Clouds

By Sheritta Bitikofer

In a new political machine where Christians are segregated and persecuted for their faith in the worst imaginable way, hope is dim and out of reach. Shiloh is the worst city in Gadria, boasting the largest Christian ghetto in the country. Tabitha, a young Christian woman trying to hide her blind mother from the secret police while working as a hostess in an inner city restaurant, finds herself falling desperately in love with her new supervisor. Luke, the youngest son of the new chief of police of Shiloh, is disturbed by the plight of the Christians and feels especially compassionate for Tabitha, but he is nearly alone in his sentiments as all of his colleagues despise Christians with a fervent passion. Can they overcome the prejudices of the culture and keep their forbidden love a secret?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Moonstruck Writing
• Release date: Feb 5, 2018
• ISBN: 9781946821140

Sheritta Bitikofer

Sheritta Bitikofer is a paranormal romance author of eclectic tastes with a passion for storytelling. Her goal with each book is to rebel against shallow intimacy and inspire courage through the power of love and soulful passion. Her biggest thrill comes when she presents love in a genuine light, where the protagonists not only feel a physical attraction to one another, but a deep emotional (and dare we say spiritual?) connection that fuels their relationship forward into something that will endure much longer than the last pages of their novel. A devoted wife and fur-mama to two shelter rescue dogs, Sheritta’s life is never dull. When she’s not writing her next novel, she can be found binge-watching her favorite shows on Netflix, doing Zumba with her friends, or painting at a medieval reenactment event.

Book preview

Preface

What you are about to read is pure fiction. I just want to make that clear. And this story is also solely for entertainment purposes. There is not meant to be a political undertone anywhere, or insinuate anything about current political groups.

I will say, however, that much of what inspired this story is from real world events.

What began this story was a simple question. What if the Holocaust never happened the way that it did, but it did happen later, only with Christians instead?

It’s not an easy question to answer.

My imagination has produced the story written upon these pages in an attempt to answer that question.

Please be advised that many aspects of this story do reflect what the Jews experienced during the Holocaust in World War II. I spent many hours researching, reading and watching documentaries to get the right feel for their suffering. I know my words can never accurately portray how the Jews were persecuted, but this is how the Christians are persecuted in Gadria by the Patridens.

This novel is not meant to offend any religious or political group.

Please read this with an open mind and an open heart. And above all, enjoy it.

Thank

you

.

Chapter

1

The blue sky above her was devoid of clouds, but seemed to be filled with possibilities and hope. She basked in the sun’s glow, raising her hands high, outstretched to embrace the sun in all its glory.

She stood in the field, the tall blades of grass grazing against her thighs. The gentle breeze blew through the dense meadow, her white sundress and long golden hair rippling behind her. The bright sun was warm as it caressed her bare arms and smiling face. The dull roar of the wind whisked around her ears, but she could still hear the faint chirping of birds in the distance.

The peaceful countryside rolled on for miles and miles before her, stretching out over the land like a blanket. Nothing in the world could be compared to such a wondrous landscape as this. Above, a blue bird glided through the clear air, casting a brief shadow over

her

face

.

Bright sapphire eyes opened to follow the bird through its graceful flight. How her heart soared with that bird, free and lighter than the air it flew upon. Her smile widened as it careened back toward her, flying just a few feet from her before shooting up once more to

flutter

away

.

She watched the bird disappear into the sky, becoming indistinguishable against the blue atmosphere. The girl wondered what it would be like to fly away just like that bird, to spread her arms and take off with them. How magnificent it

would

be

.

Suddenly, the harping of the songbirds faded and the breeze grew still upon the meadow. The girl swiveled her head around wondering what was wrong. And then it came, the dark cloud. It appeared, materializing out of nowhere to blot out the sun. The girl’s smile dropped from her lips at the sudden realization of

it

all

.

Darkness covered the field, sopping up the radiant colors all around her. The air grew cold and damp, the heady scent of rain descending upon the field.

