{"id":230,"date":"2008-07-18T07:26:35","date_gmt":"2008-07-18T12:26:35","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.daysongreflections.com\/\/?p=230"},"modified":"2008-07-18T07:26:35","modified_gmt":"2008-07-18T12:26:35","slug":"flashpoint-book-one-of-the-underground-by-frank-creed","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.daysongreflections.com\/?p=230","title":{"rendered":"Flashpoint: Book One of the Underground by Frank Creed"},"content":{"rendered":"

<\/a>\"\"<\/a><\/p>\n

It is time to play a Wild Card<\/span>!<\/strong> <\/span>Every now and then, a book that I have chosen to read is going to pop up as a FIRST Wild Card Tour<\/a>. Get dealt into the game! (Just click the button!) Wild Card Tours feature an author and his\/her book’s FIRST chapter!<\/p>\n

You never know when I might play a wild card on you!<\/em>
\n<\/span><\/p>\n

Today’s Wild Card author is: <\/strong><\/div>\n

\n

\n

Frank Creed<\/a><\/span><\/strong><\/h2>\n<\/div>\n

\n

and his book:<\/h4>\n

<\/span><\/strong><\/p>\n

\n

Flashpoint: Book One of the Underground<\/a><\/span><\/strong><\/h3>\n

The Writers Cafe Press (September 30, 2007)<\/p>\n

ABOUT THE AUTHOR:<\/h3>\n

\"\"<\/a>A rabid speculative fiction fan and aspiring author since boyhood, Frank Creed\u2019s sojourn and the lack of Biblical speculative fiction in Christian bookstores has left a chip on his shoulder. Frank founded the Lost Genre Guild in September of \u201906 as a community for fans and writers alike. After years of learning the craft and helping others polish their fiction, he now serves as a critic for The Finishers<\/a>, a manuscript evaluation service for clients of both fiction and nonfiction.<\/p>\n

Frank\u2019s first sci-fi short story, \u201cThe Last Newspaper,\u201d took first place at the U.W. Whitewater Literary Conference in 1983. His first novel, Flashpoint: Book One of the Underground won the \u201906 Elfie for best sci-fi novel at Elfwood<\/a>, was chosen for the CFRB \u201907 IMPRESS award for best book toured, and has been nominated for several awards this year. Frank\u2019s short stories have been published in secular and Christian spec-fic anthologies.<\/p>\n

Frank\u2019s online ministry began two decades ago with the Body of Christ and debating Satanists in an effort to save his sister. It has since grown to include writing Christian fiction. After sustaining life-threatening injuries in a 1999 head-on collision, Frank may have been left disabled, but his writing suddenly took on a new clarity. Novelist Mary Lu Tyndall says: “Frank Creed is one of my favorite people. He has a heart for God and is, in my opinion, one of a new generation of spiritual warriors.”<\/p>\n

Visit him at his website<\/a>.<\/p>\n

AND NOW…THE FIRST CHAPTER: <\/strong><\/span><\/h2>\n

<\/span>
\n\"\"<\/a> Flashpoint [Function: noun] 1: the lowest temperature at which vapors above a volatile combustible substance ignite in air when exposed to flame 2: a point at which someone or something bursts suddenly into action or being 3: TINDERBOX: a potentially explosive place or situation
\n\u2014merriamwebster.com
\n<\/span>
\nCHAPTER ONE
\n<\/strong>
\nTHIS IS IT, WE\u2019RE HERE. Climb the slope on the right shoulder. Hide in the beams as best as you can. Whatever you do, stay under the bridge. If you come out, the cameras will spot you and all this will be pointless.\u201d<\/p>\n

The highway overpass loomed ahead. My father continued, \u201cThe car can\u2019t be hidden under the bridge too long or they\u2019ll figure out where you went. You\u2019re gonna have to jump out while we\u2019re moving.\u201d<\/p>\n

It was time.<\/p>\n

\u201cSometime, someplace, I know we\u2019ll see each other again. Use your freedom well. Now!\u201d<\/p>\n

That single word launched me out the door. As it swung shut behind me, Dad screamed at Jen, \u201cGo!\u201d I stumbled into a run watching her bailout. The Geo Aphid sped off.<\/p>\n

* * *<\/p>\n

Jen had sprawled on the street. I helped my kid-sister to her feet. She\u2019d hurt herself, but the bleeding amounted to pink smears on the palms of her hands.<\/p>\n

\u201cC\u2019mon, let\u2019s hide.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cDave!\u201d She whimpered my name, but followed.<\/p>\n

We clambered over the rough, fist-sized stones that covered the slope. At the top, the slope met the girders that supported the road above us. I pulled off my t-shirt and cleared the I-beams of spider webs and bird droppings. We slumped on opposite girders, facing each other.<\/p>\n

