Twisted Times: Son of Man (Twisted Times Trilogy Book 1) Read online

  TWISTED TIMES

  Son of Man

  Novel

  VINCENT DE PAUL

  Mystery Books

  This novel is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, personalities, real locales, organizations and institutions are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places and incidents are product of the author’s imagination; and any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, institutions, or persons living or dead is entirely coincidental and not intended by the author.

  Copyright ©Vincent de Paul, 2015. The right by Vincent de Paul to be identified as the author has been asserted in accordance with the international copyright laws.

  All rights reserved.

  Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is strictly forbidden without written permission from the publisher or the author.

  ISBN-13: 978-1516829798

  ISBN-10: 1516829794

  Cover design by Patrick Boro

  Published by:

  Mystery Books, an Imprint of Mystery Publishers

  For

  Pauline Joseph

  Arrogance and self-awareness seldom walk hand in hand.

  Contents

  PROLOGUE

  Loss of Grace

  CHAPTER 1

  CHAPTER 2

  CHAPTER 3

  CHAPTER 4

  CHAPTER 5

  CHAPTER 6

  CHAPTER 7

  CHAPTER 8

  CHAPTER 9

  CHAPTER 10

  CHAPTER 11

  CHAPTER 12

  CHAPTER 13

  CHAPTER 14

  CHAPTER 15

  CHAPTER 16

  CHAPTER 17

  CHAPTER 18

  CHAPTER 19

  CHAPTER 20

  CHAPTER 21

  CHAPTER 22

  CHAPTER 23

  CHAPTER 24

  CHAPTER 25

  CHAPTER 26

  CHAPTER 27

  CHAPTER 28

  CHAPTER 29

  CHAPTER 30

  CHAPTER 31

  CHAPTER 32

  CHAPTER 33

  CHAPTER 34

  CHAPTER 35

  CHAPTER 36

  CHAPTER 37

  CHAPTER 38

  CHAPTER 39

  CHAPTER 40

  CHAPTER 41

  CHAPTER 42

  CHAPTER 43

  CHAPTER 44

  CHAPTER 45

  CHAPTER 46

  CHAPTER 47

  CHAPTER 48

  CHAPTER 49

  CHAPTER 50

  CHAPTER 51

  Grace Re-won

  CHAPTER 52

  CHAPTER 53

  CHAPTER 54

  CHAPTER 55

  CHAPTER 56

  CHAPTER 57

  CHAPTER 58

  CHAPTER 59

  CHAPTER 60

  CHAPTER 61

  CHAPTER 62

  CHAPTER 63

  CHAPTER 64

  CHAPTER 65

  Listen To Your Heart...

  CHAPTER 66

  CHAPTER 67

  CHAPTER 68

  CHAPTER 69

  CHAPTER 70

  CHAPTER 71

  CHAPTER 72

  CHAPTER 73

  CHAPTER 74

  CHAPTER 75

  CHAPTER 76

  CHAPTER 77

  CHAPTER 78

  CHAPTER 79

  CHAPTER 80

  CHAPTER 81

  CHAPTER 82

  CHAPTER 83

  CHAPTER 84

  CHPATER 85

  CHAPTER 86

  CHAPTER 87

  CHAPTER 88

  CHAPTER 89

  CHAPTER 90

  CHAPTER 91

  CHAPTER 92

  CHAPTER 93

  CHAPTER 94

  CHAPTER 95

  CHAPTER 96

  CHAPTER 97

  CHAPTER 98

  CHAPTER 99

  CHAPTER 100

  CHAPTER 101

  CHAPTER 102

  Born Again

  CHAPTER 103

  CHAPTER 104

  CHAPTER 105

  CHAPTER 106

  CHAPTER 107

  CHAPTER 108

  CHAPTER 109

  CHAPTER 110

  CHAPTER 111

  CHAPTER 112

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgements

  About the Author

  Books also Vincent de Paul

  Acclaim for Vincent de Paul’s books

  Connect with the Author

  PROLOGUE

  Past:

  The hospital was a cacophony of doctors issuing orders, nurses stomping around frantically responding to the doctors’ orders and the wails of other patients, women.

  Searing and excruciating pain shot through Shannon. She had never felt like this before. She fought back tears and tried hard not to scream. She wanted to hit everybody near her.

  Never again will I do this again…

  “Push!” It was the command of a matronly-looking woman, a nurse, or whatever they called them. Had she to be so rude? Couldn’t she see she was hurting, that she could not do anything anymore, and that she was still a kid? Shannon’s memory was a haze of pain and incoherent commands.

  “Push harder!”

  Shannon tried. Death was knocking somewhere. She was sure she had heard death’s knell.

  A haze of pain and inaudible orders engulfed her, and the last thing she remembered was the frail cry of a child and her saying something she did not hear herself say before everything around her went black.

  “Where am I?” she asked rather ineptly when she came to. What are these… then the events started unfolding. She was not in her room, not on her bed. She was somewhere else. The place was acrid and caustic. The smell was familiar. I am in a hospital… what happened to me?

