The Likeness Within

By C E Trantham

Curiosity can change the world...forever

 

Twelve-year-old Jesse Bender decides to say goodbye to the world on his own terms and he lives more in three months than he could have ever imagined.

While on vacation at the Kennedy Space Center, curiosity leads Jesse to a place he was not supposed to be. But there is more to his new hideout than he realizes.

As things change with Jesse's body and mind, it takes world famous historian and scientist, Dr. Alan Wright, to discover the truth. News reporter Penny Clark is happy to break the story.

 

Bishop Joseph Brown and his hitman, The Dark Angel, are after Dr. Wright for speaking out against Christianity, while others are hunting Jesse for his blood.

In The Likeness Within, C.E. Trantham takes readers back to the world of The 12th Disciple for an amazing new adventure.

• Language: English
• Publisher: C E Trantham
• Release date: Mar 23, 2016
• ISBN: 9781393967279

Book preview

Chapter 1

5:30 a.m.  Present Day...

CIA Secret Mobile Ops

Location at Kennedy Space Center

––––––––

"Glad you made it." Field agent Jones turned to Chief Operations officer Logan as he entered.

Traffic was a mess with all the cripples trying to get to the Visitor Complex. Logan shook his head. I guess I can’t blame them.

You should have come in from the north or the south. 

So, what are we looking at? Logan turned to monitor screens positioned throughout the room showing video of people at airports.

Sir, during the last week we’ve tracked multiple arrivals at surrounding Melbourne, Daytona Beach, and Orlando International airports. Jones pointed to the screens. Officials from the German, Chinese, French, and Japanese governments, as well as units from Britain’s Secret Service, the Colombian Cartel, and the KGB. And of course, Kim Jong Un has sent a team from North Korea. He turned back to Logan. We’re even getting reports that the Vatican has sent Opus Dei.

Jesus, everybody wants him.

Well, sir...

I know, Jones. I get it. It doesn’t surprise me. Logan furrowed his brow. What about our guys?

We have CIA and FBI agents positioned from here to Orlando and north as far as Georgia. We’re following every lead and all possibilities.

You mean all the possibilities we can think of. The boy is extremely intelligent.

And our Secret Service is ready to engage once we find him. Jones paused. But, sir, if the rumors are true and he gets to NASA.

We can’t let that happen. Logan gave him a stern look. We stick to our orders. The boy is too valuable...and he may not realize the danger he’s in. 

*    *    *

Jesse Bender leaned over the sink inside room 112 at the Titusville Hampton Inn and splashed water on his face. Grabbing the sides of the sink with his hands he lowered his head even further, as if giving up. What have you gotten yourself into, Jesse? Lifting his head to face himself in the mirror, water drizzled down his cheeks. It was hard to believe that only a few months ago he was a short scrawny kid.

Look at you, not even thirteen...yet you’ve got the body and muscles of a man, a strong man. Even Jesse was amazed at his rugged body. Hands that could crush bones, muscles that seemed to grow every day. And on his face, the dark stubble of whiskers that matched his dark eyes and long brown hair. He gazed at his reflection in the mirror. What they are saying is true. You do look like Him. He glanced at Jesus on the crucifix hanging from the gold chain around his neck.

Jesse stood straight; he was pushing six-feet tall. And he knew it wasn’t just his body—his mind was seeing and understanding things. His level of intelligence was challenging the brightest brains on Earth. Taking the hand towel lying beside him he dried his face. Then he grabbed the handle of a silver metallic briefcase sitting on the floor next to him and left the bathroom.

I phoned the front desk for a taxi, Dr. Alan Wright said. Are you sure you don’t want to ride with me?

Yeah, it’s better if we go separately, Jesse said.

Be careful out there. Wright gave him a concerned look.

You checked in using an alias, right?

Yes, of course. But, still...

Don’t worry, I’ll be fine. Jesse called upon his inner strength and winked. Thanks for letting me crash here.

You’re always welcome.

And in other news, from the hotel TV. Officials have yet to identify the new Jihadi John after ISIS released videos of more executions over a month ago. The television showed one of the videos—a man on his knees wearing an orange shirt with another man standing behind wearing a black robe and black balaclava covering his head; only his dark eyes were revealed.

