Hello
everyone! Ammelia here, with the second chapter of Without Cause. Sorry I
didn’t post last Monday, I forgot it was Monday until late, and by then, I just
thought I’d wait until next Monday, which is today. So anyway, here’s the next
chapter.
//Chapter
Two//
//Background
Check//
-Ethan-
“Alrighty, so you
both know that your Mum and I were missionaries before you came along.” Dad
started out. “But there’s so much more that we haven’t told you about what we
did.”
“You didn’t kill anyone, did you?” Kylie asked, a concerned look in her ice blue eyes.A fiercely confused expression came across Dad’s face. “What? No, of course not! In fact, we had a strict rule about absolutely no weapons able to inflict death.”
Now I was confused. “Wait, we? I thought missionaries didn’t even carry any weapons, and what weapon wouldn’t, kill someone?”
“Stun-guns.” Mum stated, in a matter of fact way, like we should already know that she ran around shooting people with stun-guns.
“Mum! You shot people?!” Kylie gasped.
“No! I never said that-“
“You just did!”
Dad’s booming voice cut through their little squabble. “Stop! Kylie, Ethan, listen. No talking, just listen.” That was enough to make Kylie shrink into the corner of the couch, and me close my mouth. Dad scooted to the edge of his recliner and leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees and folding his hands, a sure sign that this would be a long conversation. “Back when I first came to the states and met your mother, we both wanted to do missionary work around the world. It was a passion we both shared, and still is. We were young, yes, and that might be part of the reason why nobody tried to stop us from trying to spread the Gospel. We, and a few of our friends who were also interested, joined together and created our own little missionary group. We started out small; you know, family, friends, that kind of thing. But after about a year, more people we met wanted into the group, offered their help whenever possible, and even donated money. It wasn’t long before we got our first offer to actually go abroad and minister to people. The offer was from my uncle, who was a pastor, and my main inspiration for wanting to become a pastor.”
“You wanted to be a pastor?” I asked, breaking the no talking rule. “Why didn’t you follow your dreams?” I couldn’t help but throw in a little humor.
Dad was not amused, but Kylie backed me up. “Yeah, I think you’d have been good at it. There’s still time, you know. You’re only 44.” He looked annoyed (he hates being interrupted), and my Mum nudged him with her foot. He cleared his throat and continued.
“Anyway, I went on my first real mission trip when I was 17. My uncle took your mum and I, at that time we were just good friends, to a small town in Canada. It was a wonderful experience. I never looked back. Over the course of the next two years, we started branching out, visiting different countries, and we became bolder. Wherever we went, people were eager to follow and help us in our work. Our little operation grew, we made lasting friends, but our trips just kept getting more and more risky.”
“That’s where the stun-guns come in, right?” Kylie interrupted again.
Dad shook his head. “Not quite. That’s when I decided to officially establish a group, and find a headquarters, or base, where the group could hold meetings without getting in the way of anyone in our families. We told the location to absolutely no one outside of our missionary alliance. Our goal for our group was to reach people who were isolated and had no way of learning about God, as most missionaries do. But our operation was a little different. The base where we hid developed into a kind of Gospel-driven shelter, where we rescued different people. Some needed an escape from persecution, some needed help recovering from an addiction, some were orphans, or they were just people who sought the Truth.
“It was a huge risk taking in people who were unbelievers, what with their shady past and everything, it’s a wonder we weren’t discovered earlier. But we crept into prisons, scaled strongholds, and did whatever it took to reach a person in need. If they were in danger, we couldn’t resist helping them.
“That is where the stun-guns come in. As I said before, we made a vow never to use or do anything that would intentionally result in death. We also tied to keep any kind of violence a last resort. We taught self-defense and the works, but we rarely had to use any of it.
“Anyway, a fellow missionary, who was a weapon’s expert, and I invented our own non-lethal weapon, the Stun-Gun. When one pulled the trigger, it releases and energy beam, that, if it strikes its target, would result in a five second state of shock, followed by unconsciousness, which could last for up to 74 hours, leaving no aftermath but grogginess for a few minutes after they regained consciousness. Everyone in our operation was required to have one, but with all our missions carefully planned and thought out, we rarely used them, as with self-defense, just so that confirms your suspicions about your Mum running around shooting people.”
Dad paused for a drink of water, which Mum had brought while he was talking. I took advantage of the silence. “So, how much longer until you get to the part about why you’re not working there anymore and why you didn’t tell either of us about it?” I asked, gesturing to myself and Kylie.