  Loss of Grace

  CHAPTER 1

  18 years later;

  “Come in,” I said noncommittally.

  Mother entered the room cautiously and… “Well, how did it go?” she asked me in an attempt to sound light-hearted. I could tell that she had a lot to tell me, but I was not about to listen to her. Not this time round.

  She understood me. She knew I was as stubborn as though I was descended from Pharaoh. I knew she always prayed I would change, for better, but it never happened.

  “He told me his plans for the umpteenth time,” I said heavily. “It made no difference to me,” I paused as if for effect. “He is still as rigid as ever – he’ll never change. Nevertheless, I will show him I have a mind of my own! I swear I will,” I finished savagely.

  “Yes, but…”

  “No buts, Mom. Sometimes I wish I was never near this hell of a home you found for us.”

  I saw her flinch, and I knew I had said the wrong thing. I had to be careful. Mother was always composed. She never allowed emotions to get the better of her.

  “We all understand but…”

  “Mom, why don’t you say you understand?” I interjected. “Time and again Dad has interfered with my plans and you say ‘we’, but this time round he’s mistaken.”

  “You should be careful son, he’s your father.”

  That stung me. I wanted to yell at her that he was not my father but something held me back.

  What empty words you are telling me? You well know that he’s not my father.

&nbs
p; “Mother, enough of this. I just want to be left alone. If he’ll disown me for getting my way, then let it be. I will not bend to his side this time round,” I spoke with such finality that I saw Mom startled.

  “Your father cares for your happiness more than you think. He wants you happy.”

  Her hand was on the door knob and its movement was nervous.

  “He is calling you now!” she told me. Her voice was almost frightening as she said in a hoarse whisper, “He wants to talk to you.”

  She turned to go, but then halted for some time. As though she was robotic she turned to me and said, “A father’s curse is crippling, be careful.” And with that, she turned to go.

  I did not even want to see him.

  But long after she was gone did something tell me to follow her.

  CHAPTER 2

  “Come on in, Ken. What a man you’ve become! We were just talking about you.” It was my uncle, Job, who said this when I appeared at the entrance of the main house. I had known that he was around when I saw his Land Cruiser Prado outside.

  I went to him and shook his hand cautiously.

  “Have a seat, Ken.”

  I took the seat next to dad. I felt like I was going to suffocate, and I silently prayed they chitchat for the whole day and say nothing to me. Uncle Job did not waste time, though.

  “Ken,” he began. I sat myself up pretentiously but remained unruffled. I was thinking of how I was going to face them.

  “Sir!” I answered courteously, feigning obedience and respect.

  “I am about to give you something that you will never forget. I would like you to have all the best in this life. You either take it or not.” He paused to take a sip of his tea before continuing. “I have talked this over with your father, and what I am getting is nasty bullshit that you want to go to the university. Why are you so naïve? Never ever turn down a lucrative offer. You never know which one might be your dream and you let go.”

  “In fact, if I had a chance like this at your age I would be a billionaire today. Do not break your uncle’s heart by…” it was my father.

  I was not ready for their small talk, and just for whatever God knows sake, I waited for them to finish whatever they were saying to me. Theirs were just empty words because my mind was already made up.

  When Uncle Job was done, I was almost convinced: monies in abundance, trips to any country in the world, connections with people who mattered, and the path to all the luxury in the world besides being a kind of puppet master joining the club of those who think they make the world go round. Very tempting.

  All I knew was that all well-to-do businessmen we see around were not real, they were not the make believes they seemed to be. They were dirty and they left dirty trails behind them through kickbacks, organized crime, corruption, and cults behind their success.

  Despite the temptation to accept Uncle Job’s offer I felt that I needed to stand my ground. Just say it, the rogue inner me prodded.

  “I don’t want your offer,” I said rather virulently. “I am not going to work for you.” I was about to say that I already knew where he had gotten his wealth from after his wife robbed him of everything and fled to another country with her lover, whom she had been cheating on him with, but something held my tongue. “I want to study first…”

  Uncle Job and Dad exchanged looks and well… they were stunned. Whatever they were thinking I couldn’t know, but I guessed they thought I was more stupid than they thought.

  “I will go to university. I am sorry to say that I am not interested and not ready to take a job now…”

  “Ken!”

  I had to leave there and then because I could see what was coming next. I rose from my seat and walked past them and went to the outhouse. I overheard my father saying, “Just leave it to me, he will come around…”

  I wanted to storm back to the house and tell them to their face that I was not going to think otherwise, but I decided otherwise.

  I went to my room and lay supine on the bed. I had nowhere else to run to. The minute Uncle Job left, Father stormed into the room.

  CHAPTER 3

  “Ken, did you have to be rude to your uncle? How mouldy of you? What kind of a person are you? Don’t you even have a little respect for visitors even if you’ve none for me?”

  I was mute, listening.

