Bloodline Spectrum

By Huminaten

Kareem Owens, a street hustler from New York moves to Illinois after the birth of his lovely daughter Makeda to bury his past and start a new life. A sudden devastating turn of events leads him to discovering an inheritance, solely left to his bloodline that pulls him into a cruel new world of truth and chaos. His newly discovered leadership uproots a powerful and vicious organized mob of killers that will stop at nothing to keep their control over the planet flourishing, even if it means suicide in exchange for his death.
A group of occult members open a doorway, through invocation, for a dark entity to enter our time zone called Al Khannas. This speeds up time, the inevitable fate of the planet and everything inside her. Kareem and his team must find a way to prolong the inevitable or perish- the fate of all things rest on one man’s shoulders.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Mar 25, 2022
• ISBN: 9781665540735

Book preview

© 2022 Huminaten. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

Published by AuthorHouse 06/12/2023

ISBN: 978-1-6655-4070-4 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-6655-4073-5 (e)

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models,

and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

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

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Section Two

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Chapter 39

Chapter 40

Chapter 41

Chapter 42

Chapter 43

Chapter 44

Chapter 45

Chapter 46

Chapter 47

Chapter 48

Chapter 49

Chapter 50

Chapter 51

Chapter 52

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CHAPTER 1

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Miami, FL. October 31, 12:45 a.m.

"G o faster!" said Shanell.

In the backwoods of a rural deserted area of Miami in the midst of blackness with not even the luminary moon to spread its cool glow. Keith pressed his foot on the gas pedal increasing acceleration in his brand-new sports car. He loved the attention his chameleon painted exterior, with matching leather seats, received from the gullible young women in the city. Keith fantasized, frequently amused, about the everyday body language of various races of women. What he called: ‘flavors.’ The way they would caress their bodies when he made the doors go up like members of the church, raising their hands and arms to the sky, praising their God. Most of the time, it takes a cruise through a popular beach to get their juices flowing. That, along with his boyish good looks: brown skin tone with a skin fade brushed straight and wavy. They adored his six-foot three-inch stature and hazel eyes.

Keith played around with the thought of satisfying his sexual desires as he increased the speed to one hundred on the speedometer. Would Shanell go for it? Her type always did!

Shanell, Keith started in anticipation.

Before he could spill out the rest of the words, she moved in closer and commenced to kiss him aggressively, as if she were telepathic. Her sensuality took on a new peak, as she had never performed at such a speed and in such a sexy car. She was thrilled and willing. She hastily popped the button on his denim jeans. She tugged at his jeans and then commenced to satisfy his desires. Besides, she was going to ask the same of him if he were to let her drive.

Damn, baby!

Keith kept his eyes on the speedometer and the dark road ahead. His high beams allowed fifty feet of clearance sight in distance. He snuck a peek at Shanell as her head bobbed up and down over his lap. He wanted to close his eyes and enjoy his climax as the pressure continued to build. It became a task for him as the vehicle reached max speed. As he neared his climax he thought about Teresa, his three children’s mother. The things he used to force her into doing to fulfill his pleasures in the name of what he called love. Teresa was five foot five inches, high yellow; with long silky thick black hair due to the Cherokee she inherited from her mother. Her father was Bajan, tall and high yellow as well. He pleasured himself in the way she would sob when he forced her to perform oral sex. She never liked it but she did it just to keep him happy. His selfishness was extreme at times. He resorted to his violent ways when she did not perform as he pleased. The result of that was Teresa collapsing to the floor in her flawless nakedness, curled in a fetal position, trying to woman up to the excruciating pain in her face and heart. As she lay on the beige shag in their bedroom, he would calmly stand up and walk away from her to examine an elegant piece of furniture in a home that he inherited from his deceased father’s will. His taste for Noralie and Versailles sofas, never quite satisfied. He purchased new ones every quarter of the year, putting his well-paid designer to much use. At the age of thirty-two, he never worked a day in his life. His father passed away when he was a child of fourteen years of age. Leaving him a husky three million dollars in a private account.

Keith shook his head briefly, snapping himself out of the crude trance. He erupted like a volcano and laid his head back on the head rest. He exhaled, releasing the tingling sensation that shot straight up his spine. Keith placed a heavy hand on the back of Shanell’s head and forced her further onto his manhood. She uttered a brief gagging sound as he watched and enjoyed it. Returning his gaze onto the road ahead, he froze in a quarter of a second panic. A pale woman in a soiled white dress standing in his path like an estranged deer.

OH SHH...

Keith squirmed as he stabbed the brake pedal repeatedly. In two seconds, the velocity and body of the vehicle consumed the woman. The gruesome thud and plop gave him an end of the world sinking feeling that he felt in his solar plexus. He reduced the speed to a crawl as he watched the body roll and tumble from his rearview mirror like a football rolling down a steep hill. Shanell looked on, wide eyed, as the body continued to roll like a rag doll. Keith glanced back from thirty yards at the now still body basked in the red glow of his vehicle’s taillights. He struck the steering wheel with a closed fist.