He held up a hand as he finished swallowing. “Let me finish. There’s a lot more to this than you think.” He set his glass down and continued. “We rescued close to a hundred people within the span of a few months. One of the people we rescued was a sickly German woman, also a professing Catholic. But she explained to us that she still felt like she was missing something. We broke her out of a detention center, where she was being held for her ‘religious beliefs’. She had a son, who was about your age at the time, Kylie. She had had one other child, a little girl, who had been killed in a freak accident several years before. She never told us exactly what happened to the little girl.
“Her son was very rebellious and stubborn, and caused many, many problems within the base. You could tell that the death of his sister had hurt him terribly. He refused to listen to any of us about anything that had to do with the Bible, and was a steady rotten influence on the younger children around the base. James was the young man’s name.
“His mother’s health started fading more quickly, and he blamed us. When she finally accepted Christ a few days before she died, her son became violent. He yelled, accused people of horrible things, and told everyone we were a hate run business. Those were his mother’s last memories of him. It was terrible to watch, and we knew we had to do something. My uncle approached him and explained to him that he would need to change his behavior, or find somewhere else to stay.
“Then, our worst nightmare came true. He walked out the door without a word, and called the authorities, telling them we were a dangerous enemy who was hording prisoners and convicts. We had an emergency bailout, and everyone was moved to one of the member’s homes temporarily. The day after the bailout, police and the FBI raided the abandoned base, and burned it to the ground. That struck me as odd, since they didn’t even do an investigation. But with a little snooping of our own, we discovered it wasn’t the police, or the FBI who conducted the raid. In fact, there was absolutely no record of anything that had to do with us. Yet, we could not figure out who had actually done. It was a confusing dilemma. We later discovered it was James himself and some sort of gang who had done it.
“A few days later, we got a call from one of our members who was out doing mission work. He said he found the perfect place for us to settle again. It was remote, quiet, and few knew it existed. We got permission from the owners to buy live there, and began the process of transferring everyone there. We traveled there in groups, slowly, and moved in. That’s where the base has been ever since.” He paused for another drink of water, purposefully giving room for questions.
Kylie went first. “So it’s still there? Do you preach in it or something? Where is it? Is it some kind of church?”
This time Mum jumped in. “Children, you need to remember that this is confidential information. You simply cannot tell anyone about this. Yes, it is still there. We can’t tell you the exact location, but it is here in the states. It’s still what it was 17 years ago: an outreach mission for Christ, there’s just a lot less… outreaching.”
“Why?” I asked.
Dad took the wheel again. “Because I compromised it. I took up a risky mission a few years after we regrouped at the new safehouse. It turned out to be a trap, set by our old friend, James, and I led several of our people strait into it blindly. Two out of the group were killed, three were taken hostage, and the remaining two, myself and another missionary, escaped. We eventually conducted a rescue mission for the other three, but James was just trying to make a point, that he would kill random people if I continued to lead in spreading the Gospel, or continued to do missionary work. He killed two out of the three hostages, just to make sure I knew he meant what he said.
“At that time, Ethan was four, and your mother was pregnant with Kylie. We decided it would be safer, not just for us, but for all of the missionaries, to put our work on hold, and see if James would calm down. A few months after Kylie was born, I tried to test the waters again. A team of me and three others went on a small mission. Unfortunately, James has eyes everywhere, and usually our team did a good job of covering our tracks, but he found us, and blew up a whole street filled with people. We gave up after that. So many people had been killed, and it was my fault.
“Your Mum and I moved away, to keep you two safe, as well as the rest of the Operation. The others of the Operation still do remote, secluded, quiet mission trips from time to time, by disguising. As technology has improved, we’ve been able to cover our tracks more effectively. But I still don’t feel safe enough going back into it. And whatever sort of technology we use, could be tracked to us. James didn’t really want the others, he wanted me. He still does. That’s why we haven’t been back to headquarters in such a long time. I have a family to protect.
“James never thought I’d go away so quietly. He expected a fight, and when he didn’t get one, he grew murderous again. Now, he’s trying to find us. Still trying to pick a fight over something he believes I did. He kills people because he feels like it and its fun. It’s all a game to him. A sick, evil, twisted game. He’s eluded police and authorities all this time, and has never been held accountable for his actions.”
“How do you still know what the others are doing? I mean, if you can’t use a phone or the internet.” I had to ask. “Well,” Mum explained, “It’s very difficult. There’s people spread around several countries, who meet at a certain time and place wherever they are, and they get the information, then they go back home and turn that information into something else, like a letter or note, then send it out under a fake name, or they use their initials. But we are working on other ways.”
Kylie gasped. “So that’s what all those weird letters you’ve been getting are coming from! I thought they were from somebody who you didn’t like.”
