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The Benefactors
The Benefactors
The Benefactors
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The Benefactors

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The day Jack Folsom became a hero he disappeared. After relentless searching he is pronounced dead and given a standing room only funeral.
One year later Jack reappears to his shocked family and friends, but the surprises are only beginning. He reveals that he had been kidnapped by the Muxai, a dying alien race who recruited him to go to the far reaches of the galaxy. They need him to assemble a cure for a disease that threatens to bring them to extinction. Jack gathers his crew and begins on the ultimate mission: an adventure few would dream of. But will saving the Muxai be an act of mercy or one of the most dangerous actions in human, or alien history? Jack will have to decide whether to trust an alien race he once thought to be terrorists, or the people who taught him everything, opening his eyes to a life he never dreamed possible, and worlds he never knew existed. Along the way, the crew begins to discover that Jack is not completely as he seems, and they are not sure if they should trust him...or fear him.

LanguageEnglish
Release dateMar 28, 2011
ISBN9781458184856
The Benefactors

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    The Benefactors - Mark S Schubert

    Chapter 2

    Sarah looked around at all of the people sitting in front of her. They sat patiently waiting for her to speak. Many cried openly, but no other sounds could be heard. The past two months flashed before her. She saw the firemen from that day, sitting five rows from the front. Jack became a hero in front of many people eight weeks ago, and each of them sat before Sarah here today.

    Six weeks they searched for him. Officially, and unofficially, hundreds of people volunteered their time. The police interviewed every person at the site of the crash twice to try to find any clue to Jack’s disappearance. Each direction of the road was blocked by police and he could not have climbed up the side of the mountain, so that left down the hillside in the mud. Did anyone see Jack move back toward the edge near the mudslides? Did anyone see Jack get into a vehicle? Or wander off? Everyone answered the same. No vehicles left the scene. Nobody saw Jack after the rescue.

    A helicopter combed the area, and when the ground dried enough, the search parties began. Volunteers walked no farther than five feet apart, scouring every foot near the scene of the accident, but they found not one clue to Jack’s disappearance.

    After six weeks, the searches became less frequent, and stopped entirely in the seventh week. Hearts broken, resources exhausted, and people without hope. The rain had finally stopped, but the downpour in everyone’s hearts could not stop. The leader on the local news channels and in every newspaper: Jack Folsom Pronounced Dead.

    So here Sarah stood, in front of three hundred and fifty six people. More stood outside, standing in the light drizzling rain, showing their support for a hero they tried, but failed to save. She leaned forward to the microphone, and took a deep breath.

    Mr. Rubin tried to sit still, waiting for his daughter to begin speaking. He wanted to run up to the podium and speak for her, to keep her from this pain, but that would only postpone it. He sat in the front row, with Jack’s family. Everyone turned out for the sad event, even though they had had their own ceremony at the family home. This day was for Sarah, and for Jack’s memory.

    After the first two rows, Mr. Rubin recognized few faces. He knew that many of them spent days, or weeks, looking for Jack. They had no personal connection to him, except for a connection to his selfless act sixty-two days ago. The Denver media made the world aware of the hero that came to a woman’s aid that day. The news stations broadcast around the clock updates of the search. They interviewed the ‘heroes’ that searched for him every day, although many of the volunteers refused to speak on camera, not wanting to take time away from their search. The eight firemen from the original crash also spent many of their off hours looking for Jack. They seemed to work the hardest out of all the volunteers. Maybe they felt a responsibility to him, a kindred spirit.

    Bill Rubin knew many more people stood outside in the rain. The church only allowed one camera inside, so Bill used one of his company’s own cameramen, promising a copy of the tape to every station. Many reporters sat in the back pews, but they didn’t scratch down any notes. They simply sat and listened to the music and the words echoing through the hallowed walls.

    Today, many people mourned. They mourned not only the loss of a man who had become a national hero, but also the loss of the hope that he helped to spring inside of each of them. Bill sat back, and listened to his daughter, as she drew in a deep, labored breath.

    Sarah’s eyes swept across the sea of faces around her. She couldn’t focus on anyone in particular for fear her resolve would crumble and she would break down. Her notes shifted in her hands across the podium, but she would not need them today. She knew what she spoke by heart. Not because she memorized it, but because she believed it.

