The Justice Coalition

By Victor Travison

What if you were disabled, and discovered you could gain divine powers to rescue people? What if you were asked to spy on a millionaire, only to run across a murderer?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Victor Travison
• Release date: Dec 4, 2010
• ISBN: 9781458009760

Victor Travison

I have been writing since I was 8 years old, but only in the past 3 years have I had the chance to get some of my stories published. I am a Christian author who lives in and writes from Lakewood, Colorado. My preferred genre is science fiction and fantasy. With the Coalition Trilogy, I have gotten into the detective genre a little more than usual, but there's still a fantasy element.

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The Justice Coalition

Book 1 of the Coalition Trilogy

by Victor Travison

Smashwords edition copyright 2010

by Victor Travison

All rights reserved

License Notes:

This e-book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This e-book may not be resold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Please visit my website at http://victortravison.webs.com

Stories, sample chapters, and a blog about sci-fi and fantasy compared with the Bible

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and events are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, locales or events is entirely coincidental.

Table of Contents

Chapter 1: The Wheelchair Patrol

Chapter 2: Who is the Criminal Here?

Chapter 3: Murder Scenario

Chapter 4: Matthew Drake

Chapter 5: A Rescue at the Beach

Chapter 6: Pierce and Priorities

Chapter 7: Dinner at Penny’s

Chapter 8: Superheroes?

Chapter 9: Jenny’s Floral Boutique

Chapter 10: All in Favor, Say Aye

Chapter 11: The Taylor Tale

Chapter 12: Solomon House

Chapter 13: The Human Factor

Chapter 14: For the Inheritance

Chapter 15: The Prime Suspect

Chapter 16: Questioning

Chapter 17: Stalker

Chapter 18: To Catch a Crook

Chapter 19: What Donnie Found

Chapter 20: Suzanne’s Story

Chapter 21: The Second Date

Chapter 22: You Don’t Know Jack

Chapter 23: Coming ’Round the Mountain

Chapter 24: Alley Cats

Chapter 25: Lazlo in the Hot Seat

Chapter 26: A Personal Matter

Chapter 27: Wesley Dressed Down

Chapter 28: I’ll Huff and I’ll Puff …

Chapter 29: … And I’ll Blow Your House Down!

Chapter 30: Bared Claws

Chapter 1

The Wheelchair Patrol

What kind of life was he leading, anyway? Saving people he didn’t know. Placing himself in danger all the time. Being shot at, sneered at, risking what was left of his life and limb. Isn’t it enough I had the accident in the first place? The one that placed me in this chair?

By day, Pierce Rosendahl made a living processing insurance claims, but by night he prevented the need for insurance claims. Whether the result of carelessness or crime in the streets, he felt a divine calling to be there for the weak and helpless.

On most nights, Pierce didn’t mind, not really. Tonight he was undergoing a rare moment of doubt whether he should be doing this at all. Patrol nights were not determined by whether he felt like going out. They were determined by whether a divine force within him told him he should. To resist would make him feel guilty afterwards, and a report of rape or murder the next day caused him to wonder if he could have prevented it. What a life for a man in a wheelchair to lead.

So tonight, at fifteen after ten, Pierce left his home, locked the door, and wheeled down the ramp to his brassy green van parked in its usual handicap space. Pressing a number pad outside the cargo doors, he summoned the doors open and the lift down. He rolled onto it, hefted himself mechanically into the van, and grasped the rails to pull himself into the driver’s seat.

Which way tonight, Lord? he asked. Where will I be needed tonight?

He turned the ignition, not knowing where he was going, nor what sort of danger he would face once he arrived. Someone once compared him to Abraham, who left home when the Lord told him to depart his comfortable, opulent hometown of Ur and head for Canaan, a land he never saw before.

Also, a verse he recently memorized, Isaiah 30:21, kept reminding him of his mission: Whether you turn to the right or to the left, your ears will hear a voice behind you, saying, ‘This is the way; walk in it.’ So he obeyed the voice, and it always resulted in another rescue. And with it came varying degrees of risk. Sometimes his very life was in danger; other times, he would stay well out of harm’s way.

