I Will Follow

Chapter 1

There is nothing for me here. Not anymore. With that, Jude quickly stood up from the kitchen table, nearly knocking over his chair in the process. As he went to grab his plate, Eliza calmly placed her hand on his, stopping him.

Jude, honey, we need to talk about this, she said softly.

Jude shook his head and backed away from the table. Mom, there isn’t anything to talk about. I’ve made up my mind. Missionary work is what God has put in my heart, and I want to go.

Eliza’s husband, Eric, was still seated at the table. She leaned in to whisper to him.

Jude crossed his arms and began to shake his head furiously. Whispering to dad isn’t going to help. I’m twenty one, I’m a college graduate and after all of the praying I’ve done lately, this is what I want to do, Jude said. He stomped over to the other side of the table and stood beside his father.

Dad, you’re a pastor. I don’t expect mom to get this, and I know it’s only because she worries about me, but you of all people know about following the desires God gives you. Help me out here. Father and son stared at each for a moment before Eric responded.

Jude, I know you feel you are called for this, and I’m proud of you for wanting to do something so noble and selfless. But-

Seeing that the situation wasn’t going where he wanted, Jude turned to stalk out of the room.

Eric stood up and walked after him. All I’m saying, son, is that maybe you give it a little. Just a few days and see if this really a call you feel or something else.

Jude stopped cold in the hallway that led to the living room. Turning slowly to face his father, his face was a mask of defiance. Jude drew a deep breath before he spoke.

"You have always told me to have immediate obedience; to do what God calls you to do right away; to not waver or spend time trying to talk yourself out of it. And now you’re second guessing me. Second guessing him." Jude pointed a finger up as he spoke the last word and stared at his father.

Eric closed his eyes and nodded slowly.

You know what? You’re right. This isn’t a decision your mother and I should even try and influence, Eric said. He placed his hands on his son’s shoulders. If it’s what you want to do, then do it. You have our blessing. Both Eric and Jude couldn’t help but notice Eliza glaring at them from the kitchen. Better let me talk to her, Eric said.

Jude smiled and hugged his father. As Jude headed one way towards his bedroom, Eric headed the opposite back to the kitchen. He stopped just short of entering and raised his eyes to meet his wife’s piercing stare. The frown that accompanied it was evidence enough. Eliza was not happy.

Holding up a hand, Eric jumped feet first into an explanation. Just hear me out, honey. No, Eliza retorted. She crossed her arms and tilted her head to the side; always a sure sign that it did not bode well for Eric. I know we can’t stop him from going, but you encouraging him isn’t helping.

Eric went to place his hands upon his wife’s shoulders, just as he had done to his son moments ago. Eliza backed away, however, and began to sob. Burying her face in her hands, Eric held his wife as she wept, stroking her hair.

He can’t leave, Eliza whispered between sobs. I can’t risk losing him, too.

Nothing is going to happen to him, honey, Eric soothed. He’ll be fine.

Eliza wiggled out of his embrace and began to wipe her eyes with the backs of her hands.

How do you know that? she asked. We said the same things about Jessie when she first decided she wanted to leave. Eliza began to well up again, and this time there was no consoling her.

We lost our daughter and you told me it was because God had planned it that way. You said he had a plan for everything and it was just her time. And even though it’s taken me three years, I have finally learned to start coming to terms with that.

Eric moved closer to try to gently touch her arm. She pushed it away. I am NOT losing my son, too. Not now.

Eric sighed and dropped both hands to his waist. After a moment of collecting his thoughts, he raised his head and gazed into his wife’s eyes.

He’s a grown man, Eliza. And he feels that he has been called for this. We can’t shelter him for the rest of his life for the fear that we could lose him. It’s not living; for him or for us. You’ve got to see that.

He looks up to you, Eric, Eliza said. You are his father, his friend and his pastor. And if you tell him that he should rethink this entire thing then he will listen to you.

Eric shook his head and spoke softly, his voice nearly a whisper. I won’t do that. Eliza shifted her eyes to the wall and stared at it.

We have to let him live his life, Eliza, Eric said. We have to let him be a man. To experience what God has put on his heart to experience. To do the things he was designed to do. And if that means spending a year in Africa, then so be it. He took Eliza’s face in his hands and gently wiped tears away with his thumbs. He’s going to be fine. You’ll see.

Eliza shook her head furiously. She broke free of his grasp and ran down the hall to their bedroom. Eric chased after her as there was a knock on the door. Poking his head out of his room just as his parents sped past him, Jude muttered an I’ll get it.

Jude opened the door to find Leah standing there. Even after dating her for almost two years, she still took his breath away. He paused a moment and smiled before he said anything. She looked annoyed.