    It is not the critic who counts; not the man who points out how the strong man stumbled or where the doer of deeds could have done them better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena; whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood; who strives valiantly; who errs and comes short again and again; who, at the best, knows the triumph of high achievement; and who, at the worst, if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who knew neither victory nor defeat.

    Silence followed Sarah’s words as she let them ring in everyone’s ears. Many people nodded in agreement, some huddled into neighbor’s shoulders to muffle their sobs. Everyone waited to hear her next words.

    I have not found any words to describe Jack better than those spoken by Theodore Roosevelt. Jack did not fail. He saved a woman’s life on March thirtieth. Sarah’s eyes found the sobbing woman in the front row, and then darted quickly away. He strived valiantly, and he found the courage to dive into uncertainty, because it was the right thing to do. Sarah stressed each of her last words. The credit belongs to Jack. And the credit belongs to each and every one of us, who takes it upon himself or herself, to help someone else.

    Sarah paused, trying to hold herself together. Father Daniel stepped forward to console her but stopped short when she continued. Jack and I loved every day we could. He pulled me to picnics for kids, and to fundraisers. We did all we could together. He truly was my soul mate. I could not have asked for anything better, except for more time. At this point, Sarah did break down, and Father Daniel hurried to the podium, placing a hand on each of her arms. After a minute or so, she regained her strength and continued. Her voice broke with every word.

    I believe that if we all take a lesson from what Jack did that day, and work together, we can make a difference. We can help those who cannot help themselves. Sarah paused once more, and then took a very deep breath. As she exhaled, her chest jerked slightly. Jack once heard something in a movie that I think is appropriate now. It is that time is a companion that comes along with us on the journey and reminds us to cherish every moment, because they will never come again. It reminds us that what we leave behind is not as important as how we have lived. Sarah looked behind her to the large picture of Jack hanging over her left shoulder. He smiled, holding onto a guide wire on her father’s sailboat. Well Jack…lived… Sarah finally did break down completely, and Father Daniel grabbed her before she collapsed. Her father leapt from his seat, and took Father Daniel’s place at her side.

    As Sarah and her father filed past the congregation of people, everyone stood and faced them. Their last way of paying respect to the man who had stolen all of their hearts only two months ago. They watched the family of Jack Folsom shuffle past behind Sarah. Jack’s brother and cousin spoke before the final heart wrenching delivery of Jack’s love.

    Outside, the mob of people respectfully parted for the mourning family, and watched every step they took before they dipped into the back of the limousine. The rain a cruel reminder of the reason each of them came today.

    Chapter 3

    March 30th, 8pm CST:

    Sarah sat down at her father’s table and smiled. She knew the only reason for the dinner. Her father never said so, but she knew. Today marked the first anniversary of Jack’s disappearance.

    Jack was ‘officially’ pronounced dead seven weeks later, and a funeral was held the next weekend. Every person, who spent his or her free time searching for a sign of Jack, came to the funeral. The church that Sarah knew would be the home of their some day marriage instead held the sorrowed hearts of more strangers than friends and family.

    Sarah’s father set two plates on the table and sat across from her. I made linguine with clam sauce. You used to ask me to make it whenever you wanted to celebrate. He clasped his hands in front of his jutting chin. Sarah noticed his eyes glisten with reflections of the candlelight as their edges peeled away into wrinkles.

    So…you figured it would be a way of cheering me up? She didn’t look at him any longer, but peered down as her hands folded the napkin in her lap.

    Do you need cheering up?

    Sarah paused. I hadn’t thought about him for a long time. She lied to her father, but not very well.

    Bull! You mope around, marking papers all night. Anytime I go to your apartment, all I see is a mess. You aren’t thinking of yourself, that’s what it is!

    Sarah looked at him through tears that she would not let flow from her lashes. She willed them not to drop. Looking at her father now, she knew he could see how hard the last year had been for her.

    Sarah. It has been a year. You have your kids to teach, and a life to live. This cannot drag you down for any longer.

    Why not? Sarah looked at the floor, knowing her eyes would betray her resolve.

    Her father sighed, but did not let up. Jack is gone, Sarah. I know that hurts. His family has come to terms with it. His friends have come to terms with it. You must do so now as well.

    This is not one of your stories, Dad! You can’t wrap this up and the director yells ‘cut’ and you walk off on your merry way. This is not about some person you don’t know. This is about me. I am not willing to let go. Sarah waved her hands around her head. I’m not going to go crazy and…

    Did you talk to Dr. Adams?