SHIT!

WHAT WAS THAT? inquired Shanell, nervously.

THAT! IS A LADY! WHAT DO YOU MEAN WHAT WAS THAT !? he continued, distraught and wide eyed. I ONLY HAD A SECOND TO SEE WHAT WAS HAPPENING THEN SPLAT! ALL OVER MY SHIT!

Let’s get out of here! she stated, clearly concerned.

Reaching for the remote to the stereo, he took it and pushed the ON button. He selected an audio recording of a famous pastor known in his household. He pulled the latch on his door exiting the vehicle as he left it running.

Listen to that while I go check it out. You might stop being so scary sometimes, said Keith, in a droll manner.

Pssssh! Anyway! she sounded, striking back at his comment with a fierce eye roll.

Keith showed his bright white teeth through a wide smile, mocking. He searched the darkness that surrounded him, causing him to remember his flashlight in the right corner of his trunk. He pulled his blue jeans up to his waist and secured all the silver buttons at the crotch. He took another quick glance through the darkness before calling out to Shannell.

Shanell, hit the button for the trunk right there. No, right there! Yeah, Keith ordered, pointing at the lower right corner near his steering wheel as he used his left hand to pull on the hem of his shirt, placing it comfortably over his jeans.

He walked patiently to the trunk of his vehicle. Again, watching his surroundings as he lifted the trunk with both hands. The blue light bulbs in the upper corners of the truck lit up, granting him an easy find for his flashlight. He reached for it and released the Velcro strap which held the large flashlight in place. He grabbed the foot long black steel flashlight. He gripped it tightly in his palm while thinking about pulverizing anything that may come before him posing a threat. He pressed the round smooth rubber switch. The flashlight came to life shining its light into the sky. He aimed the light toward the ground and around his being, making sure he would not need to make a split-second decision to flee for cover within the confines of his vehicle with the speed of a terrified mouse. Keith collected his composure as the light exposed the dilapidated body in the distance. He could make out the disfigured bends in the joints of the legs and torso of the body. From that distance he could now see that this was a lady, very pale in a white night gown without sleeves. It was now stained with fresh blood from her legs and torso. As he cautiously walked towards the body, he could make out her long soiled black hair and dirty pale shoeless feet. Keith raised his head quickly, startled, as he heard a shuffle of noise within the midst of the dark wooded area to his left. He raised his flashlight hastily, shining white light on the point of origin that he believed the noise may have come from. There was nothing there as he took a long deep breath, feeling somewhat secure. Keith manifests light again upon his destiny now gaining ten yards before his human roadkill. The stench of the body reeked as if the woman had been dead for days; three to six days perhaps. Gaining yardage like a running back, he pulled the collar of his white and blue t-shirt over his nose and mouth. As he stood five feet from the body, he wanted to make his way back to his vehicle, but he couldn’t believe the condition this woman was and had to already be in. What was left of her body presented decaying flesh on her calves, arms and mouth area. Maggots protruded out of her face as if they were a well-kept secret until now. Keith thought to himself that there was no way such a thing could happen to a body within minutes of death. Then again, this situation started to make him change his perception. That was not for him to decide. Let those who conduct the postmortem examination figure it out.

Keith scanned his surroundings once more, taking a quick glance back in the direction of his parked car. Returning his glance in the direction of the body, his heart jumped, stopped and skipped a beat simultaneously as he stood face to face with the once broken, disfigured corpse. Standing inches away from the erect corpse the stench became more pungent. The corpse’s mouth hung open loosely as something mysterious began to take place. The corpse commenced to shape shift slowly. Keith stood paralyzed in fear as the disfigured corpse mutated, resembling the one standing before it. To him it was like looking into some mystical mirror as it took on his exact image. Keith stuttered under his breath as he tried to exhale some words from his chest. Since speaking was an unlikely task, he took the initiative to lash out, instead, striking his Zombie-like twin across the head with his black steel flashlight. His Zombie-like twin only tilted its head from the blow, unfazed. Keith did not know what to make of it and commenced to backpedal towards his vehicle. His Zombie-like twin squinted its eyes as if concentrating on a complicated piece of art. Its eyes took on an amber colored glow as it has whispered something in the gruff voice like a man with a damaged larynx:

Aaaateeenn...

Keith felt a deep burning sensation like a boil in his lower abdomen that made its way down to his midsection. He moaned as the pain increased. The creature leaned in closer to his face as Keith fell to his knees. The ball in his flashlight exploded simultaneously with the high pitch continuous tone he heard in his ears. His pants puffed like a detonation of explosives set off thirty feet underground as his midsection exploded to pieces shooting particles of blood into the air like a mist. He raised his hands to his face, as if numb to the pain in his lower body and commenced to claw into the thin flesh of it. He tore the tissue to the bone, exposing his cheekbones and molars. His body burned feverishly with sores that ooze a greenish white puss. The mystic human-like creature looked on as Keith’s weakness for sexual abuse took hold of him to his death. His body resembled a six-foot three herpes infested genital.

