Exodus Team: New Roads

By BEBogdon

They aren't paranormal investigators, just ordinary believers who dare to follow God into dark places.

For Maj Newhouse, life revolves around her faith, her friends, Aimee and Kevin Cole, and her projects at the old barn-but that was before Jason Knight walked through the door. The handsome businessman from Chicago has a problem; he has staked his career on rehabilitating a haunted hotel.
An encounter with Kevin has led him to the old barn, and Maj is shocked to learn that Knight expects to hire her and her friends as exorcists for his property!
Will Maj's distrust of the charming stranger and her own self-doubt cripple the newly formed Exodus Team before it starts?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Trilogy Christian Publishing
• Release date: Apr 28, 2023
• ISBN: 9798887382180

BEBogdon

BEBogdon is a Christian entertainer from the Midwest whose passion for writing began with a love for reading. Although a newly published author, Bogdon has been telling stories for years. Through involvement in theater, film, commercial, and voice-over work, she has had the opportunity to breathe life into the written word, and as an avid daydreamer, she is thrilled to see those dreams finally settle onto the printed page.Learn more by visiting www.BEBogdon.com.

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EXODUS TEAM:

NEW ROADS

BEBogdon

Exodus Team: New Roads

Trilogy Christian Publishers A Wholly Owned Subsidiary of Trinity Broadcasting Network

2442 Michelle Drive Tustin, CA 92780

Copyright © 2023 by BEBogdon

www.BEBogdon.com.

Scripture quotations marked ESV are taken from the ESV® Bible (The Holy Bible, English Standard Version®), copyright © 2001 by Crossway Bibles, a publishing ministry of Good News Publishers. Used by permission. All rights reserved.

Scripture quotations marked NASB are taken from the New American Standard Bible® (NASB), Copyright © 1960, 1962, 1963, 1968, 1971, 1972, 1973, 1975, 1977, 1995 by The Lockman Foundation. Used by permission. www.Lockman.org.

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Scripture quotations marked NKJV are taken from the New King James Version®. Copyright © 1982 by Thomas Nelson. Used by permission. All rights reserved.

Scripture quotations marked NLT are taken from the Holy Bible, New Living Translation, copyright © 1996, 2004, 2015 by Tyndale House Foundation. Used by permission of Tyndale House Publishers, Inc., Carol Stream, Illinois 60188. All rights reserved.

Scripture quotations marked KJV are taken from the King James Version of the Bible. Public domain.

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Trilogy Christian Publishing/TBN and colophon are trademarks of Trinity Broadcasting Network.

Cover design by: Blair Cruz

Photo credit: The Bertrands Photography LLC

For information about special discounts for bulk purchases, please contact Trilogy Christian Publishing.

Trilogy Disclaimer: The views and content expressed in this book are those of the author and may not necessarily reflect the views and doctrine of Trilogy Christian Publishing or the Trinity Broadcasting Network.

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, events, and locales are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual places, events, or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. Additionally, the author’s choice in using a lowercase s when mentioning satan is to remind the reader of his place below our feet (Romans 16:20).

Manufactured in the United States of America

10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is available.

ISBN: 979-8-88738-217-3

E-ISBN: 979-8-88738-218-0

Table of Contents

Dedication

Chapter One: Friends

Chapter Two: Acquaintances

Chapter Three: The Way Less Traveled

Chapter Four: Greater Love

Chapter Five: A Witness

Chapter Six: These Temporary Things

Chapter Seven: Following Christ

Chapter Eight: Old Friends

Chapter Nine: Know the Truth

Chapter Ten: Things to Learn

Chapter Eleven: Food for Thought

Chapter Twelve: Manifestation

Chapter Thirteen: Land of the Living

Chapter Fourteen: A Mighty Warrior

Chapter Fifteen: God, Grant Us…

Chapter Sixteen: Back to Normal

Coming Soon

About the Author

Scripture Index

Dedication

I dedicate this book to my fellow laborers in Christ.

I’m sowing seeds, guys! (Matthew 9:38)

Mom, thank you for helping me through some very rough drafts and for keeping me focused on the message of the story.

Dad, thank you for ignoring our lively debates; I think your words of wisdom were, I don’t care. And I needed to hear that.

To my family, thank you for your love and encouragement through words and actions.

And last but first, to Jesus Christ in whom I live and move and have my being, thank You for creating me to be someone who loves telling stories. I’m having so much fun!

Chapter One:

Friends

Proverbs 17:17

No one had called her Marjorie since her grandmother passed away. Everyone simply called her Maj. It was easier to say, current to the times, and no one really remembered that her name was Marjorie anymore.

