Hi, everyone! So, this is my first redemption story. I plan to continue writing Bloodlines, but I was struck with inspiration to write this story. It has a Christian theme since I am a Christian and I really felt led to write this tale. I started reading Francine Rivers and was just moved by her stories of redemption and forgiveness. She truly has a heart for God and I was inspired to write a similar story, using familiar characters. If you want fantastic book suggestions read Redeeming Love, Mark of the Lion Trilogy (All four by Francine Rivers), and This Present Darkness by Frank E. Peretti. These books are just incredibly moving and amazing works of literature. I hope you'll read and enjoy. Bloodlines is not forgotten, in fact, I'm working on the next chapter. It's just slower coming. Please review.
Chapter 1
['In your unfailing love, O God, answer my prayer with your sure salvation. Rescue me from the mud; don't let me sink deeper! Save me from those who hate me, and pull me from these deep waters. Don't let the floods overwhelm me, or the deep waters swallow me, or the pit of death devour me.'- Psalms 69:13-15]
The rain fell heavily, beating on his shoulders. Rain soaked through his thin coat, causing the young man to shiver. His dirty blonde hair was matted against his forehead. Green eyes, cold and hollow as he skittered past a group, drunkenly laughing in front of a club. The women hung off the men, stilettos pointed upward and flirtatious words on their lips. Once upon a time, he would have been one of those men with a beautiful girl on each arm and a tomcat smile in greeting.
He wobbled on his feet, cold and hungry, bumping into one of the men. The man huffed disdainfully, yelling a threatening 'Watch it, freak' as the young man continued his quick pace along the streets of Seattle. With each step, his shoes sloshed and squeaked. Toes curled against the wet and unforgiving cold. He couldn't escape his own misery, both outside and inside his mind.
He was a mess. Chaos followed him every step he took. His past sins toyed with his head, standing stark naked at the surface of every thought. He couldn't forget his torment. Couldn't forget the Manticore drills. The shouting abusive guards. The orders and brainwashing.
He couldn't move on when every face of every man and woman he killed stared back at him with glassy, unforgiving eyes. They floated through his head and cast blame on him for their imminent demise. His actions were unforgivable. His very existence unforgivable.
Sure, he tried to hide the pain through a happy-go-lucky smile. Through partying and drinking. Through one night stand after one night stand. Through money and drug dealings. Through bashing the heads in of opposing gangs and familiars. But, in the end he still felt empty. No matter how much he filled himself up with his own desires, he was empty once the moment past.
No woman could make him feel whole. Everything pleasurable sucked the life right out of him just like Manticore. Except now, he was in-tune with his own messed up sad existence. The emptiness he felt in his heart and soul. If he had a soul, he scoffed.
According to that Reverend that led the hate against his kind, they were soulless beasts. Animals. They needed to be dealt with accordingly. Taken to the slaughterhouse.
A sneer curled his lips and wrinkled his nose as a rain drop fell off the tip. He was nothing important just like Manticore had said, just a product of the government's brilliant minds. A super-soldier to be used however seemed necessary. He sighed heavily, eyes lowering to the muddy cement ground beneath his feet. A sad reminder of the soldier he used to be. He couldn't even hold his own head up with pride and arrogance anymore. Pride and arrogance had been ripped from him too. His only security blanket. His only mask cruelly taken from him.
His loss of self-esteem could be easily pointed towards Max, the 09er he foolishly followed and believed for awhile. It didn't help when he had a beautiful brunette constantly berating him, reminding him of every past sin he had dealt upon her and her precious, Logan. Reminding him of all the crimes he committed and the ones he didn't. Reminding him of every mistake he made with rage and an unforgiving steely glare. In her eyes, he was a screw-up. A jerk that drove dreams away. She didn't care if he was trying to learn. Trying to survive. She saw what she wanted to see and she saw an enemy. One she had finally driven out of Freak Nation. Her precious Terminal City had finally gotten rid of the Smart-Aleck.
"Get out,"She seethed, pure anger in her eyes. "I never want to see you again." So, he left without explanation. It didn't matter if the Intel was bad. If she blamed him for the horrible mistake. A mission gone wrong. They were all hungry, desperate for food. But, transgenics died under his protection because he hadn't been prepared for their outing. And stupidly, a small part of him got distracted by his own needs and the grumble of his stomach. They were ambushed. Some slaughtered. Some escaped. And the backdoor to Terminal City was unfortunately left open. Which ended up being their destruction this morning. Should have ran earlier. Everyone should have ran.
