The Chosen by Sharon Sala Read Free Book Online Page A

Matthew…. Let Our Father in heaven heal your woes.”
    â€œMatthew Farmer—Airman First Class—799442013. Matthew Farmer—Airman First Class—799442013. Matthew—”
    â€œShut up!” Jay shouted, then regretted his outburst when the chained man urinated on himself, then began to cry.
    â€œDon’t hurt me…please don’t hurt me.”
    Jay sighed.
    â€œI have no intention of hurting you, but you’re going to have to buck up and do your part.”
    â€œLet me go…let me go…. Matthew Farmer—Airman First Class—799442013…Matthew—”
    Jay stood, kicked the uneaten food aside and left some fresh food and water where Matthew could reach it. Since Matthew had not been using the portable potty, there was no need to open his little plastic bucket. He could hardly put quicklime onto the man’s skin and clothing, so he said a rapid prayer and left him to his suffering. It was Jay’s opinion that what was between each man and God was a personal thing that no one should disturb. Obviously Matthew Farmer was in emotional pain. He just didn’t know how to alleviate it and still follow his own path.
    It had to be said that Jay was losing faith in choosing this particular disciple. The man obviously had some prior issues with the military and didn’t understand the importance of his place in the Sinner’s journey. But what was done was done, although Jay could still hear Matthew repeating his name, rank and serial number as he shut and locked the door.
    For a moment he stood looking up at the ceiling and the skeletal frame of iron and steel, then down toward the row of doors running the length of the building. There were fifteen of them, although Jay had need of only the twelve, besides one for himself.
    With a couple of disciples left to visit and eight others yet to bring to the fold, he was feeling a bit overwhelmed. He knew he was doing what God had commanded him to do, but his confidence in his ability to make this work was beginning to wane. He took a deep breath and shifted his load to one arm as he rubbed at his temple, trying to ease the internal pain with external touch.
    It didn’t work, nor had he expected it to.
    He consoled himself with the fact that he still had Andrew and James. Andrew was turning out to be his rock. Jay unlocked the third door and walked inside. With only one small window, high up the wall and covered in years of grime, this room was the darkest of the lot. For a moment the place seemed empty, but as his eyes began to adjust, he saw movement in the shadows.
    â€œAndrew…my beloved Andrew. How have you been?”
    The big black man moved into the half-light. He was bald and bare from the waist up. He had tied his T-shirt around his head like a turban and wore his shoes on his hands, leaving his feet bare.
    When he saw Jay, his lips parted in a clownlike grin. A droplet of spittle slid from the corner of his lip down onto his chin as he pointed at the sack Jay was holding.
    â€œAndy’s hungry.”
    Jay sighed. He hadn’t realized the full extent of Andrew’s mental incapacity when he’d joined the disciples, but he’d put his trust in God that his choices would be blessed, and had to believe there was a place for Andrew somewhere in the mixture.
    â€œI brought you some food and water,” Jay said.
    As he set the food out on a table, he noticed that the port-a-potty had been spilled and was lying on its side. Rats crawled in and out of it like ants at a picnic. Jay fought an urge to retch as he righted the pot with the toe of his shoe, then sprinkled quicklime all over it, both inside and out.
    â€œDaddy…”
    Jay looked up. He’d told Andrew to call him brother, but Andrew had gotten the message somewhat screwed up and persisted in saying “Daddy” instead.
    â€œAndy’s thirsty.”
    Without thinking, Jay handed him a fresh bottle of