In the final decades of the twenty-first century, mankind's ambitions colonized the moon and Mars and created a "technological" Tower of Babel. But during the period known as the Fifty Years of Prosperity, the Time of Horrors came without warning. The Age of Horrors brought about the Orbs, mysterious anomalies that appeared in space, unleashing storms of cataclysmic proportions throughout the solar system. On Earth, the golden age of modern humanity came to a crashing end, plunging the world into chaos. At a time when mankind thought it had the promise of immortality within its grasp, that promise was stolen away. Once humanity traveled the heavens as gods, but now, if it hopes to survive, it must cower like moles in the shadows. But not everyone on Earth has surrendered to that fate. Two groups emerge from the rubble of civilization, and the bitter spiritual battle that has simmered for millennia intensifies beyond belief. One group is bent on displacing God, while another seeks to reunite the fallen and disenfranchised. One blames God for all the earth's woes, and the other sees mankind's alienation from God as the root cause of the Age of Horrors. In the quiet between the battles, a third group emerges to investigate the Orbs. Mankind's fate depends upon an orphan and a woman known only as the Psalter. As they enter the realm of the Deepest Darkness, they uncover the truth about a power that evil dreads.
In Search of God: THE DEEPEST DARKNESS BOOK 1
By JOHN STAMOS PARRISHiUniverse, Inc.
Copyright © 2011 John Stamos Parrish
All right reserved.ISBN: 978-1-4620-5241-7Chapter One
Daniel Fielding strode purposefully along the weather-beaten pier, hands in pockets, deep in thought. His tall, strong frame swayed with every movement of the rickety dock. Though his eyes looked ahead, his heart was focused far behind. His countenance displayed a soul in agony.
At the end of the dock, silhouetted against a darkening, pale blue sky, sat an old man fishing. Next to him a sign read: BOATS FOR RENT.
"Excuse me," said Daniel. "I'd like to rent one of your boats—for a few hours."
The man didn't speak. He moved his rod up and down.
He shuffled his feet nervously. "I—uh ..."
The man looked at him. A deeply tanned, wrinkled face with hazel eyes studied him. "You thinkin of suicide, boy?"
"No! Why do you say that?"
"Cause it's suicide to go out there at this time of day—especially with those things up there." Lifting his fishing rod he waved it angrily at the sky.
He didn't look up. He didn't have to. For most of his life the orbs were there.
"It ain't my neck," continued the man. Then pointing the rod at him, "Got money? Don't take credit anymore."
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a gold coin. The man's eyes lit up. He snatched it from his hand and inspected it carefully.
"This'll do just fine," he said as he quickly put it into his pocket. He motioned with his head over his left shoulder. "You can use the blue boat."
He saw several boats attached to the dock, and spotted the blue one at the far end. It was about the size of a mid-sized car, sleek and built for speed, but it had seen better days.
"I'd rather have the—"
The man glared at him. "The blue one or no one. I've lost too many good boats since those things appeared!"
"All right," he said and made his way to the boat.
The boat, an injection molded plastic piece, had a blue tint color throughout, except for the clear plastic cabin that stood like an oversized windshield near the front. The cabin contained the steering wheel, gauges, a built-in keyboard, and stairs that led below to the engine.
He walked over the scarred floor to the cabin. Fully computerized, the boat was similar to the one his parents once owned. Nostalgia hit him for a moment, but he forced away the feeling. He was on a mission and the past, at least for the moment, was not part of it. After studying the controls for a few moments he knew he could enter in the destination coordinates and let the auto pilot take over, but he decided to pilot the boat himself.
"Be sure to set the Retriever. I want the boat back even if you don't come with it," said the old man.
He started to say something, but stopped, and set the Retriever. The old man grunted and dropped his line back into the water. He paused before starting the engine. His dark, inset eyes followed the flight of a sea gull until it disappeared into the distance. As he scanned the region, and noted the destruction to this once vibrant area, it was next to impossible for him to imagine he spent so many memorable times here with his parents ... Curse the orbs!
The engine sputtered as soon as he pushed the starter, but soon purred. Using the steering wheel, he guided the boat from the dock, maneuvering it through debris, and headed out into Florida's intercoastal waterway.
The dock faded from view. An unnatural, purplish sky bid farewell to the sun and set in motion a cool wind that gained in intensity causing the ocean to swell. As the boat's engine exerted itself, its purring turned to a high-pitched whine. He tightened his grip. No other boats were in sight.
"Engage autopilot," said the computer.
"I've got to handle this," he muttered. "Or I'll never be able to handle the rest of this trip."
The boat struggled forward. Stinging mist swirled around him, sending chills up and down his spine. He lifted his jacket collar. The wind howled, and then roared as the boat lurched from side to side.
No longer able to deal with the conditions he reached for the autopilot control just as a wave hit the boat broadside. He lost his grip on the wheel and staggered sideways. Swinging his arms like a bird learning to fly he righted himself, but just for an instant. The boat dipped back and with its bow pointing upward, he was tossed into the stern, and then into the raging waters.
The waves swarmed over him. A strong swimmer, desperately he struggled to stay afloat.
Above him the mysterious objects pulsated, pulsated.
The onboard computer detected he had fallen overboard, reduced the boat's speed, and plotted a course to retrieve him.
Meanwhile he struggled to breathe, taking in more water than air. His lungs ached. God, help me!
The computer navigated the boat to within ten feet of him. Its stabilizers worked furiously to keep it upright as it extended a built-in rescue bar. The bar dangled a few feet from him.
The sea pounded him, tried to pull him under. Barely afloat he focused his strength into his arms and legs. Painstakingly he made his way to the extended bar, reached out, and grabbed it with one hand. A piece of wood, like a giant hand, slapped him on the side of his head; he sank beneath the surface.
A strong, compelling voice, which emanated from the water itself, called out to him, "Stop struggling. It's time to be with your loved ones!"
Faces from his past flashed through his mind along with his father's words, "No matter what the odds, never quit. Stay focused on your goal and you'll attain it."
With a powerful thrust he exploded like a dolphin to the surface, reached out with both hands, and grabbed the bar. Responding to its sensors, the computer retracted the bar toward the side of the boat. He reached for the handrail attached to the side, but his hand slipped off. Exhausted to the point of fainting, he focused on what he was trying to do. When the sea lifted the boat up and away from him, he clutched the handrail again and this time used the boat's momentum to catapult him into it.
On his back, half-emersed in water, he gasped for air. The wind hovered over him like a vulture as the sea continued its relentless attack on the boat. With his eyes closed, hoarsely he cried out, "Thank you."
His mind detached itself from his pain-racked body. Like a video recorder in fast forward, memories flashed by. For a moment his mind paused on words his grandmother said to him just before she died, "All power is given unto Him in Heaven and on earth."
Chilled to the bone he crawled with difficulty to the control area, entered in his destination, pressed the autopilot key, and on his hands and knees made his way below. He returned a few minutes later wrapped in a tattered blanket. "That's life," he mumbled bitterly. "Death at any moment." But these words stirred something suppressed deep inside of him, giving rise to a feeling he could not identify.
It was dusk when Egmont Key came into view. Silhouetted against the sky stood the lighthouse just as he had remembered it. For an instant he felt life could return to what he had known, to the world before The Decade of Horror. But then he looked up. "No," he muttered. "Life will never be the same."
The surf was too high to land the boat. Twenty-five feet from shore he checked to make sure the Retriever was still set, and then jumped into the water. Wadding through the swirling water he...