Max blamed him for everything, always had always will. Maybe it was his fault. He hadn't been prepared for the backlash that would meet Terminal City through angry mobs and violent terrorist attacks after the Jam Pony Siege. Terminal City was ruin and he hadn't been surprised when the military struck, tearing apart the small community in seconds. It was all over the news. They never had a chance. It was a good thing he left when he did. He didn't need them. He didn't need anyone. Their foolish stay ended in tragedy. They foolishly believed in Max and her tough chick speech instead of listening to their gut instinct.
He had abandoned them a few days before Terminal City's destruction. Angered and humiliated by Max's irate and insensitive words, pride encouraged him to flee. To ditch. To jump the boat before it sank. For he was not a soldier. Never a soldier. An assassin. One of the most self-centered experiments that was part of Manticore's creations. Dishonest. Manipulative. Self-absorbed. Apathetic. Sociopathic. Assassin.
He was a loner. Manticore had made him into a loner. Separated him from the others to train as an assassin for covert missions. He was fine on his own. He would always be fine. Fine. 494 was fine. Alec was fine.
He wrapped his arms around his midsection, shivering against the rainy gust. Then why did he feel so empty inside? Why didn't he feel fine?
Alec fell against the alleyway wall with a heavy sigh. He drew his knees up, resting his chin against his sodden pants. His back leaned against the wall. A bumbling drunk knocked his way along the path, leaning heavily against the brick wall. Is this what he left Manticore for? The unrelenting taunts of drunks and chauvinists. He would weep if he had any tears left to spare. Manticore made sure to drain the emotion and feelings out of their creations at the beginning.
He rested his chin heavily against his knees, shivering against the gusting wind and cold rain. A wet poster flew past him, rolling along the wet asphalt. Immediately, it opened up exposing a badly drawn picture of Joshua with 'Mutant Freak' and 'Wanted' scrawled over it. He gave a humorless laugh, burrowing his head into the crook of his arm as his body shook with hysterical laughter. He couldn't escape his own misery inside or out. It followed him everywhere.
Part of the reason he was out in the cold was because he had nowhere else to go. He couldn't go back to his apartment, White made sure of that. He couldn't escape the cold by entering a restaurant or shop, he would be immediately recognized by the public. Hunted down and slaughtered like Biggs. Oh, Biggs.
Because of the Jam Pony Siege, his face had been plastered everywhere thanks to the hover drones. He would be tormented by sector police if spotted and jail wasn't an option.
He could leave Seattle, but where would he go? Again, the urge to weep returned. Where would he go? For the first time, he was directionless. Lost. Manticore had always told him what to do, but now he didn't have Manticore. Heck, he didn't even have Max who had guided him for awhile with her crazy ire and distaste for his very existence.
He had only left Terminal City a few days ago, completely lost it this morning, and already he was falling apart. Lost and confused. He was pathetic. A sniveling pathetic mess who couldn't stand on his own. He played with the idea of finding Max (if she was still alive) and begging for a third, fourth, maybe fifth chance, but his pride told him not to. His pride kept him from seeking the all high and mighty Max. Miss Never-do-wrong. He scoffed irately.
So, he just let his own misery play out and toyed with the alluring, tempting voice that urged him to take his worthless life. That serpentine voice taunted him and like a very vivid picture film, played every heinous act he had ever committed over and over again. Every horrible thing he had said. Every life he had took. Every person he had taken advantage of and cheated.
He clutched his head, willing the migraine away. Clanging cymbals clashed in his brain, beating his very mind into mush. Condemning him. He was a condemned man. He had no right to forgiveness. Manticore made sure of that and like some masochist, he allowed it to continue through his own actions. His own free-will. He made bad choice after bad choice and now he paid the price for his sins.
"God,"he muttered, rubbing at his eyes. The one word was a prayer on lips to someone he never believed in. Faith had been stomped out of him at a very young age. There was no reason for him to pray. He didn't believe in religion or spirituality. His survival was his own doing, but a sickly feeling still sat in the pit of his stomach. He wanted to be rescued from his misery. He had hoped when Max set them free, his life would be different.
