The 13: Fall Read Online Free PDF Page A

had that
don’t-mess-with-me-or-I’ll-put-you-in-your-place-quickly
look. He thought she looked to be somewhat athletic, for a computer nerd. Not the typical horn-rimmed glasses and braces on the skinny beanpole frame of a girl. He noticed that she didn’t wear any jewelry other than a small pair of earrings in the shape of a cross. No wedding ring. That didn’t surprise him, given his assessment of her. She looked like she could be a royal pain in the—
    “Hello, I’m Megan Taylor.” She stuck out her hand and was waiting for Keene to shake.
    He took her hand and immediately regretted underestimating the woman’s grip.
Definitely a pain in the—
    “If you all would,” President Grant interrupted, “please go ahead and take a seat. Our final guest should be arriving any second.”
    The others sat down as the door to the private office opened again. And again, someone Keene had never seen before entered the room.
    The man looked to be in his early forties. He had a quiet demeanor but a strong gait to his walk. He was casually dressed, wearing a pair of khaki pants and an untucked button-down shirt. He had boots and a watch that said military, but Keene was sure it was formerly, not currently. He knew the type. Glad to be out, but somehow just couldn’t let go of that fashionable military look. He took note of the ink that peeked out from under the man’s rolled-up sleeve. He’d seen tattoos like that before. Had one himself, though slightly different: Special Ops, no one he’d crossed paths with. And that made this man even more intriguing.
    President Grant opened his arms and embraced the new guest. They stood together in a big, manly bear hug for several seconds. Finally Grant let the man go and said, “Boz, I’m so glad you’re hear.”
    “Glad I could make it, Calvin.”
    “Everyone, this is Bozwell Hamilton. Boz. He is a very dear friend of mine. We’ve known each other for quite a while and have a long history together. But we’ll get into that later.”
    They all stood again and took turns introducing themselves to the stranger called Boz.
    “Now then,” Grant finally continued. “If everyone’s ready, let’s get to it.”

   CHAPTER 7   
    T he Prophet finished his morning prayers and stood from his knees. He half expected someone to break down his door any minute now. If he was honest, he’d half expected it to happen while he was taping his message last night.
    He had never been assured of his safety. But to be honest, safety was never part of the deal. And he knew that. He accepted that the day he gave his life. None of his predecessors had been guaranteed safety. Why should he? If he had to really take inventory of his situation, the possibility truly existed that he, too, would be persecuted.
    No matter. The message was to be given. That was the command. Tell them. And that’s what he would do.
    He had been fasting for seven days leading up to the taping. Today he would break his fast. He set about fixing the small meal of oatmeal and toast. His body was weak. He needed the food. And he wanted more. But he also knew that if he were to eat a big meal, he would be sick. His system wouldn’t be able to handle it after seven days of just water. So he bowed his head and gave thanks for the food set before him.
    He ate slowly, so as to not upset his stomach. Though he was in great physical condition, he could feel the effects of the fast. His muscles felt atrophied. Weak. His skin looked pale. Clammy. His head was still pounding from the headache he’d suffered the last two days. Slowly, bite by bite, he could feel his energy begin to return.
    He finished and set the bowl and cup in the sink. The small breakfast was a good start. He would make sure to have a bigger lunch. And a protein bar for a snack in between. Or two.
    Feeling a little better, he turned from the small kitchen and walked the three steps into the living area. He grabbed the book and thumbed through the pages. Its