Aaall thaat youu Humaansss grotessstly desiiire, shaaall faaall byy iin thessse daaysss. I wiiill juuudge thisss plaaneet, It stated, matter of factly, with a whisper.

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The driver’s side door opened with a sigh from the air cylinders. Shanell inhaled deeply as her anxiety regressed. She examined Keith as he stepped into the car, barefoot with a soiled white gown over his muscular body. Shanell quivered briefly as the warm Miami climate seemed to drop and suddenly bit into her flesh leaving a herd of goose bumps on her soft skin. She was speechless upon her analysis of Keith’s appearance. He seemed very distant, her presence unnoticed. He quickly rummaged through the ashtray clutching a fist full of quarters and dimes. She looked on with a sarcastic yet disgusted expression on her face. The stench of urine, feces and another she could not quite make out, agitated her nostrils and violated her lungs.

Keith? she called out, suspiciously. She knitted her brow. Are you alright?

In that instant, she observed the amber color of his eyes. She quickly realized this was not the Keith she knew. The leather seat wrinkled under Shanell’s body as she yanked at the chrome latch on her door and tried for a liberating resolution. The mysterious creature raised its right fist full of silver coins to its lips and released its tight grasp, spilling some nickels and quarters onto the floorboard like droplets of hail making low-pitched sounds upon fusing to the interior. It blew into its palm, ejecting the remaining coins from a cold hand. The silver coins pierced through her side and back tearing through her vital organs and shattering bone as if they were projectiles from a high-powered assault rifle. The interior of the sports car lit up with sparks. The windows shattered as the coins exited her body and tore through the vehicle’s eloquent framework. Traveling to nearby trees and bushes, chipping and pruning them.

The pastor’s sermon continued without fault while Shanell lay motionless and contorted: ‘...AFTER THIS ONE THOUSAND YEARS HE MUST BE RELEASED FOR A LITTLE WHILE...’

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CHAPTER 2

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Chicago, IL. October 31, 7:45 a.m.

"Y ou going to sleep all day? Or you going to work?" said Denise.

I got this babe! What time is it? I inquired.

Quarter to eight, she replied, making her way out of our bedroom.

I watched her leave through the temporary blurriness of sight. I felt like a patient just coming out of a coma. Yet, still, Denise was that beautiful jewel. Perfect figure, as I watched her walk away in her silk turquoise night down, which made her seem as if she floated away as opposed to merely walking. One more minute. Closing my eyes for one more minute. Sleep can, most times, be the most peaceful state that a man can be in. One more minute. Just...

DADDY!

I was semiconscious when Makeda leaped on to my queen size mattress. She playfully bounced off the mattress and sprung on to me with all fifty pounds of her body without resistance.

Good morning, sweetheart, I greeted her.

Mama said get up and get ready, she said, with a smile and glitter in her eyes.

I chuckled inside of myself. She looked too much like her mother this morning. It is also funny how her energy is like a catchy music note. I catch it, groove to it, and then move with it. She gets me going. That is the only way I know to explain it.

Alright, babe. I’m up, I submitted. I rolled to my left side. Like a dump truck offloading rubble, Makeda rolled off my body and onto the mattress.

She sprang up with lightning speed and ran out of my bedroom. I watched her as she made way for the entrance in her multicolored ‘BIG GIRLS DON’T CRY’ pajamas. Again, I smiled to myself because life was good. Stressful at most parts of the day, but good. I guess there has to be a balance! I threw the two layers of linen bed sheets to my side and sat up on my side of the bed. The morning chill gave me goosebumps as I exposed my body to the natural atmosphere. Joints popped; it felt good. At least to know that I am still human after waking constantly throughout the night from these crazy dreams I have been having lately.

I stood up and popped my spine, getting the kinks out. I gazed at my new carpet as I made my way to the bedroom window. I could tell it was a bit nippy by the way the sky looked. I lost myself in a trance while staring into the grayness of it. On the outside of my windowsill, I observed a spider crawling back and forth looking for whatever it was looking for in the wrong place. I hate bugs! If I were on the other side of this window, I probably would have splattered its little brown body all over the white paint. That is life! Live and die, right?

My awareness of the time kicked in and I hastily made my way into the bathroom. When we first bought this house, I told my wife she could fix it up like she wanted to. I honestly liked her taste. It wasn’t too feminine nor too masculine. I’ll give you a glance: blue and white floor tiles with a collage of our favorite cartoon characters engraved in them. My daughter’s bathroom was an exact duplicate. Sometimes we act like big kids, keeping our hearts light. However, the ten by fourteen-foot walls were engraved with delicate white roses. The sink, blue and white marble that went a little beyond my creativity; but hey! That’s what she wanted. The shower was like a sauna. Big enough for eight people. I might be exaggerating. Just a little. It was complete with baby blue colored tile, chrome shower head which could be pulled out of the wall and used manually. White marble shower handles. One side had the Jacuzzi with blue lights creatively mounted into the floor. The bathroom was always very immaculate; clean.