And then she heard shouts, not of joy but of anger and hatred. She turned and saw the dark silhouettes running, guns in hand. Her eyes wide with terror, she tried to run away through the grass. The mass of foliage was too thick and she struggled with each step as the fragile material of her dress snagged on thorns and groping branch limbs.

Glancing over her shoulder, she saw them quickly advancing upon her and she knew there was no way to evade them. Above, the cloud turned crimson, filtering what little light poured down to bathe the meadow in red. Turning her eyes skyward, a flag filled her vision. It was one she knew all too well. A red backdrop with a golden symbol in the middle, dingy yellow lines forming the image of a tower with three prongs protruding from the top like a pitchfork.

She tripped over a fallen log, launching herself face first to the ground as the yells of her pursuers

overwhelmed

her

.

---

Tabitha woke up with a gasp, bolting upright in her bed. Her long blonde hair was in a mass of tangles against her back as her blue eyes quickly scanned her surroundings. She was no longer in the darkened meadow, but in the bedroom of her apartment. She had been plagued by the dream so many times, but each time felt more real than

the

last

.

She pressed her palm against her pounding heart as she tried to catch her breath.

The bedroom was small, holding only two mattresses and a small chest of drawers in the far corner of the room. The mattresses were thin and worn, so much that when Tabitha laid down, her hips and shoulders would touch the floor and made for a very uncomfortable sleep. The walls in the apartment were bare and gray with age, while the floor was made of wood panels riddled with protruding splinters and creaked under the slightest shifting of weight. In some places, drywall had chipped away to reveal the wood structure behind them. There were no light fixtures and electrical outlets except in the kitchen where a small refrigerator was plugged up. Thin, worn sheets of fabric curtained the windows and were drawn closed at all times.

Very little sunlight slanted through these windows, as the clouds beyond had already stolen away what glow they could give. Dust particles floated in the air and gave the apartment a musty smell that would never

go

away

.

Tabitha rose up from her mattress and treaded softly toward the window, peeking behind the curtains to look down to the ghetto street three stories below.

Its cobblestone sidewalks were moist and glistened with rain from the night before. The buildings around the apartment complex were all in desperate need of repair. There was not one house or building that didn’t have a few bricks missing or a window or two shattered. Some buildings were merely shells of their former selves with heaps of debris inside and around their foundations, making them uninhabitable.

Only the children were naive enough to play outside in their torn trousers and patched-up shirts while their parents went off to work in the city. A garbage truck only came once every two weeks to the ghettos to collect trash, so in the meantime, it would accumulate and rot in piles on the sidewalks. The children didn’t seem to mind. They were used

to

it

.

Tabitha sighed heavily, wishing the freeness of her dream were real. But her life was far from a dream and there was no

freedom

here

.

She stretched her thin arms and arched her back to work the kinks out that had settled in over the night. Her body was thin, but she thanked the Lord that she was not sickly like many others in her neighborhood. With that thought, she looked to her mother that lay resting on the other mattress across from hers. The woman was curled up under the only blanket in the home. Nights were getting colder, but Tabitha knew her mother needed what little protection the blanket could provide more than

she

did

.

Tabitha was the spitting image of her elderly mother, Elizabeth. If her hair hadn’t thinned and turned a soft white over the years and her skin were not wrinkled, they would be mistaken as sisters. Even though her mother wasn’t a day over fifty, her body had aged to a far greater year from the stresses of poverty and sickness.

Elizabeth’s sight began to fail a little over a year ago and became worse as time went on. Nearly six months ago, she had gone completely blind all together. No longer suitable for work, Tabitha took it upon herself to hide her mother in their small apartment while she worked as a hostess and busgirl at a prestigious restaurant in heart of the city. It was a meager job, but all that she was able to find at the time and it paid well enough for them to survive.