Jesse and Dr. Wright watched as the man dressed in black pulled out a knife and placed it on the neck of the man on his knees. Even though the next scene was blacked out, leaving only movement from the shoulders of the man wearing all black as he sliced across the other man’s neck, it was chilling.

ISIS leader, Abu Bakr al-Baghdadi, from the news reporter, continues to brag that Jihadi John lives and will always live. Some officials are still holding that the death of Mohammed Emwazi, the original Jihadi John, dealt a serious blow to ISIS, others say it was of no consequence.

I guess they’ll always have an executioner, Jesse said.

It’s sad. Wright nodded. They seem to have plenty who will step up to the role of Jihadi John. They’ve even got a new nickname for him...Vicious Sid.

Lock the door after I leave. Jesse left making sure the hotel door behind him closed completely. He paused, listening. After the sound of the door lock he started walking through the corridor of the hotel. The thick soft, yet firm, carpet on the floor added comfort to his old sneakers, and silenced his step. He avoided the lobby, exited through a side door and made his way around to the front of the building; a taxi was waiting. He looked in all directions for anything suspicious or strange. The voices in his head gave him a reassuring, Okay.

He paused, closed his eyes and inhaled through his nose while lifting his chin. The smell of the early Florida morning was a warm blend of St. Augustine grass, palm trees, palmetto and dry bush mixed with a hint of the nearby Indian River and Atlantic Ocean. A distant flash of lightning lit up the night sky from the west. To the east, the stars were already disappearing as the faint glow of daybreak reached up to the heavens. The sun would soon peek over the horizon off the coast of Kennedy Space Center and Titusville.

Good morning, Jesse said through the opened window of the taxi.

Доброе утро, the driver said with a thick Russian accent. His gaze was focused in front of him on the newspaper he was holding.

Вы говорите по-англиский? He asked the driver if he speaks English.

The driver turned his head to Jesse. Yes, of course. And it sounds like you speak Russki. He grinned.

Jesse gave a nod. Can you take me to the Kennedy Space Center?

I can get you to the first guard station but, I don’t have clearance beyond that. And the main entrance is backed up with jammed traffic.

Do you know how to get to Gate 1 from the south?

Yes.

That will do. Jesse got in the back seat.

Here. The driver folded the newspaper and handed it over the seat to Jesse, then started the car and sped off.

With a heavy sigh, Jesse thought about all that had happened the last three months. He looked at the metallic briefcase he brought with him. It contained his latest work. He wasn’t sure if he would be successful, but he knew he had to try. Then he glanced at the newspaper the driver gave him. A small photo caught his eye; it was a snapshot of his new friend, Penny Clark. He smiled, unfolded the paper and searched for the beginning of the article. Miracle Boy, Prodigy, or both? by Penny Clark, Orlando Sentinel.

Дерьмо, from the driver.

Jesse looked up to see him looking in his rear view. Turning to look through the rear window, Jesse saw flashing blue lights from a state trooper. He turned back to the driver who was now staring at him through the mirror. The driver’s eyes narrowed then he slowed the vehicle to pull over. As the car stopped, a black sedan pulled up from behind the trooper and parked at angle in front of the taxi preventing any escape. Two police officers approached from behind while a man in a business suit got out of the sedan parked in front. The driver lowered his window a few inches.

Please step out of the vehicle, one of the policemen said.

I’m sorry officer. Is there a problem? he spoke through the thin opening from the window.

Just get out of the vehicle, please.

He got out.

The man in the suit came around the other side of the taxi and tapped on the back window. Jesse Bender! Open up.

Jesse downed his window. What’s going on, who are you?

David Wittman, CIA. It’s important you come with me.

He got out and faced the man. Loud popping sounded. Jesus! Jesse ducked. Wittman squatted and pulled out a pistol. They turned to look through the windows of the taxi. Gunfire continued for a few seconds; blood spattered on the driver’s side window before the taxi driver fell against it. His body slid down the window falling to the ground, leaving blood and guts smudged on the glass.

Why did they shoot him? Jesse asked.

He’s not the taxi driver. Wittman put his gun back in the holster under his suit coat.

What do you mean?

Were you engaged? Wittman called out to the officers.

Yes, he pulled a pistol, one of the officers replied.

Pop the trunk.

One of the officers reached in the driver’s side of the car and the trunk latch released.

Come see for yourself. Wittman gave a head tilt.

