Church Boy Love: Book 2: The Hunted

By Adrian D. Nelson

Would you put your life as you knew it on the line for a loved one, or leave them to face their own judgment for a wrong they committed? You pulled it off. But just when you thought it was all over and you were the savior of the day, all hell broke loose as the tables turned, and you were now on the run and being hunted in the worst possible way.

Street remained a loyal teenage church boy, but made one drastic decision out of loyalty that led him straight into the most hellish experience and being hunted by everyone and even the unimaginable. A story of survival. A supernatural story of unbelief versus faith. A story of determination. A story of love, and the price he had to pay.

This is the sequel to Street's incredible journey with mind-blowing situations and consequences that you pray you will never find yourself in. But he did. This is a story that no one would ever tell because most wouldn't believe. Rule 1: Don't ever fall in love again until your heart can handle it. Rule 2. Don't ever enter a dance competition again. Rule 3. No more street brawls. Rule 4. Spend more time at church. Rule 5. Never travel alone after dark, but if you do, never, ever look her in the eyes, if you should encounter her. Street broke all five rules that came with severe consequences as he became: The Hunted.

Based on actual events.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Fulton Books, Inc.
• Release date: Mar 7, 2023
• ISBN: 9798887313474

Book preview

Table of Contents

Title

Copyright

Chapter 1: So Let's Pick Up Where We Left Off

Chapter 2: Fight Then Flight

Chapter 3: Running Scared

Chapter 4: The Campsite

Chapter 5: The Hunted

Chapter 6: The Hunter Becomes the Hunted

Chapter 7: Join Us

Chapter 8: Busted

Chapter 9: The Reunion

Chapter 10: Surprise and a Shocker

Chapter 11: The Platinum Belt

Chapter 12: Fight Night and the Betrayal

Chapter 13: Home Invasion

Chapter 14: Church and the Surprise No One Expected

About the Author

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Church Boy Love

Book 2: The Hunted

Adrian D. Nelson

Copyright © 2023 Adrian D. Nelson

All rights reserved

First Edition

Fulton Books

Meadville, PA

Published by Fulton Books 2023

Based on actual events

Includes Violence and Adult Content

PG: Rated ‘R’: Parental Discretion is advised.

ISBN 979-8-88731-346-7 (paperback)

ISBN 979-8-88731-347-4 (digital)

Printed in the United States of America

In loving memory of my brother Gary Robert Nelson

Chapter 1

So Let's Pick Up Where We Left Off

I heard a commotion. There was hysterical, panicked movement and talking. I felt like whoever was around me was frantically administering CPR. I blacked out again. I was in mental darkness as I felt myself at death's door.

I, however, slowly revived again from a long frantic kiss. Well, it was more like mouth-to-mouth resuscitation from this girl that identified herself as a nurse. She wiped drained blood from my head wounds from getting into my eyes. Not sure if I was hallucinating, but she was a beautiful nurse. She had a butterfly tattoo on her neck, five studded earrings in both ears, pierced eyebrows, a nose ring, and two tongue rings. And she had green hair; yes, she dyed her hair green.

Even at death's door, my natural instincts made me still be able to profile who was around me.

Isn't it funny how sometimes when you are sick like a dog or down and out for the count, the weirdest and silliest thoughts come to your mind, or you end up noticing things that shouldn't even matter because of your condition?

Stay with me. Please! Stay with me, I heard her plea, as it felt like I was on a stretcher being rushed somewhere down a hallway. What's your name?

She asked again and again. I didn't reply, because as hard as I tried to remember, I didn't remember my name. You know you are in really bad shape when you can't even remember your own name.

Sigh.

I was blacking out again as I semiconsciously gazed at the ceiling with half-open eyes. More frantic talking ensued but eventually faded into silence.

Stay with me, her helpful voice again begged. I was off duty heading home when we saw the horrific crash. I'm still off duty, as I'm not getting paid for this. She smiled. Stay with me.

I didn't. Those were the last words I heard before I passed out.

Two Months Later

I woke up from what was like my longest sleep ever. It took me a while to compose myself and access my surrounding, and it wasn't until then that I knew I was in a hospital room. I tried to remember how I got there.

Again, it took me a while, but I finally remembered the accident. I wept and searched for and frantically pressed on the call remote device for assistance.