Tabitha turned back to the window and strained her eyes to see past the desecrated buildings and into the city of Shiloh beyond the brick wall. She could just barely distinguish the battlement-like shadows of skyscrapers and towering office buildings in the smog that blanketed the city. She would have to go to work there soon, amongst the people that hated and

despised

her

.

Tabitha? Dear, are you up? Elizabeth’s voice crackled from the far side of the room, half hidden in the shadows. It was the voice she had heard so often growing up, but was now laced with the evidence of aging.

Tabitha looked over her shoulder and saw her mother carefully pushing herself up from the thin mattress. Her old bones creaked with the effort.

Yes, mother. I’m up. Do you want me to cook you breakfast? Tabitha asked as she walked barefoot over to a small chest of drawers.

"Yes, dear. But not right now. Maybe in an hour or two. It’s too early for me. When do you have to go

to

work

?"

At about ten. But it takes me about an hour to walk there, so I need to get going at about eight-thirty if I want to get there on time. Tabitha pulled out a clean uniform and began changing. If it weren’t for the wristwatch her father had smuggled in years ago, they would never know what time it

really

was

.

Okay… What time is it now? Elizabeth settled back down on her back and stared at the crusted ceiling with her cloudy,

cataract

eyes

.

Probably about seven o’clock. The sun just came up, Tabitha said as she pushed her arms through her white button-up blouse after sliding on a pair of black slacks. She fastened the last button and looked to see her mother’s eye lids close slowly and open even slower.

Elizabeth did that often. When Tabitha asked about it, her mother answered that she did this in hopes that when she opened her eyes, she could see again. She admired her mother for her faith in miracles, even though she had long given up on such things. Miracles didn’t happen nowadays.

Tabitha then took her nightgown and folded it up on top of her bed before coming to her

mother’s

side

.

Are you alright, mother? Tabitha took Elizabeth’s wrinkled hand into her own, letting her fingers fold gently over the fragile skin that was stretched too thinly over her bones. Elizabeth turned toward her daughter and smiled sweetly.

Yes, dear. I’m just a little tired. This dog-gone mattress is just too rough on this old body and it takes longer for me to get a good night’s rest. Elizabeth reached over and patted Tabitha’s hand reassuringly.

After some thought, Tabitha replied. You can have my mattress. I can put it on top of yours and maybe it will be a little more comfortable. Tabitha glanced over to her side of the room. There the mattress sat, and bowing in the middle where Tabitha’s body had made an imprint.

Oh, no. No, you keep that mattress. I’ll be fine, Elizabeth’s voice wasn’t convincing. Tabitha knew she would put the two mattresses together later, despite her mother’s wishes. Though she was only in her early twenties, she was still young enough that sleeping on the floor wouldn’t hurt her as badly. She could bounce back more easily than her mother.

Tabitha smiled, leaned down and kissed her mother’s forehead. Then, she walked out of their tiny bedroom into the only other room of their apartment to find her work shoes.

The main living area was not much bigger than the bedroom, cramming both a sitting area and kitchen inside the four beaten, peeling walls.

The only furnishings included a loveseat with a broken frame and flattened cushions, a small two-seater dining table with uneven legs and peeling veneer finish, and a tiny end table that held a single book with an old leather cover and a set of house keys. The kitchen was small with off-white vinyl flooring and yellow countertops. The cabinets were originally painted white, but over the years, the paint had chipped away to reveal the brown wood underneath. The only appliances they owned were a small, ancient refrigerator, a wood burning stove that allowed them to cook food as well as keep warm in the bitterly cold winters, and a sink that gave them murky tap water that they often had to boil on the stove to make it drinkable.

Tabitha turned to the right from the bedroom door and swiveled straight into their only bathroom. The flooring, counters and cupboards matched that of the kitchen, while the tub, toilet and sink were their original porcelain white, except for the blackened spots where the enamel had flaked off and the dingy amber stains along the inside. The mirror that hung over the pedestal sink had many cracks in its surface that distorted her image.

