Forsaken by James David Jordan

Author:James David Jordan [Jordan, James David]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Suspense, Fiction, General, Christian, Religious, Suspense Fiction, Terrorism, Christian fiction, Protection, Evangelists
ISBN: 0805447490
Publisher: B&H Fiction
Published: 2008-10-01T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER

TWENTY

I NEVER IMAGINED WHAT it would be like to be in a slasher movie until I found myself creeping along an Illinois farm road at three o’clock in the morning in a rented SUV. The sky was impenetrably black. A light mist coated the windshield, and I hit the wiper switch every minute or so as I squinted to see the low-slung wooden road signs.

I found Heberlin Road without much trouble. Then I wound for miles through fallow cornfields, leaning forward and peering through the windshield each time I came to a crossroad. The odor of fresh manure seeped in through every seal and gasket of the SUV.

The road narrowed as I got farther from the highway, and I wondered if the pavement would eventually end, leaving me fender deep in mud. I crossed a gravel farm road that ran parallel to a wooded creek. The SUV rattled over a narrow wooden bridge. As I came off the bridge, two rows of craggy cedar elms, one on each side of the road, arched their limbs above me like disfigured old men stretching up to touch fingertips. The creepy canopy made the asphalt road even darker and harder to follow.

For company I turned on the radio. An oldies rock station was playing a Doors song, “People Are Strange.” It was too spooky. I smacked the knob and turned the radio off. If I was this jumpy, I figured that Kacey must be nearly catatonic. I resolved to worry more about her and less about me.

About ten feet after I emerged from the trees, I came to another farm road, which veered to the right. I squinted through the mist and made out the sign: Woodburn Road. This was the spot. I turned onto the road, pulled up about a hundred yards, and stopped. My headlights reached far enough to show me that the road continued for about another hundred yards before curving around some trees and out of sight to the left. I looked at my watch: 3:15. Pulling the glove box open, I felt for my Sig Sauer, checked the magazine and the safety, and placed the weapon on the console beside me.

I killed the headlights but debated whether to leave the car running or turn it off. If I left it running, my chances of making a quick getaway were better, and I would have the additional benefit of heat. Although the temperature outside was well above freezing, the air was damp and chilling. On the other hand, if I turned the engine off, I had a better chance of hearing someone coming. After a few seconds I realized that if the kidnappers wanted me dead, I had almost no chance of staying alive anyway. They chose the ground. They undoubtedly saw me coming. In fact, they were probably watching me at that very moment. No reason not to do what made me most comfortable. I left the car running and turned the radio on, keeping the volume low.

The oldies station was playing “Yesterday.

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