I reached for my toothbrush and pulled it from its holder. I spread a thick amount of toothpaste on it and commenced to brush until Denise walked in and wrapped her arms around my waist.

Good morning, sexy, she said, in a seductive tone.

She had something of a devious light in her eyes. She gave me that ‘I want some!’ look. You know how that goes! Anxiously, I rinsed my mouth while watching her observe my body - six foot two, two hundred and twenty pounds. Coppertone hue that laid well with my tattoos and tight muscular build. Denise has always been gorgeous. At the age of thirty-one she looks just as good as she did when we first hooked up. She was eighteen at that time. She had this smooth chocolate brown skin, slim waist, thick thighs and a butt I could stand a glass of O.J. on. She is flawless and perfect to me. And she would never be anything other than that! She has a three inches long scar on her left shoulder which I personally find beautiful. The story that it tells contributes to it. She is sexy, intelligent and thorough. Yet so caring and soft. A balanced woman in all aspects. She is my goddess.

I turned to her and embraced her full lips with mine. I looked into her brown eyes as I raised my right hand to her neck to brush her curly black hair and placed it softly behind her ear. I let my lips caress the silky soft texture of her neck. I could feel the splashing rush of blood flow through my body as I made mini spirals on her skin with my tongue. She softly swept her hands up and down and across my back. Then my chest, to my side and ended at my abdomen, in that sequence. Our body temperatures rose ecstatically, converting the bathroom into a steam room. I bet she didn’t care if I had to go to work now, huh!

I gently swept my hands down her back as I spoke softly to her, I have to get ready for work.

She laughed softly and topped it off with a smile. She moaned a soft, I knooow.

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I gazed out of my office window of the ever so quiet bank. Taking a break from watching employees handle money as I commenced to daydream, as I do daily. I call it taking a break without taking a break. Chi’ town reminded me of Brooklyn, where I was born and raised. Don’t get me wrong, Chi-town and B.K aren’t exactly the same, but they do stand out to a few similarities. Growing up in a single parent home off Newkirk Avenue. Two older brothers and younger sisters in a one-bedroom apartment. Life started to get harder as I got older, taking on new responsibilities. I started to dabble in the street life. I was accepted where the mentality of being real and getting straight to the point, dominated existence. I was living a double life. Part-time schoolboy and mother’s child at home and part-time gangster in the neighborhood. But even Mom gave me a knife when I went off to school; a perspective of protection to her. For me it was a baby nine-millimeter handgun that she knew nothing about. I kept it hidden away on the roof of the six-story building where I would stealthily climb a couple of flights of stairs to retrieve it after kissing Mom goodbye for school. Mom worked hard. Two jobs to feed us and pay her bills. Yet, growing up with four other siblings you don’t always get what you want. So that’s when I resorted to an alternate way of life, converting to criminal. At that age in my life, I would imitate anything that was in my immediate circumference. I call it indiscriminate imitation. I met Denise approximately six months later at a corner store on Avenue J and Flatbush. I was standing outside of the store hanging out with the fellas when she floated by me in some skintight white Capris, black blouse and three-inch heels on her pretty feet. She had a bag of groceries in her arms. She was eighteen and I was twenty. She looked into my eyes with depth; subtle but penetrative. She briefly analyzed my dress code. Fresh white T-shirt with an inscription of a blend of one-hundred-dollar bills in green, black and gold. Fresh white jeans with a matching pair of fresh white sneakers. Complete with a fresh white ball cap that read: Brooklyn, in gold and black stitch emboldened on the front. She gave me enough eye contact to trigger the senses in my emotional brain to turn my thoughts into action. That’s exactly what I did, and we exchanged numbers. We have a lot of history together. She was a real woman in the streets as well as the professional world. Fearless, in fact she was raised by three older brothers that were into street life. I witnessed firsthand how thorough she could be. We were walking down Avenue I, suddenly a woman, of about her size, called out to her. It was about some strife they had a few years back before I came into the picture. The two women were hesitant because of my presence yet pressed on with severe name calling. One of the women holding a yellow box cutter exposed two inches of razor blade with a quick swipe of her finger. Upon seeing this I extended my arm and forced Denise behind me. She aggressively pushed my arm away from her and out of the way. She charged at the woman like a bull and struck her squarely across the jaw simultaneously as the woman sliced deep into Denise’s shoulder. The woman holding the box cutter fell on her butt, dazed as the box cutter fell out of her hand and onto the sidewalk. Denise kicked it away from her and commenced to kick and punch the woman several times until she was knocked out completely. Then without warning she quickly spun around with a right hook landing a punch on the second woman’s nose that sent her high tailing for higher ground. I realized then that Denise was really a soldier. I respect a woman that knows how to defend herself on any level. Later that week I started showing her how to box and a bit of Aikido. We kept each other on our heels. She convinced me, later in my life, to go to college. We attended the same campus. Later we decided to relocate to see what America had to offer. She worked and saved money in an account. I saved my money in shoe boxes as I worked to clean all that dirty money up. At age twenty-three she was pregnant with Makeda. I named her Makeda because I remember reading about an Empress of Sabean, who some now call the Ethiopian Queen of Sheba. A mighty ruler, once upon a time.