How many times are we going to have to talk about you staring at me, she snapped. Leah

suffered from Scopophobia; a severe anxiety caused by being stared at. It didn’t help matters that she truly was beautiful and was constantly being gawked at by men. At five foot three and a hundred and twenty pounds, one wouldn’t have thought you could pack such feistiness into such a small package. But when Leah’s green eyes began to sparkle like they were doing now, it usually wasn’t a good sign. She flipped her blond hair and tilted her head to the side, smirking at Jude.

Well? she asked.

Jude blushed as he looked down at his feet. He grinned again and waved her inside. So what brings you by? He placed his hand on the small of her back as he guided her into the living room; a move that he did without even realizing and a gesture that she always loved. Jude was about to offer her something to drink as she sat down on the couch when Eliza came storming back down the hall.

Slinging her purse over her shoulder as she spun to face Eric who was jogging up behind her, Eliza paused at the front door, one hand on the knob.

I just need to leave, Eric. I need to not be in the same house with you right now, she said. Her eyes red from crying, she looked over her husband’s shoulder into the living room and directly at Jude.

I’m not mad at you, honey. I want you to know that. I just need to collect my thoughts. With a quick smile thrown to Leah, Eliza threw open the door and rushed out of the house.

Eric stood in the doorway, his arms hanging loosely at his side. Even as Eliza’s SUV reversed out into the street and then sped away, he continued to stare at the spot where she had stood not even thirty seconds ago.

Jude crossed the living room and stood directly behind his father. He had absolutely no idea what to say, so he placed a hand on Eric’s shoulder. Without looking back, Eric reached up and put his hand onto his son’s.

I’m sorry, dad. It was all Jude could think of in that moment.

Don’t be, son, Eric said softly. Don’t be.

Chapter 2

He sat alone in the corner of his dark apartment. Truth be told, the meager dwelling didn’t even really qualify as an apartment. It was more like a large closet with a bathroom. He stared at the wall in front him and listened to himself breathe. How long had it been since he had slept? Two days? Three? He couldn’t remember. He glanced at the cell phone that sat on the floor next to him. Four thirty in the morning. He didn’t care. Time hadn’t really mattered to him for longer than he could remember.

The sounds of the building he was in might have really gotten to him by now if he was anywhere near being coherent. But since he wasn’t; he didn’t notice. The constant yelling and the occasional screaming played out like a laugh track to a show no one was watching. Something that could have been a gunshot had happened earlier. He hadn’t even glanced in the direction it came from. As far as he was concerned, they could all compete to the death to see who could shoot who first. As long as everyone left him alone.

The realization that he had been sitting there in that one spot since the sun went down came creeping into his head like fog. He vaguely remembered talking to Derek and how badly that conversation went. Jerk. Just who did that guy think he was? Every time he called, he wanted something. Favor after favor. He didn’t owe Derek anything. Or did he? Had he borrowed money and forgotten about it? He did that sometimes. Derek was the only person he spoke to. The only human link he had to the rest of the world was a guy that he couldn’t stand and had never trusted. For some reason that thought made him smile.

The smile gave way to soft chuckling, and before he knew it he was laughing so loudly he was actually drowning out the violent cursing that was coming from next door. Usually he would have banged on the wall and yelled at them to shut up. Now all he could do was laugh. He laughed until tears welled up in his eyes. And then he remembered that he was out of drugs and the laughter shut off like someone had flipped a light switch.

That’s what Derek had wanted. The money for the last score. Usually Derek didn’t give anything away to anyone, no matter how good of a customer they were. But he had practically begged Derek for it. Promised that the first bit of money that came his way, he would give to him. And just to shut him up, Derek had agreed. And then Derek called asking where his money was. And he had told him something about not getting blood from a turnip. He remembered how he had broken out into laughter at that, even as Derek screamed at him over the phone.

Realizing that he was coming down and soon would be in a really bad way, he struggled to his feet. His head swam and he almost fell back down, but he managed to raise an arm and place it on the wall next to him. Steadying himself, he placed his right foot out in front of him and stopped. Learning to walk again. Was that a song? He thought it was. He’d have to see if he could remember the lyrics later. Right now, he had to make it to the bathroom.

Teetering his way down the hallway that really wasn’t a hallway, he stopped and stuck an arm inside the bathroom and slapped the wall a few times, looking for the light switch. He found it after a few attempts and flipped it up. Nothing happened. He flipped it on and off a few times. Still nothing. He was pretty sure he wasn’t that far gone that he wouldn’t realize light if it was flickering on and off. He left the switch in the up position with his palm resting over it. How long had it been since his electricity had been shut off? He could swear he had lights on earlier that day. Or maybe not.