    Sarah stopped at the interruption. Her father’s comment was completely unexpected. Dr. Adams tried to help both of her parents to work out their problems before their divorce, to no avail. Sarah had not wanted to see him, almost placing some of the blame at the doctor’s door for the breakup.

    I am not crazy. Sarah pushed away from the table and stood up, almost knocking the chair over with the backs of her knees. The napkin fluttered its way to the floor, unheeded.

    Seeing a psychiatrist does not mean that you’re crazy, dear. Talking things out just might solve whatever you can’t let go of.

    Sarah’s eyes fired up and burned at her father. Her left hand went to her hip, and clasped in the air next to it. I will not let go of something when there is no body! Jack had fallen into the back of that lady’s truck. She said so. And if…oh! Sarah stopped yelling and her eyes glazed over. Oh my…

    Sarah suddenly collapsed, fluttering to the floor like the napkin, except she was noticed and her father ran to her side. He grabbed her head from the floor and felt her limp wrist. She still had a pulse. She had only fainted. Suddenly motion caught his eye, and Sarah’s father looked over his shoulder. The figure moved toward him, startling him. He jumped to his feet more from shock than reaction, but stumbled backward over Sarah’s limp body. Crashing into the end table, he threw his right arm out to stop his fall, only to punch the lamp off the table sending it crashing to the floor. The figure moved closer, but Sarah’s father scrambled back across the floor, flailing his legs and arms, trying to almost swim away from the figure as fast as he could. His back hit the couch and stopped his retreat. He stopped struggling and stared in disbelief at the outstretched hand. He followed the fingers to the wrist, to the elbow, and then to the shoulder. Slowly his eyes slid across to the chin, and then eased ever so slowly up to the eyes.

    Jack’s eyes.

    Anger replaced the shock in Bill Rubin’s eyes, and Sarah’s father erupted at the man before him. He pushed at the ground and thrust his body upward. He ignored the helpful hand offered by Jack. Bill punched Jack across the left cheek without hesitation. He watched as Jack’s head turned to the side, paused, and then returned to face his attacker. Disappointed that the blow had not sent Jack sprawling to the floor, Bill struck out with his left to strike Jack on his right cheek. Jack reached up and grabbed Bill’s arm and held it. Bill’s fist hung in the air inches away from Jack’s face. The anger subsided a little, but still ebbed within him.

    Where the hell have you been? You are some piece of work, Jack!

    I was taken. Jack knew that Sarah’s father was reacting strongly only to try to overcome his own shock and fear. Jack had expected it. Letting go of Bill’s arm, he turned and bent down. Gently sliding his arms beneath Sarah, he slowly lifted her into the air. Turning once again, he carried her to the couch where her father stood and waited.

    Sarah’s father stared blankly up at Jack, unsure of what he was doing. Suddenly he realized and slid himself out of the way so Jack could lay her down on the couch. Jack then turned and walked into the kitchen. He returned shortly after carrying a damp cloth and a glass of water.

    What do you mean you were taken? Sarah’s father only now heard the words in his mind. Shock had the amazing effect of slowing the path from the ear to the brain, making it a long journey.

    Jack only shook his head. I came to speak to Sarah, not to you. Jack dabbed the cloth over her forehead and down her cheek.

    I will not leave you alone with her! Again clenched fists at his sides, ready to defend his daughter at any moment.

    Jack looked up. Why not? His brow curled itself up.

    Sarah’s father stared with angry eyes right into Jack. You left her for a year! No explanation, no call, nothing!

    I have never done anything to harm Sarah. I will never do anything to harm Sarah. There is nothing to be concerned with. As I said: I was taken. Jack spoke quietly, almost without any emotion or feeling.

    Wh… Sarah’s father sat still. Dumbfounded. Jack never did anything to Sarah to hurt her. Except disappear. Who would have taken Jack, and where? Why couldn’t he contact anyone?

    Sarah moaned again and stirred slightly.

    Chapter 4

    Colonel! Confirm that last transmission. NASA station Chief Roberts stepped into the room and threw papers down onto the conference table. He sat his meager frame at the head of the table and stared across at the man he addressed. Colonel Hays sat back rigidly in his chair, only nodding slightly. Both the Chief and the Colonel knew the report had been confirmed before ever seen by the Chief.

