Duplisədē

By Mary Cook Geivett

Maxine has always lived a life of privilege and luxury, until now. On the run and labeled a fugitive, she finds herself tasked with saving an entire nation from destruction.

Richard loves his wife Maxine, but when he makes a deal with the devil, he's forced to choose between his loyalty to his wife and his own survival. The devil's price? Maxine's life.

As the fate of a nation hangs in the balance, a husband and wife find themselves pitted against each other in a deadly game of cat and mouse. Duplisədē is a heart-pumping thriller filled with twists and turns, exploring themes of faith, paganism, and the eternal struggle between angels and demons.

With the clock ticking, Richard must track down Maxine and confront the difficult decision he must make. Should he protect her, or quietly put her away? Is it possible to love someone and still be willing to kill them? The answer is yes, and if Richard doesn't act fast, he may lose the woman he loves to a cruel and merciless System."

• Language: English
• Publisher: BookBaby
• Release date: Apr 27, 2023
• ISBN: 9781667893921

Book preview

1

Bruised, cut, bleeding, and still, the shoeless, wet, numb feet pressed on. The sun was beginning to fall behind the horizon, and although she couldn’t see the moon, she knew it was rising in the East. With the darkness creeping in on her, she felt a strong desire to sleep. Her eyes burned, and she felt her focus dimming, yet she knew she must keep moving. Her life depended on it. Stopping to rest could cost her everything. Exhausted, she stumbled on the rugged terrain. The thorns and brush tore at her skin and clothing as she wound in and around the brush and trees.

How long had she been in the woods? How many days? She had lost all sense of time. Her stomach ached from the lack of a meal, and her head swam from lack of nutrition. She thanked God for the many years she had spent with her husband hunting and tracking wildlife, learning to read the forest, and how to find food. The few wintergreens, acorns, and ginseng she had found had been the only source of sustenance that kept her going. She took that back. God was with her. He would help her and be her strength. But how could God allow this? She had never even comprehended the horror she was living now. How far behind were they? How many were there? How long would they pursue her? Until they knew she was dead? She knew that. She knew the truth. She knew too much.

She felt her blue jean pocket to see if the thumb drive was safe. She fell. Her hand hit something hard and began to bleed again. Her face was severely bruised, and her eyes were stinging and swollen. The sun had set, and it was now too dark to see. She needed to find a place to sleep. She needed to rest. She lay quietly on the ground, listening. The leaves in the tree rustled, and a few raindrops began to fall creating a pitter-patter sound on the fallen leaves. She heard the quiet gurgling and bubbling water running over rocks and pebbles. She crawled toward the sound, ducking beneath the firs and weeds already turned brown from many nights of frost.

She didn’t know how long she had been moving, but eventually, she found the creek. Stepping into the frigid, shallow water, she turned north into the stream and waded against the current. Her pursuers would not see her tracks this way and may hopefully turn south with the assumption that she would take the easier route with the current. But Rich would know better. He would know that she’d choose to fight the current. Still, she had no time to back track

With the current, there came a clearing where she could see the moon’s light rippling across the water. Up ahead, she could see a large fallen tree lying over the creek, which was now evolving into a river. The tree’s root system had been pulled up from the weight of its fall and would make a good harbor for her. She pushed on through waist deep water until she reached the root system, but she could not pull herself up into it for lack of strength.

Determined to get some rest for the night, she once again attempted to pull herself out of the river water and into the massive, gnarled roots. The attempt was successful, but the cold flowing stream splashed against her legs and covered her frozen feet. She no longer cared. Exhausted, she fell asleep.

2

She awakened to the chatter of an angry squirrel whose domain she had disturbed. The squirrel chattered above her, glaring through the tree’s many branches into her hiding place. The sun was high and warm as it forced its rays through the tree roots that loomed above her. Yet a creeping sensation of doom began to rise in her, chasing off the morning fog in her mind. How long had she been sleeping?

She peeked out to see a doe downstream with its head up and eyes and ears alert for the perceived danger the obnoxious squirrel was chattering at. Birds chirped, chiming in with the little rodent’s tune, alerting the forest of the intruder. In a matter of seconds, she remembered that she was on the run. She was also aware that her friends may unwittingly alert the pursuers of her hiding place! She felt her pocket, reassuring herself that she still had the file in her possession.

Although she knew she must move, she was too sore and in too much pain. Her socks were torn and wet, and where they weren’t torn, they were bloody and sticking to the open sores on her feet. She grimaced at the sight of the wool, which had become sticky, stained, and one with her numb and bruised flesh. Her hair was a tangled mat of blood against her head.

Touching it, she grimaced in pain. Her head still throbbed from the bump she had received the night before. Or had it been the night before? She looked down at her hands to see her nails were cracked, broken, bleeding, and clotted with dirt. The palms of her hands were raw. Her arms were scratched and oozing from the menacing thorns and burrs that had torn at her flesh in the attempt to grab her and hold her back in her flight. A large cut on her face smarted against a light breeze that traversed through her cubby.