He thought he would find a nice beach to retire to and never deal with his issues again. But, his problems followed him and consumed him, tainting his soul...if he had one...and hollowed him empty. He didn't deserve to be rescued...saved...free...bad luck followed him like karma, pulling him under like a dark, thunderous ocean tide. He was drowning. Yet, he deserved everything he got. Justice is sweet, he thought bitterly.
Alec fell against the cement floor, curling up into a ball. Maybe, that's why he refused to find shelter. He was punishing himself because his mind wasn't doing a good enough job already. The public hate was just an excuse to explain away his own inner suffering.
He sniffed, despondently. Pathetically. A hollow laugh vibrating through his body. What would Manticore say? He rubbed at his eyes, pulling his wet coat over his head. He kept one piercing green eye open to watch for shady folks who would do him harm. At least, a small part of him begged for life.
The threatening whistles and jeering woke him immediately. Alec sat up, facing the five men who surrounded him. He masked the terror in his eyes as he stood up to face the vicious men. They jeered and lashed out.
He stood on weak legs, blocking a punch slowly. The men cackled louder. A chain clanged against the asphalt road. A bat smacked flesh, as the man wielding the threatening object moved closer. Alec pressed himself against the wall, fear flitting momentarily across his face. Just enough to egg the gang on like a predator catching a whiff of blood. Was this how Biggs felt? Was this the terror that shook his friend to the very core? He laughed bitterly, cursing quietly at the cruel joke. His end had come and he hadn't even attempted to live in this miserable world.
"Looks like we have a trannie," the leader jeered, eyeing Alec up and down. They must have noticed his barcode. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. "Lets teach this freak a lesson, shall we boys." The men cheered and were immediately on him, pulling, kicking, hitting. He tried to defend himself. Put his transgenic abilities to good use. But, he was weak. Weak from no food. Weak from the cold. His will was weak and he knew that was the main reason for his lacking defense. He had hit rock bottom and he was done.
With a final kick, they drew away. He struggled, gulping in what little air he could. Tears ran down his bruised flesh as he pushed himself up. Blood dribbled from his nose, his broken ribs creaked. He looked up at his tormentors. Their jeering, laughing faces mocked his weakness. He hated this world. Hated ordinaries. Yet, he couldn't find the will or strength to fight back. He hated himself more.
"Finish it off, Jax," One man stated, turning away from the bruised and bloodied man. "Then meet us at the bar. Drinks are on me." He gave one final kick to the transgenic's side before nodding to his friends and leaving the last man behind.
Jax was a burly man. Tattoos covered his skin, eyes hard and brown. A course beard covered his face. He drew a knife, approaching the young transgenic. Alec scooted away. Brown meeting green. Jax's hand wavered. Fingers whitening from the grip he had on the hilt.
Jax sighed heavily. The transgenic was young. Barely, twenty. Yet after everything he heard on the news, Jax knew the boy was a cold-blooded killer. A monster. But, the obvious fear that gripped the transgenic opposed the news' insistent claims.
The kid was broken. Lost. He hadn't fought back once. He hadn't torn his friends to shred and now he just stared at his fate with utter dejection and acceptance. The transgenic had no fight left in him.
"I'll make it quick,"Jax said, pulling the kid's head back. The knife touched the boy's throat. "You won't suffer." His hand shook and the kid looked at him expectantly, waiting. Forlorn. Saddened. Where was the monster in the darkness?
"You have to understand, I'm doin' this for my family. You freaks are dangerous. Killers. Monsters." Why was he so hesitant? Why wasn't the transgenic fighting back? He was injured, but everything he heard about transgenics spoke of resilience. Spoke of unkempt violence and chaos. They wanted to kill good, honest people. "You understand, don't you?" Why was he still talking to this government mistake?
"Do it,"the transgenic muttered, falling back against the wall. "I'm done fighting." Jax shook, staring into the broken and empty gaze. For some reason, he pulled back. Like a force had yanked him back from the empty stare. It was haunting. Two dark pools awaiting death. He couldn't do it. Couldn't murder even if his target was just a transgenic.
Jax swore, moving away from the transgenic. He wasn't gonna end the freak's life. For some reason, it didn't bode well with him anymore. The zeal of fighting back against the enemy gone. He pocketed the knife.