He unlocked his phone and using the light from the screen managed to stumble inside the tiny bathroom. The light played off the walls in a way that had a strobe effect. It reminded him of being at a club. What was that girl’s name he had met a few nights ago? Allie? Amanda. Something with an A. He’d have to call her. He wondered if he had even remembered to get her number. Or had he given her his. He stopped moving all together and tried to remember. Tried to focus. He closed his eyes and couldn’t even picture her face. Oh well. So much for Amanda. Or whatever her name was.

He opened his eyes and the light had fallen on the bathroom mirror. He stared at himself. He remembered he had put on the shirt he was wearing Thursday night when he went out to drink. It was a green t-shirt that said Not tonight ladies, I’m only here to get drunk. He wore it every Thursday. But today was early Sunday. He guessed he should change clothes soon. But first he should shower. But before that he had to figure out how to get the electricity back on. After he scored again, though.

He squinted and tried to see his own face. He hadn’t shaven in at least a week. His eyes were so red that they almost looked like they were glowing. His lips were dry and cracked and when he tried to stick his tongue out to moisten them, it stuck to the roof of his mouth. Water. He needed water. Eager for an excuse to not have to look at himself anymore, he dropped his eyes to the faucet and turned the knob. At least the water still worked. He balanced the phone on the edge of the sink and while swaying slightly back and forth, managed to scoop up a few handfuls of water and splash his face. On the third one he gulped some of it. Then another handful. Water dripping from his chin he reached for a dirty towel that was crumpled up on the back of the toilet and wiped his face off. Looking at himself in the mirror again he smiled a bit. It wasn’t pretty, but it was an improvement.

He dropped the towel on the floor and grabbed his phone off of the sink. He took a deep breath and turned to walk back out into the hall. One foot forward. Then the other. He made his way into the small corner of the apartment that served as the living room, dining room and half of the bedroom and stopped. The banging had started again. Pounding on the walls next door that seemed to shake the entire building. Did those people ever sleep? Probably not. Maybe he should go over and visit sometime. Maybe they were into the same stuff he was. They obviously were up to something if they were awake at four thirty in the morning like he was.

He stood in one place, right hand against the wall holding him up while the left clutched the phone that was his only source of light. As soon as that banging stopped he would try to find his wallet. Derek’s number was written down on a receipt in there. Eventually he would program the number into his phone. First he would have to figure out how to do that. He didn’t have any contacts saved; not a single one. Everyone he met was temporary. Why bother?

It took about five minutes of the relentless, loud pounding before it began to dawn on him that it was coming from right outside his apartment. It wasn’t someone banging on the walls in the apartment next to him; someone was knocking on his door. Over and over again with what sounded like a kick thrown in every few knocks. That realization was almost too much input for him to handle and he slid down the wall and sat with his back against it. Who was here? No one knew he lived here. Had he told Derek where he lived? Maybe someone had followed him. That and the festering knowledge that he was soon going to be sober and out of drugs sent paranoia crashing over him in waves. He began to tremble.

Open the door! I know you’re home, dude. Open the door now! The voice from right outside the door was obviously male and it was even more obvious that it was very angry. He held his breath; certain that whoever it was could hear him breathing. After another full minute of constant banging and cursing, he exhaled and lay down on the floor. He flattened himself out and didn’t move a muscle. Whoever it was would go away. As long as they couldn’t see him and he didn’t make a sound, they would go away.

No sooner had he finished that thought and closed his eyes tight that everything stopped. The knocking, the cursing; even the noises coming from the other apartments went silent. They had left. Whoever it was had thought he really wasn’t inside and left. He lay there with his eyes shut and smiled. He was just about to begin the job of getting back on his feet when his front door came crashing in, wood splintering everywhere and the sound of metal shearing away as the deadbolt broke loose from its housing. Too terrified to open both eyes, he peeked out of one and saw Derek standing in the doorway, crowbar in hand.

I told you Saturday night. I told you I wanted my money Saturday night. Derek wasn’t yelling the words; that would have somehow not been as bad as what was happening now. He was softly whispering them, staring at the cowering man on the floor. So since you don’t know how to follow directions, it’s time you learn a lesson. You don’t come between me and my money. Derek crossed the distance between the front door and the spot where the terrified man lay in three steps. Standing over him, he sneered as he spoke. You’re pathetic. I’m doing you a favor.

