Chance: Chance, #1

By Jude LaHaye

Can a youth of twelve, even a very clever one, overcome the negative Universal forces which unite to defeat him?

Chance Bonner is an American boy with an existential secret he is about to discover: he is living

his life backwards. He is in his first incarnation, and has already found the correct practice, the Buddhism of the Sun. His mother taught him about this philosophy and its daily recitation of sections of the sacred sutra. As these facts of his early life demonstrate, Chance is very, very lucky. It's karma, actually, and his is extremely good. But is it good enough to enable him to stand alone, combat, and defeat the various negative forces of the Universe which arise to confront him? To confound his every effort to develop into an upstanding human being? To even kill him if they cannot destroy his spirit—his luck? He must first determine what these forces are and where they originate. Without this knowledge, all of his efforts will be futile.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Wings ePress, Inc.
• Release date: Mar 21, 2023
• ISBN: 9781613094471

Jude LaHaye

Jude LaHaye is a Buddhist. Buddhists believe that the highest form of sentience is the human being. They also believe that the meaning of life is...Life. LaHaye struggles with his belief system and the evidence of his own human interactions and observations. His books are born of this struggle.

Book preview

Dedication

For my father. He told me, You almost died three times when you were a kid, so I knew you were destined for great things...but I guess I was wrong.

Still trying, Dad. Still trying...

Chance

THE CREATURE IN THE cave was now full grown, awake, and alert. While Chance slept, the creature had been summoned by The King and had received his instructions. They were delicious, of course. He rubbed his rough, raw hands together and groaned with excitement. He was very pleased to have been given some minions of his own, too. The King had said to employ the monkeys, the wasps, and any other minor demon he saw fit in his campaign to win the heart and mind of the human being, Chance Bonner. And if he couldn’t win the heart and mind of the human being, Chance Bonner, then he had received permission to destroy the human’s health and even to take his life if necessary. The creature saw all of this as a reward for his previous successes in undermining and destroying human hope and accomplishment. He felt powerful and confident. Very.

A MAP OF THE SACRED MANDALA

(Original Art by Jude LaHaye)

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Prologue

ANGELICA ROOT HAD A problem—well, she had more than one problem, but one was currently worrying her something fierce.

You see, Angelica was earlobe-deep in a matter which required her to manipulate a system of people—a bureaucracy—in order to protect a human person from danger. I make the distinction because Angelica wasn’t one-hundred percent human herself.

Angelica’s problem was also her secret...well, one of them. She had put nearly ten years into protecting this little human person. It was getting harder and harder to engineer and manage the circumstances of his protection.

Yes...him. A little human boy. Angelica had placed him into Children’s Protective Services within months of his birth. She monitored his condition on a nearly daily basis. He was not abused or neglected while in care, not once...she saw to that.

But she had him moved. Every few months at first, and then every six-to-eight months after that. She had to...she could not risk his discovery. If his birth father, who was, so far, blissfully unaware of his existence, ever found out about the child, he would undoubtedly, and immediately, interfere with the boy’s upbringing. The father himself was somewhat of a hermit—didn’t care much for humanity, actually. His standards were inhumanly high, which was appropriate in that the man himself was inhuman...mostly. Angelica felt the boy deserved every chance at a normal life. This was a term that meant something radically different to the boy’s birth father.

And so, she carefully—jealously, even—disguised the boy’s very existence from the notice of nearly everyone, human and inhuman.

Nearly everyone.

Even she, with all of the skills at her disposal, could not hide the boy from the forces of the Universe which responded to his very existence, whether for protection or harm. She could not shield him from the powerful elements resident in his own human psyche...they were born when the boy was, after all.

But when the large, well-groomed attorney calling himself Stanley Greenleaf appeared in her office one day, she began to see very clearly the major flaw in her plan to hide the young human.

You harm his development, the attorney said, handing her a mostly blank business card which slightly smoldered in his meaty hand. The card said: Stanley Greenleaf, Attorney.

You really need to put some contact information on this, Angelica said coolly, handing the useless card back to the man. She sat behind her desk and pretended to work on her computer.

Stanley Greenleaf smiled. He smiled and he waited, never taking his eyes off the woman behind the desk. It didn’t take long for the pressure of his unwavering and weighty presence to cause her to react.

Is there anything else? she asked the man sweetly, moving her eyes, and only her eyes, to regard him once more. Her fingers remained poised above her keyboard as if she had paused their engagement with the keys to give him all the attention she could spare—and that begrudgingly.

You harm his development, the man repeated. Even his tone of voice remained unchanged.

May I ask to whom you refer? Angelica asked, arching her fine eyebrows in inquiry. "Who is this he you speak of?"

Never end a sentence in a preposition, the attorney chided.

Excuse me? Angelica challenged, her eyebrows morphing into angry slashes above her lovely blue eyes.

Your grammar, the man said. Watch it.

Your card said that you were an attorney, Angelica said, smiling archly. "Are you also a policeman, you know, a member of the grammar police?"

You jest, Stanley Greenleaf observed. That is not appropriate to our circumstance.

I am afraid I am going to have to ask you to leave, Angelica said, rising to her feet. She was tall. The very act of rising gave the man several long moments to admire her form.