The rain had started up again. Wind and rain pounded against him, soaking both him and the transgenic again. He shook his head. The transgenic was as good as dead. After the beating, him, Lex and the others inflicted, the transgenic definitely wouldn't survive the rest of the night. His heart sunk, feeling condemned for his actions. "I'll let nature decide your fate,"Jax mumbled, turning on his heels. He walked down the alleyway and back into the open of this horrendous city.
"Coward,"Alec mumbled, watching his attacker leave. He coughed, blood spilling onto the cracked asphalt ground. "Coward!" He shouted louder, hoping to egg the man, Jax, on. But, Jax was gone. And, he, left alone once more. He swore loudly as he attempted to sit up, ribs protesting against the pain.
He thought it would be over. Hoped it would be over. There was more honor dying at knife point by a gangster than taking his own life to shut out the voices. He moved his hand up towards his temple, wincing at the pain that shook through his dislocated wrist.
He took inventory of his injuries. Every bruise. Every broken bone shattered by the bat. The lash marks from the chain. He fell back against the wet ground, curling into a protective ball even though his injuries protested against the painful action. What would Manticore say about the pathetic excuse for a soldier? He closed his eyes, moaning as unconsciousness finally came crashing down, sending him into oblivion.
The rain and wind whipped at his coat, arms crossed in attempt to keep his hands warm. Why he was out late at night and not home with his family, Simon Peters didn't have the answer yet. But, he knew his wandering was due to the urging, yet gentle voice that had told him to walk down 1st avenue that night.
Obediently, he tossed on a coat with a prayer on his lips. Lord. He had asked. Why me? What is your will? But, Simon didn't receive an answer instead he left a note for his wife and went out into the stormy night, determined to seek out the reason he was roused from his comfort and sent into the storm.
He lifted his sector pass and the police waved him through as he entered sector 4 which was once Pikes Place Market.
He moved along the path, passing a man that slept on a bench under a newspaper. Simon's heart broke, immediately approaching the sleeping homeless man. But, gentle urging told him to keep moving. He placed money into the man's cup, praying for his well-being before continuing along the street. He passed stumbling drunks, women giggling in their arms and making lewd comments. Simon sighed, passing the men and women as he continued along his way.
He brushed a hand through his graying hair, dark eyes searching for a sign. "Lord,"he muttered, looking up at the heavy rain. "What do you want from me? Why am I here?" He didn't receive an answer and he partially hoped his mission hadn't been fabricated in his own head. He kept moving, mumbling to himself that there better be a reason.
Just earlier today he had been with his wife and daughter. They gave thanks for their breakfast, went to church, went shopping, had lunch, and during that time he had prayed for something important to happen in his life. A mission to be sent on. Somebody to help. Anything. It was a familiar prayer he made quite often.
God provided so much in these hard economic times and he was thankful. He had a job, a roof over his family's head, enough money to pay rent and get them by, but part of him felt like he also needed to do more. Do something. Help somebody.
He moved along the path, tugged by a gentle force. Boldly, he trusted the gentle guidance as he walked along 1st avenue. Shady men leaned against dilapidated brick walls. A young woman stood at the corner with her high heels on. A bar across the street made quite the ruckus with vulgarity and brutality.
Cross the street. Simon crossed the street, hands in his pocket. He shook his head sadly at the anti-transgenic posters on the wall and the signs that leaned against the tavern. He couldn't help but feel sorry for those kids. Lab experiments they may be, but they definitely didn't deserve the persecution and brutality they faced consistently.
He was disgusted by the news as the news anchors encouraged the violence and hate. He was horrified by the mobs and the bystanders that stood by and watched. He was even more disgusted by Reverend Jude from the government church who spoke out with anti-transgenic and hate propaganda. That wasn't the Lord's way.
He had shook his head in both sadness and disgust, praying for both the misunderstood and the mob of ignorant folks. This world was full of sin and evil. Satan's domain. He was out of sync in this world. Only through God, did he find peace and order. His faith kept him going. He thanked Jesus for saving him many years before.
A heavy frame bumped into him and he wobbled back for a second, surprised by the impact. "Sorry,"the burly man grumbled as he moved away from the alleyway. Simon's eyes darted towards the alleyway. Immediate understanding filled his heart and he knew this was where he had to be. He sped up his walk, turning right. A gasp left his mouth when he spotted a broken and wet huddle curled against the wall. He moved forward, noting the blood that stained the puddle red.