I was in my mid-twenties when we decided to move to Chicago. Denise is head executive for an industry for foreign cars. I am president of a large bank in Chicago. We have come a long way from where we came from. Our past is what influenced who we are today.

Mr. Owens, Barbara said, without first knocking on my office door, as usual. As Denise’s best friend she was welcome like that.

What’s up? I replied.

I saw you looking like you were at an amusement park or something. What’s up!

No. I was just thinking.

Barbara was five foot five. Dark brown skin complexion. An attractive woman who was born and raised in Chicago. Her hair was permed and long, extending to the middle of her back but put up into a bun during work hours. She was the model type in figure. The green and white outfit she had on compliments her curves well. A pair of money green skinny grid pants with the matching blazer. Black pumps, large hoop earrings, diamond cut necklace with the matching watch and bracelet. Her hair was always done along with her feet and fingernails. Yeah, I analyze a lot, I know. She took good care of herself, but she could never keep herself in a serious relationship, though she wanted one. Her most beautiful feature, to me, was her Egyptian eyelids that housed a pair of hazel eyes.

You going to give yourself a break or what? You do realize that on this earth it’s um... She raised her wrist to her chest, analyzing the time on her watch. Eleven fifty-eight, right?!

You’re paying, right?

No, no, honey! I bought the last time.

No, I bought last time! You don’t remember!

Of course, I remember. Especially when I pay for it! she said, placing her hands on her lower back. When it’s your turn I always have to chase you.

You got that! I was just trying to give you a hard time.

It takes more than that, honey!

Right...right. You’re ready now? It’s a different story when it’s on you, I claimed, as I stood up from my recliner and made my way around my oak wood desk.

Since you all are still here you should be checking out the noon time news. another employee said. Cindy, an Irish woman in her late thirties, always energetic and laughing. Her hair was bright red that sat beautifully with her green eyes. Her head poked out from the doorway like a puppet in a children’s show. Something really interesting is happening in the south. Florida, I believe.

Let the Floridians deal with it, because I am here in Chicago where people are hungry! Barbara stated, turning her head to direct the statement at me.

Hey, suit yourself! Cindy said, running the fingers of her right hand through her curly red hair. She pulled her head back and the puppet was gone.

You ready? I said, placing my cell phone and keys in my pocket.

You bet! Let’s get out of here.

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Barbara and I walked a couple of blocks down to the local popular pizzeria. Since I was buying, I felt like pizza. To me the population looked discombobulated. Barbara didn’t seem to notice. A homeless man patrolling his side of the alleyway trotted up and down screaming at the top of his lungs: ‘THE END IS HERE!’ and the common: ‘MAKE WAY FOR THE CHRIST! FOR THE TIME IS UPON US!’ Everyone disregards his words as usual. He is living his life and I mine. I bit into my second slice of pizza when my phone commenced to vibrate. Barbara was telling me about a special someone she just met.

Hold on, Barbara, I said, laying my pizza down on the greasy white paper plate. Peace, God!

Peace! I have something very interesting to show you. I just need to do some more research, Alonzo said, over excited as usual.

Give me a taste of what it is.

No man! Watch the news and you’ll know what I’m talking about... well, somewhat.

You’re the second person today that told me to watch the news.

Well, that should tell you something! See if you can make it by my house tonight.

Probably not. I’m going to take Makeda trick-or-treating.

Bro, you’re still celebrating demons day? I hope you tell her the truth about it soon. She will grow up thinking it’s okay to celebrate demonic holy-days... Well, whenever you can get here then do, Bro.

Okay. I’ll talk to you later.

Alright, bro. Take care of yourself and your family.

I tapped the disconnect emblem on the screen. I looked up and observed a pale white woman staring at me from across the restaurant. Three kids, about the age of ten, ran past my table to the Arcade area where they stood eight deep like soldiers at attention. I held eye contact with the woman who was burning a hole into my skull. When our eyes met, surprisingly, she didn’t look away. I tried reading her eyes, but it seemed unlikely. I kept my poker face steady as I scanned her appearance without letting my eyes wander. Freshly dyed black hair, black lipstick, black fingernail polish, long black dress and black boots. To the looks of it she looked like a Goth.

She turned around to face Al’- One of the cooks in the pizzeria- who stood behind the half circle counter. She said something to him, took her pizza, which was inside of a paper bag, and calmly walked out of the restaurant. My eyes followed her all the way to the exit door.

