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Lonz Cook
Category:
Relationships
Publisher: Elevation Book Publishing, LLC
ISBN-10: 1943904103
Type: Fiction
Copyright: June 6, 2017
ISBN-13: 9781943904099
Price: $4.99 (eBook)
3rd Book in the Sisters and Romance Sequel after Good Guys Finish Last and When Love Evolves.
Rodney and Lorenz continue their struggle after - Good Guys Finish Last and When Love Evolves.
Simone and Sabrina Willingham pursue their quest with twisting daggers of affection.
Simone s vile act aids her objective of Rodney, while Sabrina attempts to rekindle with Lorenz; the man she once tormented. Rodney Witherspoon, the marketing genius, faces turmoil in business and relationship. He becomes illusional holding the midst of love. A secret can end his engagement and blackmail may crumble his upstanding firm. Dr. Lorenz Maynard has an unworldly experience in Angola. He s on edge, fighting needless advances and striving for medical proficiency. Saving lives turn to dancing with demons and battling suppositions of his profession. Will Rodney and Lorenz journey with redemption?
Excerpt
Chapter 1
I can’t save him. Damn it! Don’t they get it? They destroy their future each time a child dies, and for a cause I still don’t understand. The kid didn’t have a chance. Why did Carlito fight the militia? What’s happening to this country? Damn, thought Lorenz after he stopped applying pressure to Carlito’s gunshot wound. “He isn’t older than fifteen,” whispered Lorenz.
Bang! Bang! Bang! Rounds zipped through the brush, volleyed from one group to the other. Breno tapped Lorenz’s shoulder and pointed west in the direction of a muzzle flash. Lorenz strapped Carlito’s bloody body on his back and followed Breno. Both men crawled once they heard shots in their direction. They kept their heads close to the ground. At the right chance, they rose to their feet and quickly ran towards the clinic to bring the kid to safety.
Lorenz slowed from running and fell under the cover of some nearby brush. Breno fell right in front of him, looking back and making sure Lorenz wasn’t hit. “You okay?”
“Yeah, I’m good,” Lorenz replied.
Lorenz repositioned Carlito and moved bush to bush, pulling with his arms and pushing with his legs. Five minutes of pressing forward, beads of sweat rolled from his forehead into his eyes causing them to burn. The heat of the jungle increased the stench of Carlito’s blood.
His knees burned from scraping surface roots and crossing the same broken ground shrubs. Breno also kept moving, carefully avoiding the same cropped brush, as he tried not to shake the surrounding vegetation. He was cautious not to give his position away.
Lorenz crawled with the body, holding the child’s arms as he pressed along. Plant after plant, they traveled with fear, dodging hot rounds flying overhead. Zip! A bullet crossed Lorenz’ path, lodging into a tree right above his head. The round of shots motivated him to crawl faster. Breno didn’t stop, and being load free, he increased the distance between them. Whiz! Another round passed, and Lorenz kept repositioning to avoid stray bullets. After thirty minutes of crawling, both Breno and Lorenz gained ground, increasing their distance from the gunfire. When Breno turned to check on Lorenz, he realized Lorenz still carried the boy’s body on his back. Without a second thought, he wasted no time assisting Lorenz with the body. “Why didn’t you leave him?” he whispered.
“Wouldn’t you want to know what happened to your son?”
“Yes, but that doesn’t mean bring his body. A few words would have worked, don’t you think?” answered Breno, who felt safe and quickly stood. They had managed to get two hundred yards from gunfire. “Isn’t he the kid we saw in the clinic a few days ago?”
“Yes, his name is Carlito. The more of these dead kids I see, the more identical they become. I’m seeing children die for no reason, especially young boys trying to prove their manhood alongside these rebels who call themselves men. They use these boys to fight for their cause. When will it end?”
“Long after you’re gone,” Breno replied. “Long after you’re gone.”
The two men continued their journey toward the open field where Breno had left the jeep. During their bolt, Lorenz managed to reposition the boy’s body over his shoulder as Breno continued as point. Breno had explored this part of the bush as a child. He knew the many paths of this area well. Lorenz insisted on bringing the child’s body back, and this worked to their disadvantage. Soldiers might mistake them as rebels, and rebels would claim them as
replacements. They both knew it wouldn’t make a difference even if they recognized Lorenz as a local UNWHO (the United Nations World Health Organization) clinic doctor. It was dangerous for everyone during the civil war.
Within twenty yards of the open field, they heard gunfire. Quickly, Breno dropped and crawled forward. He stopped moving as gunfire became louder. Lorenz saw Breno fall and immediately thought he’d been shot. Lorenz dropped and then waited until he saw Breno moving again towards the open field. Breno turned on his back and waved to Lorenz. As Breno rolled back onto his stomach, he looked ahead in hopes of dodging whichever force, with blaring guns, crossed his path. “Oh, God,” cried Lorenz. “Don’t let them find us.” Lorenz saw the rebel forces moving near them. He watched the rebels fire into the bush east of Breno’s position. The insurgents took a couple of minutes to cross, but to Lorenz, it felt like an hour.