The first kick hit him square in the stomach, sending every bit of oxygen rushing out of his body like it was running from the attack before getting assaulted again. The second caught him on his right temple. All at once the entire room lit up and bright, twinkling stars danced around like he was back in the club under the strobe lights with Amanda, or whatever her name was. Realizing that if he didn’t at least try to defend himself that he was surely going to be killed, he brought an arm up just as the crowbar came down in the direction of his head. The blow should have broken his arm, and honestly if it had he wouldn’t have even felt it at that point, but somehow he was able to grab the crowbar and yank it out of Derek’s hand. He rolled out of the way as Derek’s foot came crashing towards the space that his face used to occupy and swung the crowbar as hard as he could. He caught Derek right on the ankle and sent him to his knees, howling in pain.

All at once he was sharp and sober; more focused than he could remember ever being. He jumped to his feet and with the crowbar still in hand; he walked slowly until he was directly behind Derek. He knelt down until and whispered in Derek’s ear. Who’s pathetic now? It wasn’t until he had the crowbar lifted up over his head that he saw from the corner of his eye someone coming through the doorway. He never even had to time to react before the other assailant was stabbing him. As he went to the ground, he saw the two of them running out of the apartment. He lay down on the dirty floor of his dirty apartment and stared at the ceiling. He was bleeding badly; he could feel it. He started to pass out and his head rolled slowly to the side. Right before he lost consciousness he noticed his wallet was on the ground right next to him, open. He smiled a bit when he realized they had tried to rob him, only to find he was flat broke. Then he saw his birthdate on his I.D. Why did that resonate so much, especially now? His smile faded as it came to him just as he went under. My name is Aaron McCormick, and today is my twenty first birthday.

Chapter 3

Eliza stared into her coffee cup, watching the liquid swirl around and around as she slowly stirred it. The little café was usually bustling with activity but at this time of day, she had the whole place to herself. Not that she would have noticed if anyone was sitting around her anyway, though. Eliza had been staring at her coffee for nearly thirty minutes.

She glanced at her phone and saw that it was almost noon. She had asked Jude to meet her so they could talk. She had spent the night at a hotel, deciding that going home to face Eric about what was happening was simply too much to deal with at that time. Eric had quietly relented when she had called to reassure him she was ok and to tell him she wouldn’t be coming home; not yet anyway.

The door chime sang like a bird and in walked her son. She had always thought Jude was such a handsome boy, and not just because she was his mother. Eliza had honey blonde hair and piercing blue eyes which complimented her perfect cheek bones. She was a natural beauty, and at only five foot three was nearly a foot shorter than both her son and husband. At six foot one and a hundred sixty pounds, Jude had the same jet black hair and cobalt eyes as his father, except Jude had been letting his hair grow out while Eric kept his closely cut. But Jude was the spitting image of Eric at that age, and up until recently that thought had always amused Eliza.

Jude had Leah with him, as well as her best friend Samantha, or Sam as she preferred to be called. The two young women found their own table next to a window as Jude walked up to the cashier, a bible in hand. Since he had turned sixteen, Jude had made a practice of giving a bible away every day to a stranger. Usually he didn’t even say anything beyond Here you go. It was nothing new for Eliza, and she paid no attention. But to Leah and Sam it was still amazing that Jude had the courage to approach a stranger and give them a bible. And the fact that he had done it every day for the last five years made it even more amazing.

As the cashier stood there and stared at the bible placed in her hand, Jude walked over to his mom’s table and sat down. For a moment, neither spoke. Eliza just smiled at her son adoringly; the way that only a mother can. After a minute of silence Jude became uncomfortable. Sorry about them, he said as he pointed his head in the direction of Leah and Sam. We were at the church and they wanted to come.

Eliza held up a hand and shook her head slowly. It’s okay, honey. As a matter of fact, let’s invite them over. Before Jude could protest, Eliza was already waving the girls over to her table. Leah and Sam eyed each other suspiciously, and with a shrug of their shoulders got up and went to sit down with Jude and Eliza. The four sat there quietly eyeing one another before Sam decided to finally break the ice.

So, that thing you do with the bibles; giving them away every day. You started doing that your junior year, right?

Jude nodded and managed a small smile. He never liked it when people drew attention to the good deeds he did. He grabbed a paper napkin on the table in front of him and began the process of turning it inside out. It was a quirk he’d had since he was a child, and now he did it without even realizing. His mother still noticed though, and grinned at him.

When Jude was eight years old, his grandfather on his dad’s side gave him a bible, Eliza began. Jude shifted uncomfortably in his seat and focused all of his attention on his napkin. It wasn’t just any bible, mind you, but the same bible that had been in the family for at least 3 generations. It had been handwritten by Jude’s great-great grandfather and bound with a leather cover. It was beautiful. Eliza paused her story long enough to take a sip of her coffee. Do you want to finish telling the story? she asked, smiling at her son. Jude fidgeted for a few seconds before speaking, eyes still on his napkin.

"By the time Grandpa had given it to me, it was falling apart. The