Prologue

The opening to my novel, INFILTRATION. You can find it at:

INFILTRATION

 

Prologue

 

2:40 AM, Friday, November 28, 2008, Black Friday.

 

            The treacherous winds roiled throughout the night, whispering its secrets into the cold November air. A large, round moon cast its silver rays down upon the overflowing street. An electronics store with glittering lights sat at the head of the line and a never-ending line snaked from it, extending around the entire city block. Only when seen from above was the end visible.

A black Nissan Maxima pulled up near the front entrance of the electronics store and four laughing teenagers got out, noisily swearing and gesticulating forcefully into the air. One of them held a large duffel bag in his hand. They went up to the front of the line, completely disregarding everyone else. Instantaneously, a wave of protest broke out. 

            "Hey! Back of the damn line!" a man bellowed from the middle of the commotion. Several people booed loudly. The crowd closed in upon them, jostling them to the end of the line. Cursing incoherently, they unwilling obliged to the belligerent individuals around them. Tempers slowly cooled, and the line returned to its peaceful state, so unlike the weather outside.

A hooded man stood alone at the front of the line, his eyes fixed vigilantly upon the one law enforcer peering suspiciously at the teenagers. He smiled. An awful, twisted, malicious smile. One police officer could not stop what he planned to do. His incompetence is my blessing, and their curse. Nevertheless, he still brought his pistol, tucked out of sight in his long, leather overcoat. This man lived in arrogant luxury.

            It began to rain, dousing the crowd with ice cold water. The sound of groans carried into the night as everyone desperately tried to keep themselves dry. A few people rushed to the cozy interior of their cars, lined up along the side of the road. The teenagers stood silently in the back of the line, their hands in their pockets, letting the cool water run down their faces. One of them lifted the duffel bag, covering his head from the downpour.

            Ebullient voices drifted over and met the man’s ears. He looked around, his face expressionless. I haven’t even started and chaos has already risen.

The man pulled out his cell phone. It was sleek; the best that money could buy. Punching in a number, he impatiently waited for the receiving end to pick up. Shifting slightly, he ducked out of cue, speaking in an undertone so his words would go unheard. A low message met his ear. Satisfied, he slipped easily back into line, transitioning back to the innocent shopper.

Three minutes later, an oil tanker backed up in front of the store, casting the cars in shadow. Streetlight reflected off its thick, steel exterior. Bewilderment hung in the air, shining on everyone’s face. No one noticed the Crescent Moon imprinted on the bottom of the steel tanker.

            A driver in a gray-blue uniform stepped out of the truck, and gave the man a meaningful look, and then slipped silently behind the building.

Urgently, the man left the line, moving slowly through the enormous throng of people. He glanced back at the woman standing in front of him. She had been waiting in line since nine o’clock the previous night. Society has most certainly degenerated itself. He smiled to himself. One reason why I have to put them away.

He let the rain lash at his face, creating a numbing sensation. Once out of sight, he sprinted to the back of the store, confronting the driver who was waiting for him by a grove of bare trees.

Wordlessly, the man reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a wad of bills. He tossed them onto the ground. The driver uncertainly knelt down and gingerly picked them up, an indignant look upon his face.

As the driver turned to leave, there was a sudden flicker of movement and a faint crack. Through the pouring rain, no one saw the driver slip onto the ground where he lay motionless, his neck broken. His blank, doleful eyes peered transfixed up into the night sky as though entranced by the falling rain.

            With a heave, the hooded man picked up the body and under the cloak of darkness, he crept unseen away from the perimeter of the store and dumped the body in an alleyway. Pulling the thick wad of bills from the man’s pocket, he quickly flipped through them, glancing hastily at his watch. In the center of the wad was a neatly folded piece of paper. Snatching it out, he tucked it into the driver’s shirt. What a fool, thinking I would actually cooperate.

Acting as though nothing had happened, the man placed another call, flipping open his cell phone as though nothing had happened. The next few minutes flew by at a mind-racking pace.

            High up in the air, a small airplane that had been circling the store for nearly half an hour, tossed around by the ferocity of the storm dropped what at first glance appeared to be a small cylinder, the size of a water bottle. It fell towards the ground at an incredible rate. The wind whipping past its smooth body created virtually no sound. Five hundred feet off the ground, long, angular fins protruded from both sides of the object and it banked to the left, heading towards the oil tanker. Not one person saw the man slip out of the vicinity of the store and into a black Mercedes-Benz parked by the adjacent block. It blended perfectly with the black of night.

Seconds later, an enormous explosion rent the still air. The oil tanker erupted into a mass of flame. It was as though the devil himself had risen from hell. People were thrown into the air from the force of the explosion. Lives were extinguished before they could scream. The inferno enveloped neighboring cars, causing them to detonate, fueling the wave of fire.

The whole front of the store imploded. It had been rent in two by the enormous force, letting the fire flood in and eat away at the interior. The fire alarm began to sound, though it was blocked by the roaring of the flames and the other explosions in the night.

The screams of pain and fright were omitted from the night by roaring of the flames, rearing ever higher, until it could eat no more. 

Propelled by the explosion of the flames, a large beaten-up object fluttered unnoticed onto the ground. It was an empty, smoldering duffel bag.

            High above them, the plane flew away, gliding swiftly through the night.

Author's Note

What do you think? Please review and comment. Unfortunately, this is the only chapter I will be posting. I have self-published this book through xlibris. If you wish to read more, you can find it at:

https://www2.xlibris.com/bookstore/bookdisplay.asp?bookid=45727

Thanks, everyone.

Reviews

[Amy Selena]

You're really good!

[Forist.johnston]

The description was perfect. It made you feel like you were watching from the crowd of people. It's a great intro to a great story, I can already tell. 'Jalesia Jenkins' is right, it made me want to read more into it, while at the same time comment every other sentence with how fantastic it was. Kudos to you.

-Forist

[JLit]

Very nice! Do you think you could specify in the beginning that the line is a line of people? I thought it was an electric line, like a cable... And the last couple of chapters the words "explosion", "flame", and "fire" are mentioned in every sentence and stick out.
This read definitely got my attention, and I would love to read the next chapter! Good vocabulary (although, sometimes - too much), and a VERY captivating read. I'll be back for more!

[A LaDy NaMeD D]

Hey this takes place two days after my b-day. Anyways, on another note, this was very interesting begining. It captures the readers interest, and i personally want to know what happens next. Like who exactly was the man? Why did he feel the need to kill the people? The only thing i really think should be in here is, why were the people standing in a line outside of the electronics store? Other than that it was a good read.

JJ