An unimaginable crime.
An unexpected hero.
An unbelievable reward.
Simon lived a comfortable life: a steady job; a wife that shared his interests; an active social life. Yet he knew deep down that something had gone awry; that perhaps the contentment he felt with his life was an illusion. That gnawing discomfort falls to the wayside, however, when his world is shattered after he crosses paths with a monster hell bent on committing a heinous crime; and his act of heroism attracts the attention of a divine presence who grants him literally unfathomable powers in recognition of his sacrifice.
This sets Simon on an epic adventure of discovery as he tries to evade those furious at his heroic intervention, and shadowy government figures intent on discovering the 'secret' behind his new-found abilities. His quest will lead him to parts of the world he never knew existed as he experiences passion, joy, betrayal and heartache unlike anything he could have imagined. In the end, he will grapple with the question of if his 'gift' was in fact a curse, and if a man with his abilities can ever truly deserve happiness.
Freewill is the tale of a simple man given abilities which make him a god among men, and his journey to find the one thing his powers cannot grant... but which all men desire.
Author's note:
This novel is a work of contemporary fantasy adventure. I've split it into five sections for publication here.
For fans of the Dean, this novel began as a thought experiment along the lines of, 'what if Stranger was about a regular guy being granted that powerset, instead of a man born on another planet and raised by aliens (not to mention swapping out a frankly unforgiveable amount of bigotry found in that seminal work with a whole heap of on-page sensuality and a sprinkling of ideas inspired by other works of popular fantasy)?' and grew from there.
Make no mistake, this novel delves into some weighty subject matter. Trigger warnings for significant on-page violence (including a mass shooting and multiple hate crimes), depression and suicidal ideation.
All sensuality (on page or otherwise) takes place between characters who are eighteen or older.
Twenty-Six (cont.)
Seven hours, and one extremely tearful goodbye, later found Simon alone on a private plane over international waters. Much to Simon's displeasure, the police had insisted on lengthy interviews following their return to the resort. This was despite the fact that the police did not even have an inkling of a theory which suggested that either Simon, or Rory and Edgar, had any hand in the foul play which had taken place. No fewer than twenty diners had seen the abduction, and the hotel's security camera clearly linked the van in the sea to the one they had been abducted in. In the end, Simon's decision to not disappear the body of the third assailant had been their saving grace. It had been found several meters from the van, which lent credence to the theory that the other two bodies had been swept out to sea. The police captain's parting admonition that Simon keep himself available for further interviews had been met with a strained smile from Simon, followed by a call to Paige and Max instructing them to get him the hell out of Montenegro.
The scene at the airport had been unexpectedly sorrowful. Max fully intended to accompany Simon, but he could already see the bond forming between the two beauties and he knew the last thing they needed as they figured out their lives together was a third wheel. He firmly told Max he needed to travel the next leg of his journey alone. The look she had given him when she figured out what he was doing would stick with him forever. It was a look of endless sorrow for the loneliness she knew awaited her friend, combined with endearing gratitude for the sacrifice he was making on their behalf. She had not tried to hide her tears. Neither had Paige, or even Simon, for that matter. He left with the small consolation that even though they were parting, the two of them would always be among his closest and most trusted friends.
Paige had been furious over the unsuitability of the security she had arranged. She vowed that Simon would have someone more suited to his needs meet him when his flight landed. Simon hoped she believed his insistence that he did not blame her for the attack. She had, he pointed out, expressed misgivings about Edgar. Simon knew that he needed a better method for vetting the inevitable additional 'Edgars' which would find him wherever he went. He was simply too well known for anything else to be reasonable. Perhaps Ibrahim had been right, and the only safe solution was to find a compound somewhere and consign himself to loneliness. But Simon refused to accept that future. He knew he would rather meet a violent end than live out the rest of his days alone.
Furthermore, he was not opposed to the idea of sharing the knowledge he had gained. In the short time since their flight from California, Simon had been able to teach Paige a handful of words in the First Language. He had focused on words which conveyed calm and reassurance. The words she learned afforded her the same benefits Simon himself had gained, at least for those few phrases. He knew this portended the possibility that he could actually teach someone to think in the First Language. But it must be the right person, and for the right reason. As to how to determine if a specific person was
the
right person, or even
a
right person, he had no clue. This quandary was still plaguing him when he landed in Dubai several hours later.
***
After completing his business with customs, Simon exited the plane onto the tarmac that was still superheated several hours after sundown. He made his way to an elongated, six-wheeled, black SUV and peered through the front window. A diminutive man of Asian descent looked back at him with a bored expression. After a few moments of inaction, the man sighed visibly and exited the vehicle. This caused Simon to downgrade his estimate of the man's size even further. He was roughly one-hundred-sixty centimeters tall and very slight of stature. He was wearing a rumpled black suit with a loosened tie and a torn, faded baseball cap carrying the logo of a team from Seattle.
"You Mr. York?" the man asked in heavily accented English.
"I am," Simon replied. "Who might you be?"
"I driver. Get in."
"Not so fast. I need to see some credentials. Who arranged for you to pick me up?"
The man just stared blankly at Simon, clearly having exceeded the boundaries of his limited vocabulary.
Simon frowned, more to himself than at the hapless soul before him. Before he could think of a way to resolve the impasse, he felt his phone buzz in his pocket. He removed it to see a text from Paige.
'I think I found a guy who might work for you. He comes very highly recommended from people I trust. Apparently, he's instant death with everything from a spoon to a sniper rifle. I'm also told he's very unassuming to look at, so no one will suspect he's security. I arranged for him to meet you at the airport. His name is Jo. Only possible downside is that I'm told his English isn't so great. Maybe you'll have to teach him the First Language :)'
Simon smiled at Paige's message. He was touched by the effort she was making on his behalf. He started to reply when the last sentence of her message truly sank in with him.
"Clever girl," he muttered.
This caused the driver to once again shake his head at Simon in confusion.
Simon smiled and, using the First Language, said,
"What is your birth language?"
The man appeared momentarily confused, but Simon felt none of the discomfort he typically felt upon using compulsion.
The man's expression cleared up and he said, "Tagalog."
Simon silently repeated, 'Speak Tagalog' to himself a few times before speaking aloud. "Let's try this again. Can you understand me now?"