After glancing in the shattered mirror and seeing the chaotic state that her hair was in, she took the time to comb out the tangles with the brush they shared. Like many things they owned, it was old and passed down from her grandparents who had lived in this apartment

before

them

.

The rising mountain of clothes in the corner of the bathroom reminded Tabitha that she would have to do laundry as soon as she got home in the evening. The laundromat didn’t open until noon, but she would be at work by then. She hoped that she had enough credits to afford a load or two. Between them, there weren’t many clothes to wash but it added up quickly over the course of a

few

days

.

Tabitha found her black shoes, which the restaurant graciously allotted to her when she was hired so many years ago. She wore them nearly every day and the soles were littered with holes as well as gashes in the leather around the edges.

The restaurant reasoned that they could afford to give her new shirts and pants that old employees were done using, but shoes were too precious of a commodity to spare for people like her. They also explained that not many customers would look down upon her shoes. But, Tabitha saw them every day as she kept her eyes cast down in the presence of her coworkers and customers.

Tabitha slipped on the shoes and walked briskly back into the living room. On the wall near the door was a fixed coat rack. Upon its hooks hung her jacket and a long, blue piece of fabric. After she shrugged into her thin, tattered jacket she reached out her fingers to graze over the cloth. It was made of cotton and stood out brightly against the gray interior of their apartment.

She sighed as she took the cloth, folded it just right to make a headband, and then tied it over her forehead, knotting it tightly so it wouldn’t fall off. She couldn’t afford to lose it. The blue contrasted sharply against her silky blonde hair, but complimented her eyes nicely.

Mother, I think I’ll go to the store and get some groceries. Do you need anything? she called out as she made her way back into the tiny kitchen to survey what supplies they needed.

No, I don’t believe so… Do we have any milk or bread? Elizabeth asked, her voice hoarse and raspy from

old

age

.

"That’s what I’m going to the store to get, along with some eggs and maybe butter if there

is

any

."

Their refrigerator was practically empty. All that remained was some left over food from the restaurant that Tabitha had brought home the day before - which would be her mother’s lunch -, a jug of cold tap water, some peanut butter, a few apples and a very special treat: a quarter of a donut that one of her customers gave to her at the restaurant out of charity.

Tabitha made a quick list of groceries in her mind, then walked to the dining table to shuffle through her credit vouchers from the past few weeks.

In a pile sat all of her credits from work. They were small, white plastic cards marked with color-coded circles to indicate how much they were worth.

Elizabeth told her they looked a lot like things called credit cards, which they couldn’t have, but a lot of people in the city did. Elizabeth said that the only difference was that there wasn’t a black bar on the back, which would be swiped whenever you wanted to charge it for something. But on the backside of her credit vouchers, her supervisor signed on a line, authorizing that they were authentic vouchers to use for purchases. Tabitha got paid about forty credits every week, earning one credit voucher per hour of work. However, she normally always worked longer than forty hours a week, but she was never paid

for

it

.

Tabitha counted out the ten credits she had left and shoved them into her jacket pocket

Okay, I’m going out. Stay away from the windows and doors and I’ll be back soon. I love you! Tabitha shouted back to her mother as she made her way toward their door, unlocking the four dead bolts and grabbing the keys that sat on the end table by the couch.

Alright. Be safe, Tabby!

Tabitha closed the door behind her, the hinges squealing against the metal, and locked her mother inside the apartment. She didn’t like doing it, but it had to be done for her own safety. The numbers 306 were carelessly painted on their door in white and other doors in the hall matched hers with their corresponding number. In other apartment rooms, she could faintly hear the crying of an infant and a few murmured conversations of the other inhabitants. She didn’t know any of them and she doubted that any of them

knew

her

.

She walked down the dusty hallway, down the three flights of stairs, out the front door of the apartment building and into the ghetto streets. The stench of trash and filth assaulted her nostrils and the clatter of daily life was everywhere.

Some adults were just now heading to work or running to the grocery store around the corner like she was. Tabitha preferred to keep to herself and not interrupt the other people who were going about their busy schedules.

