The Chosen by Sharon Sala Read Free Book Online

scattered about, wincing slightly at the sight of rats scurrying back into the shadows as he passed.
    About halfway down the length of the building, a flock of pigeons in the rafters took flight. At that point, he began hearing voices. The sound filled his heart. It was his faithful disciples awaiting his return. He shifted the sack of food to the crook of his arm and hastened his steps. When he reached the first door, he unlocked it.
    The odor of excrement met him head-on as he stepped into the room, followed by a string of curses from the tall, angry man chained to the opposite wall.
    It was Simon Peters, and he was sporting a week-old beard and the clothes he’d been abducted in. There were running sores around his wrists where the iron shackles rubbed. The pain only added to his anger.
    â€œThere you are, you bloody bastard. I’m near to dying of thirst here, never mind the fact that my belly has started chewing on my backbone, and that chamber pot you call a bathroom is past running over.”
    Jay inhaled slowly, giving himself a mental countdown to calm his displeasure with Simon. The man was a whiner.
    â€œGood evening, my dear Simon, I trust—”
    â€œI’m not your dear anything, you crazy son of a bitch. Let me go.”
    â€œNow, Simon, we’ve already had this conversation. You know that’s not possible. You wouldn’t stay with me willingly, and there is so much work we have yet to do.”
    â€œWork? Work! What kind of work am I going to be doing chained in this shit-hole?”
    Jay sighed. “Simon, Simon…You know it’s your own fault. If you had a better attitude and had given me reason to trust you, you would be out on the streets right now, preaching God’s word.”
    Simon Peters’s features ran the gamut of expressions. It was as if he didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. His own fault? Attitude? Trust? This man who called himself the Sinner was delusional.
    â€œYou’re right,” Simon said. “Sinner, I beg your forgiveness.”
    Jay beamed and raised his hand over Simon Peters’s head, then closed his own eyes as he began a prayer.
    â€œFather, forgive this man for his shortcomings, and give him the wisdom and knowledge to follow me all the way to glory.”
    Simon’s anger wilted as frustration and fear took its place.
    â€œOh God,” Simon begged. “I don’t want to go to glory, I just want out.”
    Jay frowned. “Soon, my son. Soon.” Then he took out a can of Vienna sausages, a small packet of crackers and an orange, and set them on a nearby table, along with a fresh bottle of water.
    â€œDon’t forget to bless the food before you eat,” he said.
    â€œI can’t reach the table,” Simon said, as tears began to run down his cheeks.
    Jay pushed the table within reach of the chained man, glanced at the overfull portable toilet and sighed. He opened the lid on the bucket, shook a liberal dusting of quicklime onto the contents from the pail he carried, then made the sign of the cross before backing out of the room. He shut and locked the door before moving to the next.
    This time, when he walked inside, he was met with total silence. This was the last disciple he’d gathered, and he’d instantly shut down. Jay had chained him to the wall like all the others, and he was lying on the floor, curled into a fetal position. The food from the last time Jay had visited was right where he’d left it, minus the bits that had obviously been eaten by rats. Jay moved closer, suddenly afraid that he’d find him dead.
    â€œMatthew…my son…are you ill?”
    Matthew Farmer shifted closer to the wall and folded his arms over his head. He was covered in excrement and soaked in urine, and there were raw patches on his scalp, as if he’d pulled out his own hair in clumps.
    Jay frowned. “Matthew…speak to me.”
    Silence.
    â€œPray with me,