She was named after her great-greataunt Marjorie because Aunt Marjorie was special; at least that’s what Nonna used to say. Maj hoped she was right, although the stories she heard of Aunt Marjorie were either strange or slightly off, but supposedly she had a good heart.

Marjorie Newhouse? the man repeated.

As Maj slid out from under the old Ford truck, she saw the man who had the gall to use her full name. He had short-cropped, dark brown hair and wore reflective sunglasses that obscured his eyes. He was tall and dressed in a sharp, black suit, white shirt, maroon tie, and looked like he had stepped out of a men’s clothing commercial.

One of the perks of growing up in a tight-knit community was that you knew almost everyone in town. If you didn’t know them directly, you could usually guess who they were related to in a glance. She didn’t know this guy; he definitely wasn’t from around here.

Marjorie Newhouse? the man asked, crossing toward her.

Maj stood to her feet, still holding the used oil filter.

Nice place you have here; is this where you operate from? It isn’t exactly what I expected, but then again, he seemed to be looking her over, you aren’t exactly what I expected either.

I’m sorry? Maj blinked a couple of times and backed up a step.

The man removed his sunglasses, and a smile pulled at the corners of his darkly fringed sapphire eyes.

Jason Knight, but my friends call me Knight. He extended his hand.

Maj switched the oil filter to her left hand and outstretched her own oil-soaked palm. Good to know you have friends.

As she released his hand, he grimaced, gingerly pulling the handkerchief out of his lapel pocket to wipe the oil slick off his palm.

Maj turned and threw the used oil filter into a large trashcan, then grabbed a shop rag. She had been using the Fitz-Simmons’ old barn for years now; it felt like a second home. She would work on her truck here, where her projects littered the workbenches and wiring diagrams decorated the wall like some exotic form of art. But right now, the solitary barn didn’t feel advantageous.

She quickly circled around to the driver’s side door, where the truck keys hung in sight.

Um…Miss Newhouse? I think there may be some misunderstanding here. Didn’t Mr. Cole tell you I was coming? the man asked, countering her movement by crossing around the front of the truck.

Mr. Cole? Maj opened the truck door a few inches in case he tried anything.

Kevin Cole. He said he would be setting up the meeting.

Kevin Cole sent you?

Yes.

Because Kevin doesn’t usually send strangers to track me down.

Look, Miss Newhouse… He was talking with his hands, actually, with the hand that still held the sunglasses, waving them around to emphasize his words. If I weren’t in such a desperate situation, I would have left here five seconds after I walked through the door, but I was told you could help me.

Maj opened the door of the truck and climbed into the cab.

Here, wait! He drew a cell phone out of his pocket and offered it through the partially open window. Ask him yourself.

She studied the impatient face. He was handsome, with gorgeous eyes and a nice physique—or nice suit. Under different circumstances, she might have liked looking at him.

Maj reached out to take the phone. He hesitated when he saw the oil on her palm but reluctantly lowered the phone into her hands.

Kevin Cole sat in front of the TV beside his friend Toby Plank. They both held game controllers and were immersed in a new video game.

Kevin sat on the edge of the couch wearing a bright blue T-shirt and a ripped pair of jeans. He threw his torso to the right as the beat-up monster truck on the screen careened over a hill.

Yeah, baby! Eat dirt, Revenge! He shook his short sandy-brown hair from his eyes and bit his lower lip.

Don’t be so sure of yourself, Cole, Toby muttered, his brown eyes tracking his friend’s onscreen movements. Revenge will strike again. His truck rumbled over a hill and down upon Kevin’s aptly named Crusher.

Kevin’s cell phone began to vibrate unnoticed on the end table beside him.

Get off! Kevin growled, grabbing a handful of Toby’s T-shirt and giving him a good-natured shove.

Payday, my friend, Toby laughed maliciously.

Kevin rammed the computerized orange monster truck, sending it into a nearby tree, and the gyrating phone crept closer to the edge of the table.

What’s that? Toby straightened the skidding vehicle in time to avoid another collision. Revenge is hungry? Hungry for some old, flaky green paint chips from what? Oh, that dog ugly piece of junk Cole calls a monster truck?

Fifth lap, the voice on the screen announced with authority.

The phone teetered up to the edge of the table, and the vibrating paused.

Kevin gritted his teeth as the two trucks spun into the turn. Toby’s Revenge was crowding him close to the rocks that lined the simulated dirt road.

Lunch time! Toby yelled as he nicked the back of Kevin’s truck. It flew into the rocks, flipping axel over fender and giving Toby the lead.

The cell phone toppled over the edge of the table, but Kevin’s hand shot out and caught it mid-air. He glanced at the screen before answering.