I tried to sit up but couldn't as my body was too weak.

A nurse finally came. I had a slurred speech but asked her where I was and where are my friends and if they were okay.

She didn't answer one question, but instead tried to hush and calm me as she checked my vitals.

Welcome back, Adrian was all she said, with a smile.

You have been in a coma for a long while, two months. She gently smiled, and rubbed my hand to calm me. God is on your side. Welcome back.

I calmed, still trying to process everything. Two months?

What the what!

The doctors are on their way to review your vitals, and I will notify your brother also.

Slowly, everything started coming back to me. G was my emergency contact.

She left the room. Two doctors came and did their routine checks with their smiles of assurances that I will be okay and left. The nurse came back after to give me an injection in my butt.

Hell no!

She claimed it was standard procedure for whatever blah-blah reason, but I still wasn't having it. I resisted.

She got frustrated and left my room, saying she was going to get an assistant. Who cares, still not having it, well, until the assistant walked back in with her.

It was the nurse with the green hair. Yes, I remembered her, even though she wasn't wearing as many piercings. Guess it's because she was on duty.

She was very pretty and kind of joked with her small talk that I should behave. I couldn't embarrass myself as she was the one who rolled me over, took the needle, caressed my head to calm me, and then jammed that damn needle in my butt cheek.

Ouch!

It hurt like hell, but I never made a sound although I felt like I was about to pass out again as a tear rolled from my eye.

Have you ever cried without making a sound?

Sigh.

She gently rolled me back over, and as like the doctors, she explained the procedures and what will happen next.

Welcome back. Sleep. I will be back later with something for you to eat were the last words I remembered her saying, as she unplugged and removed some gadgets from my body.

I must have passed out again as when I revived however long after, I saw G, his girl, and my mom all by my bedside.

Everyone was in tears, tears of joy that I made it. We hugged and cried together.

They all sat around my bed. My memory was back, so I told them all that happened that night of the accident.

G told me that Assad died.

What the what!

If only I had not insisted on picking up mom that night for Assad to test his turbocharged fast car, he would still be alive, I cried.

If only I had insisted on picking her up, he would be, G said as he wiped a tear from his eye.

Silence.

If only I had not decided to arrive that night, he would still be alive, mom said, with empty hurt.

I wept bitterly. G also said he contacted Michelle's father who told him that she survived but was flown to the United States for emergency surgery. He wasn't sure of her status.

Wow.

Sis was beside herself as we all consoled one another as I cried again because memories of my beloved Michelle flashed through my mind.

And as it is appointed unto men once to die, but after this the judgment, sis simply calmed and quoted from the book of Hebrews 9:27, We will all have to answer to God on that great day of judgment. Do your best to live a life of righteousness, so that your answer will be one of humility and penitence.

Reflective silence.

We talked for a long time, and I ate some of the snacks they brought me, until the green-haired nurse came in and politely told them that it was past eight o'clock for visitation, so they had to leave.

We all hugged. They did. I became lonely and bored as hours went by, and I couldn't sleep.

It was almost midnight. I pressed my beeper for assistance for some water. After a few minutes, the assistance came with the water, and to my surprise, it was the green-haired nurse.

What am I going to do with you, Adrian? she said with a smile, as she handed me a plastic cup and I sipped. Or should I call you Street?

We small-talked a bit, until a break dancing item of news on the television caught my attention.

The break dancing Platinum Belt competition is on this summer, folks. Teams from all around the world. However, title favorites who won the bronze, silver, and gold belt, the Street Boys, will not be competing, in commemoration of a lost member, the commentator said, Unless they decide to do so to honor their fallen member, Assad.

Whatever else he said got blurred as I grew sad. She noticed, took the remote, and turned the TV off.

Silence.

Street, she finally broke the silence. Is it okay if I call you… Street? Because all I saw since that night we rescued you was the Adrian side of you. But a lot of the staff here know you and have been to your break dance contests. They all call you Street.

I just gave a weary smile and nodded in approval as she helped me to have some more water and, like a child, fed me some more food. She left, and my drained body dozed off back to sleep.

Name-calling

Have you ever gotten to that stage in life where it doesn't matter what name people call you?