    What the hell am I supposed to make of that? The Chief pointed his finger at the report strewn across the large mahogany table. A perfectly smooth waxed surface had allowed the report to spread across three feet of wood. The other on-site members of the station monitoring staff sat at their workstations. They heard every word coming out of the conference room, and helped to prepare the quick and succinct report to the station’s Chief of Operations.

    We should check the damn astronaut’s food packs. The Chief shook his head and poked at the closest sheet of the report. The data from the science lab on the orbital space station clearly indicated what the Colonel’s report stated.

    If I may, sir? The Colonel waited for a nod from the Chief. We should notify Houston, and the Secretary of Defense. I am certain that the space agency in France is doing the same.

    The Chief grimaced at the mention of the Secretary and nodded. The Colonel knew exactly what to do in this instance. They both knew the data sent down from the French scientists aboard the international space station was inconclusive, but the one statement stood out from the data. That statement meant they had to inform the proper channels. Decisions and follow-ups had to be made quickly.

    Would they have to inform the President?

    March 30th, 9:45pm CST

    Jack remained sitting in the wing chair. He waited patiently for Sarah to awaken and become aware of his presence. Her father stood next to her, unwilling to leave her alone with Jack. If Sarah wished it, he would eventually give in, but only if she could show strength.

    I understand that you are concerned, Bill. Believe me, I am concerned as well. Just not for the same reasons you are. I must speak to Sarah alone, before anything becomes announced. I owe that much to her. Jack sat his elbows on the edges of his knees and looked anxiously at Sarah’s slow breathing body. She had stirred twice, but had not yet awakened fully.

    Bill turned and looked at Jack for a long moment. Almost ten months ago, he comforted his daughter at a funeral for the man now sitting in front of them both. Jack disappeared without a trace, gone for an entire year to the day. Now he wanted to simply waltz back into their lives?

    Once again Sarah shifted on the couch, and her eyelids slowly lifted apart. She saw her father kneeling a foot in front of her. She felt the heat rise in her cheeks as she began to blush in embarrassment. Her right hand rubbed over her face and she smiled in spite of herself. Sitting up she looked again to her father, and then her smile faded. Until this very moment, she believed she had fainted because of a hallucination. Jack had appeared in front of her in an illusion. She could see a figure out of the corner of her eye, but she didn’t want to turn to confirm who sat in her father’s favorite wing chair. Watching her father stand and turn completely out of the way, Sarah’s eyes fought against themselves, but finally pushed to see Jack sitting across from her.

    It is not a dream, Sarah. I am really here. Jack wanted to go to her, but knew it would be too much, too soon. He had to let her get accustomed to his presence.

    Sarah sat up, her eyes never leaving Jack’s. Absently, she took the glass of water in front of her and lifted the edge to her lips. Tipping the glass very slightly, she dipped some water into her mouth. Without warning, Sarah stood, leaned across the table, and spat the water at Jack. Her father quickly grabbed her and held tightly against her flailing arms. She screamed incoherently at Jack, pushing and pulling to reach him.

    Jack didn’t budge an inch. He only sat quietly, expecting the reaction he saw before him. He made no motion toward the two of them, only sat and waited for Sarah to tire and begin to ask the questions. He looked up at Bill, his eyes asking him to leave them alone for a short time.

    Bill hesitated for a moment, unsure of the best way to proceed. The tension in his arms relaxed as his daughter slowly, but surely, stopped fighting. Should he stay to protect Sarah? Should he stay to protect Jack? Confusion overwhelmed him and he released Sarah’s arms. Stepping back, Bill looked from one to the other. He couldn’t move. He watched as the seconds ticked by, and Sarah finally turned her head. She nodded slowly, and dropped back into the sofa. Whatever her feelings, she decided to hear Jack out. Nobody said a word, but finally Bill turned and stepped slowly into the kitchen.

    Peter Folsom did not think of his brother. A week ago he remembered the anniversary of Jack’s death when talking to their cousin Randy on the phone. This night, he thought only of the mine. Core sample results were due back tomorrow, and he rubbed his hands together nervously. With a lot at stake on this drill hole, Peter couldn’t afford to think of anything else.