They all wore similar blue cloths, but they were worn in various different ways. One woman wore it in such a way as to keep her hair back. One man wore it like a neckerchief. She saw a child running in the streets that preferred to wear theirs like a wrist band, wrapping it several times around their wrist before tying it off. Everyone had to wear the blue cloths, even the children and some infants too. Seeing the cloth invoked the same tight-chested feeling inside that they would never be free. But, at the same time, it encouraged her that they were never alone in their struggles.

No one who lived in the ghettos ever really worked in the ghettos. The people who worked in the grocery store, laundry mat and other places within the ghetto walls were either government employees stationed there, or people who got a waiver to stay within the ghettos

and

work

.

As Tabitha crossed one of the streets that led to the store, she could see down the road to the north gate of the ghetto. There, armed guards, known as the Gyad, stood just outside the walls.

They wore black uniforms, decorated with patches and polished buttons to show their rank, topped off with a black police hat to match with a golden band wrapped above the visor. Each soldier wielded standard issue loaded assault rifles. Wrapped around their arm was a red band with the golden symbol Tabitha had seen in her dream. She shivered at the sight

of

it

.

The Gyad stood vigilant guard at the gates, scrutinizing those who were walking out of the ghetto to catch a bus that came at selected times and to only that gate during the day. No more buses came after eight o’clock in the evening. Then, the gates would close for the night and the ghetto’s inhabitants would be locked in for curfew.

Tabitha saw one of the morning buses roll up to the gate to begin letting passengers on. She slowed her pace to a stop, watching with strange interest as men, women and some teenagers boarded the bus. They looked frail and exhausted, but she couldn’t blame them. Sometimes Tabitha wondered what side of the wall was worse to

be

on

.

She was almost knocked over when a middle-aged woman came running down the street toward the gate, shouting for the bus to wait. The woman was in a panic, trying to fix her work shirt and tie her bandana on tighter.

Half way to the gate, her bandana came loose from her arm and landed in a puddle in the street. She turned around, picked it up even though it was dripping and kept running. But it was too late. The bus pulled away from the curb as soon as she exited the gate and didn’t

slow

down

.

Tabitha watched with pity as the woman burst into tears.

Please, call another bus quickly! she exclaimed to the two Gyad guards. She thoughtlessly tugged upon the black sleeve of their uniform, but they shrugged her off and shoved her back with the edge of their

machine

guns

.

You’ll wait for another bus, one guard barked

at

her

.

But, she sobbed, the next bus won’t come for another hour. I’ll be late for work. The woman wiped her running nose against her arm. If I lose my job, how can I provide for my family?

That’s no concern of ours! the Gyad shouted at her, quickly losing their patience.

The other guard grabbed her by the lapel of her shirt and threw her back inside the gates. The woman stumbled clumsily over herself and fell into the same puddle into which she had dropped her bandana. Dirty water splashed over her work uniform, leaving darkened splotches in the material.

The two guards pointed and laughed at the woman’s misfortune before returning to their posts on either side of the gate. Tabitha looked around and saw that no one seemed to even notice the blight of this woman.

Without a second thought, she rushed over and took the woman’s arm to help her to her feet. Through the whole affair, she had not stopped crying. Tears ran down her face in torrents and she was almost too dazed by grief to respond to Tabitha’s efforts

to

help

.

If the bus won’t come for another hour, you have plenty of time to go home and change, Tabitha said gently to her as the woman regained her footing. "You should probably

do

that

."

I’ve been late twice to work already, the woman managed to blubber out. "If I’m late again, I don’t know what my boss will do

to

me

."

Tabitha gave her a weak smile and led her back in the direction she was running from. I’ll pray for you, was all she could say before the woman hobbled her way back to her apartment building.

Tabitha breathed a quick prayer for the poor woman and walked to the grocery store down the way. As she entered through the doors, she grabbed a hand basket and began her shopping.