As he drove deeper into downtown Rapid City, Pierce remembered the first time he used his special power. An old friend of his named Troy had become a Christian years before Pierce. Troy visited him in the hospital and told him about his vision.

God has a very special task for you. All you have to do is receive Jesus as your Savior, and He will guide you.

What sort of task? Pierce asked skeptically.

I have no way of knowing. I’m telling you what the Lord said, no more.

Pierce glowered. God put me in a wheelchair, he said acidly. And according to you, He asked you to outfit it for me. Why can’t He just heal my broken legs instead? Why should I listen to Him at all?

"Wait a minute. What do you mean, God put you here? Didn’t you tell me the accident was your fault? You were arrogant when you tried to pass the semi. You thought the car was farther back than it was. How can you blame God for your own error?"

Pierce frowned deeper.

Look, Pierce … I know how bad you feel. This may look like a disaster, but our God is a great God. His strength is made perfect in weakness. Call on His strength, and you will be amazed what He can do through you.

Ultimately, Pierce listened to Troy and accepted the challenge. He tried on the new wheelchair—a mechanical affair for the most part—but it also contained electrical parts that had little to do with mobility. Hover jets below the chassis, and power cells in the arms. Both relied on an insulated battery below the seat to work, but they would not work the first time he tried them. Troy couldn’t explain it, but Pierce discovered the answer himself by chance.

Now in the present, Pierce pulled over to a dark curb and parked. The street appeared to be empty, but he sensed potential danger nearby. Something was about to happen, either here or somewhere close. He climbed into the back, seated himself, and lowered his chair to the sidewalk. Summoning the robotic lift back into place, he locked the van and pushed the large wheels down the uneven pavement.

Pierce remembered the first time he used the chair’s special powers. Two weeks after being discharged from the hospital, he had parked his van as he did just now, and pushed himself toward the insurance office. Before he knew it, a bum was in his face, bending and shaking his shoulders.

Gimme your money, grampa! he shouted.

Possibly the man assumed Pierce could not defend himself. The next thing either of them knew, there came a whoosh, and the thief’s entire frame lit with electrical charges. The crook collapsed at the chair’s footrests, much to Pierce’s dismay. Alarmed, he bent to check the man’s jugular, but discovered he was still alive.

In another incident, he interrupted a rapist who had a girl pinned to the sidewalk, her blouse already torn open. Pierce always felt sorry for women trapped in this situation; his keenest desire was to help her, but he was too afraid of being attacked himself.

Incredibly, his armrests emitted long-range comets that struck the crook. The girl emitted another scream, but when her assailant fell sideways off of her, she propped herself on her elbows and stared at Pierce, trembling and clutching her blouse together. He took off his light jacket and tossed it to her.

Call the police. No man has the right to treat a fellow human being that way.

In time, his path ran across other disabled people who discovered special powers they never knew they could have, always keyed toward rescues, always as the result of their love for humanity, and often through prayer.

Now Pierce’s head turned when he heard the distant fall of heels on pavement. Someone else was walking these streets—perhaps lost, or perhaps knowing where they were going, but certainly alone and possibly in jeopardy. The footfalls paused, started faster, and stopped again.

Who’s out there? called a female voice into the still cool night. Whoever you are, you’d better leave me alone. I … I have mace.

She may have heard the subtle creaking of his chair, but Pierce knew her voice could only attract trouble. Praying he could find her in time, he headed for where he thought the voice came from. On his way, another figure passed in front of him, evidently unaware of his presence. The man’s identity was hard to discern in the dark, but something in his loping steps suggested he was stalking the girl.

Though she still sounded distant, he heard her plaintive cry: O God … protect me. Protect me!

Poor girl. I have to get there quickly.

In response to his wishes, a vibrating whoosh sounded from beneath his chair. Hover jets beneath its chassis propelled him forward, driving him faster than merely pushing the wheel. Going through an alley, he came upon the girl first, a pretty and thin blonde wearing the green uniform tunic and black slacks he recognized from Penny’s Restaurant, up the street. She was leaning on a lamp post when he spotted her, her face in the shadows as she rifled through her purse. The hover jets eased off, lowering him to the pavement.

