THE ENTITLED (eBook)

Ray Burton (Autor)

eBook Download: EPUB

2024 | 1. Auflage
294 Seiten
Bookbaby (Verlag)
979-8-3509-5412-8 (ISBN)

Infos

A young naive Tyrese Garret believes he has fallen into the job of a lifetime, only to find out he is part of something that is evil and demonic.

Ray Burton lives in Nashville TN. This is Ray's 5th thriller novel. Ray also co-authored 'THE GODSONS' with Alvin and Calvin Almond. 'THE ENTITLED' is a Thriller/Horror story that is both inspiring as well as scary. If you would like more info, please contact Ray at: [e-mail]

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When a young, naive Tyrese Garret is approached by a world-power organization, he believes he has fallen into the opportunity of a lifetime. But there are 'guardian angels' watching over him, that think otherwise--that he's been targeted for a tremendously evil and demonic purpose. They also know that there's only one way to stop this evil-driven entity: use Tyrese as bait. But as time goes on, Tyrese learns of the truth, and finds himself in extreme danger--more than he could ever possible believe--and closer to a horror than he ever imagined..

Textauszug

PART ONE

PROLOGUE

‘PRESENT DAY…’

‘ALL DOUBTS REMOVED’

The time had finally arrived.

I had to pull myself together because, simply, there was no other choice. I firmly believed up until, say, just minutes ago, that things might turn out to be okay. That nobody needed to be hurt. That was before I spotted the two black SUV’s coming slowly up the deserted road.

I knew then all bets were off.

The two vehicles parked at an angle in front of Clint’s Antique Shop.

Both engines were cut off simultaneously.

A big, stern-looking white guy dressed in a black suit got out the first vehicle, letting his door stand open. His attention was focused on the antique shop. Afterward he allowed his eyes to drift to his otherwise desolate surroundings; there were no other people around.

A second man got out the front seat of the same vehicle. A black guy, slim and tall, but no less intimidating. He was dressed regularly—brown Dockers pants with a light beige jacket—there was a pin clipped to his jacket.

A dove pin.

Four other men got out of the vehicles. All six men, clearly wearing dove-shaped pins, stood there for a long moment without speaking, eyes moving up and down the quiet street and then the antique shop.

Waiting for me, perhaps?

Most likely, they were.

I knew this day would come.

Awhile back, I started noticing people staring at me in a much different way. Mostly from the shadows. I guess I could be seen as a threat.

A serious one.

I could also be considered dangerous. And I guess at this point, I was.

After all the years of being on my job, a Level Four employee, a great gig with the bare minimum of fuss and muss, I had seen things that I should not have been allowed to see. How pieces of a master plan, both conveniently yet strategically, were being assembled and laid out, then put in place.

It was typical of my employer, making secrets of everything to the untrained eye.

In the beginning, when I had first signed on with my job, I started off as someone’s assistant and within months I had an assistant. In six months, after being invited to meet with the families of the senior executives, the relationship became personal, and I was promoted to field agent, delivering packages.

I was swept off my feet by these ‘nice people’, who were some of the gentlest, kindest, smartest individuals I’d ever met. They said I was the perfect fit for the job, in every way, and when I walked into a room, I seemed to fill it. That I could relate to the common man on the street as well as the Pope himself.

It seemed I was the ideal corporate man.

Their representative.

The attention and intensity they lavished on me was both overwhelming and infectious—along with a no-pressure offer that was too great to turn down; never mind the health and 401k benefits, the salary alone would have held the average person hostage.

In addition to everything one could possibly ask for, I was given the whole dog-and-pony show and treated to a brand new, black, two-seater AMG GTZ Mercedes Benz for my everyday travels, and my wife and I were offered a beautiful place to live, a haven from the rude world where violence and unkindness were the norm.

All this stuff, bold, flashy, excessive, was somehow way too unreal. It was more of a dream, unheard of for a person with my background.

I was sold!

Where do I sign, dammit!

However, before jumping in headfirst at this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, I did hesitate briefly—very briefly!

I performed a checklist on other avenues: College—nope, had enough schooling! Tired of the struggle! The military—sorry, not for me! Trade school—please! Doing what? —all coming up short as dead-end choices, going nowhere, leaving me frustrated and miserable.