There wasn’t much on the shelves. This store was the only one in the ghetto, but the shipments of food and supplies that came in every week or so were never enough to satisfy the needs of the people. When a shipment was late, they went hungry.

As Tabitha walked down the aisles, she began recalling the list she had made earlier. Bread, milk, jelly, maybe more peanut butter, butter, oranges, orange juice, eggs… She must have been missing something.

She passed by a mother, holding her crying baby over her shoulder. Tabitha knew that the baby must have been starving, judging by the sharp cheekbones and hollow eyes that matched that of its mother.

She walked up behind the mother and smiled, making goofy faces for the baby. The infant stopped crying and began giggling in response, momentarily distracted from its troubles. The mother was too absorbed in her shopping to notice the difference. She had a natural talent with children that would have made her an excellent daycare assistant if she were allowed such a position.

Tabitha smiled and waved goodbye to the child as she continued on

her

way

.

She strode down to the end of the aisle and grabbed a loaf of bread worth half a credit off of the shelf. Then, she turned around to the other side of the shelves and grabbed a jar of peanut butter and jelly. Two credits. She walked farther down and saw a box of cereal. She decided to come back for it later if she had enough

credits

left

.

Tabitha came back around to the middle of the store and heard a commotion in the next aisle over. When she peeked around the corner, she was startled to see two grown men fighting over a box of dried noodles.

I’ve got five children to feed. I need this more than you do! one man shouted.

I just lost my job and this is all I can afford. I’ve been starving for days, the other contested.

Tabitha skipped that aisle, not wanting to get in the middle of an argument that was common in the ghettos.

She came to the refrigerated foods and took out a jug of milk, orange juice and some eggs. Five credits.

Tabitha stared at the sticks of butter, remembering the cereal she had seen on the other side of the store. She only had two and a half credits left until the next time she got paid. The cereal was one credit, while butter was only a half. Tabitha didn’t like to spend all of her money, but she hadn’t had cereal in months.

Tabitha grudgingly grabbed the butter, ran back and picked up a box of cereal, then got a few oranges to complete her

shopping

list

.

The line at the register wasn’t very long, but it was the only one in the store, worked by a man with a blue bandana tied like a cap over his head to cover his curly

brown

hair

.

Once Tabitha came to the head of the line, she carefully set down all of her groceries and pulled out her credit vouchers.

Hey, Tabs! How are you doing? the man at the register greeted. Gary was an old friend of the family and knew Tabitha well. They even played in the streets together

growing

up

.

"I’m alright. Just getting some groceries before going to work. How

are

you

?"

I’m doing okay… By the sound of his voice, she knew all too well that he wasn’t okay. He was lucky to have a job inside the ghetto, but being under the supervision of a government official was never ideal.

He calculated the total for all of the foods and gave the total. Alright, it’s going to be ten and a half credits.

What? Tabitha was confused as her heart sank into her stomach. Had she calculated incorrectly?

Ten and a half credits… What’s wrong? Gary started to bag

the

food

.

"I thought it would be ten credits even. What prices

went

up

?"

"Oh, I don’t think we’ve changed the sign yet, but bread went up half a credit last week… Do you want me to take

something

off

?"

With a fallen countenance, she motioned to the cereal that she had been looking forward to eating. It wasn’t a necessity and she could always get it later.

Gary took the cereal off the order and the total went down a credit. Tabitha gave him her ten vouchers and he gave her back a card with only half a credit on it with his supervisor’s signature already signed upon

the

back

.

Tabitha thanked him as she gathered up the brown paper bags with her grocery goods.

You have a good day. And take care of yourself, Gary said as he lent her a hand in getting the bags adjusted into

her

arms

.

"You do

the

same

."

Tabitha made her way back to their apartment and put the groceries away in the kitchen, while her mother slept a little longer. She checked the watch sitting on the chest of drawers in the bedroom and saw it was already eight o’clock.

She’d have to get going soon. She liked to make a point of arriving early to work, even if she didn’t need to. It gave her a good reputation, even if no one

noticed

it

.