You okay? Barbara inquired.

Yeah, I’m good, I replied.

We should be heading back.

I had this dream last night about a couple who hit and killed a lady in a dirty white dress. The lady that just left the restaurant looked just like her. It was weird. Like she transformed into someone else and then killed the couple in weird ways. There was something that she said that I just can’t get out of my head...

What’s that?

Aten, I said, as I glanced at my watch. Let’s go.

We got up and walked past three tables to the half circle counter. I felt like everyone was watching me. I pulled out some cash to pay Al’ what I owed.

I appreciate you, Kareem, Al’ stated sincerely.

I gave him a sincere nod in return. I wanted to ask him who the woman was, but I decided not to. As we exited the restaurant, I felt that awkward feeling of being watched again. I responded with a brief survey of the people around me. Everyone was going about their daily affairs. Barbara and I talked some on our way back to the bank. We stopped at a light on the street corner. Out of nowhere the homeless man stood next to Barbara and continued to prophecies, opening the Bible pages to Revelation. I held my head straight, ignoring him, as he put a finger on a verse and commenced to quote it. I studied the traffic, the cars moved with equal ease. The pedestrians walked past the tall buildings simultaneously, all smiles and laughter. Everyone! Couples held hands and chattered, laughing. Children moved in unison calmly and extravagantly eloquently down the sidewalks. The streets of Chicago looked like Heaven. I never saw people live like this before. I grabbed Barbara’s hand and basically dragged her to the bank. Something was very wrong because the scenery was too right.

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CHAPTER 3

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Orlando, FL. October 31, 5:45 p.m.

"I ’m Jacob Rothsfield and I’m live in central Florida where it seems that a black man considered highly hallucinative, proposed to be on some kind of drugs like angel dust, has been trudging through cities in a zoned out, out of sight out of mind state in a soiled white nightgown. It’s been said that he is responsible for nine murders from Miami to Polk County and now Orlando. There are ten squad cars here at this point where the suspect will soon learn that it will be the end of his road. Authorities plan on making an arrest. Fortunately, no officers have been injured or killed during the pursuit. They haven’t released any of the man’s personal information to the public yet for good reason. Trust us to bring you the story first... Live from your number one news station I’m Jacob Rothsfield," The reporter concluded with an intentional nervous smile on his face.

Cut it!!! Good job Jacob, Alvin Corsey said.

I need a glass of water. Today is a scorcher! Jacob responded as if deaf to the compliment.

The cooler is over there by the van.

Both walked over to the van where a large cast and curious residents waited patiently for justice to be served. Jacob Rothsfield, a Caucasian of approximately two hundred and thirty pounds, very tall stature, with thinning hair just on his hairline, was approached by a Russian woman with a heavy accent. Jacob slowly sipped the cold water from the pint-sized water bottle. He listened intently as he tried to make out exactly what the woman was saying.

Do you think they can stop him? inquired the Russian woman, pointing at the band of law enforcement officials standing on guard.

The warm air swept through his thinning hair briefly. He felt this sudden tingly sensation in his spine, but he ignored it. If there’s anyone who can stop just one man it’s the police, ma’am! Now, if you excuse me, I need another drink of aich-two-oh... Thank you.

The lady politely stepped to the side to allow him passage. Alvin watched her as she disappeared into the crowd of curious residents. Alvin Corsey, a man in his late forties and a circle of thinning hair on the top of his head, caught up with Jacob joining him on the walk to the news van. Anticipating the fugitive’s debut, the increasing crowd totally encompassed the news van and crew. Alvin and Jacob looked in disbelief, shaking their heads from time to time. They parked the van on one side of the highway nearest the rails due to the command by law enforcement. Ten squad cars created a shield and trap, aligned from one side of the highway to the other.

The police say he will be subdued within the hour, Alvin stated.

Jacob said nothing but answered with a slight nod. He pulled the cup from his lips and refilled it with water. Jacob trained his eyes to the clear blue sky, observing the crows and buzzards hovering in a circular order. He observed seven other news vans and personnel on the highway waiting patiently for the scoop. It was a race to see who could get it first. No matter who really gets it they would all say they did.

Wow! This is a decent story! convincing himself out loud.

For him it was his first major scoop. He just wished that he was really the first to have it. He loved his profession, though he knew the codes one must live by in order to make it as one of the big names in the business. He raised the Styrofoam cup to his lips and took a big gulp.

When I get home, I’m going to take a cold shower, screw the wife and bask in my success.

That’s great, Jacob, but um... make sure you’re ready with that anchorman voice of yours, Alvin said, sarcastically. An hour isn’t much time. And that was about thirty minutes ago.

Alvin adjusted the tie on Jacob’s collar like a mother preparing her child for his eighth grade graduation photo.

How do I look? asked Jacob.

Watch it! Alvin replied.

