The Forsaken Read Online Free PDF

Dad were here , he thought.
    Officers pursued on foot as well. The steps were so close now. Behind him or in front of him, he wasn’t sure. He felt like a pariah, so far from home.
    Jude lost his step, tripping on the edge of the sidewalk. A mixture of phlegm and spit bled out his chapped lips as he stared back at the overweight cop trailing in the distance. The purse in Jude’s hands hardly seemed worth it, but then again, it was never about the purse. Not really.
    A copper moon reflected its disapproval. He often wondered if God sat behind it someplace, waiting for his creation to screw up.
    Jude gasped. He was out of time, and his legs wanted to give way. He was ahead of the chubby cop for a good while, but he was in desperate need of a place to disappear. Jude looked up at the cathedral before him. It was an archaic structure that had sat at the heart of this city for years. Tonight was as good a night as any to become a believer.
    Quickly shutting and locking the door behind him, Jude sped down the aisle to speak with the priest who had been lighting a candle when he made his intrusion. The church was like something out of Shakespeare. Gloomy, gothic, overstated. Painted glass reflected the colors of the city lights, and hymns were carved into some of the walls. Other church art, most bordering on the grotesque and violent, seemed to reach out from the blanched drywall and chiseled stones that made up the inner sanctuary.
    Still, Jude felt safe. He felt home, and he didn’t know why.
    “I need your help,” he said, unable to stop blinking.
    “What is it that you’ve done, kiddo?” the priest asked immediately.
    “No hello? No wine and crackers?”
    The priest cracked a smile. “This is the house of God. It’s more than a place to make bad jokes and hide. Our services are on Saturdays, Sunday mornings, and throughout the week. You are free to return then.”
    A few bangs on the door and a silent look of disapproval forced Jude’s confession. “Father, please. I need help.” Jude wasn’t religious in any sense of the word, but he knelt on one knee and crossed himself in hopes of making the tired priest buckle.
    “You do the crime; you do the time. Why did you come to me? I do not know you. Does the Lord know you?”
    “The Lo—? I guess. I mean, isn’t it, like, his freaking job to know everybody?”
    “We are such creatures of convenience, aren’t we? We come crying to him only when we need something. It’s then that sinners miraculously become saints. Funny, I don’t think that’s how it works.”
    “Look, spare me the lecture, Father.”
    “All right, then. I think your friends are, uh, waiting for you outside.” The priest turned around and walked a few steps.
    “Fifty bucks,” Jude said, rummaging through the purse. “Just my stupid luck. No credit cards, just a lousy fifty. Almost got canned for this?”
    “Perhaps the police will be easy on you, hmmm?”
    “You’re either stupid or unbelievably naïve,” Jude seethed, and immediately regretted his tone. The priest appeared to be a good-natured guy, but at the moment Jude didn’t have any use for upright citizens who preached a worn-out gospel; he needed real help. He needed a safe haven. “Those guys out there don’t care about my soul, or what your book says about forgiveness. They just wanna take me away in cuffs. I got in real bad with this gang, okay? I stole this purse, thought I was a big-shot. I screwed up. I’m sorry. But I can’t go with them. I just can’t, you see? You gotta help me.”
    “You’re running from more than just sirens. Where are you going?”
    Jude couldn’t answer. But the drum of fists against the outside church door was getting louder.
    “You can’t run forever. You know that, don’t you?”
    A reluctant nod. “Can you help me?”
    “I suppose we all need second chances. What is your name?”
    His eyes never left the priest. “Jude Foster.”
    “Well, young Foster, welcome to St. Jude’s