    Two months ago, the diamonds in the shaft simply ended, and did not appear to continue in any direction. They needed those diamonds to help finance the other drill holes. Three times he had gone back to the shareholders at the annual meeting to ask for more money. Each new share offering raised more money, but weakened his control over the company. He now only held twenty-two percent of the stock. With fewer and fewer allies, Peter knew the shareholders could wrest control from him and remove him as President and CEO.

    The shareholders grew more and more anxious with these share offerings as well. Peter knew they each wondered if they would ever see a return on their money. The drill holes showed sizeable deposits of gold, but it had not yet been shown that the company could extract the gold efficiently. Peter sunk much of his own money into the project, and believed that he would yield a massive return on his investment once gold production began.

    He only hoped that he could hold off the takeover until that time came.

    Sarah sat very still. Only a short time ago, she sat at the table with her father and thought about the funeral. A funeral for the man sitting very alive across the table from her now. In the past year, she could never have imagined this possible. Not even though she repeatedly told those closest to her that she couldn’t accept Jack’s death without a body. Now, here sat the body, with still warm blood flowing through its veins. The lungs expanded and contracted, and the eyes showed a life that still burned brightly.

    Jack patiently waited for Sarah to ask the first question. He had known she would be very upset, but never considered the idea of not coming here today. From the day he knew he would return Jack began to think of this reunion. He planned for every question, and for every scenario. Until now, nothing unexpected had happened, but his own feelings interrupted the perfect plan, and he became unsure how to proceed. He looked at Sarah, trying to figure out if he needed to speak before she could ask anything. He wanted to shout out and tell her everything that had happened over the past year. But he should wait for her to begin, and allow her to choose the path of their conversation. Except Sarah simply sat quietly, returning his gaze. She expected something. Should he go kiss her? Should he begin explaining and let her steer him towards her own questions?

    Sarah saw the confusion in Jack’s eyes and it built up her own resolve. She would not speak. He was the one who disappeared. He was the one who left. Now, he would have to explain what happened. It was not up to Sarah to help Jack explain only the things she wanted to know. She wanted everything.

    Jack breathed in slowly, and softly. He now knew he had to speak, to say something. Unsure of how to begin, he repeated the same thing he had said to her father. I was taken. He didn’t say anything more, trying to regain some of the composure he held earlier.

    Sarah remained silent. The three words Jack finally spoke hung in the air, but she wouldn’t take them. He had to give her a lot more than that. Crossing her legs was the only reaction she gave.

    Jack sighed and began to speak. Still unsure of where to begin, he would say everything he could until Sarah interrupted.

    Chapter 5

    Randy Folsom sat very still in his large chair. Looking over the recap of the previous week, he shook his head. The figures still rose well above the average weekly take in the city, but they had dropped from last year. The weather did not help either. Twelve days straight of rain and clouds dampened the spirits of the city, not to mention eliminated the extra twenty patio tables of potential business. It also meant that when the sun came out, few people would want to be in a restaurant. They will take full advantage of the day and leave the city to find a beach or a lake.

    He dropped the sheets and looked at the picture on the wall. The three smiling men peered back at him. Jack stood in the middle, with the taller men to his sides. Randy and Peter always joked about Jack’s lack of height in comparison. The picture was taken on the patio of this very restaurant two years ago. They spent every year at their cabin as a reunion of sorts. At least once a year they would be together again. Jack brought out his kayaks and the three of them spent hours on the lake with nobody to interrupt them. After Jack disappeared, Peter and Randy became distant. They each threw themselves into their work and forgot about the annual trip and the memories it would bring up.

    The phone rang suddenly and jerked Randy back to the present day. With a final glance at the three smiling men, he stretched for the phone and picked up the receiver.

    Hello? Randy looked at the clock and squeezed his eyes open and shut to focus on the time. One o’clock in the morning.

    Randy? Are you coming home at all? Michelle’s worried, but angered voice greeted him. A wife uncertain of why her husband still worked late twice a week.

    Randy cleared his throat and smiled. Hi, honey. I will be home soon. We’ve closed up and are just finishing the signing out. What are you doing awake this late?

    I was fast asleep when the phone rang. Tara is out at her friend’s house and wants to be picked up. Can you get her on your way home? Michelle’s frustration came through loud and clear. She didn’t like Randy working late, and he was the one who said Tara couldn’t stay over at her friend’s house.

