Strange in Skin

Strange in Skin
by
Sara V. Zook
PUBLISHED BY:

 

Imagine Press

 

ISBN: 978-1-927404-15-7

 

Strange in Skin

 

Copyright © 2012 by Sara V. Zook

 

This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are
either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
I dedicate this book to my children, Coen, Avery and Lucas, who inspire me daily to keep reaching
and keep growing as a person.
Prologue
Wes. Where was Wes?

Emry’s eyes struggled to focus as he came to. His muscles ached from leaning against the cold steel
of the tower with his feet propped up. He got to his feet . The sudden noise of his boot knocking over
an empty beer can startled him. He ran his fingers through his hair and took a deep breath. He realized
it had happened again.

He licked his dry lips and stared up at the darkening sky. Why did it keep happening? Why couldn’t
he control it? He let the questions linger in his thoughts momentarily and then pushed them aside. He
wouldn’t allow himself to dwell on it anymore. He had to face it, the answers would never come.

He was on the top of the tower, the sound of crickets humming from below. He had come here to
relax and talk with his friend, Wes. But Wes was gone.
He hurried around the winding stairwell running down the side of the tower, his hand tight on the
railing for support. Had Wes gone home and left him here? Surely not.
He slowed halfway down the ladder and looked to the ground below. Nothing but empty cans. He
smashed one of the cans near his boot in frustration, then kicked it over the side. He peered over the
railing to watch it fall, but his eyes strayed to a different spot on the ground. A sudden burning
crawled up from his stomach and into his throat. There was something near the ladder. His mind
struggled to catch up to the racing thoughts. It couldn’t possibly be, could it?

Emry gripped the ladder tighter. His boots clanked with every hurried motion against the metal as
he made his way to the bottom.

 

He realized he had been holding his breath and took a moment to gasp in air. He looked toward the
ground again. He was three quarters of the way down. His stomach tightened at what he saw.

He knew what it was. Wes, his best friend, lying in a twisted position on the ground, his lifeless
eyes staring up at Emry. Shards of bones poked through his broken body as dirt and blood speckled
his white t-shirt.

Emry couldn’t take his eyes off his friend. He bent down to touch his arm, then decided against it as
he slowly backed away. Wes had fallen from the tower somehow.
What had happened? Why couldn’t he remember?

Panic settled in. He felt as if his lungs were collapsing. His stomach churned and he covered his
eyes with his arm, unable to bear looking at his friend any longer. This was real. This was really
happening.

Unable to contain them, tears streamed down his cheeks as he turned around, his eyes searching for
the path that led out of the woods. Finding it, he ran as fast as he could as the adrenaline pulsated
through his body, the darkness of the night right on his heels.

Chapter 1
I shuddered as I gripped onto the diminishing mound of pamphlets in my hand. My footsteps echoed
off the hard prison floor. I looked at Buck Brady beside me.

 

“Creeped out yet?” Buck asked.

“Yeah, actually.” I had felt like a prostitute the entire time I had been here. The prisoners hadn’t
taken me seriously. They didn’t care about their souls, they just wanted to make nasty comments to me
inviting me into their cells.

“Looks like you’ve caused quite the commotion. These guys are going to be fired up all day now.
Look what you’ve done,” he teased.

 

“I guess they don’t act like this to my father.”

 

A shallow chuckle croaked from Buck’s throat. “Not exactly. Wonder why Pastor James sent you
down here today. Not really a place I would want to send my daughter to.”

 

I hadn’t a clue. “Mrs. Anderson needed him this morning.”

“Mrs. Anderson.” He repeated the name as if he was going to back it up with more words, but
instead, hesitated. “Strange,” he blurted out.
I narrowed my eyes at him as we came to an abrupt stop at a bunch of unoccupied cells. “So, these
ones are empty? Is that it?” I pulled back the sleeve of my sweater to get a look at my watch. It
dangled loosely on my scrawny wrist. “It’s almost noon already.”

“There’s one more inmate in the very last one. I think it would be okay to skip him, honestly.”
“Why should I skip him?” I eyed Buck warily.
“It’s just Emry Logan down there, but you’ve wasted half your day on this crap.”
“Crap? You think my father’s ministry is crap?”
He instantly looked remorseful. “That’s not what I meant.”
I didn’t know exactly why I was becoming so defensive of my father’s ministry to the inmates. I felt

that this was a total and complete waste of time. These men had no interest in repentance or knowing
Jesus or the Bible. These men seemed hopeless, and I wanted to run out of here and never make the
mistake of stepping foot in this hellhole again. I had thrown each and every paper at the feet of the
prisoners so they wouldn’t touch me. I was afraid of getting too close to them, afraid they’d grab a
hold of me and never let go, or even worse, that some of their corruptness would rub off on me and
seep into my skin, ruining me. I felt way too pure to be in their midst, maybe even too good. I was
about to change my mind and turn around and leave when Buck began moving down the corridor
again.

“All right. Follow me.”

A feeling of emptiness washed over me as we came to the end of the hallway. Buck stepped in front
of the cell first, lifting his arm to show me the last inmate. I hesitated and then bit my lip and took a
step forward, waiting to hear the man say something rude and totally inappropriate, but to my
surprise, the man didn’t even look up.