They each lay still, silent, waiting until the gunfire stopped. Breno moved first and signaled Lorenz with a whistle to inform him he was heading out. Lorenz responded with a wave and crawled forward, following Breno’s path. Breno finally stood and looked back at Lorenz. He signaled again and moved swiftly to the jeep. Lorenz gathered himself, squatted, and placed Carlito’s body across his shoulders. He stood and walked at a brisk pace. “Come on, let’s get out of here,” thought Lorenz, “faster, walk faster.” Lorenz began jogging with Carlito over his shoulders. Within minutes he was within earshot of the jeep’s engine. By the time Breno placed the vehicle in gear, Lorenz had made it to the open field and stood ready for pickup.
Lorenz woke from his flashback when the flight attendant announced, “Please replace luggage in the overhead bin or under the seat in front of you. Return to your seat, and place seats in the upright position. Secure your seat belts, and prepare for landing. We’ll be arriving in Richmond in a few minutes.”
“Damn, it’s been over a year since leaving Angola, and it’s like
yesterday. Each time, my dreams are as clear as the day it happened, Lorenz thought. Lorenz looked left and then right to see if other passengers noticed his excessive sweating. His thoughts continued to haunt him. “I can’t fight these flashbacks. They are ruining my life. The psychiatrists all say they will stop, but I’m beginning to doubt them all. I can’t lose another job, not now, not in Richmond.” After Lorenz deplaned, he noticed various changes at the airport and followed the crowd to baggage claim. Once outside, he approached a cab at the curb. “The Jefferson Hotel,” Lorenz instructed after he entered the car.
“The Jefferson, right away,” the cab driver responded.
Lorenz observed the area on his ride from the airport into the city. He enjoyed seeing the skyline he remembered. He noticed changes to the Virginia Commonwealth University’s Medical Center, a place he’d gotten to know well as a visiting intern. He also noticed changes downtown, but didn’t quite remember anything big outside of the Coliseum. The cab arrived in front of The Jefferson and a bellhop opened his car door. “Welcome to the Jefferson, sir,” the bellhop greeted.
“Thank you,” Lorenz graciously replied. He exited the cab, paid the taxi fare, entered the hotel, and checked in at the front desk. Phil’s office had made the reservations for Lorenz.
After dinner at the Hard Shell, in Shockoe Slip, he returned to the Jefferson, ordered a drink from the hotel’s bar, and took it to his room. In solitude, he sat on the couch, turned on the television to a music channel and grabbed a notebook from his bag. He wrote the latest dream episode in his notebook, a practice suggested by his latest psychiatrist. Within minutes of writing it all down, Lorenz began remembering the beginning of his African journey.
His anxiety to leave Richmond was from a hardening disappointment with Sabrina. Lorenz promised his heart and Sabrina crushed him. It wasn’t long after Lorenz and Sabrina celebrated his graduation when she called with good news. She had been hired for a fashion shoot in France. She didn’t give any details to Lorenz; instead she told him she was out on the first flight for Paris. Lorenz pleaded and pushed for Sabrina to accompany him to South America. Before Sabrina received the shoot offer, Lorenz had taken the last of his savings, purchased an engagement ring and an open-ended ticket to Montevideo, Uruguay from Richmond. Before her departure, he had given Sabrina the ticket and hoped for the best. Lorenz hadn’t spoken with Sabrina during the first week of her absence, and only received one text message of her safe arrival. It was during the second week into Sabrina’s trip that Lorenz finally got her on the phone. It was a short conversation, extremely short, and led Lorenz to believe something was wrong. “What’s happened?” asked Lorenz.
“Nothing, well, actually something has happened, and I have to tell you. I’m seeing James.”
“James, your ex-boyfriend?”
“Yes, my ex-boyfriend. We’ve been together for the last four days. I can’t explain why, so don’t ask. I’m not going to Uruguay. I’ve returned your ticket. Besides, what would I do in Uruguay? I’m a model, not a desperate girl hanging on for a crappy future.”
“Why can’t we work through this?” He looked at his hands in disgust, and after a moment, he raised his eyes. “I’ll go somewhere else; I can get the organization to send me to Europe. I don’t want to lose you. It took too long to find you.”
“I have to be honest. We had fun Lorenz, but I’m enjoying Paris and James. I wish you luck.” Sabrina ended her call and most likely returned to James.