“Well, this past note was a warning from a friend and fellow missionary. They think we’ve been spotted. Or at least, they think they know what state we’re in. And I’ve been told that James has recruited even more people to help him act out his crimes. He’s done playing and wants your father dead, as well as the rest of us. We might have to leave soon.”
“Will we ever get to meet any of these missionary friends of yours?” I inquired.
“Yes, I hope so. If not on this earth, then hopefully in heaven.” Mum stated in a cheery tone, knowing full well I don’t like it when she talks about that stuff. Kylie doesn’t mind it as much as me. I rolled my eyes and caught Dad giving me a look.
Kylie spoke next. “So did you guys have a name for the group thing?”
Mum beamed. “Yep, we sure did. Your Dad came up with it. We called it Cause. Operation Cause. Cause is an acronym for Christ is the Author, the Undying Savior, the Everlasting.”
“Wow, that’s cool.” I commented lamely.
“Well,” Dad cut in, “I think it’s time for you two to get going with your chores.”
Mum nodded. “Right, and I have a goat to milk.”
Kylie and I jumped up off the couch and stretched. I looked at my watch and gasped. Two whole hours had passed since we had all sat down to talk. It was already starting to get dark outside. Before we left the room, Dad called us back.
“Ethan, Kylie, remember, do not tell anyone about this. Anyone. Understood?”
We both nodded.
“Understood?” he questioned again, in a louder tone.
“Yes, sir.” Both Kylie and I answered.
He smiled and closed the conversation with, “I love you both very much. Please remember that, and think about what your mum was just telling you.” He gave Kylie a hug, and me a slap on the back. Kylie and I headed off to go do our chores, the contents of the past two hours running through my mind like a freight train.
“You didn’t kill anyone, did you?” Kylie asked, a concerned look in her ice blue eyes.A fiercely confused expression came across Dad’s face. “What? No, of course not! In fact, we had a strict rule about absolutely no weapons able to inflict death.”
Now I was confused. “Wait, we? I thought missionaries didn’t even carry any weapons, and what weapon wouldn’t, kill someone?”
“Stun-guns.” Mum stated, in a matter of fact way, like we should already know that she ran around shooting people with stun-guns.
“Mum! You shot people?!” Kylie gasped.
“No! I never said that-“
“You just did!”
Dad’s booming voice cut through their little squabble. “Stop! Kylie, Ethan, listen. No talking, just listen.” That was enough to make Kylie shrink into the corner of the couch, and me close my mouth. Dad scooted to the edge of his recliner and leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees and folding his hands, a sure sign that this would be a long conversation. “Back when I first came to the states and met your mother, we both wanted to do missionary work around the world. It was a passion we both shared, and still is. We were young, yes, and that might be part of the reason why nobody tried to stop us from trying to spread the Gospel. We, and a few of our friends who were also interested, joined together and created our own little missionary group. We started out small; you know, family, friends, that kind of thing. But after about a year, more people we met wanted into the group, offered their help whenever possible, and even donated money. It wasn’t long before we got our first offer to actually go abroad and minister to people. The offer was from my uncle, who was a pastor, and my main inspiration for wanting to become a pastor.”
“You wanted to be a pastor?” I asked, breaking the no talking rule. “Why didn’t you follow your dreams?” I couldn’t help but throw in a little humor.
Dad was not amused, but Kylie backed me up. “Yeah, I think you’d have been good at it. There’s still time, you know. You’re only 44.” He looked annoyed (he hates being interrupted), and my Mum nudged him with her foot. He cleared his throat and continued.
“Anyway, I went on my first real mission trip when I was 17. My uncle took your mum and I, at that time we were just good friends, to a small town in Canada. It was a wonderful experience. I never looked back. Over the course of the next two years, we started branching out, visiting different countries, and we became bolder. Wherever we went, people were eager to follow and help us in our work. Our little operation grew, we made lasting friends, but our trips just kept getting more and more risky.”
“That’s where the stun-guns come in, right?” Kylie interrupted again.
Dad shook his head. “Not quite. That’s when I decided to officially establish a group, and find a headquarters, or base, where the group could hold meetings without getting in the way of anyone in our families. We told the location to absolutely no one outside of our missionary alliance. Our goal for our group was to reach people who were isolated and had no way of learning about God, as most missionaries do. But our operation was a little different. The base where we hid developed into a kind of Gospel-driven shelter, where we rescued different people. Some needed an escape from persecution, some needed help recovering from an addiction, some were orphans, or they were just people who sought the Truth.