  “Listen to me, and listen good. There is no way under any circumstance you are going to conduct yourself like that in this house. Now, tomorrow you must go and apologize to your uncle and…”

  I did not even stir.

  “Are you even listening to me?” I was really getting into his nerves. “You are going to take the job, come rain, come sunshine. My mind is made up.”

  I sprang up out of bed with speed that startled him. I stared at him with a despicable sneer, my heart throbbing. I was burning with such loathing that I was about to melt.

  Thoughts clogged my mind like threads in a thick drapery, feeling like a hare ready to challenge the lion to a duel.

  “My mind is also made up...” I said.

  The biff across my face got me by surprise. I think I tasted some salty liquid somewhere. I lost my balance but tried not to fall. Stars twinkled in the darkness of my blurring vision. When the fuzziness cleared my nose was bleeding dripping small pockmarks on the floor. I closed my eyes, clenched my fists and before I could do anything that I would regret later I stormed out and left home in rage with no Final Destination in mind.

  There was nothing in my past life that I could thank Dad for. In my past life. That’s what I thought as I rambled to nowhere in particular. Time and again he had interfered with my plans. Only a year-and-a-half before he had objected to my idea of studying criminology and instead ended up sending me to a slum college in Thika to study Certified Public Accounts.

  “What? You want to be a criminal?” he had asked me sarcastically, and my efforts to convince him were futile. All my pleas landed on deaf ears and I knew better than to push any further. There was nothing I could do. I ended up with a diploma in CPA and Computer Operations. Despite all what he had done for me up to now, I could not heartily thank him. I hated him with passion for the mere fact that he kept getting his way.

  It was time I did it my way.

  CHAPTER 4

  “So what?” a familiar voice said in the distance. “University! University! What does he know of University? Nonsense. ‘I am going to the University, I am going to the University’. Let me come. You will know that this home is mine, and nobody should question what I say. Aeeh! So, a little thing like you can tell me, ‘My mind is also made up.’ We shall see.”

  He was back. It was his custom to drink himself to a stupor once he felt he was losing grip on something, or somebody. The alcohol gave him the guts to tell the whole world that he had, ahem, balls.

  “Njeri! Njeri! I have come.”

  No response came from Mother. I know she just frowned and pulled the blanket over her head and continued to sleep or pretended to be.

  “This is my home. I call the shots here… Aeeeh! So somebody has the balls to tell me, ‘my mind is made up?’ I will show you that no one should question my stand on certain issues.”

  I checked my bedside clock. It was 11:30 p.m. At certain times I felt I should beat the helpless hell out of him and teach him a lesson or two about disgracing us and howling our family affairs across the ‘hood. But I did not do anything. No one would forgive a son for beating his father, leave alone a drunk one.

  “Njeri! Njeri!... I’m back. Do you think I’m drunk? No. You are wrong. I only tasted. Open the door for me.”

  Dad was not that well-off. His primary school teacher’s salary was enough to keep us going. Mom supplemented from the shamba. His only foible was his stubbornness and drinking.

  I knew why he had taken me to the slum college pronto the KCSE results were out – he wanted me to take the course so as to be employed by his brother. Didn’t he have the money to take me to the university? I never
knew. I had other plans though. I wanted to study criminology as I waited for the university calling letter.

  After the altercation earlier on in the day, I had gone to my friend’s house, just to talk to somebody. By the time I was getting back home I knew that I still needed my father.

  As his drunken rants pierced the night and disturbed the neighbourhood, I decided to block everything, and everybody, out.

  Block out the world.

  Block out the worries.

  Listen to myself.

  Don’t even think about him, I told myself.

  The whole world was now me, myself and I.

  CHAPTER 5

  Job, a little dappled man with sandpaper hair and eyes like the slits of a cat, sat behind a Dell desktop computer watching the bustle of activity in the supermarket. He liked watching. That was how his life had been for the past few years.

  He was at a raised podium-like place inside the supermarket. He was pleased with the sea of humanity moving around inside the building. With every minute of the hour he licked his lips as though he was moistening them. His thirst was been quenched by the unprecedented masses, mostly the bourgeoisies, who frequented his high-end supermarket.

  Job was distracted for a moment by a bevy of beauties dressed in taut hipster pants and revealing tops entering the supermarket via the exit door. Why people didn’t follow simple instructions was a mystery to him. Seeing the young women reminded him of the one person he did not like thinking about.

  His mind drifted off to that fateful day when the whole hell broke loose and plummeted down on him like a meteorite. He had thought he had lost everything and life was worthless, but his friend’s voice reminded him that there was still a long way to go. Where there’s muck there’s brass. That was what his friend in the Customs told him.

  Within few months he was up again, but this time round Job vowed that Graces of this world will never come near him. Women with names synonymous to the qualities attributed to God were devil incarnates. Mercy, Faith, Grace, and all. He swore to kill Grace himself with bare hands, but it was as though Grace had gone off the face of the earth. But this did not mean that he did not salivate for her blood – she had to pay, someday, someway. And if she would have transited over to the next world he will torment her soul forever.