Jesse was horrified to see a man in the trunk with a bullet hole in his forehead.

That’s the cab driver, Wittman said.

Jesse turned to the man lying on the ground beside the taxi. Who was he?

KGB.

I thought they didn’t exist anymore.

That’s what they would like you to think. But they’re still around; these days they run the Russian mafia.

It’s never going to end, is it? Jesse said.

Come on. Wittman turned to his sedan.

Wait. I want to see a badge. The voices in his head were worried.

Wittman turned back to Jesse. You don’t trust me?

I don’t trust anybody I don’t know.

That’s good kid. I’ve heard you’re a smart one. He showed his badge. It looked official enough.

Where are we going? I wonder if I can trust my own government.

My orders are to take you to the nearest safe house and wait for the Secret Service. There’s one at the Titusville Police Department.

Isn’t there also one at Kennedy Space Center? Jessie asked. I’ll go with you, if you take me there instead of the TPD.

Wittman paused. Okay. It’s even more secure and perhaps a change in plan is good. It’ll help throw off the bad guys. They went to the sedan, got in and drove off.

A sharp turn by Wittman caused Jesse to lean into the passenger door, he checked his safety belt. Why did you turn here?

I’m taking the back roads, kid. Don’t worry, I know what I’m doing.

Jesse raised a brow. They appeared to be heading for the outskirts of town. He looked to the east. The sun had made its way over the horizon.

Is it true what they say about you? Wittman held the steering wheel of the sedan with both hands as he raced through some barren streets of Titusville.

Jesse glanced at him before turning his eyes back to the road in front.

It’s in your blood, right?

It doesn’t work that way. Jesse looked back to him, shaking his head.

Clink! Wittman’s head whipped back, blood splattered from the front of his head, but even more from the back leaving a large bloody mess on the head rest; then he fell forward landing on the steering wheel. The sedan swerved off the road hitting a ditch and rolled over. Clanking metal and cracking glass sounded as the weight of the overturned car crushed the roof into the muddy ground.

Jesse found himself upside down hanging by his seat belt. He looked at Wittman hanging beside him, lifeless; a slow drip of blood dropped from his forehead. Motorcycles and other vehicles came to screeching halts. Car doors opened.

Finden Sie den Jungen.

Ja, Kommandant.

Deutsche, Jesse thought. He recognized the German language. The men came closer. He released his safety belt.

Jesse Bender! Are you okay? a man called out with a strong German accent. You must come with us. You have no choice.

He heard more cars approach. Jesse assessed his predicament. To get out of the overturned sedan he would have to break through the already cracked windows. He gave a few kicks with his strong legs and cleared a way out.

Gun fire sounded. Jesse stayed inside. Machine guns. Rapid popping and blasts cut through the early morning. He heard grunts and moans, the sounds of people being shot. Maybe I should make a run for it?

The shooting stopped. He crawled through the window to find himself surrounded by over a dozen men in camo uniforms; they looked Hispanic and were heavily armed. Four other men, dressed differently, were lying dead on the ground. The Germans, he thought. Distant thunder sounded from the west.

Two men were wearing business suits instead of military clothes; they came forward.

Don’t trust them, from the voices in his head.

I don’t, Jesse thought.

What do you want? he asked the two men.

Your blood, one of the men said with a heavy accent.

Like I told the others, that won’t work.

¿Qué? one of the men asked the other.

No funciona, dijo, the other man replied.

Spanish, Jesse thought and then spoke to the men. Tomando parte de mi sangre no funciona. Letting them know that taking some of his blood won’t work. Also, I know your code—Lollipop.

Their eyes widened. You don’t know what you are talking about, the English-speaking man said.

Juan Carlos Abadia, the Cartel. Even El Chapo, Jesse said. And I know the secret.

So, the rumors are true, the man said. You are smart as you are strong. Is it also true that bullets bounce off of you?

It can’t be replicated from a blood sample, Jesse said.

Ah, you misunderstand. We don’t want a sample. The man’s grin was wicked. "We want all of your blood."

More thunder sounded.

Jesse shook his head. You’re no match for me.

Yes...that’s why we brought tasers. The man signaled the others surrounding Jesse. They all pulled out heavy-duty stun guns and tasers. Jesse’s shoulders slouched and he sighed with despair.

The sound