"Lord,"Simon pleaded as he turned the form over, finding an unconscious and beaten beyond recognition young man. The boy couldn't be older than nineteen or twenty. Simon closed his eyes, inhaling a heavy breath. "Please, let him be alive."
He checked the boy's pulse and found it weak, but there. He gave a sigh of relief, giving silent thanks. Now, he just needed a way to move him from the alleyway. It was a bummer that he didn't own a car. The pulse had made sure all economic advancements had been halted. A few years ago, he had been forced to sell his car. The decision had been wise, since he found he really didn't have use for a car anymore. Walking was better economically anyways.
The young man groaned and Simon hushed him, promising him that everything would be okay. Now, about that transportation.
"Hey,"another man shouted. "Is everything okay over here?" As if by some miracle, a taxi-driver approached him. His features filled with concern as he approached the pair.
Simon grinned in relief, glad that his concerns were answered. "Now that you've arrived, yes," Simon answered, nodding his head towards the kid. "Seems our friend here was mugged."
"Holy-" The taxi-driver exclaimed, getting a better look at the kid. His eyes filled with compassion. "Do you need me to alert the cops?" Simon was about to answer in agreement to the suggestion, but the young man resting next to him, stirred.
"No, cops,"he muttered with a bloody cough before sinking back into unconsciousness. Simon shook his head. That answered that question. "It seems law enforcement will be unnecessary, my friend." The taxi-driver seemed unsure about the decision, but he nodded his head anyways. "But, a ride would be nice-" Simon let his sentence linger and the taxi-driver immediately answered, taking off his hat.
"Hobbs. Edgar Hobbs."
"Simon Peters,"Simon introduced.
Edgar put his hat back on. "I'll be happy to oblige." He moved forward, ready to help lift the kid into the back of his taxi. "I saw you turn into the alleyway after that shady fellow left." He wrinkled his brows, hefting the boy up by holding his legs. A frown on his lips. The kid was in bad shape. Simon lifted him up by his arms, apologizing when he jostled the young man. "A bad feeling struck my heart and I had to check and make sure everything was all right."
"It's good that you did,"Simon agreed. They carried the young man towards Edgar's taxi. A rundown yellow cab that had seen better days. Edgar managed to open the back door without dropping the young man. They slid him carefully into the backseat, only earning a pain-filled moan from the soaking wet young man.
Simon situated the kid, making sure he didn't hit his head on the ride home. When he turned the young man over, his eyes widened. There on the back of his neck was a barcode. A transgenic. A slight uneasiness came over Simon's stomach. Even though he hated what was happening to the transgenics, he had to admit the sight of one made him nervous. The constant bombardment of negative news could be very influencing at times.
Lord, is this your will? He took off his wet coat, tucking it under the transgenic's head. Peace overcame him and he sighed, accepting the answer. He took in the transgenic's bruised features. His skin was whiter than paper against the dark bruising and blood. Compassion stole Simon's heart once more and he nodded his head in agreement. Will be done...Protect me, Jesus. He let go of his doubt, putting his full faith into God as he pulled away from the backseat and opened the passenger door. He fell heavily into the worn leather seat and Edgar turned up the heat.
"Is the kid comfortable,"Edgar inquired, glancing at Simon. Simon nodded his head, deciding to keep the information he learned about their unconscious friend in the back a secret. "Where too? The hospital?"
"My place,"Simon decided. Edgar raised a brow and Simon shrugged. "He probably can't pay the hospital fee." Also, the hospital was an incredibly dangerous place for a transgenic. Simon could bet a million dollars that their transgenic friend would be in a lot worse shape if left in the care of Seattle's health-care providers. Edgar nodded his head sagely. "My wife went to medical school. She's a physician."
Sarah Peters had been passionate about helping people before the pulse. She had had big dreams. She had once been part of Seattle Hospital. But, due to growing corruption, she was forced to back away. She had tried to expose medical malpractice, but higher forces had chased her out. She didn't let that abrupt end to career embitter her, instead she praised God and was placed on a new path. Her new mission to provide medical care to the poor and downtrodden who couldn't go to Seattle's government hospital. She faced each day with new joy and love.