She must move. As she ventured out of her protective little cove, her furry friends scattered. Where was she? Her eyes scanned through the wooded area, looking for her pursuers. Where were they? Were they here? Were they watching her?

The anxious thoughts caused her to jump at the sound of tree branches swaying in the breeze. Gathering her courage, she stumbled forward, her numb swollen feet stinging with every step. She stayed along the river to avoid the brambles of the woods. She no longer cared if they found her. Yes, she did. Besides, they should have found her by now. Somehow, she had managed to escape for a while.

Coming to the end of the wood line, she left the riverside to cut across a field that had yet to be harvested. The tall stalks of corn were wet from the morning frost melting in the sun. The long leaves slid across her face and shoulders dripping the melting frost onto her shoulders.

She still needed more rest. She also needed a bath and a first aid kit. But how? She had no money, no I.D., no anything. That is nothing except for the thumb drive, which was now wearing a hole in her blue jean pocket. She mustn’t lose the flash drive. It was her only salvation.

As she continued across the field, she topped a hill to look down upon an old working farm. Like many farms in Michigan, there was an old farmhouse that had been added on to numerous times, as well as a chicken coop, barns and sheds, and a separated garage that leaned awkwardly to one side.

A small pasture held a goat and several sheep. An ornery pony chose to remain in its own little corner with its derriere pointed in the direction of the other animals. A small, dilapidated hay barn looked very enticing, so she continued toward the farm, her steps a little less painful the nearer she got to the barn.

Upon reaching the edge of the farm, her stomach felt queasy with nervousness. Were they here? She scanned the yard and listened for the tell-tale signs of pack dogs and conversation. She heard none. She skirted the edges of the smaller farm buildings to reach the larger barn. Her heart pounded inside her as she approached the barn. She slipped in and stood inside a large sliding door allowing her eyes to adjust to the murky darkness.

As her eyes adjusted, she peered through the dust floating through the air, accented by the sun peeping through the cracks of the barn boards. She saw nothing. Nothing but hay! Piles of fresh hay beckoned her. Eagerly she entered the barn, fell into a pile of hay and began picking and peeling off her blood-soaked socks. She grimaced at the sight of her feet. Where her feet weren’t bruised, bleeding, and raw, they were covered with frost-bitten flesh. Her legs were swollen, cut and bruised, and purple from the cold. Her stomach, now empty for days, retched but nothing would come. Her bare flesh already bruised and numb, stung from the prick of the hay. An infection seemed to be set in from a deep cut on her elbow that festered and oozed.

Fortunately, she could not see her face. She imagined it was beyond repair. Setting aside all thoughts of bodily disrepair, she thanked God for a dry, if not a drafty, barn to shelter her from her enemies – for now.

Lying back and closing her eyes, she felt her body cry out in pain for the endless days of running, but her heart cried out in agony at the loss of her husband. A strong woman, she always believed she could deal with losing him through death because she had God on whom to rely. But this? Tears blurred her eyes. She finally allowed her tears to run freely.

3

All was black – a black, deep, blissful sleep. But from the corners of her sleep, she sensed a light. They have found her! She struggled to wake up and tried to scream. Nothing would happen. Was this a bad dream? Was she awake? Was she living a nightmare?

She knew, awake or asleep, she was living a nightmare she could not escape. The light had now become too bright and too close. She struggled to awaken. It was over. They had won. How could God allow them to win? A figure loomed above her in the light. Or maybe the figure was the light. The figure stooped over her for a moment and was gone.

***

The figure took its place next to the pile of hay where the woman lay. Holding a copper siphon at its side, the figure stared them down. Them were evil beings, devils, and gremlins all stationed in and around the barn, and the farm, at the orders of something much more sinister. The gremlins dared not cross this angel. He was much more powerful than they. So, they hung out on the outskirts, waiting for the angel to let his guard down. But he would not. This woman was his charge. They could wait.

***

She awoke to the jabber of a woman she could not yet see for the beam of a flashlight shining into her eyes.

There you are! I knew you were in here somewhere, Dear! an elderly lady chatted as she rounded the corner of the stable stall with a flashlight and a quilt. God told me you were out here, you know! the old lady beamed. Her sparkling eyes crinkled from the uplifting of her leathery, sun-worn cheeks. Aside from her weathered skin, the older lady had long, full silver hair. Although rotund and in a house dress, she looked strong. A strength not of sinew and muscle, it was a strength that shone in her eyes.

God told me, he did! The elderly woman continued, I get a lot of runaways in these parts. Mostly kids runoff from home. Some stay, some don’t. The elderly lady paused and looked at her curiously. Her eyes, glossed over with age, glinted in the flashlight’s beam. But you aren’t a runoff, are you?

I need help-

YOU have been appointed by God to do amazing things! It will be a dangerous road, but remember, He is always with you! Ending