“It was a huge risk taking in people who were unbelievers, what with their shady past and everything, it’s a wonder we weren’t discovered earlier. But we crept into prisons, scaled strongholds, and did whatever it took to reach a person in need. If they were in danger, we couldn’t resist helping them.
“That is where the stun-guns come in. As I said before, we made a vow never to use or do anything that would intentionally result in death. We also tied to keep any kind of violence a last resort. We taught self-defense and the works, but we rarely had to use any of it.
“Anyway, a fellow missionary, who was a weapon’s expert, and I invented our own non-lethal weapon, the Stun-Gun. When one pulled the trigger, it releases and energy beam, that, if it strikes its target, would result in a five second state of shock, followed by unconsciousness, which could last for up to 74 hours, leaving no aftermath but grogginess for a few minutes after they regained consciousness. Everyone in our operation was required to have one, but with all our missions carefully planned and thought out, we rarely used them, as with self-defense, just so that confirms your suspicions about your Mum running around shooting people.”
Dad paused for a drink of water, which Mum had brought while he was talking. I took advantage of the silence. “So, how much longer until you get to the part about why you’re not working there anymore and why you didn’t tell either of us about it?” I asked, gesturing to myself and Kylie.
He held up a hand as he finished swallowing. “Let me finish. There’s a lot more to this than you think.” He set his glass down and continued. “We rescued close to a hundred people within the span of a few months. One of the people we rescued was a sickly German woman, also a professing Catholic. But she explained to us that she still felt like she was missing something. We broke her out of a detention center, where she was being held for her ‘religious beliefs’. She had a son, who was about your age at the time, Kylie. She had had one other child, a little girl, who had been killed in a freak accident several years before. She never told us exactly what happened to the little girl.
“Her son was very rebellious and stubborn, and caused many, many problems within the base. You could tell that the death of his sister had hurt him terribly. He refused to listen to any of us about anything that had to do with the Bible, and was a steady rotten influence on the younger children around the base. James was the young man’s name.
“His mother’s health started fading more quickly, and he blamed us. When she finally accepted Christ a few days before she died, her son became violent. He yelled, accused people of horrible things, and told everyone we were a hate run business. Those were his mother’s last memories of him. It was terrible to watch, and we knew we had to do something. My uncle approached him and explained to him that he would need to change his behavior, or find somewhere else to stay.
“Then, our worst nightmare came true. He walked out the door without a word, and called the authorities, telling them we were a dangerous enemy who was hording prisoners and convicts. We had an emergency bailout, and everyone was moved to one of the member’s homes temporarily. The day after the bailout, police and the FBI raided the abandoned base, and burned it to the ground. That struck me as odd, since they didn’t even do an investigation. But with a little snooping of our own, we discovered it wasn’t the police, or the FBI who conducted the raid. In fact, there was absolutely no record of anything that had to do with us. Yet, we could not figure out who had actually done. It was a confusing dilemma. We later discovered it was James himself and some sort of gang who had done it.
“A few days later, we got a call from one of our members who was out doing mission work. He said he found the perfect place for us to settle again. It was remote, quiet, and few knew it existed. We got permission from the owners to buy live there, and began the process of transferring everyone there. We traveled there in groups, slowly, and moved in. That’s where the base has been ever since.” He paused for another drink of water, purposefully giving room for questions.
Kylie went first. “So it’s still there? Do you preach in it or something? Where is it? Is it some kind of church?”
This time Mum jumped in. “Children, you need to remember that this is confidential information. You simply cannot tell anyone about this. Yes, it is still there. We can’t tell you the exact location, but it is here in the states. It’s still what it was 17 years ago: an outreach mission for Christ, there’s just a lot less… outreaching.”
“Why?” I asked.
Dad took the wheel again. “Because I compromised it. I took up a risky mission a few years after we regrouped at the new safehouse. It turned out to be a trap, set by our old friend, James, and I led several of our people strait into it blindly. Two out of the group were killed, three were taken hostage, and the remaining two, myself and another missionary, escaped. We eventually conducted a rescue mission for the other three, but James was just trying to make a point, that he would kill random people if I continued to lead in spreading the Gospel, or continued to do missionary work. He killed two out of the three hostages, just to make sure I knew he meant what he said.
“At that time, Ethan was four, and your mother was pregnant with Kylie. We decided it would be safer, not just for us, but for all of the missionaries, to put our work on hold, and see if James would calm down. A few months after Kylie was born, I tried to test the waters again. A team of me and three others went on a small mission. Unfortunately, James has eyes everywhere, and usually our team did a good job of covering our tracks, but he found us, and blew up a whole street filled with people. We gave up after that. So many people had been killed, and it was my fault.