The girl drew out a cell phone. As soon as she raised her head and he saw her smooth facial lines, he knew who she was: Natalie, a sweet waitress who sometimes served him at Penny’s. But now she was more nervous than he’d seen her before. She glanced around, clearly frightened, and her hand trembled while she dialed the number.

O God … O God … she was saying.

The mugger’s large hand clamped over her mouth, startling Pierce as much as it did her. Roughly he pulled her against his hefty chest while her phone clattered to the pavement, still open. Muffled sounds came from her throat in her struggle. Another hand snatched her open purse, spilling the contents on the sidewalk.

Say one word, and yer dead, said the crook’s harsh voice.

I’ve got to save my favorite waitress! Pierce thought, wheeling forward.

The tattered man tossed her down, and with a pistol trained on her, he eyed her cruelly as he half knelt and sorted through the scattered items. He found her billfold, which glimmered in the ambient light, and opened it.

Don’t touch that! she cried impulsively, her arm darting out.

The mugger paused long enough to cock the pistol toward her. Shaddup!

Cringing from the weapon, Natalie sobbed silently. At that moment, Pierce pushed his chair into the streetlight.

What’s going on here?

The robber whirled the gun toward him. Stay outa this, old man. It ain’t none of yer concern.

Nor is she yours.

Regardless, he returned to the billfold and eagerly snatched all the money his beefy hand could hold. Poor Natalie, losing all her money like that. I can’t let this happen. Again the rockets shot from his chair’s armrests, leaving a sparkling trail. Natalie jumped back with a tiny squeal when they struck the crook, lighting up his entire frame. He lurched and screamed and collapsed. Busy sparks played around him for a second before they disappeared and the thief lay still.

Still trembling, Natalie looked up at Pierce, and he smiled at her. A light snapped on in her eyes when she recognized him.

Don’t I know you?

You should, Natalie. You’ve waited on my table enough times.

Of course! You order the chicken fried steak or the meatloaf. She frowned, her brows pinched. But … what are you doing out here, this time of night?

This is what I do after hours. I believe you were about to call the police?

Oh … yeah. Natalie scrambled to pick up her phone, but exchanged uncertain glances toward the heap before her.

Oh, don’t worry, Natalie, said Pierce. He’s not dead, just knocked out.

Nodding, she completed her call and held her phone to her ear. Hello … my name is Natalie Forrest.

Pierce realized he never knew her last name before.

I was mugged in the street just now, on the corner of 81st and Ellington. The mugger has been subdued, because a kind man came along and saved me. … No, I can’t come to the station and fill out a report, not tonight. But I’d be happy to come down in the morning and press charges.

Pierce could catch part of the dispatcher’s answer: Ma’am, you need to fill out a report as soon as possible, while it’s still fresh in your mind. A unit will be there soon to take your statement.

But I can’t stay here that long … not on a city street late at night.

Don’t worry, said Pierce. I’ll stay with you.

She smiled at him. Okay, she told the dispatcher, I’ll be here. But tell them to hurry. I’ve got to get home to my husband.

Folding her phone, Natalie smiled gratefully. Thanks for saving me.

She stooped to gather everything that fell from her purse, using the streetlight’s illumination to put everything back approximately the way it was before. A new thought caused her to look up, her brow creased.

Wait a minute. What did you mean by this is what you do at night? How did you know I needed help?

I didn’t know it was you specifically who was in trouble. I simply followed the Lord’s leading, just like other nights. Whenever I’m around where a crime is being committed, I see what I can do to stop it. That mugger, for instance, passed me awhile back. I could tell he was up to no good, so I followed him.

Well, thank God you came along.

Yes, and thank the Justice Coalition. We are here to serve.

Natalie regarded the man puzzledly. The Justice … what did you call it?

Justice Coalition. I and several others belong to it. Think of us as guardian angels. Helpers of those in need. If you want us to keep working in behalf of the innocent, you will not pry too deeply into our operation.

