Box of Gaza

By DeAnna Kinney

Box of Gaza unfolds a historical, action-packed, thriller romance as the guardians of a priceless relic, an ancient box, struggle to keep it safe at all cost.
Samil, the ruthless commander of Umbra Mortis, an extremist militant cult, is determined to destroy the box and eradicate Neal Tucker, the last heir of guardianship.
Neal makes a desperate plea to his two best friends, Johnny and Tara, and together they swear an oath to protect the mysterious box with their lives. Little do they know that their oath will lead them on a journey that will break them and change their lives forever.
There is one man that can help them, but is he friend or foe? Only time will tell as they are pursued from the mountains of West Virginia to the Statue of Liberty, where the ultimate battle will ensue. Will the lifelong friends find the box in time to reveal its contents and save the world as they know it? Or will this menacing threat find it first and destroy it along with everything—and everyone they love?

This story is based on the original screenplay by Shane Beverly and Matthew Sweat.
 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Kinney Publishing
• Release date: Sep 20, 2013
• ISBN: 9781490324234

DeAnna Kinney

DeAnna Kinney is the author of the successful Charity Series, a Young-Adult Paranormal series with a twist. She is also the author of New Adult and Adult Romance, Action Adventure, and Children's books. She considers herself as fun-loving and a bit peculiar. Besides writing, she loves reading, all things purple, Star Wars, acting like a goofball, and dancing while she cooks (she can see her kids rolling their eyes as we speak). She believes whole-heartedly that chocolates and a good book go hand in hand. And, having experienced it herself, believes utterly in the power of true love. She lives in the lovely North Carolina with her husband, four kids, a black lab named Lincoln Six Echo, or just Link, who thinks he's a human, and a bunny named Lula Bell who thinks she owns the world.

Book preview

Other works by DeAnna Kinney:

Charity Moon (Charity Series Book 1)

Charity Rising (Charity Series Book 2)

Raven’s Rose (Charity Series Book 3)

Charity’s Storm (Charity Series Book 4)

Exposing Kitty Langley

Loving Lily Lavender

Acknowledgments

I would like to extend a special thank you to Shane Beverly and Matthew Sweat for entrusting me with their precious screenplay. They have devoted many years to this script, and it means the world to me that they would ask me to be a part of this remarkable work. I pray I have done them a service and added more flavor to their already seasoned vision.

I would like to thank Andrew Hasben, Tara Hamilton, and Deborah Mull for their valuable insight, comments, and helpful ideas.

Thank you also to my beta readers, Kellee, Jim, and Samantha.

Table of Contents

Acknowledgements

Prologue

Chapter One: The Stranger

Chapter Two: The Box

Chapter Three: Benjamin Tucker

Chapter Four: The Umbra Mortis

Chapter Five: Heritage

Chapter Six: Angel Falls

Chapter Seven: Saying Goodbye

Chapter Eight: The Choice

Chapter Nine: The Discovery

Chapter Ten: Consequences

Chapter Eleven: On the Run

Chapter Twelve: Mt. Vernon

Chapter Thirteen: Camping

Chapter Fourteen: The Taking

Chapter Fifteen: The Seer

Chapter Sixteen: The Statue of Liberty

Chapter Seventeen: The Revelation

Epilogue

Prologue

Chaos. It filled his mind, fading in and out, flashing through his brain like lightning bolts. Visions of battles in Egypt, Syria, and Libya, raced past his mind’s eye. Blood everywhere, people screaming, swords clanging together. Then he was back in Greece, and then the United Kingdom, watching the riots. People were breaking store windows, trampling over each other, vicious, and cruel, without a thought for anyone. The image shifted again to the drug cartels fighting on the Mexican-US border; police cars and ambulances speeding through the streets of New York with lights blazing. The sounds of people screaming in different languages reached a crescendo. It was total pandemonium.

The truck lurched, and the driver grinded the gears, snapping Val back to reality.  You should probably watch the road, he said to the driver who was giving all of his attention to the lighting of his cigarette.

The driver was an older man. Val guessed he was about fifty, a good twenty years older than himself. The man was scruffy and dirty, the complete opposite of his own clean cut and chiseled appearance. But Val couldn’t really complain about that, not when he had been the only person willing to give him a lift.