"Too expensive to even receive a simple check-up,"Edgar muttered in annoyance. "Darn economy." Simon smirked in agreement before giving his address to the driver. Edgar immediately passed through sectors with ease, nodding and greeting the sector police kindly.
They made it to sector six, driving along until they entered a neighborhood. His neighborhood. "There,"Simon pointed out a quaint house with broken shutters. Edgar braked, allowing the car to rumble as Simon got out. A woman stood next to the window, curiously watching the taxi. Her arms were crossed and eyes anxious. Simon waved to her before pulling out his wallet. "How much do I owe you?"
Edgar shook his head, waving a hand in protest. "No, sir,"Edgar protested. "This ride is free-" He gave a pointed look at Simon, grinning broadly. "For bein' a good Samaritan." He cocked his head towards the transgenic. "That boy would be dead if it weren't for you-"
"And I'd still be stuck in the rain with him if it weren't for you,"Simon countered. He pulled a crisp twenty, the only bill he had in his wallet. He stuck it in the cup holder. "This is my personal thanks."
Edgar tipped his hat with a smile. "I much oblige." He climbed out of the driver seat. "Lets get that boy somewhere safe and dry." With a mighty heft, the two men carried the 6'2" frame out of the cab. The woman at the window, immediately swung the door open. Her eyes were wide in shock as she pulled her robe closer.
"Simon,"she exclaimed, finally catching sight of the broken and bruised young man in her husband's and this stranger's arms. "What's going on? Who is this?"
"I'll explain everything later, Sarah,"Simon responded with a grunt. "Is the bed ready in the guest room. We're gonna have a long night." Without further questioning, Sarah ran off, immediately pulling back the covers.
"Dad,"A girl with corkscrew curls called. Her hair was dark like her father's. Her skin was dark tan with hazel eyes standing exuberantly against her darker complexion. She was not much older than fourteen or fifteen. "Who is that?"
"Found him in an alleyway, he's hurt,"Simon quickly explained. "Can you get one of my t-shirts and a pair of sweat pants, Leah?" Leah nodded, darting towards her parent's room.
"An alleyway?!"Sarah exclaimed, watching the two men carrying the younger man and placing him gently on the bed. "Oh my, he's soaked to the bones-" She moved over, helping her husband and the cab driver remove the wet clothes. Her eyes filled with a mixture of compassion and sadness when she took in the damage done. "Oh Lord, this poor boy-" Leah quickly came in, handing her mother the dry clothes. Her eyes widened at the ugly bruising and the jutted ribs.
"Mom,"Leah said, horrified. Sarah turned, quickly pulling her daughter away from the grotesque injuries.
"Get me my medical bag, darling,"Sarah answered her daughter's shock gaze. "Start up a pot of hot water and get me a cloth with a bucket of warm water." Leah nodded, off to collect everything needed from her mother's list. Sarah sent up a silent prayer for guidance. She didn't want the young man to hurt more than he already did. She prayed for his healing.
"It's a miracle he's still alive,"Edgar awed. He backed away when Sarah quickly moved in front, pressing gentle hands along his rib cage. She lowered her head, shaking her head in disgust. She never understood how people could be so cruel. The sins of this world was sometimes too hard to fathom.
"Three broken ribs,"she stated. "And I'm assuming more are fractured. Who could do this to someone?" She smoothed back the young man's wet dirty blonde hair. He didn't make a sound, completely unconscious to the world around him. She noted the dislocated wrist as well and thanked God that she had been led down the path of medicine before the pulse. Again, she prayed as she put her God given gifts to use and situated broken ribs and snapped the dislocated wrist back into place. He was lucky he didn't suffer more damage. He was lucky to be found. It was a miracle from God that he was even still alive.
Leah reentered the room with the supplies. Sarah and Simon immediately cleaned the wounds out to prevent infections from festering.
Edgar Hobbs backed towards the door, his cap in hand as he watched the quaint family work. He no longer served a purpose. "I should leave,"He stated, pointing towards the door. "Seems you folks have everything under control. If its alright with you, I'll come back and visit the kid once he's awake."
Both Simon and Sarah rose from their position, approaching the older taxi driver. "Thank you again for your help,"Simon stated, shaking Edgar's hand. "I appreciate it-"
"I didn't get your name,"Sarah stated. Leah sat behind, taking her mother's position of cleaning out the man's wounds and wrapping gauze around his wrist for stability. Sarah pushed dark tendrils behind her ear, holding out a hand. "Sarah and thank you for your service. God bless you-" Edgar blushed, shaking the woman's hand.