Jacob’s phone commenced to ring. He took a few steps away from Alvin before pulling it from his pocket. His wife’s face displayed on the screen. He glanced in Alvin’s direction where he stood there tapping on the face of his watch. The ‘get ready’ signal complete with a pair of shaggy raised eyebrows. Jacob shot him a thumbs up as he sent her straight to voicemail, rejecting the call. Jacob could hear the crowd chant something amongst themselves as the sound of siren and a helicopter’s propellers travel through the air at a distance.

Get ready, Alvin commanded.

Jacob checked his appearance in the tinted window of the small white news van. He took a short stride to his post where the camera and microphones were being adjusted. All the reporters stood with their backs facing the scene that could potentially be the fugitives’ last day on earth. Jacob could feel his stomach boil subtly. Nervousness kicked in.

Let’s go! Let’s go! said Alvin, in stride, trying to get the team closer to the scene.

Right here Jacob. Alvin directed him to his post.

Ready, Jacob said, calmly. Trying to hide the nervousness.

Knock them out, sweety! said a Hispanic woman on the team. She handed him the microphone.

Alright now! In three... two... one, Alvin counted down.

Good evening, everyone. Coming to you live, again, where the sheriff department will soon apprehend this serial killer with either mild or brute force... He stood sideways, partly facing the row of patrol cars and armed officers which positioned themselves in a line from guard rail to guard rail. As you can see the officers are heavily armed as the fugitive will soon come to his final destination. Jacob moved closer, approximately sixty feet from the police cars, violating the verbal orders given him by the sheriff’s department.

The cameraman zoomed in for a good view of the so-called fugitive. From the eye piece a dozen squad cars could be seen, but no fugitive. The officers held their positions, focusing their weapons on the target. He raised his head over the eyepiece to make sure the camera was on cue. Squinting his eyes when the fugitive came into view, he chuckled to himself. The suspect could be seen wearing, what used to be, a white gown. He placed his eyes behind the eyepiece to capture this murderer’s image. He searched but could not find him. He pulled his head back, briefly, to inspect the lens. His shoulders sank. Awesome story but could not locate the suspect. The worst time for a faulty camera, he thought. How embarrassed and sorry he would be when the crew found this out.

‘‘GET ON THE GROUND OR WE WILL BE FORCED TO USE EXCESSIVE FORCE!’’

As you can see the fugitive still approaches the officers; Unrelenting nor intimidated, Jacob continued.

The helicopter hovered in the sky like a giant vulture surveying a dead carcass. The officers marched twenty more feet and then halted. Shotguns and assault rifles clicked and clacked, ready for fire. The cameraman tried to capture the murderer, keeping his eye trained over the eyepiece. The famous killer, consistent in his approach, now stood sixty yards from the armed policemen.

The fugitive seems to have surrendered. He looks to have an expression of concern on his face. Realizing he is cornered so what else could be left, said Jacob, raising his voice over the microphone.

The cameraman analyzed the footage recording on the receiving end of the camera. Wind gusts drew debris into the picture from the rapid cyclical movement of the helicopter’s propellers. Jacob’s shirt and tie flapped as if combatively opposing his torso. He zoomed in on the fugitive, pushing the view to the background past Jacob- for some reason he could not pinpoint the fugitive. He swept the view across the highway from one end to the other. He tilted his head to one side to catch a personal view of the fugitive. He can see the fugitive clearly, as clearly and plainly as the helicopter hovering in the clear blue sky. He placed his anxious eye behind the eyepiece then observed the footage displayed on the small screen at the end of the camera. He could not locate the fugitive. He glanced at the other cameramen and found that they all had the same problem. He waved his right hand signaling for Alvin. Alvin calmly walked over to the cameraman. He pointed at the screen. Alvin looked through the lens and analyzed the footage. He raised his head above the camera then dropped his head behind it. He could not find the fugitive, only the officers and Jacob.

What’s wrong with this camera? Alvin said to himself.

The fugitive continues to taunt deputies as he takes small steps in their direction. Clearly unafraid of what lies ahead of him, screamed Jacob, over the microphone.

Everyone gasped as the fugitive took quick steps towards the deputies. The deputies screamed commands at the fugitive through a bullhorn. The fugitive continued towards them as the commands spewed into the air. ‘‘GET DOWN NOW!!! WE WILL BE FORCED TO SHOOT!!! GET DOWN!!! NOW!!!’’

Then shots were fired from their weapons. The fugitive stopped unexpectedly. The slew of bullets hovered centimeters from his body. Suspended in the air, he lifted his head and cast an evil eye on the helicopter hovering above it. Law enforcement, civilians, news crews were submerged in a fog of disbelief. They all stared as the myriad of bullets perfectly suspended and spinning in mid-air; none of them striking him once. It seemed to everyone as if the world stood still. Even the helicopter could not be heard. Like a movie reduced to 240 fps, he dropped his head and set his amber colored eyes on the armed deputies. He tilted his head like a confused animal. One of the bullets sliced the skin of its scalp open while in motion, as if a surgeon’s scalpel had been applied to it. Unaffected by this it held its gaze.