    Randy sighed and nodded. I’ll leave in a few minutes and get her. We should really get her a car. The only problem there would be they would never see their daughter again. Go back to sleep. Randy spoke a short time longer into the phone to his wife, and then gently placed the phone back into its cradle. Looking over to his computer, he shut off the light and raised himself up from his chair. With one final glance at the picture on the wall, Randy walked out to descend into the dying noise of the restaurant.

    Jack awoke lying on his back in a dark room. Unable to see, he sat up slowly and winced as his ribs shot a bolt of pain into his right side. His deep inhale halted immediately and Jack held his breath for a moment, waiting for the pain to subside. He could feel the soft carpet beneath him. It felt like velvet. He raised his knees as he supported his body with his elbows. His eyes could barely see his hands directly in front of him. Where the hell was he? Jack slowly rolled onto his right side, pushing with his right hand and knee until he stood upright in the darkness. He slowly turned around in a circle, his senses piercing the darkness to identify anything around him.

    His ears picked up no sound at all. It was eerie. He couldn’t hear any passing traffic, or any voices. He heard no hum of a ventilation machine or air conditioner, or even felt any movement of air for that matter. Jack tried to remember where he had been before falling asleep. Racing around in his mind, he remembered the tire exploding on the Cherokee in front of him. Panicking, Jack quickly flashed past the accident to the firemen helping them up the slope and Sarah as she had run up to hug him tightly. Memories flowed on as Jack watched Sarah walk away to talk to the firemen by the ambulance. Then…

    Then…what? What happened after Sarah walked away? Jack closed his eyes tightly and twisted his head to the side. He couldn’t remember a thing after Sarah walked away. Suddenly a sound interrupted Jack’s thoughts and he opened his eyes. He smiled as his eyes burned from the light framing the figure at the open door. After a few moments his pupils receded and he could see clearly. Slowly his smile faded into an open-mouthed gape. The figure before him spoke. He could hear happiness in the voice, but terror was the only thing Jack could feel.

    Welcome, Jackson Albert Folsom. Welcome.

    Sarah shook her head and stared at her long lost boyfriend. She couldn’t believe what she heard. We searched everywhere for you, Jack. The police interviewed everyone at the accident that day. Nobody saw you after the rescue. Why can’t you just tell me the truth? Tell me what really happened instead of making up this fantasy. Jack, you owe me that. After a year, you owe me at least the truth. Sarah pictured three men from the government taking her boyfriend away and then covering it up. She quickly discarded the idea and heated up with anger that Jack would make up such a lie.

    I am telling you the truth, Sarah. I have no reason to lie. I have to make an announcement soon, and you deserve to know the truth before the rest of the world does. You are right, I owe you that much. Jack leaned forward, pleading with his eyes. He was not lying now. He could not lie about this.

    Sarah shook her head back and forth. How had they taken him without anyone seeing? She replayed the events of the day in her mind. So many people around, but everyone focused on something: the hill, the storm, the woman, or the firemen. Out of all those people, how could it be that Jack could be taken without one pair of eyes catching the abduction?

    Please let me go on, Sarah. There is so much more, and I have so much to show you. Jack reached out his hand, hoping Sarah would take it. Hoping she could take it.

    Sarah stared at the outstretched hand. It held only empty air, and Sarah was going to leave it that way. I am not going to see anything with you. Not until you explain every last thing. Do you have any idea what the last year has been like for me? Sarah’s eyes welled with tears, but none fell from her lashes. Again she had to be strong, to keep her resolve.

    Jack lowered his hand and took another deep breath. They took me to another room. They fed me and gave me fresh clothes to wear. In all, I could see five of them, but I was sure there must have been more. They sat and waited until I was completely ready, not leaving me alone even when I cleaned myself or dressed.

    Sarah interrupted Jack again. Who is it that took you, Jack? Why did they take you? She didn’t believe him yet, but he had to tell her everything.

    I will tell you when I think you are ready. It’s…it’s too much too soon. Jack reached forward and took a sip from the drink on the table. He savored the cognac before allowing it to swim down his throat, warming his insides. He had not tasted alcohol for a year, and he knew he needed to fully experience every sip.

    Too soon for what? What are you not telling me? Jack, if you are going to be honest, you have to tell me everything. Sarah watched Jack smell the vapor of the cognac before setting the glass back down on the table.

    Jack only shook his head and continued. "The food tasted very good, although there is no way I could

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