Hey, Maj, what’s up?

What’s up, Kevin? she asked flatly.

Not much. He swerved the vehicle to the right to avoid a rolling bolder. How are you?

Confused. I was wondering if there was something you might have forgotten to tell me.

Not that I remember, he joked.

Do you know a Mr. Knight? she asked, her voice teetering on impatience.

Gosh, Maj! Kevin stood from the couch. I totally forgot! Is he there now?

Yes, thanks. Her reply was dry and sarcastic.

I’ll be there in twenty minutes. He hung up and ran toward the door, still holding the game controller.

Hey, you’re still plugged— Toby tried to warn him, but the controller had already yanked from the socket.

Sorry, Toby, I gotta run. Kevin looked back over his shoulder, tripping over the end table. I forgot I was supposed to meet Maj, and I gotta pick up Aimee.

No problem. Toby laughed as Kevin blindly backed into the wall. I’ll catch you later.

Maj is gonna kill me! Kevin scraped his keys across the table as he bolted out the door.

Maj sighed. Kevin hadn’t given her a chance to ask any questions before hanging up on her.

She handed the man’s phone back through the window.

Seems he knows something about this, she said with a half-apologetic smile.

I would hope so. He backed away so Maj could exit the truck.

She saw him glance down at his wrist.

What Maj had assumed to be a metal band of jewelry was actually an expensive watch. It was dark silver with a large square face that was turned to the inside of his wrist. She noticed because she wore hers that way to avoid dents and dings while working at the garage.

Either this was a man who appreciated understated luxury, or the watch was of sentimental value. Otherwise, why cover up something that was meant to be a status symbol?

Um, can I get you something to drink? she asked, leading him toward the workshop. I have a cooler in the back room. We could wait for Kevin there, and maybe you could fill me in on some details.

Some details? Boy, are you in the dark. She had a vague suspicion she was being laughed at. God, this isn’t funny!

Maj opened the door to her workshop and switched on the light.

The small, unfinished workroom was large enough to store all her tools and parts. There was a long, freshly sanded workbench behind the door, and the opposite wall was lined with shelves and plastic storage bins. Her cooler sat on the dusty concrete floor beside an overflowing bin of copper wiring tucked out of reach of the sunshine streaming through the window. Other than the solitary window that faced the field, an overhead light and a small desk lamp were all that lit the room.

Is this powered by a generator? he asked, running his fingers up the electrical cord.

It’s solar. I rigged it myself. It’s cheaper and safer than a generator.

He nodded.

Are you interested in alternative energy? she asked.

Not particularly, but I didn’t see any electrical lines running through the wheat field. He grinned.

Who the heck are you?

As Maj bent down to take two lemon-lime sodas out of the cooler, she caught a glimpse of her reflection in a chrome-plated side mirror sitting on a low shelf. Her brown hair was disheveled, her ponytail hung loose at the nape of her neck, and there was a black smudge of grease on her olive cheek. She hastily wiped it off with the sleeve of her blue coveralls before turning and handing him the can of soda.

He thanked her, unbuttoned his suit coat, and brushed off the seat of the wooden stool that backed up against the workbench.

You work on cars, rig up solar-powered lighting, and work on electronics, he said, his eyes scanning the small room. Is there anything you don’t do?

Yeah, I don’t read minds.

What do you mean? She kicked the cooler lid closed with her heel.

You’re a person of rare, if not unusual, talents. How long have you been doing this sort of thing?

He couldn’t skirt the issue better if he was trying!

Doing what? she asked, cracking open the can of soda.

Exorcisms?

Maj suddenly found herself sitting on top of the cooler, staring hard at the floor. Had she heard him correctly?

I’m sorry. Did I say something wrong?

Maj glanced up at him. He genuinely looked concerned.

I’m sorry, Mr. Knight. Honestly, I was hoping I wouldn’t have to tell you this, but Kevin never mentioned you. I don’t have a clue what you want or what you’re talking about.

He nodded and set the can of soda on the workbench. I work for a property management company. We manage large properties: resorts, hotels, various office buildings…

Maj nodded.

Over the past five years, our investments have doubled in value, thanks to some well-implemented changes. Because of the success of those ventures, the board of MPI allowed me to acquire property and turn it around using my own concepts. This is a leap of faith for them and a career-boosting opportunity for me. He leaned forward on the stool, pressing the tips of his fingers against each other, resting his chin on top of the triangle. Being a man who likes a challenge, I seized on a particularly problematic property. I thought turning around a failing property would create the most visible results for the board. But the problem with the property isn’t tangible; it’s superstition. The place is haunted.