“Your Mum and I moved away, to keep you two safe, as well as the rest of the Operation. The others of the Operation still do remote, secluded, quiet mission trips from time to time, by disguising. As technology has improved, we’ve been able to cover our tracks more effectively. But I still don’t feel safe enough going back into it. And whatever sort of technology we use, could be tracked to us. James didn’t really want the others, he wanted me. He still does. That’s why we haven’t been back to headquarters in such a long time. I have a family to protect.
“James never thought I’d go away so quietly. He expected a fight, and when he didn’t get one, he grew murderous again. Now, he’s trying to find us. Still trying to pick a fight over something he believes I did. He kills people because he feels like it and its fun. It’s all a game to him. A sick, evil, twisted game. He’s eluded police and authorities all this time, and has never been held accountable for his actions.”
“How do you still know what the others are doing? I mean, if you can’t use a phone or the internet.” I had to ask. “Well,” Mum explained, “It’s very difficult. There’s people spread around several countries, who meet at a certain time and place wherever they are, and they get the information, then they go back home and turn that information into something else, like a letter or note, then send it out under a fake name, or they use their initials. But we are working on other ways.”
Kylie gasped. “So that’s what all those weird letters you’ve been getting are coming from! I thought they were from somebody who you didn’t like.”
“Well, this past note was a warning from a friend and fellow missionary. They think we’ve been spotted. Or at least, they think they know what state we’re in. And I’ve been told that James has recruited even more people to help him act out his crimes. He’s done playing and wants your father dead, as well as the rest of us. We might have to leave soon.”
“Will we ever get to meet any of these missionary friends of yours?” I inquired.
“Yes, I hope so. If not on this earth, then hopefully in heaven.” Mum stated in a cheery tone, knowing full well I don’t like it when she talks about that stuff. Kylie doesn’t mind it as much as me. I rolled my eyes and caught Dad giving me a look.
Kylie spoke next. “So did you guys have a name for the group thing?”
Mum beamed. “Yep, we sure did. Your Dad came up with it. We called it Cause. Operation Cause. Cause is an acronym for Christ is the Author, the Undying Savior, the Everlasting.”
“Wow, that’s cool.” I commented lamely.
“Well,” Dad cut in, “I think it’s time for you two to get going with your chores.”
Mum nodded. “Right, and I have a goat to milk.”
Kylie and I jumped up off the couch and stretched. I looked at my watch and gasped. Two whole hours had passed since we had all sat down to talk. It was already starting to get dark outside. Before we left the room, Dad called us back.
“Ethan, Kylie, remember, do not tell anyone about this. Anyone. Understood?”
We both nodded.
“Understood?” he questioned again, in a louder tone.
“Yes, sir.” Both Kylie and I answered.
He smiled and closed the conversation with, “I love you both very much. Please remember that, and think about what your mum was just telling you.” He gave Kylie a hug, and me a slap on the back. Kylie and I headed off to go do our chores, the contents of the past two hours running through my mind like a freight train.
Ammelia, I love how you switch from which person the story was being told from. Can't wait for more!!!
ReplyDeleteThank you! It's fun to switch back and forth. I like being able to work one on one with my characters, without doing 3rd person. :)
DeleteI loved it! But I do not like James. You know how it is to read a book and can't stand the antagonist because he/she is so rude and terrible and mean and everything that you just have to set down the book and vow to never read it again? That is how I'm feeling about James, but this book is to interesting and no where near as horrible as a different book i read from the library. This is an awesome book, and I can't wait until next Monday!
ReplyDeleteKeep up the good work!
-Carly
Thank you so much, Carly!
DeleteJames is very irritating and rude. This may sound weird, but I get frustrated with him all the time. I keep mentally screaming at him to just knock it off be normal, but then I remember... I created him... :/ #problemsofanauthor :)
Oh man, how exciting!! Nice job, Ammelia!
ReplyDeleteThank you, Christina!
DeleteOH, Ammelia! This is amazing! I LOVE IT! It was very epic and awesome! I cannot wait to read more! You are a very good writer; I loved how the Catholic lady became a Christian before she died. :) It was very awesome! :D I'm looking forward to the next chapter! And I CANNOT wait for it to be published-- I'm getting me a copy! And when it gets made into a movie. . . how exciting!!
ReplyDelete~Megan Jane~
Golly, Megan, you made me blush! *'-'* Thank you so much! And I'm so excited for you looking into getting your book published! When it hits shelves, I'm telling everyone I know about it and I'm so buying like 10 copies just to plant around the house and take with me everywhere. :) This is so exciting! :D
Delete