Tabitha pulled out a frying pan, stoked the smoldering embers in the stove after adding some bits of wood and cracked a few eggs onto the cast iron surface. Tabitha sat down on the couch as the eggs sizzled in the kitchen. The old upholstery creaked against her weight. The musty smell of the apartment gave way to the potent scent of smoke as the fire rekindled.

While she waited for their breakfasts to cook, she leaned over and picked up the leather bound book from the end table. She took a deep breath and flipped to where a little red ribbon was holding her place.

Letting the rest of the world fade away, she immersed herself in the Holy Gospel scriptures written by the hand of John. Today she was reading through chapter fifteen. Her eyes poured over verses eighteen and nineteen.

"If the world hates you, keep in mind that it hated me first. If you belonged to the world, it would love you as its own. As it is, you do not belong to the world, but I have chosen you out of the world. That is why the world

hates

you

."

Tabitha sat back and thought on these words. She knew exactly why the world hated her. Why the country of Gadria hated those who wore the blue cloths. She was reminded everyday, not only by her bandana, but by the biting words of her coworkers, the insults of the customers, the laws, the persecution, the prison that was the ghetto she

lived

in

.

It was because of her faith as a Christian that she had to be subjugated to these rules and restrictions. She was not a citizen, just a black spot upon the purist country she lived in and could not

escape

from

.

But, even though her mother was still asleep, her words echoed in Tabitha’s mind, quoting Matthew chapter five, verse ten. Blessed are those who are persecuted for the sake of righteousness, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.

Tabitha wanted to be blessed and feel blessed. It was a fight to stay strong each day, battling to keep the faith and not lose hope that some day things would get better.

---

------

---

A silver sports car sped down the freeway toward Shiloh, loud rock music blaring through the sound system. Inside, Luke steered with one hand while the other gripped the gear shirt. His aqua marine eyes watched the road and the sky. It was becoming increasingly dark the closer he came to the town so he peeled his glasses off and tossed them into the

passenger

seat

.

Luke ran his fingers through his hair and scratched his scalp nervously. He’d just recently gotten the tips of his hair highlighted blonde to contrast with his natural dark brown color and Luke was gradually getting used to the changes the more he looked at himself in his rearview mirror. Wearing designer jeans with a plain black shirt, he prided himself that he stayed with the tides of fashion while still looking casual.

Luke, his brother Nick, and their dad had just moved to Shiloh. His dad, Daniel, had been appointed the position as chief of police, a major promotion from being the sheriff in the tiny country town from which they hailed.

The boys could have remained in their hometown, but they all agreed that staying together as three bachelors was better than all of them living by themselves. Besides, the three of them got along well and there was no reason to separate. Not many families did that nowadays.

Luke was the younger of the two brothers in his late twenties while Nick bested him by five years. Nick was a very successful lawyer back in Trezville, running the only law firm in town. He had to stay behind for a few more weeks to make last minute arrangements to his business, but agreed to help Luke and Daniel move for

the

day

.

Nick was driving right behind Luke in his own black luxury car, threatening to ram Luke’s bumper if he didn’t go faster. Luke was already driving twenty miles over the speed limit.

Luke’s music faded in the background as his car informed him he had an incoming call. He pressed the Bluetooth button on his steering wheel and the music paused completely, leaving the dull roar of road noise to fill the cabin of

the

car

.

Hello?

Get movin’, Luke! I don’t have all day! Nick’s voice screeched over the car’s speakers.

You know how fast I’m going? If I go any faster, I could get a ticket! You can pass me, stupid! Luke laughed and motioned for his brother to go around, knowing full well that Nick could see him through the back windshield.

I don’t know where the house is, so I need to follow you. Where’s the exit anyway? I feel like we’ve been driving forever.

Luke checked the nearest mile marker on the side of

the

road

.