Jen\u2019s wide eyes glinted shell-shocked madness. \u201cWe\u2019ll save them! Whoever comes for us, if they\u2019ll help us, we could get them out!\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWe don\u2019t even know where they\u2019ll be taken,\u201d I grumbled.<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019ll hack that off the Web!\u201d She reached for anything to pull herself from calamity\u2019s quicksand.<\/p>\n

I was in no mood to do this. \u201cYou don\u2019t have a com-vision, Sis.\u201d<\/p>\n

Tears welled-up in her eyes again. I didn\u2019t want to start an argument, and I definitely didn\u2019t want to shatter the kid\u2019s hopes. \u201cI want our family back too, Sis, but Rehabs are usually guarded.\u201d<\/p>\n

We\u2019d do well just to avoid the peacekeepers who had to be looking for us. Who could Dad trust to help us? How would they get us out from under the bridge without anyone seeing? Where could they hide us from searching peacekeeping units? How would we even get food? The hum of a motor grew near and we both shrank back against cold steel. A car passed beneath.<\/p>\n

I tried to turn the conversation to something else. \u201cI hope Mom and Jeff are okay.\u201d<\/p>\n

Jen buried her face in her hands, her shoulders rocking with sobs.<\/p>\n

Real smooth. Nice going, fool. \u201cI\u2019m sorry Sis. Like Dad said, we gotta have faith\u2014\u201d I kicked myself.<\/p>\n

When her tears ran out, Jen scowled and whispered, \u201cIf we\u2019re His children, why\u2019s He doing this to us?\u201d<\/p>\n

I left her in silence. Like I could answer that. How could He even allow a world where belief in the Bible made one a terrorist? Ripping apart our family would teach, what? What kind of lesson was this? I finally thought about how parents treat children. \u201cI think it\u2019s like when we\u2019re kids. Mom or Dad punished us, and made us try things we didn\u2019t want to. Having fun or being happy all the time isn\u2019t the most important thing. I guess God\u2019s like that, too. Dad said we\u2019re being taught something, remember?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYeah. How to miss your mom, and worry if you\u2019ll ever see her again,\u201d she pouted.<\/p>\n

Little sisters out there, I speak for big brothers everywhere when I ask, please don\u2019t stick us with hard questions that you\u2019ve already answered. Very annoying.<\/p>\n

I dug my pack of Winterfresh Extra out of my jeans\u2019 pocket and let the conversation die. We moped into a sullen silence, our hopes shredded by our thoughts.<\/p>\n

Spattering raindrops came and went. So did tears. Minutes piled into hours. Tracking time became impossible. That made me think of my e-wallet with the broken watch function. I powered it up and clicked past the com-vision white and yellow homepages. I selected the picture frame feature. Jen and I passed it back and forth, watching our party vids. Jen\u2019s driver\u2019s license and Jeff\u2019s twenty-first birthday last month. My highschool graduation party two years ago. Jeff and I moving into our first apartment . . . Bad idea. I pocketed the e-wallet. Our thoughts spiraled into deep gloom, leaving Jen to weep her way out, and again we sat in silence.<\/p>\n

My gum had lost its Extra-long-time flavor for what must have been hours before I realized the building I\u2019d been staring at was a church. The bridge cut off its steepled roof. The One State allowed only one kind of church. Dad told me about people who called themselves Christians, but believed the Bible to be myth, and equal to the Koran, Upanishads and Bhagavad-Gita. With no truth to argue over, 500 years of church splits healed overnight. They called themselves the One Church. No points for creativity, but I guess it represented their unity.<\/p>\n

Dad said when he\u2019d once asked a One Churcher how he knew that love was any better than hate. The man had said the answer\u2019s in our heart. Dad then asked what was wrong with the hearts of criminals. There, next to the bridge, out in the open, people were being taught to find love in a broken heart. Here, forced to hide under the bridge, were children of the Heart Surgeon.<\/p>\n

If I leaned down I could see a sliver of eastern sky. I began watching for dawn\u2019s brush to paint the clouds. Pigeons roosting under the bridge started their morning cooing. Cool dampness raised goose bumps on the backs of my arms. Finally, my shivering grew worse than my t-shirt\u2019s filth. I shook it out and put it back on.<\/p>\n

Then the end came.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

It is time to play a Wild Card! Every now and then, a book that I have chosen to read is going to pop up as a FIRST Wild Card Tour. Get dealt into the game! (Just click the button!) Wild Card Tours feature an author and his\/her book’s FIRST chapter! You never know when […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_et_pb_use_builder":"","_et_pb_old_content":"","_et_gb_content_width":"","footnotes":""},"categories":[8],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-230","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-books"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.daysongreflections.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/230","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.daysongreflections.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.daysongreflections.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.daysongreflections.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.daysongreflections.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=230"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/www.daysongreflections.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/230\/revisions"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.daysongreflections.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=230"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.daysongreflections.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=230"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.daysongreflections.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=230"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}