Your man can call you his bitch, and he does so out of love, and you hug him and smile and kiss him because you know there was no disrespect meant. But if anyone else does, you snap. You are okay with being called boo although you're not a baby or a ghost. Someone greets you, Hey, girl! and you smile and greet them back although you are not a girl, you are a grown woman. That's my boy! is a common line which grown men react to with a smile. Although if a white racist calls a black man a boy, they might end up on the news.

Or even worse, blacks can call other blacks the N-word out of greeting and love, but if a white racist calls a black man that, they might end up in the ER.

Crazy, right? Why do we criticize people for being labelled as living in the hood, the projects, section 8, the ghetto, or a trailer park? Some of them have no choice. Some of them play the system.

I have always minded my business because who was I to judge anyone.

Why do we have aliases? Easier to pronounce, or that is how the person identifies your persona? What has been or is your alias, and why?

And I am not your daddy, or we shouldn't be having sex! So why do some creepy men ask women that question during sex? And the woman replies, You are! Incest on the real if you really think about it, or just call it sexual perversion.

To each his own.

I was born Adrian, a name at the age of innocence. But as I grew older, everyone simply called me the badass boy known as Street.

Anyway, back to my green-haired nurse, which ironically is another alias. Hmm.

Okay, so I know how much that competition means to you and the Street Boys. You probably never noticed me in the crowd, but although I'm more into punk rock music, I was at almost all your break dance competitions. Some were kinda blah, but others were so amazing, I filmed you guys and even started practicing how to break dance. She smiled as she returned and pulled up a chair closer to my bedside.

I just listened.

People end up in the hospital thinking that their journey has ended, but I tell them no because God wants your journey to continue because most people end up dead even before making it to the hospital.

She was right. Count your blessings when it comes to your fate and you surviving some consequences.

Maybe your days of break dancing are over. But your journey continues. She smiled.

Silence.

I will dance again someday, I exhaled.

Silence.

We don't stop dancing because we are getting old, I continued. We are getting old because we stopped dancing. Never stop dancing.

Silence.

Wow. That was nice. She simply smiled.

One a these days, come show me what you got… Street Girl.

We both laughed as she stood up and did some robot mime dance moves before looking to see if any passerby noticed and then just laughed and sat back down. I was comforted that she was the therapeutic kind of nurse that anyone would want at their bedside. And I think she was happy that I wasn't the patient that would make her cry in the end or give her, her worst shift ever.

Okay, so you know my story. What's yours? I asked.

I don't believe in God. She simply smiled as her demeanor changed, and she played with her gold chain which had a cross pendant on it. This is the God you serve. But look at him, he's a dead man that they nailed to a cross. He died, Street. You don't worship and serve this God called Jesus, you Christians worship and serve a dead man.

Silence

You're right. He died as a man, but in three days was resurrected as a God. I exhaled as I gently touched her cross.

So why is he still on the cross then, she asked sarcastically.

He's not. This pendant is just a reminder of what he endured for us, so we won't end up on a cross also, I simply replied.

Let me guess…it's all about your faith, right? I just tell patients that to calm them. But why would you even end up in a hospital if there was a God?

I had no answer for that question as she gazed into my eyes. Don't ever waste time trying to explain your faith and belief in God to nonbelievers.

Because you have so little faith. Truly I tell you, if you have faith as small as a mustard seed, you can say to this mountain, ‘Move from here to there,' and it will move. Nothing will be impossible for you, I quoted from Matthew 17:20.

She laughed. I handed her some grapes from my plate as I was full. She at first hesitated, but eventually took and ate them. Then she took my plate.

I see you know your Bible because it sounded like you just quoted from it. So you worship and have faith in a dead man who tells you that you can move mountains. She laughed again. Have you ever moved a mountain?

Silence.

No. But I have climbed many, I simply replied, sensing that the conversation was going nowhere. I love hiking and camping and escaping from the noise and nonsense of city life to have a quiet moment with nature to just exhale. I haven't moved mountains, but they have been my escape to have my peace of mind.

Her mood changed as she checked my vitals again in silence.

I have other patients to go check on, so I can't tell you my story right now even if I wanted to. Your recovery is fantastic, but you will be in here for at least another week, so we will talk, she then said with a gentle rub on my arm as she stood. I have to go.

She gave me a friendly wink, did another funny dance move, and left.