It’s about five miles away, didn’t you read the last sign? Luke leaned over and pushed a few buttons on the GPS installed in his car’s dashboard. The device confirmed his statement.

"No, I don’t read the signs. I’m too busy trying to get you to

hurry

up

!"

Nick’s engine roared just a foot away from Luke’s tail. If Nick hit his bumper, the car could careen out of control. Luke eased his foot down on the accelerator to get out of range.

Hey! Quit it! Luke’s deep voice shouted into the microphone. Nick chuckled on his end of the line, obviously finding all this exceedingly humorous. Luke didn’t understand why such a reasonable man like Nick would be trying something so dangerous.

Just give me directions or speed up! It’s that simple.

Man, you’ve got a GPS! Use it! Luke put on his turn signal and steered into the far right lane. His brother

followed

suit

.

I don’t know the stinkin’ address!

"Listen, you’re going to have to slow down anyway. We’re coming up on

the

exit

."

"Have you ever heard of this place? Everyone at my office says it’s a

dung

hill

."

Luke had to admit that he’d never heard of the town before, but from the few times he scouted around before the moving date, it seemed fine enough. Everyone seemed friendly and hospitable. Some people were a little eccentric, but what town doesn’t have its crazies?

Dad said it’s a fine city and it’s going to offer him a lot of work. Luke put on his turn signal and pulled onto the exit ramp, followed by his brother. Only then did the two begin to

slow

down

.

Did you find a job yet, by the way? Nick asked as they approached the stoplight. Luke was instructed to

turn

left

.

Yeah, I’m an assistant manager at the Olive Grove restaurant downtown. I’m going in there today to take a look around and walk through an orientation with my boss, Luke said as he and his brother rode through Shiloh toward the

north

side

.

The roads were very clean, with clear sidewalks lined with of blooming trees. The businesses were like the kind in most towns he had seen before with restaurants, bookstores, supermarkets, repair stores, car dealerships, and much more. It was a big change from the small town they came from. Luke wondered how he would ever find his way around. Thankfully he had the GPS to help for the first few months.

All the buildings were made of crisp, clean concrete, with spacious parking lots and not one car looked over two years old. No one was out on the streets, save for a few bicyclists, and it seemed like everyone was dressed well. Luke felt like they had just entered the twilight zone, everything seemed so perfect. There had to be something wrong

around

here

.

Luke led his brother down a few residential streets up to a gated community with a low brick terrace, freshly cut, lush lawn and they could spy the tops of the expensive houses that were inside the neighborhood. Luke drove up to the guardhouse and gave the patrolman his ID card to gain admission. His brother did

the

same

.

He heard Nick whistle in astonishment, still connected over the phone.

Dang! Look at this place. What’s our number? Nick asked.

Luke pulled out a piece of paper after turning his radio off. Number six-twenty-seven. It’s at the end of this road on the right. They’ll be a moving truck in front. You can’t miss it. And with that, Luke pushed the button on his Bluetooth and hung up

on

Nick

.

The brothers passed mansion after mansion, all designed with modern architectural styles, but colorless. Luke grimaced at the straight-lined edifices, bland of flair and culture. He never liked the contemporary design. He much preferred the classical styles with gabled roofs and columned porches.

Luke drove to the end of the drive and pulled up alongside the curb behind the moving truck. Their new house wasn’t much different than their old one. Two stories, four bedrooms, four bathrooms, a two-car garage, but it was much less appealing just like the rest of the neighborhood. The yard was fully landscaped and it looked like Daniel was just finishing up on moving all the heavy furniture in. Luke could see his jeep parked in one of the garages.

Luke cut his engine and climbed out of the car just in time to see Nick stand up out of his own car to marvel at the house.

It looks nice. You been inside yet? Nick asked, his dark eyes examining each detail of the house as a chilled wind swept through his equally dark, but short hair. Standing side by side, a stranger wouldn’t have been able to tell the two brothers were related. Their facial structures and body types were starkly different. Luke stayed in shape, working out nearly every other day, while