Just then, a small herd of deer, five to be exact, darted onto the country highway, and the driver slammed on the brakes of the old 1960’s pickup truck. The truck skidded, and fishtailed, before coming to a stop, missing the deer by no more than a foot. Dag-gone deer! he yelled, banging his fist on the steering wheel.

Val chuckled quietly. This is good, my friend. Thanks for the ride.

Huh? the driver grunted and furrowed his brow. You want me to drop you in the middle of nowhere? He tossed his hands up, gesturing toward the windshield, and then waved them about.

Val laughed and scanned the beautiful countryside. The rolling hills and the dense woodlands were a breathtaking view and one he was glad to finally see. It meant he was close. On the contrary, this is exactly where I want to be, he said, and then patted the old man firmly on the shoulder, before gripping his hand and pumping it in a firm shake. Thanks for the lift.

The old man’s jaw dropped a little, and Val winked at him before popping the lever and pushing the truck door open. The driver blinked and glanced down at his hand, most likely staring at the wadded up twenties that Val had deposited there. Val jumped out of the truck, easing the door shut behind him.

Val was already hidden in the trees when the driver finally looked up with a wide smile. He watched as the driver swiveled on the seat, glancing around. And after a long moment, the driver shrugged, and slowly pulled away.  

* * * * * *

Val stood before the lopsided West Virginia State welcome sign and rubbed his chin.  What good could possibly come from West Virginia? He wondered. After all of his many years of service, he wasn’t entirely sure what to expect here, but he knew, without a doubt, that this was exactly where he needed to be. 

He stretched his neck, whipping it from shoulder to shoulder. A string of pops rang out, and he sighed, enjoying the relief after being cooped up for hours in that old truck. He raked his hand through his thick, brown hair and scanned the sign over again.  Can anything good come from West Virginia? he asked the air with a chuckle, as he rubbed the sign. Hmm, he said, as a wide grin twitched at his lips and he started for the trees, I guess we will soon see.

It took only ten minutes to find the small and cozy looking miner’s house, and when he did, he knew it was the place he’d been looking for. It was nestled in a small clearing, with large pine trees surrounding the tiny yard. He could make out a dim light in one of the back rooms. He made himself comfortable, leaning against a tree, staying safely hidden behind the dense tree line. The sun slowly set and the night sky came to life with millions of silver gems. It was here that he waited.

A soft creak suddenly drew his attention back to the house. He shifted his gaze, catching a movement. He squinted, searching the house under the dim moonlight, and smiled when a young boy jumped off the porch. The boy gripped his BB gun with both hands, and after a few minutes of interaction with a small mouse, he bolted into the darkened forest. Val could sense this boy was special, different from the others. Just the brief interaction he had with the tiny rodent indicated to Val a spirit of love and acceptance, as well as a pure heart. He knew the potential that this simple, small-town boy held could change things in a powerful way, possibly even shift the course of the silent war that had been raging for far too long. Val felt the change coming in his gut, as well as his spirit. The end was getting closer, and he knew he would have to be on his guard. Everything depended upon it—everything.

In the quiet, rural town of Thacker’s Branch, a sleepy mountain holler in West Virginia, and a poor town that seemed to be behind the times, was where the shifting was about to take place. And this boy could be the key to it all.

A slow smirk crept across Val’s face as he pushed from the tree and followed behind the boy in quiet pursuit.

Chapter One

The Stranger

The same night...

Johnny sat Indian-style on the hard wooden floor in his bedroom of their small miner’s house. He watched his father in awe as he told an all-too-familiar tale with more animation than he ever remembered him using before.

His father, Hobert was a kind-hearted and imaginative man. His hair was thin and graying for a man in his early forties, but Johnny thought he hung the moon and stars...the sun too for that matter. He lived for these moments with his dad. They were poor and didn’t have much, but his dad made up for that, keeping Johnny entertained with his creative tales.

Hobert smiled widely as he continued the bedtime story to his ten-year-old son. He had always begun each story by expressing the joy it brought to him by passing down the same tales his own father had passed to him. Now, the great Indian chief commanded his two best warriors to take aim at George Washington as he sat atop his trusty steed.