After the rejection, Lorenz focused on his commitment with UNWHO. He contacted the charity organization for an earlier departure for which he quickly received approval. When Lorenz checked in for his flight to Uruguay, the counter clerk passed him a letter explaining his diversion to Africa, the town of Kuito in Angola. He was now headed across the world to a place he’d not considered, but a location where the need matched his desire to escape. With extreme motivation to leave Richmond, Lorenz boarded the plane without question. It was a long flight with many empty moments that he filled remembering Sabrina throwing his heart to the dogs. His work would become his haven from hurtful emotions. Every time he looked to his left, the young lady seated there reminded him of Sabrina. He retrieved a UNWHO booklet from his pack and read about the program, revisiting the passages he’d highlighted. Lorenz also reviewed the beautiful countryside pictures.
After a two-hour flight and a short layover in Philadelphia, he boarded a flight to London. Lorenz’s plane landed at Heathrow nine hours later. He was excited about being in London for the first time and took in as much as he could around the airport. During the last of the eight-hour layover, Lorenz researched Angola and read multiple government reports.
Lorenz boarded a flight for the last leg of his travel to Luanda. It was five hours of flying, and he liked the idea of landing fully energized, ready to jump right into working at the clinic. He napped to ensure his body was well rested before landing. Excitement ran through him during the plane’s landing at the international airport in Luanda, the largest city in Angola. Following instructions, he quickly went through immigrations and caught a connecting flight to Kuito, a smaller city ravaged by civil war. Having landed at Kuito, and shortly after passing the luggage area, he saw a gentleman holding a sign bearing his name, “Dr. Lorenz Maynard.” Lorenz approached and submitted his identification. The man addressed Lorenz, “Welcome.” He smiled, and grabbed Lorenz’ bag. “I’m Breno, the clinic’s coordinator, support person, and the ‘go to’ guy for anything operational. I do everything doctors don’t want to do, and I keep the clinic going. It’s why I’m here at the airport.” Lorenz followed him out of the airport, observing the surroundings along the way. Breno talked about the wonderful city, the beauty it offered, and warned him of the war stricken views Lorenz would see along the drive. Breno even explained why the local doctors didn’t come to the airport. “Often,” Breno explained, “they’d tell them what they were getting into while being here. I’ve heard them say, ‘It’s your chance to turn around.’ Giving the new doctor a warning.”
“A warning?” commented Lorenz.
“Yes, a very intelligent warning.”
“I researched the country with the American government’s Office of Foreign Assets Control reports. I know there is a little fighting, but it’s not everywhere from what I understand.”
“The war is practically everywhere. Maybe not on the streets of Kuito every day, but close enough that it touches every family.”
“That’s pretty serious.”
“Yes, very serious, my friend.”
When Lorenz arrived Downtown, he was surprised to see most of the buildings riddled with bullet holes. Not assuming anything, he asked Breno, “Are the holes in the buildings from gun fire?”
“Yes,” Breno responded. “The war has its impact on everything and everyone.”
“Impact, here in the town?”
“Of course, the army and rebels always come here from the bush. They come back for multiple reasons, some for medical attention.”
Lorenz paused before responding and thought, Soldiers and rebels coming for medical reasons. Imagine if both showed at once!
“We’re here,” Breno exclaimed as he stopped the car in front of one of the bullet- riddled buildings. It was clearly marked as the UNWHO clinic. There were two battered jeeps with UNWHO markings parked at the side of the building and a long line of people waiting to enter the clinic.
“What’s going on?”
“It’s a safe day. People are ready for their shots.”
“Shots?”
“Yes, you’ll understand when you enter,” said Breno.
Lorenz maneuvered his way past patrons to enter the building. He was surprised at the clinic’s condition. He’d just finished a medical internship in Richmond, Virginia and had limited exposure to other clinics. But to his surprise, this was worse than any clinic where he had volunteered in the capital city. Lorenz was eager to employ his skills in Angola, but his expectations were much higher, as he had believed the recruiting pictures. But then again, he thought, maybe he’d focused too much on South America and not Africa. Angola was not on his radar, and Lorenz’s expectations weren’t fair. A fellow physician greeted him. “Doctor Maynard, how are you? I’m Doctor Anwello,” he greeted and reached for a handshake.
“Pleased to meet you,” responded Lorenz.
“Sorry, I couldn’t be at the airport, but you see the line. We’re giving penicillin shots to prevent an outbreak.”
“Yes, I see the people.” Lorenz glanced at the line of folks waiting. “Are you the only one here?”
“Yes, but it’s recent. Doctor Schwartzberg left on short notice.”
“Just left?” Lorenz inquired as he scrubbed and pulled gloves over his hands. He put on a white coat from the coat stand in the corner. He immediately yelled, “Next,” but no one responded.
“Why aren’t they moving?” Lorenz asked.
“Most don’t speak English. They speak Portuguese.”
Breno translated ‘next’ to Portuguese and waved at the next person in line, “Próxima pessoa.” He looked at Lorenz and said, “I’ll help you today. Just tell me what they need to know, and I’ll translate.”
“Great,” responded Lorenz as the next person approached.
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