Just one more question, okay? Are all of you in wheelchairs?

Most of us have some sort of disability, at least by the usual standards. But God sometimes gives us temporary strength to overcome it in an emergency. Now, where were you going?

Home, to 8268 North Lincoln.

That’s not far from here. After the police get your statement, I can accompany you the rest of the way.

No … no, Pierce. That won’t be necessary …

You want to risk another incident like this one?

She flashed him a lame smile. Well … as long as it’s no imposition …

None at all, especially not for a friend. But let me ask you what you are doing, walking the streets after dark.

I just got off work at ten forty-five, said Natalie, throwing back her blonde tresses. That’s later than usual, but I decided I would walk home. I’ve done it before without a problem, but I don’t think I’ll do it again.

Wise move.

Anyway, I also attend nursing school during the day, so I’m very tired right now—too tired to think straight, I suppose. But after I started walking home, I heard some strange noises. I called out, but no one would answer me. Then I was attacked, and the rest you know.

Pierce cocked his head. I didn’t know you were taking nursing.

Yeah. Working at Penny’s helps me pay off my loan.

Sirens started in the distance and quickly grew louder.

Taking the girl’s arm, Pierce said, I’ll be in the alley over there. Try to tell them as little as possible about me.

Natalie seemed startled at the request. Why? Are you hiding from the cops?

No, but I have other good reasons. Don’t worry, I’ll stick around and help you get home. We prefer to operate without calling a lot of attention to ourselves.

Okay, I’ll try.

So Pierce pushed his wheelchair into the alley where he had come from, just as two police cars with red and white flashing lights pulled in front of Natalie. Two cops cuffed the mugger while a third approached her with a large pad in his hand. Natalie tried to answer his questions as well as she could, but when the officer asked for her rescuer’s name, Natalie said, He called himself Pierce. That’s all I know. He’s in a wheelchair that can shoot some kind of … paralyzing rockets.

What did this man in the wheelchair look like, ma’am?

It was too dark for me to tell. I think he wore a hat, that’s all I know.

Is Pierce his first name or last name?

How should I know? Look, can’t we get this over with? I’m very tired, and I need to go home. I’d be happy to come down to the station first thing tomorrow morning and sign any papers you want.

Nevertheless, the cop took his time getting her statement, and Pierce listened to the exchange from his vantage point in the dark alley.

Chapter 2

Who is the Criminal Here?

Spencer sat across the table from Natalie, amazed at the story she was telling him. Normally their breakfast conversation, such as it was, included him behind the morning paper, peeking out occasionally as she spoke, but for once she had his rapt and anxious attention. His bushy ash-blond chin tuft matched his wavy hair in color and thickness, and his long masculine face remained fixed on her gestures. Lines in his forehead showed his anxiety.

You could’ve been killed!

I know, honey. That’s why I’m glad that guy came along when he did.

Who was this guy?

I don’t know. A customer at Penny’s, but otherwise I’m not sure. He said his name was Pierce, and he was with the Justice Coalition. Have you heard of them?

Spencer shook his head.

Well, apparently they go around doing good for people who are in trouble. Like Pierce saved me last night. He said most of them are disabled, yet God grants them strength in an emergency to rescue us. I’d like to learn more about them.

The telephone rang during her description.

It’s no wonder, said Spencer, standing to answer it. I’ve always admired your big heart for people. He picked up the receiver on the second ring. Hello? He listened for a moment. She’s right here. Just a minute.

Who is it? asked Natalie, getting up.

The police station. I thought you said you gave them a statement last night.

I did. Taking the receiver, she said, This is Natalie Forrest.

The male voice on the other end sounded coldly official. Mrs. Forrest, would you come down to the precinct right away? We have some more questions for you.

But I told the officers everything I knew last night. And I have to be at nursing school by eleven.

Please, Mrs. Forrest, this won’t take long. We need you for identification purposes. Come to the station at 32nd and Taft as soon as you can.

Reluctantly she said, All right, Officer. I’ll be there. After she hung up, she turned toward Spencer. They want more information. Wanna come along?