Johnny’s eyes grew wide with wonder as he straightened his colonial patriot’s hat and listened intently to his father’s words.

Now, these Indians could shoot the eye out of a prairie dog a mile away. Hobert raised his arms up with an invisible musket, taking aim and pulling the trigger. Boom!

Johnny blinked and gasped in surprise.

Boom! Boom! Boom! his father yelled again, startling Johnny with every fake blast. Over and over the Indians shot at Washington. The smoke finally began to clear, and the old chief peered through it into the distance to where Washington’s body should lay still on the ground. He stood and put his hand above his eyes and looked intently through the imaginary smoke. The smoke was gone and Washington’s horse lay still on the ground but Washington... he paused, squared his shoulders, and stood straight.

Johnny’s grin almost glowed as he beamed up at his father. He hoped he was even half as good at telling tales when he grew up.

Hobert continued, ...but Washington stood defiantly staring at the Indians, unharmed. He lifted his coat up and sunlight poured through four bullet holes, he said, holding up four fingers. He lifted his imaginary gun again. One of the braves lifted his gun to fire again but the wise old chief placed his hand on the gun and lowered it. The great chief shook his head and then cried with a loud voice... Johnny and his father spoke the words simultaneously, ...the Great Spirit is with this man and guides his destiny. He paused and laughed at his son’s recitation of the often-told tale before continuing. He will become the chief of a new nation and a people yet born will bestow grand honor upon him.

Hobert! Kim, Johnny’s mother, yelled from another room.

Johnny and his father froze, their eyes going wide as they stared at each other.

How is that supposed to get that boy to sleep? she yelled.

They both laughed. Your mom’s right. It’s best you get to sleep.

Aaahh, come on, Dad, just one more, Johnny whined, and nudged his father. I want to hear the one where George Washington fights the red coats, he said, pointing his BB musket out the window.

Hobert took the gun and set it under Johnny’s bed. He then ushered the overly stimulated boy into bed and pulled the covers up to his chin, tucking in the sides. Maybe tomorrow, Son. But now it’s time for my brave patriot to go to sleep before your momma tans both of our hides.

Johnny sulked for a moment before a slow grin returned, as Hobert leaned down and planted a gentle kiss on his forehead. His father smiled warmly and pulled the door closed behind him as he exited the room.

* * * * * *

Johnny jumped up and down on one foot quietly as he stuffed the other foot into his boot and grabbed his BB gun from under his bed. It was a warm but clear summer night, and with his imagination spurring him, nothing could keep him from a late night adventure through his beloved woods. He loved to pretend to hunt down some red coats like his hero, George Washington. He did it quite often after his father’s animated bedtime stories. How his father expected him to sleep with all that adrenaline pumping in his veins was beyond him, but he would never tell his dad that. The problem was, if his father caught him sneaking out again, he would be grounded, which meant no friends. Johnny was nothing if not devoted to his two best friends, Tara Rawlings and Neal Tucker. They were like a lifeline for him. They always kept him grounded.

Most kids wouldn’t be caught dead sneaking through the woods in the middle of the night, but Johnny wasn’t scared. He had been sneaking out for months, most of the time without getting caught. He admitted he had a mischievous spirit, and one that had seemed to rub off on his two friends as well.

He thought about his punishment if caught, and then he hesitated for a moment, reconsidering his decision, but then shook it off and reached for his bedroom door. He stopped as he realized he was missing something. He glanced around, and then spotted his patriot’s hat on the bedpost. He grabbed it, pulled it on over his wavy blonde hair, and continued out the door.

His boots squeaked as he crept down the hallway. He cringed and silently scolded himself for not waiting until he was outside to put them on. After listening for a long moment, to make sure no one woke up from the loud noise, he cautiously approached the front door. He opened it slowly, and with one last glance behind him, he quickly exited, pulling it shut behind him.

The porch was weather-worn and several planks were broken. An old swing moved gently in the wind at one end of the porch. Johnny tiptoed down the creaky steps, his musket-style BB gun slung over his shoulder and his patriot’s hat sitting awkwardly to one side of his head. A loud creak caused Johnny to freeze. He turned in almost slow-motion and peered fearfully at the front door, expecting to see his father standing there, hands on hips, and giving him a stern look.