash. He stood back up and pointed it in the direction of the voice. When he clicked it on, a figure appeared in the beam's light and the voice from it said, I didn't mean to startle you son. Is it okay if I come on up there to you now?

Instead, Randy started walking toward the old black man who waited ten or so feet behind the patrol car. His first gut reaction was that some old guy with Alzheimer's had wandered away from home in the middle of the night. That would be the only explanation for him being out this late on a back road. Then he realized he must have driven right past this guy. How could he have not seen him walking on the road? Where had he been hiding when the patrol car went past? Sir, he asked as he neared the old man while keeping the light beam steady on his elderly face. It's kind of late to be out walking in the dark. Are you okay?

Oh, I'm just fine and dandy, Officer Williams. How about you? How are you doing on this beautiful night?

Randy stopped a few feet away and looked the guy over. His face was aged but not old per se. A white scraggly beard covered most of the lower half of it and then Randy noticed the olive brown eyes. They were alert, bright, clear, and attentive. How did you know my name sir and may I ask you yours? Do you live around here?

Oh my now, Officer, that's a heap of questions to be tossing out all at once. Let me see, my name is Jim but most everyone calls me Uncle Jim, not because we are blood kin, but because of my age. You can feel free to call me that too if you like.

Randy felt no threats coming from the old guy so he relaxed and let his right hand fall away from the handle of his gun. Until that second, he hadn't realize it was hovering over the weapon's handle, something caused by his training. Okay, Uncle Jim. How did you know my name?

Well Officer, your name is on that shiny gold name badge on the right side of your shirt there. It says R. Williams but I guess my spooking you from out of the dark like this caused you to forget that, didn't it?

Randy smiled and then sighed. I'm embarrassed sir is all. I shouldn't be doing that out here and I do apologize if this is your road.

Oh that's fine, son. When a man has to go, he just has to go and you seemed to need it bad.

Oh I did, I promise you. Now my other question, do you live around here Uncle Jim? I don’t recall seeing you out this way before.

I like to tell folks who ask me that question, that I live on down the road a ways, so let that be your answer Officer Williams, will that be fair enough?

Randy smiled. How about I give you a ride home then. I can't turn the car around right here in this narrow area of the road anyhow, so I'm heading that way. Let me drop you off at your house. How far away is it?

Oh it's not so far and I'd be much obliged to you for doing that.

Randy pointed back at the car with the flashlight and said, Well come on then Uncle Jim and let's get going before one of us steps on a rattlesnake out here in the dark. You'll have to ride in the back seat though because I can't allow passengers up front with me. It's regulations.

Oh that will be fine. I don't mind.

Randy turned and walked back to the rear door of the car and opened it. Uncle Jim got in quickly enough for a man his age. Randy closed it gently then got in up front. The protection cage between the front and back seats was nothing more than wire mesh rather than the more modern plexiglass used by the State units, so lack of isolation in this case, seemed good enough with a harmless passenger in the back seat.

Randy put the car in gear, turned the headlights back on, and then started forward slowly. He looked at the old man's face in the rearview mirror and those olive brown eyes locked on his. The stare was almost relaxing and soothing somehow. How was that possible?

Uncle Jim said, I tell you Randy, it's just a beautiful night outside this car of yours. Do you mind if I open one of the windows back here?

Randy tapped the brakes and stopped the car, then peered intently at the face in the mirror. I'm sorry but those windows don't open, Uncle Jim. Now let me ask you again. This name tag on my shirt tells you the first letter of my name and spells out the last one. You just called me Randy and that ain't on the badge. How do you know me? Where have we met before?

Uncle Jim grinned and said, Oh, we've met before, way back yonder but you won't remember me. It was your Grandfather who knew me well.

My Grandfather died before I was born, Uncle Jim, so I don't know him. When and where have you and I met, is the question I asked.

You and I, Randy, have never met face to face before, but I know you and I knew your Grandfather. Now let's just skip this part for a few minutes and you hear me out if you would. I'll do the talkin' while you keep this wagon we are riding in from running off into one of them deep rain ditches on either side of this path, okay?

Something in Randy's mind trusted the old guy but for the life of him, he had no idea why. He nodded and said, Okay, but yell when I get close to your house.

Oh I'll do just that, now let's giddy up and get going?

Randy took his foot off the brakes and pressed the gas pedal. Once again, the car started forward. When it was moving at a reasonable speed for such a road, he looked back at the face in the mirror and asked, Okay Uncle Jim. How did you know my first name and my Grandfather? You don't look old enough to have known him.

Uncle Jim grinned. Oh, looks is a funny thing, you know? It's hard to tell from a man's looks just how old he might be. I've seen young men that looked your age who were a lot older in their way of thinking than they were in body and spirit. I've also seen men who looked older than me but they were hardly grown adults in their minds. Do you understand what I mean by that?

Randy nodded. I think you are saying that some men grow up fast and others never grow up at all, is that it?

That's about it, yes sir, you do understand me. Now on down the road here a little ways there's a Church house, you know the one I mean?

Yes sir, it's Stanley Church, about a half mile ahead I think. Do you live close by?

Well you can drop me there if you would, and I can get on back home from there.

"But Uncle Jim, I aim to take you right to your front door. That would be safer than letting you walk alone in the dark. There are snakes and other animals roaming about in this area, as I'm sure you well know. It's too dangerous to be out here without a flashlight to see where you are