I’m off work today. Sure, I’d love to.

When Natalie arrived at the 32nd Street Rapid City Police Station, she fully expected give her testimony about the mugging, fill out a couple more forms, and ID the culprit to keep him off the streets for good. Mounting the stairs and entering the precinct hand in hand with Spencer, Natalie approached the man in the front cubicle. Behind her, her husband stood a head taller and watched.

Hi, my name is Natalie Forrest. I was asked to come in for more questioning about last night? I guess I’m here to officially press charges against the mugger.

The man nodded once and pulled out a form. You said you were Natalie …?

Forrest. With two R’s.

Address?

8268 North Lincoln Avenue.

Did he have a knife, or a gun?

A gun. I don’t know what kind; I don’t know all the calibers or anything.

You’re lucky to be alive, said the cop, cocking a brow. Did he steal anything from you?

He sure tried to. He grabbed my purse and was taking all the money I had. But then a kind stranger came along and overpowered him. Look, I’ve already said all this last night. I heard you had additional questions for me.

About the attack on your person?

Yes.

Name?

I don’t know the attacker’s name.

No, the man who overpowered him. What was his name?

Uh … he called himself Pierce.

And thank God he came along when he did, said Spencer, taking Natalie’s waist. My wife could have wound up much worse if he hadn’t.

Pierce, said the cop. Do you know if Pierce was his first name or last name?

No idea … she glanced at his badge … Officer Simmons. But what about my mugger? You do have him in custody, don’t you?

Simmons did not answer.

I’d be happy to identify him for you, even testify against him in court. Whatever you want me to do to keep him behind bars.

How did this … Pierce … subdue the suspect?

Well, he was in a wheelchair that could shoot these … missiles, sort of … She rotated her hands, trying to describe what she had seen. He called them paralyzing rockets. They didn’t kill the mugger, only knock him down.

The cop grunted while he wrote.

But what about my mugger, Mr. Simmons? Don’t you want to do something about him? Have me look at a lineup, or whatever you need me to do?

Did this Pierce say anything about who he was? Where he was from?

Amazed at the man’s single-mindedness, Natalie glanced back at her husband. He said something about being with some … Justice … Something-or-other. But what does that have to do with …?

The Justice Coalition?

Natalie frowned, feeling puzzled. She would have thought Simmons would appreciate someone else being there when the police could not.

Something like that, she said. But why are you asking so many questions about him? He didn’t attack me, the mugger did. Pierce rescued me. He made sure I was safe before he left.

That’s right, said Spencer. Shouldn’t we focus on the criminal?

Simmons grunted again, nodding past Natalie. Is he an eyewitness to the crime?

While Spencer said no, Natalie replied, This is my husband, Spencer; we’ve been married for almost three years. He came along as moral support.

Do you have a car, ma’am?

We have one car, but Spencer always drives it. I sometimes get a ride with a friend, but last night I decided to walk. I think I’m going to depend on rides more often from now on.

Where were you coming from?

Penny’s Restaurant, 7621 North Ellington. I work there part-time while I’m attending nursing school.

Does this … Pierce know where you work?

Actually, he did, but she didn’t want to tell this cop. I … don’t think so.

Spencer was growing more impatient with Simmons than Natalie, indicated by his incredulous expression. His tall and slender build shifted on his feet.

We came so Nat could report the crime! he said, his voice rising. Why are you asking so many questions about her rescuer? If not for Pierce, she could have been raped or maimed or even murdered.

Yeah! said Natalie.

Simmons’ grumpy eyes glanced up, and he stood. Have a seat, please, he said evenly. I’ll be right back.

Finding chairs behind them in the waiting area, the couple sat, talking to each other in bewildered tones. Can you believe him? said Spencer incredulously. He cares more about the good guy than the bad guy.

Yeah, I know. I wonder why.

When Officer Simmons returned, he brought with him an older man whose temples were graying and whose light brown face carried hints of both a no-nonsense cop and a gentle man in private life.

"Mr. and Mrs. Forrest, this is Lieutenant Detective Sam Gill. He is on a task force to learn more