A salesman, maybe?—no way—wasn’t happening! I’d pictured myself sitting in some office, behind a tiny desk, nervous about my monthly sales quota, chewing on a number-two pencil and staring out the window, wishing I were dead.

The way I saw it, I had two choices. I could take the job and be successful, and that would be the end of my entire future saga. Or I could turn it down; then, three or four or twenty years from now, I might even stop feeling like an idiot. One scenario sounded totally and completely opposite to the other.

In the end, I relented, deciding to take the path of least resistance. I took the job.

Who wouldn’t?

The primed-elite, people who actually called the shots and made all the big decisions in the world wanted me!—Tyrese Allen Garret—to work for them!

I was their guy!

They said so!

But they were slick—slicker than black ice in wintertime—and just as dangerous; they saw me differently. To them I was a naïve kid that stood out as just right for the taking.

A kid that trailed just behind the pack. A perfect candidate.

A high-school-age kid, wrestling with his identity and the chaos of adolescence, appearing bony and frail as a starved jackal, that lean, malnourished look. A lost boy, lost-visioned, the prime target a hunter always sought, for a lost boy was easily led.

And I was this boy, this naïve kid, raw, vulnerable, like a freshly-hatched chick—an eager puppy begging for acceptance.

They knew I would jump at the offer.

Their offer.

I’d been a fool not to.

But I should have known there had to be a catch. Should have seen things for what they really were, just below the surface, like a well-tailored suit, where one cuff was slightly longer than the other, or the slacks not fully pleated in certain areas near the waistline.

The tiniest things people missed.

But at the time I was caught up in the moment. I’d be on solid ground coming out the gate! Even better than solid ground! I’d be making money—lots of money! Damn that ‘paycheck-to-paycheck’, ‘loan payday-in-between’—‘check-in-advance’ bullshit!— I’d have enough money to buy the kind of settled, secure, sweet-ass life I’d always dreamed about, for me, as well as for my then-to-be wife, Tanya.

I was a realist.

All I had going for me was some decent looks and my so-called street-charm, as dictated by the people I’d encountered in my everyday life.

Some called me ‘trouble’, with a killer smile, smooth as a polished quarter, standing 6’ 2”, 230 lbs, solidly built. Some said I was handsome: masculine face, clean-shaven, hazel-brown eyes which matched my complexion, short, wavy black hair, neatly trimmed.

After hearing this shit constantly during my adolescent years, I wasn’t sure of anything of what people were saying about me.

Good looking?

Smooth?

Them fools had to be lying. Somewhere in their analysis there had to be a flaw, a trick of the looking glass. That, or they’d been smoking too much weed, or doing one too many lines of cocaine.

Surely, I couldn’t be all those things?

Imagination, I told myself. Just wishful thinking.

But I did care about my appearance. Appearance meant everything.

Other than that, I was shit out of luck. I had to be truthful with myself. Now was clearly not the time to be turning down anything promising; nothing but my collar.

I had to take the job. The fact of the matter was I didn’t want to be a failure in life. That was the key word; it was the driving emotion that forged my existence.

Failure.

My life had been one long, vigorous denial of failure, an adamant ‘piss-on-it’ of its very existence. I refused to be affected by—humbled by, destroyed by—failure. Even the acknowledgment of failure didn’t exist in my head; it could open me up to its voracious grip.

Swallow me whole!

Then I’d be just another bum on the street. Panhandling in front of a liquor store or at a gas station, running my best game, hustling up on some ‘loose change’—tryin’ to make a solid dollar so I can eat. Or worse yet, standing at a traffic light or some highway underpass. Holding up a pathetic-looking cardboard sign: ‘hungry and homeless’, ‘will work for food’, ‘please help, anything will do, God bless’.

Damn that!

Still, when it came to my job, I should have placed my pride to the side. Maybe thought things through a bit more. Perhaps been a little more patient.

I should have known better.

I’d been raised better.

And I realize now that I am, or was, part of something that is not right.

Something extremely and cleverly evil.

Demonic.

The disturbing hallucinations are no longer there. No more working to control the physical symptoms brought on by what I thought I saw, felt and knew: ragged breathing, racing pulse, pounding heart, cold...

Produkt-Details

• Erscheint lt. Verlag: 30.4.2024
• Sprache: englisch
• Themenwelt: Literatur ► Romane / Erzählungen
• ISBN-13: 979-8-3509-5412-8 / 9798350954128