He began to smolder. Smoke, actual smoke began rising from his impeccably tailored suit jacket. He ran an enormous index finger around the inside of a collar which had suddenly become too tight.

You have allowed the girl to progress, he said, trying mightily to stay on subject. Her development has not been stunted.

Angelica was dumbfounded. How did you know about the girl? she demanded. What business of yours are either of these children? If you really are an attorney, who are you representing here?

I represent the boy, Stanley Greenleaf said. He had himself under control for the moment. No new smoke emanated from him, although wisps of it still circulated in the air of the room.

The boy has a lawyer? Angelica asked in disbelief.

He has me...he will always have me, the man replied.

Angelica looked closely at the huge man standing in front of her. He was as tall, even taller, than she. She did not often stand toe-to-toe, or rather nose-to-nose with humans she had contact with. It unnerved her. Then it enlightened her.

You are not human, are you? she asked Stanley Greenleaf, walking slowly around her desk to assume that toe-to-toe position. She stared deep into his eyes and allowed her special brain to make observations and conclusions. I see, she finally said. I see that you have a very significant interest in the boy. Her attitude had softened. Her eyes glistened with emotion. Your interest, your sincere care, for the boy is duly noted. She crossed the room and fell into a large, overstuffed couch which dominated the part of the room the desk did not.

What I don’t understand is why you are so interested in his welfare, she said bluntly, nailing the man with a stony glare. You exist to oppose him, to throw obstacles in his way...to demean and undermine him. She paused for effect. Well, is anything I have said not true? she demanded.

You speak the truth, the man admitted. I will most certainly do my best to cause the boy to fail at every juncture. It is my job.

Then why do you care about his development? she asked in what she thought was an aha moment.

Stanley Greenleaf did not so much as blink. How can I do my job if the boy’s circumstances prevent him from growing? he asked. He is stunted, I tell you. You must change his circumstance, and you must do so immediately, or he is already defeated before he has even started. The man was heating up again, but due to a different cause. He was desperate, desperate for Angelica Root to take action. Desperate for her to free the boy from his captivity.

He needs to live, the attorney said softly, approaching Angelica and crouching beside her so they once again looked into each other’s eyes. How can you be so cruel?

He did it. He got through to her. He knew this as soon as the tears sprang to her eyes, her lovely, lovely eyes. She wept. She wept suddenly and profusely. The huge man in the impressive business suit handed her his own pristine and carefully pressed handkerchief, which she gratefully accepted.

He has become attached to his latest foster parents, she said, sniffling and wiping her nose and eyes. They have formally requested to adopt him, even, she admitted. She looked into the man’s eyes once more. How can I keep him safe? she asked, her desperation evident.

The girl was adopted years ago, the man softly reminded her. To his surprise, Angelica Root laughed—laughed!

Once she had gotten herself back under control, she reached out to pat the back of the man’s large and hairy hand. Oh, Mr. Greenleaf, she said. The girl does not have the boy’s luck. She is practically invisible. But the boy? He possesses extraordinary luck—unprecedented luck, actually. She paused to fold the handkerchief back into a square, a sodden, mascara-ridden square. She offered the soggy mess back to the attorney, who quickly made the hand gestures which are recognized universally as no, please keep it. It’s yours.

I know, Stanley Greenleaf said quietly. He was admiring Angelica again. He watched her every movement with appraisal and approval. Little tendrils of smoke began to rise from his suit again.

I will do it, Angelica told him. She took one of his huge hands into both of her slim and lovely ones. I will approve the adoption paperwork. She stared deeply into the lawyer’s eyes as the smoke alarm in her office exploded in sound and the sprinklers embedded in her ceiling started spraying water everywhere.

Stanley Greenleaf exploded in a cloud of sulfur before even a drop of that water contacted him. With a loud poof, he was gone.

...and then I’ll see that they get an opportunity to move as far away from Baltimore as they can get and still remain in the country, she said aloud to herself. "Well, the continental United States, at any rate."

She was soaked through by the time she deactivated her sprinkler system. She sloshed back to her desk and picked up the telephone which fortunately was not affected by its shower.

County Clerk—Alice Redmond, she said into the device. Yes, Alice, it’s Angelica here. Process the Bonners’ paperwork. I am approving the adoption. Yes. Immediately. Thank you. Thank you for all of your assistance over the last few years...I won’t forget your contributions. Yes. Right. Good-bye. She toggled the telephone off and sat with a wet plop in her office chair. Oh dear, she said, still talking to herself. I hope I have not made a big mistake...

Two minutes later, she was back on her telephone. Angus, she said as her connection was made. I need you. I have a mission. Yes, yes, your dog will do. It’s perfect, actually. Can you meet me here at my office in Baltimore? I can go over the assignment with you in person. Good. Great. See you then. Out. As she disconnected the call, Angelica Root visibly relaxed and a small smile assumed control of her features. Angus will protect the boy, she said softly to herself. He never fails. Never. I have a good feeling about this...

One

A Chance Encounter

THE RAIN AND DARK DIDN'T quench a bit of Chaz and Nan Bonner's celebratory mood as they drove through downtown Seattle on the way to their new home. They had just closed on a house and, clutching folders bulging with paperwork, were joyfully going home―it felt great to say it―to enjoy their first real night of ownership. They laughed and chatted lightly