It seems that the deputies got him to surrender... Great job by the hero’s, Jacob said, with an expression of confusion on his face.

Another deputy shot at the fugitive and the rest followed suit. Reloading their weapons and fired again. The fugitive raised his hand and held it up, palm out, displaying the halt sign. The suspended bullets split asunder, dividing into two groups, leaving a clear path in front of the fugitive. He slowly dropped his hand, and like a swarm of deadly bees, the bullets struck and killed every officer, civilian and news crew with lightning speed. Some of the bullets found their way through the hovering helicopter tearing through the flesh of the pilot and everyone on board. The awesome machine that hovered in the sky so confidently fell quickly to the earth. The massive explosion engulfed everything in its surroundings with a great WHOOSH! No one survived.

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The viewers sitting comfortably at home watched as the deputies opened fire on, what seemed to look like, themselves. They did not see the fugitive. Just a split-second view of the deputies’ bodies jerking and tumbling backwards. Then the screen went black. The power all over central Florida went out.

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CHAPTER 4

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Chicago, IL. November 3, 8:32 p.m.

"H eeey Kareem." Three young women greeted me simultaneously like they rehearsed it.

I smiled and gave them a polite wave. Makeda and I just spent the last of my shopping money on groceries for us and candy for her. Everyone was on a positive vibe. The evening hours were always live, yet tranquil. Near the corner stores are the gamblers, shooting dice and slamming dominoes. The women standing around the action counted and held the money that came out of the players pockets like an accountant. Makeda seemed undisturbed by the loud talk as she devoured her coconut candy. Surrounded by brown stones and alleys I observed some young brothers sipping beers. While others bopped their heads to some Hip-Hop classics. A group of young couples roared with laughter as they cracked jokes on each other. Makeda and I stood at the intersection waiting for the ‘WALK’ light to flash. At this time of night, the traffic was not too heavy, but I want to set the proper example for Makeda. If I was alone, I would have crossed the street twenty seconds ago.

We held hands as she stood to the right of me. She disposed of her candy into a nearby garbage can. She adjusted her coat over her waist. The sign was flashing ‘WALK’ in its candescent yellow light. She was surprisingly quiet tonight. Usually, she would talk abundantly about history, family, science and goals she set for herself for the future, meaningful conversation, but lengthy. I decided to break the ice.

That candy was any good?

You know it, Daddy!

What did it taste like?

Like coconuts. It’s really good. Next time you get one so we can eat one together.

You know how I get if I start to like it, I said with a look of wit and surety.

Then, I’ll tell Mommy, she said, raising her smooth eyebrows. She raised her little fist and said, Then me and Mommy will beat you up!

We laughed at her comment. That is exactly what happened on Halloween night. Returning home from trick or treating I ate most of the fun sized chocolate candy bars, which happened to be my favorite. Unfortunately, they were hers as well. When we stepped inside of the house, she counted the amount of candy bars that were in her bag. What I did not know is that she counted each one as soon as a homeowner dropped one in her bag. She called out to me aloud. Fifteen candy bars depleted to three. All I could do is tell her that I would get her some more later.

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Denise dressed her up as Queen Nefertiti. While I, myself, came as myself. You might call it boring, but hey, too bad you feel that way. When we reached home Denise opened the door in her money green silk pajamas and bare feet, exposing her fresh pedicure.

Hey, sweetie, she said, clearly excited. She bent down to kiss and hug Makeda. You had fun, boo?

Yeees, replied Makeda.

I almost replied but I was not the ‘boo’ she was talking to. Makeda removed her coat and shoes before entering the living room. Denise kissed me softly on the lips. Her ever so gentle greeting. I removed my shoes and coat and followed Denise into the living room. I sat my behind on the tan leather couch and grabbed the remote to our sixty-inch plasma. She was watching a classic Black film that I wanted to raise the volume on. You know one of those movies you have seen one thousand times but can never seem to tire of it. She sat to my left with her legs tucked underneath her and leaning on me. She kissed me, looked into my eyes and then kissed me again.

Makeda! Denise called out.

Yeees, Mommyy, she answered, from her room.

Come here for a minute.

Comiiing.

Denise looked into my eyes again. There was something going on that I could not quite put a finger on, but I kept my composure. Makeda darted into the living room. She jumped onto the couch next to me.

Let me see your bag, please, Denise asked.

She handed her the bag of goodies. She rummaged through the candy as if searching for a specific piece. She was looking for some of those candy bars because they were her favorite too. This might be a problem, so I commenced to push myself off the couch to get to my secure hide out- the bedroom. At least I could lock the door if things get hectic. But to no avail. My wife said- SIT down! – I looked at her as if I were in criminal court awaiting my judgment.

Makeda, is this all the candy bars you got trick-or-treating?

No, Daddy ate them all again! Makeda replied, rolling her neck.

Denise slapped my shoulder, playfully. I can’t believe you, Kareem!