My eyes strained as it seemed the light was very poor at this end, and I realized that part of the
fluorescent light bulb was out, making the yellow glow even more intolerable here. The prisoner had
his back turned to us as he was seated in a small wooden chair. His head was down, and his
shoulders slumped over. I looked to Buck to question what he was doing. He just seemed to be sitting
there, thinking.

Buck shrugged, giving me no answer.

What was I supposed to do here? Should I just toss the brochure on the floor like I did with the
others?
“Um, sir?” I whispered, sounding out of breath, my heart thumping wildly in my chest.

There was no response. He sat completely motionless.
“Logan, turn around here!” he snapped.

Slowly the man composed himself and turned around. I gasped at his face. He was so young, barely
in his twenties. His face was clean shaven and his rusty brown hair combed back by his fingers. He
stood, but his eyes were still looking down at the floor. He was tall, lean, and built, his muscles
exposed underneath the too-small orange jumpsuit he wore.

“Um, hello,” I said. “This is just a pamphlet for you to look over if you want.”

He finally looked up at me, his blue eyes piercing and beautiful as if they sparkled in the gloomy,
dark corridor, unaffected by the yellow fluorescent. I found myself staring at his eyes, unable to look
away. They were gleaming because they were wet, wet with tiny pools of tears but not enough to
make them spill from beneath his eyelids.

“It just basically tells you what we’re about, and how we can minister to your spiritual needs.” I
realized this was the most I had spoken to an inmate the entire time I was here, and he wasn’t
speaking back. He looked utterly sad, and I knew then that he had been crying while sitting there
slumped over. My mind raced with why this man was here. What could he have possibly done to
deserve to be locked up in this dungeon? It was as if they had secluded him to this section of the
prison, away from everyone else. Without hesitation, I put my hand in through the bars, holding out the
brochure toward him.

He stepped closer to me.
Buck changed his stance as if on guard, ready to intervene if necessary.

I gave Buck an uneasy look, and then my head turned slowly back toward the inmate he had called
Logan. He stared back at me with those sad, beautiful eyes, as I realized there were tiny freckles
darting over the bridge of his tanned nose and his cheeks. A strand of hair fell in his eye as he looked
down at the floor and then back up to meet my gaze. He gently took the piece of paper out of my hand.
I pulled my arm away.

“Thank you,” he whispered. His eyes were glued to mine. He didn’t seem to realize that Buck was
there beside me.

 

I nodded and crossed my arms together in front of my chest feeling a chill in the air around me. I
looked down at the ground and then towards Buck, my stomach in knots.

“Ready?” Buck asked.
“Yeah,” I mumbled and turned to leave.
“Excuse me, Miss?”
I felt the muscles in my stomach tighten at the sound of the inmate’s voice. I spun back around.

“She’s all done here, Logan. Go back to what you were doing.” Buck’s voice had an edge of real
anger to it this time.

I ignored Buck and took a few steps backwards to where I had just stood and peered in at him.
“Are you related to Pastor John James?”

“Anna,” Buck huffed impatiently, and I realized his concern at once about giving this prisoner too
much information about myself.
“Anna, is it?” The prisoner raised his eyebrows slightly.

I heard Buck make another huffing noise, annoyed that he had let my name slip out so easily. “That’s
none of your business, now is it, scumbag?” Buck pressed his chest against the bars, trying to be as
intimidating as possible. His eyes looked fierce. The young man stood a few feet away from the door
of the cell, his face completely expressionless.

I found myself standing directly beside Buck, dangerously close to the bars, and staring into those
glorious blue eyes. “I’m his daughter,” I suddenly blurted out.

 

“What are you doing?” Buck grabbed my arm and whipped me around as I found myself being
dragged down the corridor.

Why did you just say that?
My heart began to pound as I realized that this man had been in here for
a reason. He had done something terrible to be locked behind bars in a prison. He was dangerous.
Here I was blurting out silly things. Buck must think I’m a complete idiot.

We got out to the front lobby. Buck grabbed my coat and turned to look at me, still furious.
“He’s locked up, Buck. It’s not like he can hunt me down or anything.” I tried to make it seem
ridiculous, the way he was acting just now, although I knew he was right.

 

He held up the coat for me. I put my arms in the sleeves that had been dampened by the rain. “You
have no idea what he’s capable of,” Buck said.

 

I pulled the coat around me as my fingers clumsily attempted to clasp all the buttons together. “I’m
really sorry.”

“Anna, look, it’s no big deal, okay? You aren’t in any danger. You don’t have to worry about it.”
Buck bit his bottom lip as if he was pausing to think, and then his eyes softened again as he saw how
upset I was getting.

“Please don’t tell my father,” I begged, thinking of how upset this would make him if he knew.

He sighed. “It’s not really a big deal, like I said,” he repeated. “You were just being nice. You’re
always nice.” He forced a smile. “I won’t tell your dad,” he added, putting his arm around my
shoulders and guiding me toward the door. “Look, the rain stopped.”

I turned toward my pale yellow car parked right outside.
“It was nice seeing you today.”
I nodded and took off out the door. I practically dove into the driver’s side of my car.

I carefully put the white porcelain plates down on the huge oak table that fit perfectly into our little
dining room. My mother bounced around like a ballerina carrying in a pitcher full of iced tea and
bowl after bowl of food for supper. The table was soon filled with piping hot mashed potatoes and
vegetables, the steam rising and disappearing beneath the beautiful antique chandelier that brightly lit
the square room.