The Green-Haired Nurse

Mom, G, and his girlfriend visited me daily.

They told me that at times, they would visit, but I was sedated, and the nurse told them they were not supposed to wake me. Slow patient recovery. They even said Michelle's dad visited a couple of times, but I was passed out.

I wasn't this time as they all sat around my bed and fed me, and we just talked. We had a few laughs until G told me that they attended Assad's funeral. A tear rolled from my eye as I still blamed myself for helping him to get that turbocharged car.

Have you ever, with all good intentions, helped someone out with something that caused their demise?

Sigh.

Mom told me she was leaving in two days and that my school was notified of my situation, so I'll just have to play catch-up once I was fit to resume classes because in those days, there was no such thing as home school if you couldn't make it to school for an extended period for whatever reason.

We talked some more until the green-haired nurse entered my room with a tray of—and no offence to the millions of hospital kitchen staff around the world or your ready-made suppliers—another serving on yucky hospital food.

I'm sorry, guys, but it's time to go, she said politely.

We all hugged, and they left.

Nice family you got there, she said as she put a thermometer in my mouth, then used a tiny flashlight that she moved from side to side and asked me to have my eyes follow it. She took some notes, then unwrapped my plate and helped me to eat. They are here every single day, sometimes twice a day. Yet I have patients that have been here for weeks or longer and never got a single visit from a family member or friend.

Have you ever been down and out, yet no one ever checked in on you to see if you are okay because they haven't heard from you in a while? Or have you been saddened when you think about it, that you are always the first person to call or contact a friend or family member, or you simply won't hear from them for however long?

Sigh.

She pulled up a chair next to my bed, checked my vitals as I ate, and then strangely just stared at me.

It's break time for me, she then said with a heavy exhale. Long day.

I gazed at her beautiful face.

Thank you for everything, I said as I hesitantly held her hand.

She held mine also with a sad smile and used her other hand to gently rub our embrace.

Silence.

So tell me your story. I smiled to break the silence.

She squeezed my hand and said something in Spanish as she released our hold, got a napkin, and wiped food smudged from my lips.

We both laughed, and there was more silence until she spoke.

Your physical therapy starts in two days, so all being well, you will be discharged next Saturday.

So you have until next Saturday to tell me your story. I smiled.

She again said something in Spanish and smiled back at me, and just gazed at the floor.

Silence.

I'm Puerto Rican. I'm an exchange nurse aide here. All work and no play because I pick up double shifts every day so I can send money back home to support my family. No boyfriend and no kids yet. Work, home, sleep, and repeat the next day. That's my boring story, she said with empty eyes.

You are beautiful, I said. Your eyes will smile again someday. And I am always confused as to why a beautiful woman as you is single.

Silence.

He cheated on me with, of all persons, my seventeen-year-old sister, she finally said, breaking the silence. Heard it was going on for a while. She was my best friend, but never once told him no or confessed. Now they have a baby together. I kicked his ass and hers, sorted out my paperwork, packed, and came here to Jamaica just to escape from everything, from everyone. So now I just consume myself with work and sleep. I have no social life.

Silence, as I had no response to comfort someone whose relative cheated on them by sleeping with the love of their life. Have you ever been in that situation, or you rather not talk about it?

My grandma died when I was just thirteen years old from choking on her dinner, she eventually continued. A surprise visit dinner I made for her. Spanish rice and chicken with veg. It was her favorite, and I cooked it for her all the time. It was just the two of us because she lived alone. I clumsily tried everything to save her as she eventually crashed from the dinner table to the floor, holding her throat, choking, and trying desperately to save her own life. She still died in my arms, as she forced herself to whisper my name. Her last words, she continued as a tear rolled from her eye. That's why I became a nurse. And everything I do in life is in memory of my grandma, to make her proud, and to have her forgive me…for not being able to save her life. But I vowed to do my best to save the life of others when they get admitted here.

She wept.

I'm sorry, she apologized as she wiped her eyes. That's my story. Happy? That's why I don't believe in God. He could have let me save her, or just have her swallow that piece of chicken that choked her to her death.

I gently rubbed her arm as I could tell she was getting upset.

Do the rivers fill the sea, or does the sea fill the rivers, lakes, and ponds? Rivers dry up. Seas have very low tide at times. Where does all that water of life go? There are some questions