"Edgar Hobbs,"Edgar responded. "No need to thank me. Just bein' a good person, is all." He tipped his hat. "I should get goin', still workin'-" He nodded towards the bruised man. "Keep me updated. Here-" He handed them a slip of paper with his name on it and they promised to keep him updated. With one last nod, Edgar left the house.
Simon and Sarah went back to work as they bandaged and mended broken bones to the best of their ability. They redressed the young man in Simon's pajamas and Sarah stroke the transgenic's hair back. Leah sat on the stool at the edge of the bed, watching the sleeping man. She gnawed on her bottom lip, mind whirling with questions.
"Will he be alright?"Leah asked, glancing at her parents. Her eyes had filled with tears, compassion for the stranger unconscious in their guest room. She folded her arms, wiping at her nose. Human cruelty was unfathomable sometimes. Sin ran rapid and it sickened her.
"He's in God's hands now,"Sarah stated, tucking the covers around their new patient. She had done everything she could possibly do for him. His survival was up to the Lord. She just prayed he would survive.
"Pray for him,"Simon suggested, standing and cracking his back. He rubbed a tired hand through his salt and pepper curls. The same curls his daughter had.
Leah nodded, cocking her head in thought. "I will." He just looked so battered and bruised. She just hoped he would make it. Her Dad made the right choice bringing him here. He would have never gotten the proper care at Seattle Hospital.
"Go to sleep now, darling,"Sarah stated. "He'll be here in the morning-" She crooked a brow and gave a warm smile. "And you have school tomorrow." Leah nodded, standing to her feet. She ran a tired hand through curls, yawning. She was perturbed, distressed by the young man's brutal entrance into her life but she just prayed and hoped he wouldn't give up on the battle. She bid goodnight to her parents, returning to her room.
Sarah fell back into the chair, head resting in her hand. She couldn't leave him alone tonight. Not with those massive injuries and the threat of fever. She had noticed the heat radiating from his body and it terrified her. How long had he been in the cold rain?
She glanced over at her husband, who took a seat on the kid's other side. She smiled lovingly at him and he smiled back. He was a good man and she was proud to be his wife. Her brow's furrowed in silent thought.
He was young, she could tell by his features. Very young. She knew nothing about him. When she was cleaning his injuries, the barcode hadn't escaped her notice. And from Edgar's raised brows, he had noticed the barcode too, though he wisely didn't mention it.
What was happening to the transgenics was deplorable and wrong. Every time she watched the news, her and Simon shared a look of disgust at the treatment of those poor kids. But, the news also held some merit. They were dangerous. Trained to kill, abilities far beyond a normal human beings capacity. If he chose too, this transgenic could easily snap her neck without struggle. Death didn't scare her, for she believed in everlasting life after death. What worried her was the debate between fear and love. Ignorance vs. holy enlightenment. He was a stranger. A dangerous transgenic like the ones previously shown on the news.
Love your neighbor as yourself. She lowered her eyes, glancing over at her husband who was having the same internal battle. Love should always win. If the unconscious young man was a transgenic he would need a lot of love. Her husband caught her gaze.
"He's going to stay with us,"She inquired. Simon nodded his head. He didn't know if the young man would stay, but a warm bed and food could be rather enticing. Especially for someone who had nowhere to go. He lowered his eyes, remembering the news this morning. The siege was over and the military had come in breaking down the walls of Terminal City. Transgenics were scattered everywhere. Dead or on the run.
"I hope,"he responded. She hummed, debating again whether it was a wise decision to let the transgenic stay. She had her daughter to think about as well. Love your neighbor, Sarah. Love. Forgive. Don't judge, just love. She closed her eyes, nodding her head silently.
"Good,"she stated, eyes snapping open. She tapped a finger on the bedside table. She leaned back, cocking her head to the side as she watched her husband. "Tell me everything. I need to know exactly what happened tonight." She needed to know everything that had happened since he was called to action this evening.
Neither of them planned to sleep tonight, until their guest awoke. Sarah knew in her heart that God had given her and her family a purpose. She looked upon the transgenic's young face. His life and their life would be changed forever.
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