crimson red. Paralyzed against the glass, his eyes glued to his wife’s image. She glanced over her shoulder; a terrified expression covered her face. She clutched the baby close, shaking her head at whatever was approaching. When she turned back around she was no longer his wife, she was Eve holding the baby. Eve beckoned to him like always, her pitch black eyes boring into his soul.
The vision wavered, snapped and was gone. Austin leaned against the window, his breath fogging the glass. He knew in that very moment that Roxi was gone, taken. The vision was all the confirmation he needed. His mind furiously calculated how much time he had left. Roxi had three weeks before her due date. He recalled the image of Roxi and the baby, his boy. He focused on his son. Judging by his size, Austin guessed he was at least a year old, maybe a year and a half.
The snow fell fast and heavy. Austin’s truck was no longer visible. Through the torrent of snowflakes a large object plummeted from the sky, falling with a resounding thud on top of a vehicle parked on the side of the street. The vehicle’s alarm began to pulsate across the airwaves.
3 LUKE
Baton Rouge, Louisiana
7:37 am
Lucas Taylor Jr. sat at the kitchen table pounding down a breakfast fit to feed a small army. Eggs, bacon, pancakes and homemade biscuits smothered in sawmill gravy. Across from him sat Luke senior, an older, well worn version of his handsome son. He sipped hot tea, while glaring at his bowl of cereal and the carton of skim milk parked in front of him.
“You gonna make my game next Saturday right?” Luke didn’t look up from his plate.
“Course I am. You’re the startin’ quarterback ain’t ya?” Luke senior demanded, turning his attention and a smile on his son.
“Yes sir.” He replied with confidence and the arrogance that most young people possessed.
“Ya’ll are as good as ya were last year, maybe better even. You’re sure as heck gonna be playin’ for the national championship again. Ain’t nobody better than LSU last year nor this year. Not Bama. Not nobody.” He reached across the table for a piece of bacon, but his wife intercepted, handing him a plate of fresh fruit in place of hog fat.
“Do you want to be watchin’ your son play from a hospital bed? You know what Doc Jensen said. No fat. No grease. And no beer.” Pam Taylor demanded hands on hips.
“I might as well be good as dead now.” He threw his spoon down. “And by God woman I’m gonna have me a beer on Saturday.”
“You go right on and have you a beer. Have twenty. But if you drop dead from a heart attack I’m gonna step right on over you and go shoppin’ with momma”. Pam snatched the bacon from his hand and threw it to the dog.
“What? I ain’t never.” He grabbed a biscuit, shoved it in his mouth before Pam could stop him. “And you hate shoppin’ with your momma.” He grumbled through his biscuit.
That may have been the case, but she ignored this comment and turned her attention towards her son. “Lucas honey, don’t you go runnin’ off yet. I haven’t finished foldin’ your clothes.” She walked out of the kitchen giving Luke senior one last warning glare.
Making sure she wasn’t coming back any time soon, Luke Senior wasted no time chomping down three pieces of bacon, barely taking a moment to chew before swallowing.
“Don’t let him eat none of that bacon.” Pam shouted from the laundry room.
Luke senior gave the quiet sign to his son. Lucas disapproved, but held his tongue. He wished his dad would adhere to the diet. He’d already had one heart attack and looked to be on his way to a second if he didn’t shed a few pounds.
“Your momma worries too much. I’m as healthy as a horse.” He boasted, patting his large, but solid belly with pride.
“Doc said your cholesterol was super high. You can’t just keep foolin’ around with this stuff.”
“Now son, ain’t nothin gonna kill your daddy. He’s too strong.
The vision wavered, snapped and was gone. Austin leaned against the window, his breath fogging the glass. He knew in that very moment that Roxi was gone, taken. The vision was all the confirmation he needed. His mind furiously calculated how much time he had left. Roxi had three weeks before her due date. He recalled the image of Roxi and the baby, his boy. He focused on his son. Judging by his size, Austin guessed he was at least a year old, maybe a year and a half.
The snow fell fast and heavy. Austin’s truck was no longer visible. Through the torrent of snowflakes a large object plummeted from the sky, falling with a resounding thud on top of a vehicle parked on the side of the street. The vehicle’s alarm began to pulsate across the airwaves.
3 LUKE
Baton Rouge, Louisiana
7:37 am
Lucas Taylor Jr. sat at the kitchen table pounding down a breakfast fit to feed a small army. Eggs, bacon, pancakes and homemade biscuits smothered in sawmill gravy. Across from him sat Luke senior, an older, well worn version of his handsome son. He sipped hot tea, while glaring at his bowl of cereal and the carton of skim milk parked in front of him.
“You gonna make my game next Saturday right?” Luke didn’t look up from his plate.
“Course I am. You’re the startin’ quarterback ain’t ya?” Luke senior demanded, turning his attention and a smile on his son.
“Yes sir.” He replied with confidence and the arrogance that most young people possessed.
“Ya’ll are as good as ya were last year, maybe better even. You’re sure as heck gonna be playin’ for the national championship again. Ain’t nobody better than LSU last year nor this year. Not Bama. Not nobody.” He reached across the table for a piece of bacon, but his wife intercepted, handing him a plate of fresh fruit in place of hog fat.
“Do you want to be watchin’ your son play from a hospital bed? You know what Doc Jensen said. No fat. No grease. And no beer.” Pam Taylor demanded hands on hips.
“I might as well be good as dead now.” He threw his spoon down. “And by God woman I’m gonna have me a beer on Saturday.”
“You go right on and have you a beer. Have twenty. But if you drop dead from a heart attack I’m gonna step right on over you and go shoppin’ with momma”. Pam snatched the bacon from his hand and threw it to the dog.
“What? I ain’t never.” He grabbed a biscuit, shoved it in his mouth before Pam could stop him. “And you hate shoppin’ with your momma.” He grumbled through his biscuit.
That may have been the case, but she ignored this comment and turned her attention towards her son. “Lucas honey, don’t you go runnin’ off yet. I haven’t finished foldin’ your clothes.” She walked out of the kitchen giving Luke senior one last warning glare.
Making sure she wasn’t coming back any time soon, Luke Senior wasted no time chomping down three pieces of bacon, barely taking a moment to chew before swallowing.
“Don’t let him eat none of that bacon.” Pam shouted from the laundry room.
Luke senior gave the quiet sign to his son. Lucas disapproved, but held his tongue. He wished his dad would adhere to the diet. He’d already had one heart attack and looked to be on his way to a second if he didn’t shed a few pounds.
“Your momma worries too much. I’m as healthy as a horse.” He boasted, patting his large, but solid belly with pride.
“Doc said your cholesterol was super high. You can’t just keep foolin’ around with this stuff.”
“Now son, ain’t nothin gonna kill your daddy. He’s too strong.
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