He paused, those brilliant blue eyes studying her face, as he waited for some reaction.

Maj wasn’t sure how to respond and merely nodded for him to continue.

The hotel couldn’t keep staff members; they would all quit within a week or two. Even our guests would leave in the middle of the night. Clientele dropped off, and the hotel closed its doors about two years ago, creating a money pit for our company. With revenue flying out the window, I thought it would be the perfect location to showcase my talents, but all my tried-and-true business methods have failed. He dropped his gaze. His lips twitching in an involuntary frown. I was at a low point when Mr. Cole crossed my path. I was in O’Hare Airport with some business partners discussing my situation when he stopped at the end of our table and convinced me I needed to drive out here.

From Chicago?

This is where you come in, Miss Newhouse. The charming smile reappeared. As you already know from my willingness to meet with you, I’m not a man hampered by convention. Mr. Cole came directly to the point; he told me that if I was interested in turning this property around, you could help. He said he had a friend with a unique spiritual gift and that he would set up a meeting with you. His eyes shone with eagerness and anticipation. Well, Miss Newhouse, I’m interested.

Maj was beginning to wonder if he expected her to pronounce some sort of incantation and send him on his way. The whole situation was overwhelming; she sat there stunned to silence, which was unusual for her.

Jesus, is this of You? she prayed.

Her answer came quickly, tumbling through her mind so fast that she could barely follow the thoughts to repeat them.

‘There is a God in heaven who reveals secrets,’ Mr. Knight, Maj said softly. Right now, sitting here, I know I’m just a hometown girl from Normal, Illinois. I grew up in this sleepy, little town, but when I was very young, I was introduced to God in the person of Jesus Christ. I learned about His death and resurrection, and I began to read my Bible.

Maj shook her head. I’ve seen that smile before; you’re humoring me, but I don’t care. You see, I found a source of power in the pages of that ‘old-fashioned’ book—the power of God. And any gift I have comes from the love of Jesus that’s in my heart because the Bible says that the ‘Spirit of Him who raised Jesus from the dead dwells in you.’ The spiritual gift you refer to isn’t mine; it belongs to the Spirit of God.

You misunderstand me. His smile broadened. No, I appreciate your enthusiasm and honesty. Truly passionate people are few and far between, but not everyone who opens the Bible comes to such a…may I say unusual? Such an unusual conclusion. He leaned back against the workbench. How is it that you started exorcising spirits?

Maj laughed to dispel her nervousness. When I was sixteen, my grandmother was diagnosed with cancer. Although I was raised as a Christian, the diagnosis shook my little world of faith. The doctor gave her three months to live.

That’s a lot to handle at sixteen.

That’s a lot to handle at any age, but it did one thing for me; it drove me closer to God and into studying His Word. I prayed more than I had in my entire Christian life. I was fortunate to have a church to lean on and a youth group that prayed for me. That’s where I first met Kevin and Aimee; they were the ones who really helped me through. Aimee and I were in a lot of the same classes in school, and we grew close, almost like sisters.

And Aimee is?

Kevin’s older sister; he didn’t mention her?

He shook his head.

The three of us would get together to pray for Nonna—um, my grandmother—and search the Scriptures for answers. We found scripture after scripture that taught about the healing power of God. Once we found those verses, we went to the pastor and asked him if we could pray for her healing. He said if the Bible taught it, we could do it. So, we prayed and asked God to heal her. Maj smiled at the memory. My grandmother lived to be eighty-five years old. She passed away from natural causes five years ago. We had nothing to do with healing her except to believe the Word that God gave over two thousand years ago.

That’s an interesting story, but it doesn’t quite answer my question, he said, studying her intently.

Then, let me ask you—is a cancer cell a normal human cell?

Well, no…it’s not the way the cell is supposed to be.

The Bible says only good things come from God. If it’s not natural and it’s not from God, it must come from another source.

He didn’t look convinced.

We live in the natural realm, but this realm is affected by the supernatural realm, she explained. There are three entities operating in these realms, God, the devil, and us. If you’ve ruled out the natural and God, that only leaves one option.

A well-argued conclusion. He smothered a smile.

Once we began to pray, we began to see need everywhere. There was the struggling hardware store built on sacred burial grounds, a church that used to be a haunted castle and couldn’t keep a pastor…we saw this was a gift in our lives and that we could help people. Maj heard a car door slam, and she stood from the cooler. Oh, that should be Kevin.

It had better be Kevin! she thought as she opened the workshop door.

Another door slammed, and she heard a familiar female voice lecturing Kevin in a low, whispered tone. Aimee had come with him.

Relief